CHAPTER XII

THOROLD'S SECRET

THOROLD appeared just in time for dinner, which was served in a quaint coffee-room overlooking the garden.

Gentian, in a filmy black gown which accentuated the fairness of her neck and arms, began the meal in a quiet, pensive mood. She let Mrs. Wharnecliffe and Thorold do most of the conversation, and listened to Thorold's account of some of the difficulties which now beset him.

"I think we shall get over the present difficulty," he said. "We have been trying to adapt some of the old machinery; it means a good bit of extra expense to have new, but we must do so. I have been wondering whether I have brought you down on a fool's errand, for I doubt if it will be wise for me at present to take that house. I must go slowly."

"You must live somewhere," said Mrs. Wharnecliffe.

"A single man doesn't need so much accommodation."

"Miss Muir doesn't want you to go there," struck in Gentian with rather a sharp tone in her voice; "she wants you to build one close to the Rectory and the mine."

"Yes," said Thorold, with a smile; "Frances thinks I should be too far away from my work."

"As if you're going to work in the mine!" said Gentian a little scornfully. Then the dimples came into her cheeks and she gave a little laugh.

"You are becoming like me, Cousin Thor. You're a wobbler. You actually can't make up your mind. I never knew you had it in you to hesitate or to change."

"Oh, I hesitate about lots of things," Thorold replied promptly; "it's only when we're very young that we're very sure."

"Well, that isn't a hit at me, for I'm never sure of anything, except what I want to do at the moment. But I'd like to know what kind of things you wobble about."

Thorold looked at her with his whimsical smile.

"I have considerable hesitation about you and your welfare very often," he said.

Gentian looked dumbfounded.

"Do you think about me very much, Cousin Thor?" she asked demurely.

"Really, Gentian," expostulated Mrs. Wharnecliffe. "We've wandered away from our subject of the house. Suppose we get back to that. Where do you propose living, Thorold? I hope you won't build."

"No, a new house is perfectly hateful," said Gentian; "I told Miss Muir so. I should be sorry to live in a house of her planning. She has no sense of beauty."

"She's a very clever girl," said Thorold. "Aren't you judging her rather hastily? About the house: I have the first refusal of it, and I think in two or three months' time, I shall know how the mine is going and be better able to judge what I can afford. I shall take rooms in the village."

"Yes," said Gentian quickly; "if you stay on at the Rectory you'll lose all independence. Miss Muir will manage you and all your affairs completely."

Thorold shook his head.

"A good many people have tried to manage me in my life. We'll except the present company! But it is an experience to which I am well accustomed, and it doesn't trouble me in the least."

Mrs. Wharnecliffe laughed.

"We need not have an uneasy thought about him, Gentian. As I told you he is well able to look after himself. Now don't you think we could have a walk as it is such a lovely evening? Is the tide in or out? Let us go down to the sea."

"It is out, I think," said Thorold.

"Run and put a warm wrap on, Gentian," said Mrs. Wharnecliffe. "I have a much thicker gown than you. We will wait for you in the verandah."

As the girl disappeared, Mrs. Wharnecliffe took hold of Thorold by the arm.

"Now come along, I want to talk to you. I am anxious about this child. Your Rector wants the little Vicarage house for a new-married curate who is going to be in charge of the church. I haven't told Gentian, for I know the outcry she will make. She cannot live there alone, and you must let the Rector have it. It will be a way out of the difficulty. I have some empty attics where she can store her boxes and things. It is very difficult to know what to do with her. I don't believe she'll go on living with the Miss Buchans year in and year out, she'll be too dull there. And she's not the sort of girl to be knocking about the world on her own."

"It will be a blow to her," said Thorold, looking grave. "She tells me that young fellow Jim Paget is on her track again. Coming back, isn't he? He may induce her to listen to him this time."

Mrs. Wharnecliffe shook her head.

"I wish I could think so, but I'm sure she won't have him. She ought to marry. I think she might develop into a good little wife."

There was silence between them for a moment or two. Then Mrs. Wharnecliffe said slowly:

"Thorold, have you ever thought that she may be caring for you?"

Thorold was just lighting his pipe. He let it slip through his fingers, and fall with a clatter on the ground.

"Caring for me," he said, stooping down to pick up his pipe; "what nonsense! I think she may like me better than she did, but she looks upon me as her elderly guardian—offered to come and keep house for me!"

His face was a dull red as he raised himself, but Mrs. Wharnecliffe's quick eyes noted his confusion.

"There's not much disparity in your ages. You are not elderly, Thorold. You are in the prime of life. I may be wrong. She is childishly jealous of Frances Muir, but, of course, that may be because she likes to come first with you."

"It would be wicked," muttered Thorold, "to tie her up to an old fogy like me."

"Gentian would not do anything she did not want to do."

"But she's in a dangerous state now. She wants a home. She might do anything to get one. I would not take advantage of a child like that for all the world."

"Thorold!"

Mrs. Wharnecliffe pressed his arm. "You love her!"

"I adore her!" he said, with a quick-caught breath, and then he tried to relight his pipe with nervous, trembling fingers.

Mrs. Wharnecliffe drew a long sigh.

"Well, it has come to you at last," she said; "now don't spoil your life and hers by stupid bashfulness and false modesty. You have a great deal to offer her. A clear, upright, honourable record, a comfortable home, and a love—well, I won't say more on that point, but any girl would be lucky with you for a husband, Thorold. I don't say she is good enough for you, but she's a fascinating little soul, and where she loves, she'll love to distraction. You won't have a dull moment with her, I know that, and I believe she'll develop into something grand and good, by and by."

"You've forced my confidence," Thorold said; "respect it and say no more. I'm not in a position to offer anyone a home until I see how the mine is going. And I can't believe, and I don't believe, that she would listen to me for a moment."

"Who won't listen to you?" asked a gay voice behind them.

It was Gentian, of course. She did not wait for an answer but slipped her arm into Mrs. Wharnecliffe's.

"Now let us sally forth," she said, "to see the wonders of the ocean shore."

There was no lack of conversation between the three of them, though Thorold was the one who spoke least. Mrs. Wharnecliffe talked eagerly, almost feverishly, and Gentian was her own gay chattering little self. It was a good walk from the inn to the fishing village, which was most picturesque. Like many of the Cornish fishing villages, the houses were placed at all angles, one above the other, with quaint cobbled paths twisting and turning in every direction, and rough stone steps up and down to the beach and cliffs. They came down to a stone bridge across the river, and here in the middle they turned their backs to the sea and looked along the wooded valley with the shining river winding its way at the bottom.

The sun was getting low, and sending its golden rays across the water. Gentian leant her arms on the stone wall and gazed dreamily in front of her.

"This is sweet," she murmured. "I don't think England's beauty spots are distributed fairly. River and woods are enough without the sea."

They turned round and walked on, past a row of old-fashioned shops facing the river, and then eventually found themselves on the sea front. Fishermen lounged about smoking their pipes, or tinkering at their boats. The tide was out. Across the short strip of sand in front of them and the grey rocks that stretched away to the cliff the golden sunshine was sending its long slanting rays. Away on the horizon were the fishing smacks starting for their night's fishing. Gentian looked at it all with interest and delight.

Then she slipped her hand into Thorold's arm.

"Let's walk down to the sea," she said, "it's too far off from us here."

"I think I shall sit down here," said Mrs. Wharnecliffe, sinking on one of the wooden seats near her; "don't be too long, for when the sun sets, it will be chilly."

Thorold and Gentian walked across the sand until they came to the ocean. Only rippling waves disturbed the silence.

"I like this," Gentian said contentedly. "I should like to live by the sea. It always brings peace to me. It reminds me of the sea in Italy. How far is the mine from here?"

"Quite five miles. It is inland. The Rectory is a good mile and a half from us here."

"And do your miners live in these dear little houses?"

"Oh, no. This is entirely a fisher population. There is a small hamlet near the mine where they will congregate; but a good many come by the train along the light railway from other villages. Every day I have applicants from all parts. It's extraordinary how news flies. I hope I shall be able to give them all work."

"I wish you could give me work," said Gentian, turning a face that was a mixture of wistfulness and mischief up to his. "I shall soon be unemployed again, I feel it in my bones. And I am not a very satisfactory companion to an indoors lady. Fancy! The other day I was saying how much I should love to hunt next winter, and Miss Horatia laughed and didn't seem against the idea, when Miss Anne drew herself up as if I had quite shocked her,—

"'That is hardly one of the duties of a lady's companion,' she said.

"So I was angry, of course, and I said quickly: 'I am only a temporary companion. I may end it any day,'

"And then Miss Anne said very sweetly: 'I think it would be your loss, if you did so.'

"Now do you think that quite nice of her? She tries to keep me in my place; but somehow bubble up away from it—and any day may bring a crisis."

"I agree with Miss Anne," said Thorold gravely; "that it will be your loss if you lose such a comfortable home."

"Now, Cousin Thor, do you think it is a home to me? How can it be? I have lost my home, and I have lost the love and care that went with it. I am hedged about with convention and duties and restrictions. I must be punctual and tidy and meek, and always must be at the beck and call of a very kind mistress certainly, but a very old-fashioned, punctilious lady."

"Do you want to go through life only pleasing yourself, and satisfying your own desires?"

"Now you're getting into the stern old martinet you were when I first knew you! You have been much kinder lately. I don't always want to please myself. There are some people that I would like to do anything for—I think I might be willing to die for them!"

Thorold's eyes twinkled as he looked at her.

"We'll hope that won't be necessary at your time of life," he said.

She was standing very close to him as she spoke; now she moved away with a dignified air.

"You like to laugh at me," she said. "You never take me in earnest, you treat me like a child, and now Waddy has left me I feel a hundred years old, as if my whole future life is my own responsibility, and I get frightened. I have no money at my back, and very few friends. I don't think you or Mrs. Wharnecliffe would let me starve, but then if I went away from you, you might not know. I sometimes wonder if I could earn my living in London by my music. I'll talk to Jim Paget about it when he comes over. He knows a lot of people in London."

Thorold's brows grew rather threatening.

"No," he said quickly; "don't do that. When you feel you must have a change of employment, tell me. I promise I will help you."

"I don't feel very sure of you down here," said Gentian, looking at him with earnest eyes. "I'm so afraid you will marry Miss Frances Muir! There! I know I ought not to say so, but somehow with you I must unburden myself. And if you marry her, you won't care about me any more. You'll forget all about me—and she—Miss Muir—will keep you from having anything to do with me—I know her kind. I don't like her and she doesn't like me. We are natural—what is the word? Not enemies—antagonists. Why are you laughing?"

"I can't help being amused at your matchmaking propensities. Am I so very susceptible to female charm? Haven't you always considered me a thorough old bachelor? We are talking nonsense, let us come back to Mrs. Wharnecliffe."

He turned; then, as Gentian seemed reduced to silence, he put his hand on her shoulder.

"Your future is not in your hands, child. A loving God is caring for you. Leave it to Him, He makes no mistakes. That is one of the facts that strengthen with years."

She did not speak. Her eyes filled with tears. She was very silent for the rest of the evening. Thorold left them as soon as he had taken them back to the hotel, promising to be with them again at ten o'clock the next morning, when Mrs. Wharnecliffe's car would take them to the mine.

And the next day dawned brilliantly. Blue sky, and no wind, the sea lay calm and still as a mill pond. They caught the glimpses of it as they sped up and down hill through the Cornish lanes.

Gentian was her bright self again, and keenly interested in all the working of the mine. She was very disappointed that she was not allowed to go down into it. She talked to the manager, and to every miner that she came across, and bewildered them by her questions and inquiries.

Later on, Thorold took them to see a row of cottages which were just being built. Gentian did not think much of the hamlet, but loved its quaint name, which was Menabockle. She spoke to a woman who stood at a cottage door.

"Aren't you very happy to have the mine working again?"

"'Twill give work to many," said the woman with a smile.

"Yes, and you're lucky to have Mr. Holt owning it. If you're in trouble, he'll get you out of it by hook or crook. He was born to do that, I believe."

She nodded and smiled and passed on. Only the woman caught her words. Thorold was busy talking to Mrs. Wharnecliffe. He was bent on reassuring her about his venture.

"It is a risk, of course, but all here know that tin is to be found; and the mine stopped working through want of capital to carry it on. Be patient, and you'll see that I have not wasted my money."

"Why need you be on the spot always?" asked Gentian. "When it's once started, can't your manager carry it on?"

"If the owners had lived on the spot before, it would have been better for their mines. Managers are not infallible. Besides, I want to know the people. I am going to start a small institute or club for the young men and boys. I am full of ideas from which I want practical results."

"And what about the house?" asked Mrs. Wharnecliffe.

"Just for the present, we'll leave it. As I said before, I have the first refusal of it. But I'm thankful for your suggestions and advice."

He returned to the inn with them and they had lunch together. They had hardly finished the meal before Thorold's friend, the Rector of the parish, and his daughter appeared.

Mr. Muir was a tall, stalwart man, with a cheerful face and breezy manner. He was very disappointed to hear that Mrs. Wharnecliffe was returning home immediately.

"We quite hoped you would dine with us to-night, or at least, come up and have a 'dish o' tay,' as our Cornish folk say. Do you approve of this Cornish benefactor?" He laid his hand on Thorold's shoulder as he spoke.

"It's a doubtful experiment," said Mrs. Wharnecliffe gravely; "but Thorold knows his own business best, and if his heart is in it, I can but wish him good luck. I hope he will succeed where others have failed."

"It's going to be a huge success," said Frances enthusiastically. "Mr. Holt always succeeds in everything he puts his hand to, now does he not?"

Mrs. Wharnecliffe smiled.

"He gets his own way with people as a rule."

Thorold looked across at Gentian with his humorous smile.

"Do you endorse that?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Yes, because you are so doggedly determined and persevering," she said.

"Well," said Frances, "we all want him to have his own way down here. There's no opposition from anyone. How could there be? We are most keenly interested in what he is doing. And as for the people round, they're wild with delight that the mines are going to be restarted."

"The only thing that I don't like about them," said Gentian, "is the mess they make of the country. They spoil the landscape, and foul the air with blacks and dust."

Frances' smile had a twinge of pity in it.

"That is rather a narrow outlook," she said; "when you put against a few acres of waste ground the employment and prosperity of hundreds of living souls."

Gentian was silent. She was glad when the car was announced, but vexed that she and Mrs. Wharnecliffe should drive off leaving Thorold by the side of the girl to whom she had taken such a hearty dislike.