CHAPTER IX

JOCK'S CONFESSION

PIPPA was not allowed to see her aunt that evening. Owing to the sleeping-draught, Orris had some sleep, but she was very feverish the next morning, and suffered acutely. Mrs. Preston did everything for her, though Orris begged for the attendance of Lily, the village girl.

"You are more than busy, I know. Please don't worry over me."

"My dear, it's a pleasure. I love nursing. When I was a girl, before I married, I always said I should like to nurse in a hospital. Lily is helping in the kitchen."

And then a soft little knock was heard at the door, and Pippa's most coaxing voice beseeching to be let in.

"Let her come," said Orris. "And you've done everything, dear Mrs. Preston. I can't thank you enough. I am ready to see the doctor now, and have only to wait for him."

Mrs. Preston left the room rather unwillingly, and Pippa, with big eyes, approached the bed.

"Poor Aunt Ollie! Master Jock has been telling me all about you. Is you very hurt?"

"No, darling. I shall soon be better." Then Orris raised herself a little on her pillow, and her soft dark eyes fixed themselves on her small niece's face. "Pippa dear, I want you to tell me exactly what you did yesterday, when I left you in the library."

Pippa frowned.

"I think I was puzzling out the puzzle."

"And then?"

"Then? Oh then—" Pippa hesitated.

"Well, don't be afraid. I know you are going to be truthful."

"I think the nex' thing was I tried to make some cigarettes like mummy's, out of the paper in the waste-paper basket."

"And then you took the matches?"

"Yes, I did, just to light the end of them, you know, but I was very tidy. I lighted them in the basket, but they wouldn't light. And then you came to the door, and I threw the matches in the basket, and you hurried me out, you know, because you said we'd be late for lunch."

Orris was silent. She could not speak for a moment. She and her niece between them had burnt down the library of a few hundred years. The fear had been in her heart from the time she had returned to the farm the evening before.

As her brain cleared, she had fixed upon Pippa as the culprit. And now her fears were realized. She lay, looking at her niece, unable to speak, and Pippa grew frightened.

"Are you angry with me, Aunt Ollie? I didn't make a fire, you know. The matches wouldn't light."

"I am afraid, my Pippa, the matches did light. Some little bit of paper must have burnt slowly and ignited the box, and then the flames spread and spread. How often you have been warned about fire!"

Pippa stared at her aunt uncomprehendingly.

And then the doctor came in, and she was sent away, and Mrs. Preston would not let her see her aunt again that day.

"She has a high temperature and some fever, and the doctor says she's to be kept very quiet," Mrs. Preston told her.

Pippa was unusually silent that day. Jock came up and tried to cheer her up. He thought it was her aunt's state that was depressing her, and she gave him no clue to her thoughts.

Orris herself was suffering so much from the pain of her burns, and also from the horror and anguish which she felt at the tragedy of the burnt library, that she almost forgot the existence of her little niece. She was light-headed for two days, and when finally her temperature dropped, and her pulse and heart were normal, she lay crushed and almost lifeless upon her bed. Nothing seemed to rouse her. Miss Dashwood, Reyne, and Jock called daily, but no one was allowed to see her.

At last, she was able to be moved out on the roomy couch in Mrs. Preston's sitting-room. And it was there Jock found her one sunny afternoon. He was shocked to see her so white and fragile.

She tried to smile when she saw him.

"You've been through a good deal to look like this," Jock said, as he bent over her.

"I can't shake hands," she murmured. "I am as helpless as a baby; I can't move one of my fingers."

"I am so sorry."

"Sit down," she said. "And don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"As if I were an object of pity! I am strong, and I am fast getting well. I am a weak coward; and at present, I am wishing I could die, for I feel I can't face life."

"That's not like you."

"No. Weren't you wishing that something would shake my self-sufficiency? You see a wreck now before you. I am down so low that I feel I shall never raise my head again. Tell me, what is done to people who through carelessness cause such a catastrophe, such a colossal loss, as that of Mrs. Calthrop's library? Has anything been heard of her? I know Mrs. Snow wired. Have you been down there?"

"I've been there every day, picking out charred fragments, in spite of Snuffy's warning me off the premises. Snuffy got a wire two or three days ago. They're coming back, posthaste, of course—will arrive this evening as a matter of fact. Lady Violet is afraid she will have to move her quarters again. But I have reassured her on that point; she has the house till the autumn, legally."

"I repeat again that I'm a coward," said Orris. "The guilty always are. I feel like a bogus company promoter who has ruined a few hundred widows and poor people, or a murderer. I fail to imagine Mrs. Calthrop's state of mind."

"Now look here, let's have a straight talk. Did you wilfully set that library on fire? Make a clean breast of it."

Orris gave a weak laugh.

"Wilfully destroy a thing that is my livelihood and the apple of my eye! I'll tell you. It was sheer negligence and carelessness to leave a child in that precious library alone. I did it."

In a few words she told him the facts of the case.

Jock was very grave and gentle. He seemed to be holding himself in, for he spoke slowly and thoughtfully, unlike his usual impetuous fashion.

"I don't think Mrs. Calthrop could blame you," he said, "but there's no saying what an angry woman will do, so I shall effectually suppress her. You need not be afraid. I shall see she does not come near you."

"Oh, how I could laugh at your assurance, if I wasn't so miserable," said Orris. "I don't know why I'm confiding in you like this. Put yourself in my place; what would you do? I won't run away, but that is what I should like to do. Of course, I shall meet Mrs. Calthrop. I shall not shirk that; and I shall tell her exactly what I have told you. But much as I feel for her, it's the books—the books I am thinking of. I had learnt the value of them; I had learnt to love them. It is through me that they have been destroyed. If I had not come here, the library would be safe and sound to-day. That rings on in my head all day, all night."

"But," said Jock, "I've heard that useless grief for the past lays up future grief for the present. Think that out. Dunscombe said that to me one day, and it's quite true. Books and possessions aren't the best of human life. If you had lost your life, now, ah! Where should I be?"

"My life at present seems of no value," said Orris in a hopeless tone.

"My darling!—Yes, I will say it; you can't stop me—I should like to take you in my arms and comfort you, but I daren't touch you. And that's the confounded nuisance of it! Listen. Suppose the library belonged to me, would you feel as bad about it as you do now?"

"I can't suppose such a case. Yes, the loss of it would weigh just as heavily on my soul. Of course, my pride squirms at Mrs. Calthrop's just indignation. I know her well. I have had dealings with her at the Club in town; and whilst she has always been kind to me, I have seen her very hard and bitter to those who vex and annoy her. But, of course, I merit her displeasure. I can go through with that."

"You shall not," Jock said decisively. "Don't you know I would guard and keep you from the least annoyance if I could? And I have power in this matter. Poor little Pippa has precipitated matters. I guarantee that Mrs. Calthrop shall not give you one unkind word. She will not have the right to do so."

"Oh, how can you talk so?" said Orris. "But it's very kind of you."

"Kind!" Jock muttered another word under his breath. "Well, you shall have something else to think of to-night besides the loss of the library and Mrs. Calthrop's wrath. But I think I must first tell you of a scene I have had with Snuffy to-day. She heard I was digging about amongst the burnt rubbish in the library, and came off like a hot fury to see what I was about. I laughed at her, as usual, and told her I was working on behalf of the owner of the library.

"Then she dared to say something about you. I think I'll tell you, to let you know the sort she is. She said she'd always had her doubts as to what you were really doing with the books. Any auctioneer could come up and catalogue those books in a week, she said. And she'd an idea that you knew Mrs. Calthrop was coming back, and just made a bonfire of the whole to hide your idleness, etc. So I fixed her with my eye.

"'Out of this house you go this day month,' I said. And I think she saw I was in a white fury, for she quailed under my gaze. 'And you've lost a comfortable fat job by your false, malicious tongue. You're not fit to lie down and lick Miss Coventry's boots, though I'd like to make you do it.'

"She tossed her head. 'And who are you to talk of giving me notice?' she said.

"And I answered: 'You'll know that within the next four-and-twenty hours.'

"She crept off like a whipped hound. I don't often show my ire, but she got it red-hot, I can tell you!"

"But I really don't understand you, and why you take such a high hand," murmured Orris, feeling bewildered by his talk.

"I'm putting off my explanation because I don't know how you'll take it. If only you'll put your hand in mine! No, you can't do that—but just assure me with your sweet lips that you will try to care for the vagrant and ne'er-do-well; it will make the telling easier." Jock smiled into her face so persuasively that Orris shut her eyes.

"Oh, my dear," he went on, "what does a library more or less matter if you and I come together? I'd rather lose ten hundred libraries than just lose you. I've been awfully patient. Do be kind! Tell me to hope. Give me some slight encouragement! If you have had wakeful nights, I have too. There's a lot before me, but I can go through it so joyfully if you'll only let me have your love."

But Orris shook her head and, weak as she was, the tears came to her eyes.

Jock was all compunction at once.

"What a brute I am! Mrs. Preston will be giving it to me for agitating you."

"No," said Orris, "you are not agitating me. But at this juncture, when I've been the cause of such a calamity, it isn't the time to become engaged to you. I suppose you think you could fight my battles for me. I thank you with all my heart for the thought, but I can stand alone. I have done it for several years now."

"Then hear my confession! I hope you will believe me! Just before my aunt died, after she had made her will, leaving me out of it, she went up to London, to be free for one day from the supervision of her cousins. She had been thinking over things, and had got at the truth of a few of the misrepresentations about her errant nephew. In that one day in town, she went to a strange lawyer, got a short and simple will made out, in which she left me every single thing she possessed. This she, in the calmest and most rash way, posted off to me with a letter saying why she did so. It was the merest fluke that I got it, as I was travelling about at the time. I came home as soon as I could, and found that the Calthrops were in possession. It amused me—the situation; and when Snuffy shut me out, I thought I would play round for a bit, and see what they were doing.

"Then one day as you know, I determined to get into my own house. The Elf received me so delightfully and whole-heartedly that I continued the game; and when you came in—well, you bowled me over. I found out all about you when I left. I wanted to know you. I knew if I took possession of my house your job would be over, and you would fly back to town; then I should never see you again. So, to gain time, I laid low, and, honestly, I've found the life here well worth living. And I have learnt to know you. I believe I know you through and through, and we are close friends—you can't deny it."

He paused.

Orris lay and looked up at him with blanched lips. Never had she imagined such a situation as this. She managed to gasp out:

"Then the library is yours, and I have destroyed it for you. Oh, it's worse than ever!"

"Is it? I don't think so. The library was the cause of my leaving home. I had no reason to love it—until you came there. Since then it has been different. Don't you see that we can snap our fingers at everybody now, and go and get married to-morrow? Then we shall be able to rebuild the west wing with the insurance money, and live happily ever after."

"Oh, what a boy you are! I really feel overwhelmed. I can't take it all in. Does nobody know this secret of yours?"

"Only Dunscombe, and he's not a talker, as you know. He has kept 'mum.' No, nobody knows."

"But you must—you must feel the loss of the library. It never, never can be replaced."

"I'm saving odds and ends of it in spite of Snuffy. You know your Bible better than I; doesn't it remind us that we brought nothing into the world, neither can take anything out of it? I am not a reader; the few years of my life will be, I hope, none the less happy for not owning a famous library. I did feel incensed at Mrs. Calthrop wishing to sell it, but of course she never could. That knowledge comforted me."

"Oh, how you must have been laughing up your sleeve at us all! I so often wondered why you took the loss of your inheritance so calmly."

"Honestly, I shouldn't have minded losing it. I'm a born farmer. What has vexed me is seeing the Home Farm being so mismanaged. I ached to run it myself. Now I shall have that pleasure. Has my news cheered you?"

"I think it has," said Orris, smiling, "I feel so glad for you. How I have wasted my pity on you!"

"Never! I claim with gladness every atom of it. I shall want more from you than that; and I'm going to have it, too. You can't get away from me, Orris. It wasn't only your figure, your grace, your sweetness, but your soul I saw shining through you that first day. My soul flew straight to yours. You drew me as a magnet. I shan't worry you more now. I've given you a lot to think about. I'm going over to Pinestones this evening. I'm not going to take the chance of Mrs. Calthrop or her son arriving over here."

"I shouldn't mind. She would not come to-night, after her long journey. Let her have a night in peace. You can afford to be generous. It will be such a blow."

"You're siding with her. Does she require our sympathy? I feel bitter. She so systematically set to work to oust me and to influence my poor old aunt. I have her letter which says so. But I'll do as you say. After all, Mrs. Preston has you in her charge. She can refuse to let her see you. Now will you promise me to sleep to-night? May I—may I do what you do to the little Elf?"

"What is that?" asked Orris unthinkingly.

"I'll show you." Stooping, he kissed her on the cheek. "God bless you, darling sweetheart!"

And then he turned and fled, whilst Orris lay back on her cushions, not knowing whether it was anger or joy that brought the red blood rushing up into her face.

"He's so audacious," she murmured. And then she lay still, thinking over his news and fitting it into the past, wondering at her density in not having discovered his secret before.

As Jock went out of the farm, Pippa came dancing up to him.

"Have you seen Aunt Ollie?"

"Yes, and she's far from well yet. Are you keeping your promise and being a little angel?"

Pippa nodded.

"Do angels play see-saw? Tom Bridge has made me such a lovely one across that big lumpy bank the other side of the barn. Do come and try it!"

In a moment, like a boy, he was off with her. Mrs. Preston heard her screams of delighted laughter and shook her head.

"Ah, Jock, you ought to have a child of your own, you love them so!" she said, and then she went to Orris.

Orris said nothing of what she had heard. Jock evidently was still keeping his own counsel, and until he had seen Mrs. Calthrop, she concluded that he wished the matter to be kept quiet.

But when Pippa came to wish her good-night later on, she said, with big eyes:

"Master Jock says that p'raps next Sunday he'll ask Lady Vi'let to let me see the powder-room again. Won't Snuffy be angry when Master Jock and I creep upstairs and hide ourselves away in it? And he says one day he'll show me an old dolls' house in one of the top attics. It belonged to a little cousin of his who died, and it's very, very old. But it may in some wonderful way come to be mine one day. How do you think he will manage it? Will he be a buggler, and climb up into a window and steal it?"

"My darling, he would never steal."

"No; I suppose he wouldn't. Oh, Aunt Ollie, don't you 'love' Master Jock? When I was hugging him just now, he laughed and said he wished you were there, and then we'd all hug together. Shall we do it nex' time he comes? You could say, one, two, three, and away, and then we'd all do it together."

"Run away to bed, darling," was her aunt's comment.

And obeying, Pippa turned back at the door.

"I hope I shan't have to wait long for that dolls' house. Master Jock seemed to think it might be got for me before very, very long. Isn't fifteen days a 'very' long time?"

"A very short time to me."

"I'll ask God in my prayers to cut off a few days. He could do it easy. He could make the sun skip them over; they could be got rid of while we were sleeping."

Pippa disappeared.

Her aunt lay back on her couch and thought and thought, and finally evolved a certain plan of action in her head, which somewhat eased her troubled mind.