The Pomp of Yesterday Part 4

'I don't think I am a judge; I was only a kiddy at the time, and people said I made an idol of Maurice. But to me he was just splendid, just the handsomest fellow I ever saw. He had such a way with him, too; no one could refuse him anything.'

'I suppose he was engaged to Miss Blackwater?'

The girl was silent. Evidently she did not wish to talk about it.

'Were the two brothers fond of each other?' I asked.

'Oh, yes, awfully fond. The news of Maurice's death almost killed George. You see, it happened not long after his father's death. You have no idea how he was cut up; it was just horrible to see him. But he's got over it now. It nearly broke my heart too, so I can quite understand what George felt. But this must be very uninteresting to you.'

'On the other hand, it is very interesting. Did you tell me that George St. Mabyn was engaged to Miss Blackwater?'

'No, I didn't tell you that.'

'Is he going to be?'

I knew I was rather overstepping the bounds of good taste, but the question escaped me almost before I was aware.

'I don't know. Oh, won't it be lovely when the war is over! You think it will be over soon, don't you?'

'I am afraid not,' I said; 'as far as I can see, we are only at the beginning of it.'

'Have you reason for saying that?'

'The gravest,' I replied; 'why do you ask?'

'Only that I feel so ashamed of myself. Here are you going to a meeting to-night to persuade men to join the Army, while some of us women do practically nothing. But I'm going to; I told dad I should, only this morning, but he laughed at me. He said I should stay at home and stick to my knitting.'

'What did you tell him you were going to do?'

'Train as a nurse. But he wouldn't hear of it. He said it was not a fit thing for a young girl to nurse wounded men. But if they are wounded for their country, surely we women ought to stop at nothing.

But here we are at the hall. Mind you make a good speech, Captain Lus...o...b..; I am going to be an awfully severe critic.'

After the meeting, George St. Mabyn returned with us to Granitelands, and Sir Roger, in talking about the men who had volunteered for service that night, again referred to the meeting at Plymouth, and to the man who had enlisted. He also again insisted upon the possible romantic outcome of the situation. Again I thought I saw the haunted look in George St. Mabyn's eyes, and I fancied that the cigar he held between his fingers trembled.

Miss Blackwater, however, showed very little interest in the story, and seemed to be somewhat bored by its recital. Lorna Bolivick, however, was greatly interested.

'And do you mean to say,' she asked, 'that you don't know where he is?'

'I have not the slightest idea.'

'And aren't you going to find out?'

'If I can, certainly.'

'Why,--why,'--and she spoke in a childish, impetuous way--'I think it is just cruel of you. If I were in your place, I wouldn't rest until I had found him. I would hunt the whole Army through.'

'I should have a long job,' I replied. 'Besides, he may not have joined the Army.'

'But he has,--of course he has. He could not help himself. It is your duty to be with him, and to help him. I think you are responsible for him.'

Of course every one laughed at this.

'But I _do_!' she insisted. 'It was not for nothing that they met like that. Mr. Lus...o...b.. was meant to meet him, meant to help him. It was he who persuaded him to join the Army, and now it is his bounden duty to find him out, wherever he is. Why, think of the people who may be grieving about him! Here he is, a gentleman, with all a gentleman's instincts, an ordinary private; and of course having no memory he'll, in a way, be helpless, and may be led to do all sorts of foolish things. I mean it, Captain Lus...o...b..; I think it's just--just awful of you to be so careless.'

Again there was general laughter, and yet the girl's words made me feel uneasy. Although I could not explain it, it seemed to me that some Power higher than our own had drawn us together, that in some way this man's life would be linked with mine, and that I should have to take my part in the unravelling of a mystery.

All this time, George St. Mabyn had not spoken. He sat staring into vacancy, and what he was thinking about it was impossible to tell. Of course the thoughts which, in spite of myself, haunted my mind, were absurd. If I had not seen that ashen pallor come to his face, and caught the haunted look in his eyes, when earlier in the evening Sir Roger Granville had almost jokingly a.s.sociated the unknown man with Maurice St. Mabyn, I do not suppose such foolish fancies would have entered-my mind. But now, although I told myself that I was entertaining an absurd suspicion, that suspicion would not leave me.

I looked for a resemblance between him and Paul Edgec.u.mbe, but could find none. Was he, I wondered, in doubt about his brother's death?

Had he entered into possession on insufficient proof? Many strange things happened in the East; soldiers had more than once been reported to be dead, and then turned up in a most remarkable way. Had George St. Mabyn, in his desire to become owner of the beautiful old house I had seen, taken his brother's death for granted, on insufficient grounds, and had not troubled about it since?

'Promise me,' said Lorna Bolivick, in her impetuous way, 'that you will never rest until you find this man again! Promise me that you will befriend him!' and she looked eagerly into my eyes as she spoke.

'Of course I will,' I said laughingly.

'No, but that won't do. Promise me that you will look for him as if he were your own brother!'

'That's a pretty large order. But why should you be so interested in this stranger?'

'I never give reasons,' she laughed, 'they are so stupid. But you _will_ promise me, won't you?'

'Of course I will,' I replied.

'That's a bargain, then.'

'When are you leaving this neighbourhood?' asked George St. Mabyn, when presently he was leaving the house.

'To-morrow afternoon,' I replied. 'They are working me pretty hard, I can tell you.'

'Won't you look me up to-morrow morning?' he asked. 'There's a man staying with me whom you'd like to know. I tried to persuade him to come to the meeting to-night, but he did not feel up to it. He is convalescing at my place; he's had a baddish time. He could tell you some good stories, too, that would help you in this recruiting stunt.'

'By all means,' said Sir Roger, to whom I looked, as St. Mabyn spoke.

'I can send you over in the car.'

The next day, about eleven o'clock, I started to pay my promised visit, and pa.s.sed through the same beautiful countryside which had so appealed to me before. I found that St. Mabyn's house was not quite so large as Granitelands, but it was a place to rejoice in nevertheless. It was approached by a long avenue of trees, which skirted park lands where deer disported themselves. Giant oaks studded the park, and the house, I judged, was built in the Elizabethan period. An air of comfort and homeliness was everywhere; the grey walls were lichen-covered, and the diamond-paned, stone-mullioned windows seemed to suggest security and peace.

'I wonder why he wanted me to come here?' I reflected, as the car drew up at the old, ivy-covered porch.

CHAPTER IV

I MEET CAPTAIN SPRINGFIELD

I stood at the window of the room into which I had been shown, looking over the flower-beds towards the beautiful landscape. Devonshire has been called the Queen of the English counties, perhaps not without reason. Even my beloved Cornwall could provide no fairer sight than that which spread itself before me. For a coast scenery, Cornwall is unrivalled in the whole of England, but for sweet, rustic loveliness, I had to confess that we had nothing to surpa.s.s what I saw that day.