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 LIBRARY * 
 
 UNIVERSITY Ofl 
 CALIFORNIA 
 
 SAN DIEGO - 

 
 THE 
 JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 

 
 THE JUDGEMENT OF 
 ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 BY 
 
 R. E. VERNEDE 
 
 HODDER AND STOUGHTON 
 PUBLISHERS LONDON
 
 Printed in 1908.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 PAGE 
 
 MR. BEAVER DECIDES TO LISTEN . . i 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 THE APPLE is THROWN UPON THE BOARD . 9 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 THE CANDIDATES FOR THE APPLE . . 23 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 JOCELYNE PREPARES TO WIN . . .36 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 A DROPPED HANDKERCHIEF . . .48 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 LOVE AND MR. CLIFFORD . . .61 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 ANNE ANADYOMENE . . . -72
 
 vi THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THE SCALES BEGIN TO DIP . . 87 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 FISHING AT DAWN .... 102 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 JOAN DAMAGES HER CHANCES . . .115 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 A JUDGE IN DIFFICULTIES . . . . 129 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 A WALK POSTPONED .... 141 
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 PROLEGOMENA TO A GARDEN PARTY . .150 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 A MATCH is PLAYED AND HINTED AT . . 160 
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 TOM SPY ...... 172 
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 SOME EMOTIONS, MRS. ODLER AND A SEED- 
 CAKE . ..... 185
 
 CONTENTS vii 
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 PAGE 
 
 JOAN FINDS WORK FOR HER HAND . . 197 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 THE EVE OF THE CHASE. JOAN REPULSED . 206 
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 AN OTTER is HUNTED .... 216 
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 ILLINGBOROUGH is CAUGHT . . . 224 
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 THE FEELINGS OF AN ENGAGED MAN . . 233 
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 ANNE WALKS HOME ALONE . . . 242 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 MR. WETHERBORNE is TRIED. JOAN is ROUTED 251 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 JOCELYNE LEARNS THE DISADVANTAGES OF 
 
 CONSCIENTIOUSNESS .... 264 
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 VEXATION OF LADY START . . . 274
 
 viii THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THE CRISIS ..... 280 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 CLIFFORD CUTS THE KNOT . . . 290 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 ANNE TO THE RESCUE .... 305 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 THE SEARCH ..... 315 
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 ANNE AND ILLINGBOROUGH AT SEA . . 327 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 LOVE IN THE COVE .... 335 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 MR. MORTLAKE'S WILL ... * 345
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 MR. BEAVER DECIDES TO LISTEN 
 
 TEMPTATION which comes to all men at one time 
 or another came to Mr. James Beaver irresistibly 
 on a certain afternoon in June. It was not indeed 
 the first time temptation had come to him, nor the 
 first time that he had not ungracefully yielded. 
 But all the temptations of an idle-minded man do not 
 make a story, and this one did. Let it be placed 
 to Mr. Beaver's credit, here and now, that without 
 his suppleness in giving way several things counted 
 of importance by those interested in them would not 
 have happened. Later on, moralists may decide 
 how much his credit stands at. No burdensome 
 amount perhaps. 
 
 He was a tall, good-looking young man, with eyes 
 set rather too closely to please any one but a woman. 
 A woman because only a woman (and not all women 
 of course) would care for the concentrated gaze that 
 resulted from it. A woman would be apt to think 
 that the gazer had found her beauty spot, and could
 
 2 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 excuse the concentration out of her knowledge of the 
 greatness of the attraction. A man would want to 
 know what the fellow was looking at. Even vain 
 men are less quick than women in matters of this 
 sort. 
 
 Mr. Beaver had as accompaniment to his narrowing 
 vision an impassivity of feature that some people 
 think aristocratically English and others suggestive 
 rather of a Sioux. He could look bored or deferential 
 with only the smallest change of countenance. At 
 the moment he looked deferential, as was his habit 
 in dealing with his employer, Mr. Mortlake. That 
 gentleman had just said to him, briefly and curtly 
 
 " You will be good enough to take your papers to 
 the dining-room and go on with the indexing there." 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " And I'll see Mr. Waterlane here in five minutes," 
 said Mr. Mortlake, turning to the elderly butler who 
 had just announced visitors. " I will have a glass 
 of wine first, Bullock." 
 
 " Yes, sir. There are two gentlemen Mr. Water- 
 lane and Mr. Illingborough." 
 
 " I know. I will see both." 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 The butler went out, and Mr. Beaver, having 
 gathered his papers from the library table with the 
 air of one who is solely interested in his work,
 
 MR. BEAVER DECIDES TO LISTEN 3 
 
 followed. He was not, in truth, in the least interested 
 in his work, and, on the other hand, he was greatly 
 interested in the lawyers' visit. It was clear that 
 Mr. Mortlake was about to make his will. The old 
 man had been ill for some days past, or rather for 
 some days past had been unable to conceal the fact 
 that he was ill. That well-known physician, Sir 
 Cyprian Golding, had called several times ; and work 
 had distinctly flagged. All this looked like a serious 
 illness to any one knowing Mr. Mortlake and his 
 hatred of fuss, and his fondness of parading his 
 hardiness. " Work and you won't be ill " was one 
 of the maxims (pestilential in Beaver's opinion) to 
 which he clung with all an old man's obstinacy. The 
 secretary himself often felt ill at the mere idea of 
 having to toil all his days, until the time came when 
 a man could work no longer and might starve for all 
 that millionaires like old Mortlake cared. 
 
 If, however, the time had come for the old man to 
 stop working, and with it the time for making his 
 will, it would be extremely interesting to know in 
 whose favour that will would be drawn, and what 
 legacies there would be for faithful servants. Mr. 
 Beaver had been in his present employment as 
 secretary and librarian for something under a year. 
 Not very long perhaps, but long enough in the 
 ordinary course of events, presupposing, that is to
 
 4 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 say, a generous as well as an endlessly rich employer, 
 for him to be able to count on something substantial, 
 the more so as Mr. Mortlake was to the best of his 
 knowledge without any near relatives. Only it is 
 of little use presupposing wills. Often a man seems 
 bent on identifying his last testament with his last 
 disservice to those who knew him. And old Mortlake 
 it had to be confessed had never appreciated his 
 secretary's work very highly. Or if he did, he had 
 omitted to mention the fact. Hints conveyed in no 
 very roundabout way that a more strenuous secretary 
 would suit him better, could not be considered as 
 compliments even by the most practised self-deceiver. 
 Silly old fool, to be so busy-minded at his age and 
 with his possessions ! Fancy a man with one leg 
 in the grave slaving away at the revision of a book 
 on scarabs. It was monstrous. 
 
 So much in the way of a conclusion Mr. Beaver 
 had arrived at even before he had traversed the 
 corridor separating the library from the dining-room. 
 The absurdity of it all was too obvious to need reflec- 
 tion. But when he sat down at the table in the 
 great room a room that Mr. Mortlake with curious 
 taste had filled largely from his famed collection of 
 bronzes and ivories so that it had become a museum 
 of weird figures of gods and goddesses, with fixed 
 leers and chiselled frowns, indecent majesties and
 
 MR. BEAVER DECIDES TO LISTEN 5 
 
 tyrannous deformities, made to endure by artists 
 unknown and worshippers who had become dust 
 figures that Beaver considered revolting to dine with 
 and unpleasant to work among (but any figures were 
 that) when he sat down in this room a monument 
 of his employer's whims the young man grew not 
 only disgusted but resentful. What right had a man 
 to spend his money on such things, and yet have 
 loads to leave just as the fancy took him ? And 
 how would the fancy take him ? It was his inability 
 to answer this question that caused the feeling of 
 resentment to grow. Mr. Beaver felt that as Mr. 
 Mortlake's secretary he had a right to know. As a 
 rule, men trusted their secretaries, made intimates of 
 them. He had never wanted to be intimate with 
 Mr. Mortlake. The old fellow was too stiff and fierce 
 with a mind that ran on scarabs and archaeology 
 and galley - slaving for any one to be able to 
 sympathise with him. Still it was none the less 
 outrageous, upon reflection, that his secretary had 
 never been asked to sympathise, and hadn't the 
 least inkling of how things were likely to go at this 
 critical moment. 
 
 Curiosity is a powerful lever ; curiosity with resent- 
 ment added is irresistible. Mr. Beaver had taken up 
 his pen, had begun fiddling with his papers, but had 
 given his attention solely to his grievance, when the
 
 6 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 sound of Bullock conducting the lawyers towards 
 the library caught his ear. An impulse caused him 
 to rise from his chair, go to the door, which was ajar, 
 and peep through. The procession which Bullock 
 was leading at his usual sober pace consisted of a 
 small elderly gentleman of a very brisk but by no 
 means agile appearance obviously Mr. Waterlane 
 and a sturdier young man, so square as almost to 
 seem stout, with fair hair and a solemn face. 
 
 Something about the young man's face brought 
 back memories to Beaver. What had Bullock said 
 the other lawyer's name was ? Illingborough ! Of 
 course. Beaver remembered him clearly now. He 
 had been at school with him. Rather a moral boy 
 Illingborough. Not exactly pious, but one of those 
 conscientious kids who,without meaning any particular 
 harm to their schoolfellows, set too prim a tone and 
 encourage masters to think that any one with a little 
 spirit in them is a nuisance. Beaver had been one 
 of the spirited ones, and had in fact been expelled 
 for one thing and another. He thought of Illing- 
 borough as a kid, because he himself had been a year 
 or two his senior. He could remember patronising 
 Illingborough, who regarded his elders at that time 
 with great reverence. Not a bad sort of kid. 
 Beaver had given him some lessons in bowling. He 
 had a picture in his mind of Illingborough fagging
 
 MR. BEAVER DECIDES TO LISTEN 7 
 
 about the school field in a particularly hot sun after 
 the balls which he Beaver had kindly slogged for 
 him to fetch. Pertinacious kid in his way. He had 
 fully believed that he was getting lessons in bowling, 
 as indeed he was. Only Beaver almost laughed 
 aloud at the recollection of Illingborough stoutly and 
 perseveringly trotting after those balls, and as grateful 
 as anything for being allowed to bowl them. Beaver 
 had left the school shortly after, so he could not know 
 how Illingborough had fared then. Got on well, no 
 doubt the kind of kid that would. Probably taken 
 a scholarship at one of the 'Varsities. And now he 
 was one of Mr. Mortlake's lawyers. 
 
 Beaver's reminiscences, which had been amiable 
 enough, turned to gall as he thought of this. A 
 youth like that was to draw up Mr. Mortlake's will, 
 to be taken into the confidence from which he himself 
 had been excluded. He was to know all about the 
 things which for Beaver had such a personal interest. 
 
 Suddenly it flashed across Beaver that the library 
 had a small room attached to it, with a separate door 
 opening into it. He had been into it that morning 
 to consult some book of reference, and he remembered 
 that the windows were open. Even if they had not 
 been, it would have been possible to hear through 
 the door. Why should he not go there and listen ? 
 There was nothing to prevent it. Nobody would
 
 8 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 dream of an eavesdropper in the next room. The 
 servants were all too old and respectable for such a 
 thing. And if there were no thought of a listener, 
 there would be no search for one. Even if by some 
 accident he should be discovered there, he could 
 pretend he had gone to look up another reference. 
 The plan by nature of its ease and simplicity 
 appealed so much to Mr. Beaver's primal instincts 
 that there was no resisting it. He waited for Bullock 
 to return down the corridor ; then he himself slipped 
 out of the dining-room and into the annexe of the 
 library. He found that he could hear beautifully.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 THE APPLE IS THROWN UPON THE BOARD 
 
 ALL the way from Abchurch Lane to the house in 
 Piccadilly, which had been traversed in a cab, Mr. 
 Waterlane had been so chatty and yet so secretive 
 as considerably to mystify his junior partner. Being 
 quite a junior, only recently admitted, and also 
 possessing a highly developed bump of respect, 
 Illingborough would not for worlds have interrogated 
 Mr. Waterlane about matters upon which he did 
 not choose to be communicative. Still he would have 
 liked to know what the ordeal before him in connection 
 with Mr. Mortlake's will an ordeal which Mr. Water- 
 lane kept hinting at was likely to be. Mr. Waterlane, 
 a little bird of a man with shrewd eyes guarded by 
 spectacles, would only go on hinting. Not until they 
 had dismissed their cabman who on receiving his 
 fare from Mr. Waterlane called that gentleman a 
 human taximeter did matters get much further. 
 Even then, when they had been shown in and were 
 waiting for Mr. Mortlake, matters did not get so very 
 
 9
 
 io THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 much further. Mr. Waterlane remained mysterious 
 rather than otherwise. He seemed, however, to be 
 getting nearer to unfolding. 
 
 " I wonder," he said, sipping the glass of sherry 
 which Bullock had provided " I wonder how you will 
 like Mr. Mortlake. You haven't met him, of course ? 
 He is one of our oldest clients. But he has not been 
 near the office for years. Somewhat of a recluse. 
 I should not personally have supposed that he had 
 so much respect for us lawyers as his present intention 
 presupposes. In fact, I remember his saying some 
 distinctly derogatory things to me about the processes 
 of the law on one occasion. In a humorous way of 
 course. But there was always a strain of eccentricity 
 about him." Mr. Waterlane paused for breath and 
 fingered his glass. " I confess," he continued, " that I 
 admire eccentricity in others." 
 
 Illingborough had a vague notion that eccentricity 
 was the last thing he should have suspected Mr. 
 Waterlane of admiring. There was nothing Mr. 
 Waterlane admired less in his clerks. But there was 
 a distinction no doubt to be drawn between clerks and 
 clients. 
 
 " Eccentricity," pursued Mr. Waterlane, " indicates 
 a strong individuality. Not always, not always. In 
 Mr. Mortlake it certainly does. He is decidedly an 
 intellectual. I dare say, Illingborough, though you
 
 APPLE IS THROWN UPON THE BOARD n 
 
 haven't met him, you have read his book on 
 scarabs ? " 
 
 Illingborough said that he was afraid that he had 
 not. 
 
 " Ah, you should," said Mr. Waterlane. " It's 
 quite a classic, I believe. The last word on an 
 intricate subject. He gave me a copy of it. You 
 certainly ought to get the book The History of 
 Scarabs. Very interesting." 
 
 " It must be," said Illingborough. 
 
 "What makes it more so," said Mr. Waterlane, 
 " is that it is probably his last. When the lease of 
 the human tenement is decided by Sir Cyprian 
 Golding, the chance of renewal is small. Yet he is 
 not more than seventy. But there in the midst 
 
 of life, we are hum " Mr. Waterlane had forgotten 
 
 how the quotation finished, so simply added, " Very 
 sad ! " 
 
 " Do I understand," said Illingborough, " that Mr. 
 Mortlake is dying ? " 
 
 " Well," said Mr. Waterlane, with a melancholy 
 smile, " you need not tax him with it. People are 
 often susceptible to remarks on the subject. But I 
 fear that it is so. Now, Illingborough," Mr. Water- 
 lane bent forward with a raised forefinger, " I want 
 you not to think him faddy. Young men often think 
 anything out of the common run a fad. But as he is
 
 12 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 entrusting his business to you, I want you to put 
 away any bias. We mustn't be narrow." 
 
 " But might I ask," Illingborough began, con- 
 siderably bewildered, " what the business is ? " 
 
 " Mr. Mortlake will tell you himself," said Mr. 
 Waterlane. " Ah," he said, as the door opened and 
 the old butler entered, " I expect that means that Mr. 
 Mortlake is ready for us." 
 
 Bullock said it did, and they followed him to 
 the library, unaware of Mr. Beaver's watching from 
 behind the dining-room door. They found Mr. 
 Mortlake an old man with iron-grey hair and beard 
 and something of iron in his face seated in his arm- 
 chair. He held out his hand to Mr. Waterlane with 
 an apology for not rising, then looked inquiringly at 
 Illingborough. 
 
 " My junior partner Mr. Illingborough," said Mr. 
 Waterlane. " Mr. Illingborough has not been with 
 me long, having of course only taken poor Tabb's 
 place. But in conscientiousness and, I may add, 
 the legal instinct, Illingborough excels most of us. 
 We value his judgement very highly, very highly." 
 
 " Indeed," said Mr. Mortlake. He had been looking 
 at Illingborough steadily from under bushy eyebrows. 
 " Have you told him, Waterlane, what I want done ? " 
 
 " No," said Mr. Waterlane ; " I merely suggested 
 that we were to assist in drawing up a will. Your
 
 APPLE IS THROWN UPON THE BOARD 13 
 
 instructions to me being what they were it seemed 
 best " 
 
 " Quite so. I prefer to tell him myself," said 
 Mr. Mortlake, and turned to Illingborough. " Now, 
 sir, if you will be so good as to listen to me, I shall 
 get to the point which I never can do with Waterlane." 
 
 " Come, come," began that gentleman genially, 
 but was disregarded. 
 
 " I am told," said Mr. Mortlake, " that in all prob- 
 ability I have not very long to live." 
 
 " Doctors are so frequently pessimistic," interposed 
 Mr. Waterlane." 
 
 " I pay mine so highly," said Mr. Mortlake, " that 
 they cannot afford to be pessimistic." 
 
 " Still dum spiro," suggested Mr. Waterlane. 
 
 " I am aware of the quotation," said Mr. Mortlake. 
 " And if to hope will give you any satisfaction, pray 
 do so." He glared at Mr. Waterlane and turned to 
 Illingborough again. " Under these circumstances I 
 have decided to make my will. I am a wealthy man, 
 and I am told it is the thing to do. Waterlane says 
 so. What do you say, Mr. Illingborough ? " 
 
 Illingborough started a little, the question was so 
 sudden. 
 
 " I think," he said gravely, " that money is not 
 among the good things that can be interred with one." 
 
 The old man nodded.
 
 14 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 " Good," he said. " You mean, I take it, that it is 
 the last responsibility. Well, so it seems to me." 
 
 " Not that I have much experience of it," said 
 Illingborough modestly. 
 
 " You probably know this," said Mr. Mortlake, 
 " that money is often left erratically. It goes to the 
 wrong people. A man's prejudices cling to the end. 
 A man on his death-bed may repent his sins, he cannot 
 reform his character or his opinions. If he has been a 
 fool before, he will be a fool then." 
 
 " One trusts not," said Mr. Waterlane, in a sym- 
 pathetic voice. 
 
 " I admit," said Mr. Mortlake dryly, " that he will 
 not be aware of it. Don't be mournful, Waterlane. 
 I am not feeling repentant or anything calculated 
 to distress you. I am only making it clear that I 
 have my prejudices like any other man, and that 
 they are likely to reveal themselves in the making 
 of my will. If you could tell me how to avoid being 
 prejudiced ? " 
 
 " True, true," said Mr. Waterlane. " Yet there 
 are always ways. Bequests to charity, for instance." 
 
 " Charity ! What is modern charity ? A system 
 by which humbugging officials fatten on the business 
 of pauperising their fellow-creatures. Don't shake 
 your head, Waterlane ! " Mr. Mortlake continued 
 so irately as to cause Mr. Waterlane who had wagged
 
 APPLE IS THROWN UPON THE BOARD 15 
 
 his head to indicate rather the melancholy induced 
 in him by this statement than any idea of contra- 
 diction to start suddenly. " It is so. You can't 
 deny it." 
 
 Lest he should be supposed capable of denying 
 anything in the presence of so resolute a client, Mr. 
 Waterlane brought his neck to such a stiffness that 
 it seemed made of cast-iron. " No, no, of course 
 not," he said. 
 
 " But surely it is a most sweeping statement," said 
 Illingborough, who had been thinking. 
 
 Mr. Mortlake gave him a look of surprise. 
 
 " I like sweeping statements," he said curtly. 
 
 " Still it does not make them any the truer," said 
 Illingborough. 
 
 " But then you see, Illingborough," began Mr. 
 Waterlane, in considerable anxiety. 
 
 "Oblige me by holding your tongue, Waterlane," 
 said Mr. Mortlake despotically. " Mr. Illingborough 
 is perfectly right, which you wouldn't be if you 
 talked for a month. At the same time, Mr. Illing- 
 borough, my statement is sufficiently true in my 
 estimation to prevent me from thinking of leaving 
 anything to charity. It would be only wasting your 
 time to no purpose or I'd let you talk. I'd better 
 get to the point. Apart from a few legacies to 
 servants which I should propose to base on a percent-
 
 16 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 age of salaries and years of service, I intend to leave 
 my money to one of my nieces." 
 
 Mr. Waterlane smiled. The will would not be so 
 eccentric then. 
 
 " The lady young will be one of the richess heiresses 
 in England," he said, with an almost religious fervour. 
 
 " And a prey to adventurers," said Mr. Mortlake. 
 "It is to select this unfortunate young woman, Mr. 
 Illingborough, that I want your help." 
 
 " To select her ? " Illingborough did not understand. 
 
 " Select her out of a family of three sisters," 
 explained Mr. Mortlake. " My prejudice favours a 
 relative ; my conscience or whatever you choose to 
 call it prompts me to leave it to my most worthy 
 relative. Unfortunately, I don't know my nieces. 
 Years ago I quarrelled with their father, my brother- 
 in-law, a fool. I haven't seen them since. They 
 were in pinafores then. At present, I imagine, they 
 are, in their own opinion, grown up or very nearly 
 so." 
 
 " In that case " began Illingborough. 
 
 " I could make my own selection by seeing them ? 
 I don't want to. Prejudice would only work further. 
 That is what I wish to avoid." 
 
 " But," Illingborough began again, " surely Mr. 
 Waterlane must have explained to you the one 
 inevitable difficulty. It seems to me there must be
 
 APPLE IS THROWN UPON THE BOARD 17 
 
 many others, but the main one is that a lawyer may 
 not advise in the making of a will." 
 
 "Exactly what I told Mr. Mortlake," said Mr. 
 Waterlane. " It is a matter not only of professional 
 etiquette, but of obvious equity. If a solicitor " 
 
 " Quite so," said Mr. Mortlake. " I remember 
 your statements, Waterlane, and your assurance that 
 Mr. Illingborough would confirm you in them. If 
 he does and I hoped he would not " 
 
 "I cannot avoid doing so," said Illingborough firmly. 
 
 " Then I have thought of another plan," said 
 Mr. Mortlake. " I am not a solicitor myself, but it 
 seems to me I can see a way through professional 
 etiquette. It is this I ask you to forget entirely 
 what I have just said. I state to you in Mr. Water- 
 lane's presence that I do not wish to make my will. 
 In all probability I shall call in another firm to assist 
 me when I do. But what I do ask you to oblige me 
 in doing is to go down to my brother-in-law's, stay 
 there for, let us suppose, a month, and at the end of 
 that time forward me the name of the most pleasant 
 or most worthy or, briefly, most satisfactory of my 
 nieces, in order that I may let us again suppose 
 invite her to pay me a visit " 
 
 The old man looked at Illingborough and Illing- 
 borough looked across at Mr. Waterlane. Mr. 
 Waterlane looked at the ceiling.
 
 i8 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 "It seems a curious commission, "said Illingborough, 
 seeing no help from his partner. ".After what you 
 have said, I'm afraid " 
 
 " Wait ! " said Mr. Mortlake. " In the first place, 
 nobody but you and Waterlane have heard my first 
 proposal. In the second, I have asked you to forget 
 it. In the third, I deny that it has any connection 
 with the proposal now before you. Fourthly and 
 lastly, without wishing to appeal to sentiment, you 
 will be disobliging an old man who has not long to 
 live if you refuse." He smiled a curious grim smile 
 as he spoke. 
 
 Mr. Waterlane was moved. 
 
 " Certainly this proposal appears very different to 
 the first one," he said. 
 
 " I don't like it," said Illingborough. Mr. Mort- 
 lake's denial had not impressed him. He hardly 
 knew if it were meant to. "It is not a solicitor's 
 business," he added. 
 
 " Family solicitors," said Mr. Waterlane dubiously, 
 " have before now rendered services not dissimilar." 
 
 " You hear your senior partner ! " said Mr. Mort- 
 lake. " Surely eccentric old men may sometimes 
 be humoured at is it ten-and-six an hour ? I 
 confess," he added politely, " that it is not a service 
 that can be paid for in money." 
 
 " But in any case," said Illingborough, struggling
 
 APPLE IS THROWN UPON THE BOARD 19 
 
 against his distaste, " how could one ever be in a 
 position to give the opinion you require ? " 
 
 " That is simple enough," said Mr. Mortlake. He 
 put his hand on a newspaper cutting that lay on a 
 small table beside him. " If you will look at that 
 you will see how to manage." 
 
 Illingborough took the cutting. It was an adver- 
 tisement for a paying guest. It stated that the 
 Misses Wetherborne would receive into the Sea House 
 a gentleman desirous of bracing air and country life. 
 Their terms would be four guineas a week, and 
 references would be given and required. 
 
 " It was that advertisement," said Mr. Mortlake, 
 " that partly gave me idea of getting an opinion on 
 my nieces. It's not the first time I've seen it in the 
 Morning Post, though I doubt if any man has been 
 simple enough to pay four guineas a week for the 
 sort of entertainment they can give him. However, 
 it makes my plan feasible." 
 
 " You propose that I should go down there ? " 
 asked Illingborough. 
 
 " As any other paying guest might yes for a 
 month," said Mr. Mortlake. " I think I can give 
 you a month." 
 
 " Without indicating my reasons ? " Illingborough 
 asked. 
 
 " You don't know them I mean," Mr. Mortlake
 
 20 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 corrected himself, " just as you please. Inform them 
 that you are to select one of them for the pleasure 
 of a visit to their uncle if you think it would enliven 
 your own visit to them. I should not do so my- 
 self." 
 
 Illingborough reflected. 
 
 " It seems unfair for a person like myself, who is 
 particularly stupid at knowing what people are like, 
 to arbitrate on on " he paused. 
 
 " On a small point like that ? " said Mr. Mortlake. 
 " Would Waterlane, do you think, do better ? " 
 
 " No, no," said that gentleman. 
 
 " You'll have to go, if Mr. Illingborough won't," 
 said Mr. Mortlake despotically. " Come now " 
 
 " I think you might go, Illingborough," said Mr. 
 Waterlane. 
 
 Illingborough made a last effort. 
 
 " I would rather not," he said ; " I should certainly 
 make a mistake." 
 
 " I shall trust you entirely," said the old man. 
 
 " It's most awfully kind of you to do so," said 
 Illingborough. " But I don't see why you should." 
 
 Mr. Mortlake looked at him with something 
 approaching a smile. 
 
 " Put it down to eccentricity in me," he said, " or 
 to your own powers of looking sagacious. As you 
 please. It's settled, is it ? "
 
 APPLE IS THROWN UPON THE BOARD 21 
 
 " Yes, yes," said Mr. Waterlane. " I think it may 
 be passed at that." 
 
 " If you wish it," said Illingborough, "though " 
 
 " Right ! " interrupted Mr. Mortlake, holding out 
 his hand in the evident fear that Illingborough would 
 proceed upon further passages of self-depreciation. 
 " I won't detain you then. You'll apply for the 
 post of guest and go down as soon as possible. All 
 success to you. One moment, Waterlane," he added, 
 as that gentleman was about to leave with his partner. 
 
 Illingborough took the hint and left the two alone. 
 
 " I only wanted," said Mr. Mortlake, " to con- 
 gratulate you upon showing me an honest lawyer ! " 
 
 Mr. Waterlane smiled. He took a good deal of 
 the credit to himself for having been able to please 
 so difficult and old a client. 
 
 " I believe that you will find Illingborough all 
 that you think," he said. " I feel sure the young 
 ladies will be fairly treated, and the right one selected 
 for the visit. I am glad that you gave up your first 
 idea." 
 
 " Oh ! " said Mr. Mortlake. 
 
 " Yes, it wouldn't have done at all," said Mr. 
 Waterlane. " I couldn't have advised Illingborough 
 to such a breach. As it is, there is only one danger 
 I foresee." 
 
 " What is that ? " said Mr. Mortlake.
 
 22 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 Mr. Waterlane smiled slyly. 
 
 " It may develop into a judgement of Paris," he said. 
 
 " I doubt it," said Mr. Mortlake. " And in any 
 case it would still remain the judgement of Illing- 
 borough."
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 THE CANDIDATES FOR THE APPLE 
 
 ON the day on which Mr. Illingborough was due to 
 arrive at the Sea House, the two eldest of the three 
 Misses Wetherborne were seated in their own 
 particular room. The view through the windows 
 was of a wooded garden dropping to a little inlet of 
 the sea. There were flowers in the garden as well 
 as trees. The June sun struck down a path that 
 for some distance was guarded with the white spikes 
 of Madonna lilies and clumps of turquoise delphiniums, 
 then turned and pierced a hedge of yellow roses and 
 dipped quickly to the blue green of the bay. It was 
 the smallest of bays shut in by heads of rock steep 
 but not frowning and on this still morning (what 
 with the trees and flowers overgrowing it) it suggested 
 a piece of a mountain lake rather than the sea. 
 
 The room was less immune from criticism than 
 the view from it. Its arrangements would not have 
 satisfied the eyes of a strict housekeeper. It was 
 
 untidy even extremely untidy. The floor served 
 
 23
 
 24 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 not only the usual purposes of a floor, but also those 
 of a bookshelf, a table, and a cupboard. Not that 
 those articles of furniture were wanting. At the 
 back of the room there was a large oak bookshelf 
 containing among other things several hats, a bottle 
 of gum, and some parcels. A glass-fronted cabinet 
 to the right which had the glass and the hinge of 
 the door broken was stuffed with clothes in need of 
 mending, old magazines, and a pair of waders. The 
 table in the centre, though at times it was used for 
 writing at, as was evident from the ink spots upon it, 
 served at the moment to support a sewing machine 
 and Miss Anne Wetherborne. 
 
 She sat on the edge of it, booted and spurred. 
 Her right hand turned the handle of the sewing 
 machine, strongly but not ungracefully, while her 
 left guided the strip of pink silk under the bobbing 
 needle. It was not perhaps the most suitable position 
 for a machinist, but the stuff controlled by her lithe 
 hand ran under the needle straight enough, and there 
 was no zigzag in the stitching. 
 
 She was a slim girl. Her habit in spite of its worn 
 appearance emphasised the slimness. Her light 
 brown hair, tied up in a broad flap behind, came 
 rather low on to her brows, which were at present 
 knitted to a frown. The frown, which only dared 
 the needle to go wrong, was withdrawn, as the hem
 
 THE CANDIDATES FOR THE APPLE 25 
 
 ran to the end of the silk ; the large grey eyes relaxed ; 
 and her lips curved to a smile. 
 
 " There, lazy beast," she said amiably, tossing 
 the stuff across to her sister. 
 
 " How can you, Anne ! " 
 
 " Do it so quick ? Because I'm a jolly good sewing 
 woman." 
 
 " I meant use those vulgar expressions. They 
 come so incongruously from a young gentlewoman." 
 
 " O Lord, is that what I am ? " said Anne. 
 
 She sat there on the table dangling her legs and 
 surveyed her sister with a tolerant smile. It was 
 Jocelyne's way to repose gracefully in a chair and to 
 reprove her sister for saying and doing untoward things. 
 Anne did so many things that some of them were 
 bound to be untoward, and she did not in the least 
 mind Jocelyne's calling attention to them. Indeed, 
 she rather liked to hear her criticisms. They showed 
 Jocelyne active, Jocelyne in her humour ; when 
 Jocelyne was not criticising, she was so often merely 
 listless and peevish. 
 
 No one would have guessed that in looking at her. 
 She was a beautiful girl. Both Mr. Wetherborne's 
 elder daughters were that, but Jocelyne had the 
 start by a year (being twenty to Anne's bare nineteen) 
 in the race towards adolescent beauty. She had 
 grown to a rounded completeness, which Anne still
 
 26 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 lacked. She was Anne finished ; Anne in flower. 
 Or perhaps that metaphor is faulty, inasmuch that, 
 for all their likeness, Jocelyne was far more to be 
 compared with flowers than Anne was. She was 
 built in the more flowery style. You looked more 
 to her for colour and less for form. If she was the 
 flower, Anne was rather some young tree firmer 
 growing than any flower, and showing no promise of 
 drooping a little, as Jocelyne might, with the weight 
 of her beauty. 
 
 " Was it a young gentlewoman you took me for ? " 
 Anne repeated as Jocelyne scrutinised the pink silk 
 without at first replying. 
 
 " Yes," said Jocelyne. " But I'm sometimes 
 afraid that other people won't recognise it." 
 
 " Horrid loss for them." 
 
 " Only yesterday," Jocelyne continued, " Mrs. 
 Watterly asked me if I didn't think you were becoming 
 a little wild." 
 
 " And did you ? " 
 
 " I didn't say so to her," said Jocelyne ; " of course 
 she's a fussy prig. But I'm not at all sure she isn't 
 right about you." 
 
 " I don't care, my dearest," said Anne, " if she is." 
 
 " I do," said Jocelyne. 
 
 " Why ? " 
 
 " Because she represents lots of other people."
 
 THE CANDIDATES FOR THE APPLE 27 
 
 Anne tapped her foot against the leg of the table 
 and whistled blithely. 
 
 " Bother the lots of other people," she said. 
 
 " Oh, you talk like that," said Jocelyne impatiently, 
 " but you don't realise what it means. Supposing, 
 for instance, when this Mr. Illingborough comes " 
 
 " Bother him particularly," said Anne ; " I wish 
 he wasn't coming." 
 
 " So do I, of course," said Jocelyne. 
 
 Anne opened her eyes. 
 
 " What on earth is he coming for then ? " she 
 demanded. " I thought it was just to amuse you." 
 
 " Certainly not." 
 
 " Oh, I see. Mr. Clifford has made him un- 
 necessary." 
 
 Jocelyne flushed slightly. 
 
 " You know very well, Anne," she said, " that the 
 idea of having a paying guest " 
 
 " Lodger ! " 
 
 " Paying guest sprang from motives of economy. 
 We need some money. But it is also true that we 
 don't see many people, and I thought that if some- 
 body awfully nice did turn up, it might be a chance 
 for you." 
 
 " Jos I " 
 
 " Don't," said Jocelyne, who hated that corruption 
 of her name.
 
 28 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 " Well, then, say you never thought of such a 
 thing." 
 
 " Oh, of course, everything I do is for selfish 
 motives." 
 
 " But tell me such a horrible idea never entered 
 your head." 
 
 " I see nothing horrible in it. It's all very well 
 for you to go galloping about the country on horse- 
 back all day, seeing nobody and shocking everybody 
 who sees you. But what is to be the end of it ? " 
 
 " What do you mean ? Who wants an end ? " 
 
 " I mean, supposing anything happens to father ? 
 Or even if it doesn't ? " Jocelyne sat up in her chair 
 quite energetically. " You know very well he is 
 living on what's left of mother's money, and it's 
 constantly getting less and less. Soon it'll come to 
 an end, and then where shall we be ? We're un- 
 educated, friendless, and incompetent to do anything 
 that ordinary people can do." 
 
 " I can groom a horse," said Anne. 
 
 " Absurd ! " Jocelyne frowned with annoyance. 
 " Who's going to have a girl as groom ? You don't 
 realise, Anne, how we're situated, or may be. You 
 don't want to go into an almshouse like Mrs. Baggs 
 and old Jane Cotter ? Well, our only chance of not 
 having to do that or something worse is to marry." 
 
 " Who are you going to marry ? " said Anne.
 
 THE CANDIDATES FOR THE APPLE 29 
 
 " You don't show yourself any more sensible by 
 talking like that," said Jocelyne. " I suppose you 
 think it just comes to you marriage. Comes to you 
 in a place like this ! It doesn't. You might live 
 here for fifty years and never be looked at." 
 
 " Mrs. Watterly seems to have noticed me." 
 
 " I'm talking of men. You needn't stare. It 
 may not sound prim and proper to talk about whether 
 there are any men to marry you. But if you don't, 
 you'll be left in the lurch you and Joan. I don't 
 mean to be." 
 
 " I dare say I shall marry some day," said Anne 
 casually, in the manner that most annoyed her sister. 
 
 " You won't," she retorted, " unless you make 
 some effort to attract. It's very hateful, but we've 
 got to find the men for ourselves. It's not our faults. 
 If we had money, or a decent house or anything, they'd 
 be after us like a shot at least they would after me." 
 
 " Modesty ! " 
 
 Jocelyne smiled a superior smile. 
 
 " My dear, I'm not a hypocrite," she said. " I 
 know I'm good-looking. So are you, in rather a 
 different way. We get it from father. About the 
 only thing we are ever likely to get. It's our talent, 
 and I'm not going to put mine in a napkin. I'm 
 going to use it." 
 
 " Much better trust to luck," said Anne. She was
 
 only vaguely conscious of what Jocelyne meant ; too 
 vaguely even to be hurt by the idea. Inwardly she 
 disapproved of or rather scorned some of the ways 
 of attracting that Jocelyne had recently taken to 
 such as dressing up in cheap finery, going in to Porton 
 Langley in high-heeled shoes, playing the fine lady 
 to any one who would look her way or to her mirror 
 if nobody would. But all these endeavours had been 
 hitherto so unpractical, and Anne herself was so 
 young that they had seemed to her nothing worse 
 than stupid. She merely wondered what the fun 
 could be of posing indoors before a glass, or walking 
 about the High Street of Porton Langley in uncom- 
 fortable shoes, when one had the moors and sea at 
 one's door, a boat to sail and a horse to ride. As for 
 men, she had never met a man she wanted to talk 
 to for more than a minute or two, unless it was Joe 
 Harpington, blacksmith and farrier of Porton Langley, 
 who could tell stories of racehorses for forty years 
 back, and was an authority on ferrets. The young 
 men who appealed to Jocelyne seemed to Anne 
 particularly silly and disposed her to curtness. 
 
 " Really I can't see any good being in a hurry," 
 she added, as these reflections came over her. " But 
 anyhow I hope to goodness you won't expect me to 
 look after our lodger." 
 
 " Of course if you don't want to avail yourself of
 
 THE CANDIDATES FOR THE APPLE 31 
 
 what may be a splendid opportunity," said Jocelyne, 
 " you needn't." 
 
 " I don't," said Anne. 
 
 " Then I shall offer it to Joan." 
 
 " Good luck to Joan ! " said Anne. " But you 
 know very well, Jos, you couldn't really leave a young 
 man to anybody but yourself." 
 
 Indeed, Jocelyne showed no great anxiety to 
 dispose of Mr. Illingborough when, a few minutes 
 later, the door opened and her younger sister entered. 
 It was Anne who made Joan the offer. 
 
 " Going going a young man, kid. What do 
 you bid ? " 
 
 " What do you mean ? " said Joan. Two years 
 younger than Anne, she looked quite as old when her 
 hair was up, owing perhaps to her peculiarly bustling 
 manner. Otherwise she Was distinctly the least 
 pleasing to look on of the sisters ; of a tubby figure 
 that might improve later on, and would bear improve- 
 ment. Her manners were rough, and even the armful 
 of flowers which she had brought in with her from 
 the garden she seemed to carry not too tenderly. 
 Indeed, no aspect of gentleness was suggested by Joan. 
 She was essentially a busy bee, and people who 
 emulate the bee are apt to lay too much stress on 
 the buzzing capacity. In insects, their undoubted 
 industry excuses to a kindly philosopher the con-
 
 32 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 siderable noise they make about it, and he may reflect 
 that it is the bee's misfortune to be born that way. 
 In the human being buzzing is so unnatural that one 
 cannot avoid suspecting that when so much energy 
 is consumed in producing the sound of work, the 
 just proportion is not employed on the work 
 itself. 
 
 Perhaps the suspicion is unjustified. There still 
 remains this much to be said against buzzing, that 
 while it apparently soothes its insect inventors who 
 must in some strange way be musical lovers as it 
 were of one another's tom-tomming it irritates 
 higher and more nervous creatures. 
 
 A human buzzer is almost invariably unpopular. 
 
 " What is all this about a young man ! " demanded 
 Joan, " and why is he going ? " 
 
 " Mr. Illingborough," said Anne. 
 
 " I thought he was coming," said Joan, who was 
 very literal. 
 
 " So he is," said Anne, " but in another sense he is 
 going too at least so Jos thinks." 
 
 " What sense ? " asked Joan. 
 
 " Oh, it doesn't matter," said Jocelyne impatiently. 
 " You're too young to understand. I was only 
 asking Anne to try to behave decently to Mr. Illing- 
 borough. It's the least we can do to our guest." 
 
 " Certainly," said Joan, who had begun arranging
 
 THE CANDIDATES FOR THE APPLE 33 
 
 her flowers in large and ill-assorted bunches. " I 
 wonder if he frets." 
 
 " I hope not," said Anne. 
 
 " Wood, I mean. Fretwook, you know, or any 
 sort of carving. Because Odo Watterly has come, and 
 if both he and Mr. Illingborough could carve a little, 
 we might get something done to the rood-screen. 
 The rector says if I can get it carved for nothing, I 
 may." 
 
 " Sort of thank you for nothing," Anne suggested 
 unkindly. 
 
 " Not at all," said Joan, with indignation. " There 
 is no work more noble or less gratefully received than 
 work done for the church." 
 
 " Oh, don't be an abominable little prig, for heaven's 
 sake, Joan," said Jocelyne. Her young sister's recent 
 development into a church worker a development 
 self-inspired and not altogether relished by the peaceful- 
 minded rector, who found himself hustled from his 
 accustomed ways by a tornado just out of the nursery 
 annoyed Jocelyne. For one thing it gave Joan a 
 self-importance that a child had no business to affect ; 
 for another it was absurd. Jocelyne hated to be 
 involved by her family in absurdities. " I suppose 
 all this fussing," she went on, " is simply because 
 Odo has come. Can't you let that poor youth alone ? " 
 
 " Not in a church cause," said Joan, undeterred 
 3
 
 34 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 by the charge of priggishness. " In other ways I can 
 let youths alone better than you can, Jocelyne." 
 
 " I don't want any impudence," said Jocelyne, 
 reddening at Anne's laughter. 
 
 " It isn't impudence," said Joan calmly. " I 
 may tell you that spending one's time walking about 
 with strangers like Mr. Clifford is not approved in a 
 
 parish like ours. Mrs. Watterly says " 
 
 " Hold your tongue ! " 
 
 " That Lady Start very much disapproves of our 
 taking paying guests at all," said Joan. " She thinks 
 it unnecessary, and so do I." 
 
 " You are an unbearable little fool," said Jocelyne 
 angrily, and Anne rocked with laughter. " And you 
 had better leave the room." 
 
 " I was just going to, as you know," said Joan, 
 moving towards the door. " I have promised to 
 arrange these flowers in the church, and I should 
 not like to disappoint the rector." 
 
 " Disappoint fiddlesticks," said Jocelyne, but Joan 
 only gave her a superior smile as she went out. 
 
 " If Mr. Illingborough carves," she said, " I shall 
 be able to give him some work." 
 Jocelyne sank back in her chair. 
 " What Joan wants," she said, " is a whipping. 
 If she's going off to the church, it means she won't 
 be back for lunch, and won't be able to drive the cart
 
 THE CANDIDATES FOR THE APPLE 35 
 
 to the station. I meant to send her to meet Mr. 
 Illingborough. I can't go." 
 
 " Well, I don't want to," said Anne, " which I 
 suppose amounts to the same thing. It'll do if we 
 send Tom over, won't it ? " 
 
 " I suppose so," said Jocelyne ; " you might tell him 
 not to be late." 
 
 " All right," said Anne.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 j 
 
 JOCELYNE PREPARES TO WIN 
 
 UNGRACIOUSNESS, which is the refusal to accept a 
 kindness, is often far more vexatious than ingratitude, 
 which is only the refusal to acknowledge it. For in 
 the latter case the benefactor has at least the reward 
 of feeling that he has done the kindly act. No failure 
 on the part of the recipient can take away this feeling. 
 But in the other case a benefactor must not only go 
 unthanked but is also deprived of any comfortable 
 certainty that he has done the right thing. He has, in 
 fact, not even the satisfaction of feeling sure that he is 
 a benefactor. The conduct of the other person amounts 
 to the suggestion that he is not. 
 
 A reflection of this sort unformulated but equally 
 vexatious accounted for the frown on Jocelyne's 
 face as, an hour or two later, she strolled leisurely 
 up the cliff path leading to Porton Langley. She was 
 quite positive that Anne was ungracious not to be 
 willing to appreciate in the smallest degree her re- 
 signation in Anne's favour of Mr. Illingborough as a 
 
 36
 
 JOCELYNE PREPARES TO WIN 37 
 
 potential admirer. It was true perhaps that she 
 had not to begin with planned to have a paying 
 guest solely with a view to Anne's interest. Mr. 
 Clifford had not swum into her ken at that date. 
 Therefore it was possible that she had thought it would 
 be amusing for herself as well as for Anne to have the 
 society of a young man. 
 
 But since Mr. Clifford had turned up, since as a 
 consequence Mr. Illingborough's presence would be 
 for Jocelyne a trial rather than otherwise, what 
 could be more disagreeable than Anne's desire to wash 
 her hands of him ? It was pretty certain the young 
 man would want some attention, or he was not likely 
 to stay long. As far as his society went, Jocelyne 
 no longer cared. She did not want it, even if he 
 turned out to be pleasant, and there was a risk that he 
 might not. But she did want four guineas a week, 
 particularly now that the summer was coming on, 
 and one had to be decently clothed, and she had 
 contracted with the Misses Job for two new dresses. 
 
 Besides, what she had been saying to Anne about 
 the future was all eminently true and important. 
 At one time or another they must marry, and the 
 chances in marriage are the sooner the better. Of 
 course Mr. Illingborough, of whom they knew nothing 
 as yet, might not fancy Anne. If he were a man of 
 critical taste and had the entree to London society, if,
 
 38 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 in fact, he bore any resemblance to Mr. Clifford, he 
 was not likely to. Jocelyne had informed Anne 
 of Mrs. Watterly's criticism, but it was really of Mr. 
 Clifford's that she had been thinking. " Your helter- 
 skelter sister," Mr. Clifford had called Anne. He and 
 Jocelyne had been walking together at the time, 
 and Anne had leapt her horse at a field-gate and 
 almost come down on them before they saw her. 
 What business had she to call down upon herself 
 the epithet of helter-skelter ? Jocelyne felt an added 
 grievance against her when she thought of it. Anne 
 had no dignity, not even a sense of propriety. That 
 might be all very well if she were an only daughter 
 and wanted to lead the sort of life she was leading 
 now for ever, but she had no right to endanger her 
 sisters' reputations. It did not much matter to 
 Joan, who was quite insufferable anyhow, but it was a 
 distinct injury to herself. Jocelyne blushed to think 
 that she had a helter-skelter sister. 
 
 She had not at the time a certain callowness is 
 thereby indicated questioned Mr. Clifford's right to 
 refer to Anne as helter-skelter. A lady as lofty and 
 unprovincial as Jocelyne conceived herself to be 
 would have done so, and snubbed the critic even if 
 she had admitted to herself the justice of the criti- 
 cism. Jocelyne had merely coloured in a foolish 
 way.
 
 JOCELYNE PREPARES TO WIN 39 
 
 "I'm always trying to break Anne of it," she had 
 said, with a smile that did not conceal her mortifica- 
 tion. " I'm sure she does not get it from me." 
 
 " If she took after you," Mr. Clifford had answered, 
 " she would be perfect." 
 
 Thereupon Jocelyne's smile had become radiant. 
 Mr. Clifford's admiration was so unconcealed, and 
 Mr. Clifford was one who knew. 
 
 The recollection of this, or perhaps the change from 
 the steep climb up the cliffs to the cool walk on the 
 tops of them, cleared away Jocelyne's vexation. 
 After all, what did Anne's conduct matter, except to 
 herself ? It did not affect Jocelyne's status. No 
 one would ever take her for helter-skelter. And 
 when she had got those two dresses from the Misses 
 Job! 
 
 The thought of the joys of being fitted lent lightness 
 to Jocelyne's feet, and she tripped along the smooth 
 turf almost regardless of the twinges her tight shoes 
 gave her. One must suffer to enjoy. Jocelyne 
 was enjoying by anticipation. She hardly noticed 
 the mountain sheep dotted on the heathery cliffs, 
 or the sea below, or the gulls wheeling white against 
 the blue sky. Her mind's eye was upon the stuffy 
 little room in which the Misses Job, with pins in their 
 mouths and scissors in their fingers, would smooth 
 and snip and bustle round her, as they tried on the
 
 40 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 evening gown of the fashionable hue of Egyptian 
 earth and the green Shantung tennis frock with a pin- 
 tucked chemisette. So eager did Jocelyne become 
 that she almost ran the last part of the way down the 
 path leading into Porton Langley, and arrived in that 
 little sea town quite unfashionably warm. 
 
 Mesdames Estelle, Modes et Robes, is written over 
 a little red brick house in Wellington Street, which is 
 perhaps the chief turning out of High Street ; and 
 the group of wax dahlias under a glass case in the 
 window the chief thing visible from the outside 
 save the bamboo curtains gives but little indication 
 of the art evolved within. It was an art which 
 astounded and delighted no one so much as its pro- 
 ducers, who might in this respect be counted among 
 the happiest of artistes. So indeed they were, more 
 particularly Miss Amabelle Job, the younger of the 
 two Mesdames Estelle. So also they had cause to 
 be. For having, upon the death of their father 
 an ill-tempered, gruff little man, soured by the mis- 
 fortunes that had attended his endeavours to sell 
 candles, boots, acid drops, and other minor articles 
 of grocery started in the dressmaking line (at the 
 suggestion of the rector's wife, who pointed out that 
 they must now earn their own living, that Miss Ama- 
 belle had once taken a prize at the church school for 
 sewing, and that Miss Jane had an organising capacity
 
 JOCELYNE PREPARES TO WIN 41 
 
 which would always come in handy, and that small 
 dressmakers who would be thankful to do little jobs 
 carefully might count on support) having started in 
 this modest way the sisters had risen by slow degrees 
 to be practically the modistes of the place. This was 
 due partly to industry and enthusiasm, partly to 
 luck. For example, Madame Langley, who had been 
 the gown expert when they began, had died, leaving 
 all she possessed to her nephew, who not being a Worth 
 had allowed the business to vanish. Then again, a 
 French woman, who had introduced Parisian fashions 
 into Porton Langley, had been impeded in her un- 
 doubted capacity by a love of English liquors, which 
 shocked clients. It was rumoured that Mrs. Maine, 
 the rector's wife, had gone to be fitted during one of 
 Madame Philippe's bouts, and had had to rush from 
 the room only partly dressed in order to avoid being 
 made into a pin-cushion. Upon Madame Philippe's 
 departure, taken on a stretcher, the Misses Job had 
 added French to their other and more local modes. 
 They had ended by being practically forced in mere 
 justice to their own skill to adopt the title of Mesdames 
 Estelle, with all that that implied. Thus from binding 
 skirts for the fishers' wives and cutting out, simply 
 and squarely, the roomy knicker-bockers of the small 
 boys of the idler inhabitants, they had attained the 
 peaks of dressmaking. Mrs. Maine, who had once
 
 42 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 sent things to be mended, now had everything made 
 there, and she was but one of many gentlefolk. 
 Fashion plates and magazines embodying the latest 
 creations were subscribed for by the Mesdames 
 Estelle, and from them Miss Amabelle Job, whose 
 romantic tastes were backed by a really shrewd 
 observation, evolved her own often astonishing 
 adaptations. She had that passion for something 
 new that is of the essence of a dressmaker. Novelties 
 thrilled her, and if she was sometimes shocked by 
 some of the fashions that came from Paris, she 
 could always tone them down before reproducing 
 them. 
 
 Meanwhile Miss Jane kept the books, and was a 
 severe critic of misfits. She saw that hooks were 
 sewn on properly, and that Miss Amabelle was not 
 led away into extravagances of style. " Fits before 
 flounces " was one of her mottoes. " Quarterly pay- 
 ments " was another. 
 
 It was in reference to this latter maxim that Miss 
 Wetherborne, a little previous to her arrival, had 
 formed the subject of a discussion between the Mes- 
 dames Estelle. " Choice, isn't it ? " Miss Amabelle 
 had asked, holding up the pin-tucked chemisette she 
 had got out against Jocelyne's arrival. 
 
 " Too choice," said Miss Job. " I don't hold it's 
 worth making things for her." She was a small
 
 JOCELYNE PREPARES TO WIN 43 
 
 tight-set person, in sharp contrast to her large and 
 drooping sister. Her mouth was particularly prim. 
 " I don't trust that Miss Wetherborne," she continued. 
 
 " She has a sweet figure," said Miss Amabelle, 
 filling her mouth with pins so as to be ready. 
 
 " And a sweet bill she would run up, if allowed. 
 The same as Mr. Wetherborne does so all the trades- 
 people say." 
 
 " But it's only the two dresses she's ordered," 
 pleaded her sister. " And the Shantung'll be a 
 picture on her." 
 
 " Pictures aren't payers," said Miss Job. " What's 
 more, I don't care for pictures that give themselves 
 airs, as though they were the ladies of the land, when 
 everybody knows the contrary. However, as you 
 took on the work, I suppose it'll have to be done. 
 Only no more before she settles." 
 
 " She will," said Miss Amabelle, with conviction. 
 " They've got a paying guest coming to them so 
 the butcher was telling me a gentleman from 
 London. Who knows what that mayn't lead to ? " 
 
 Miss Job snorted slightly. 
 
 " London gentlemen aren't so romantic as you, Am. 
 ' What's the dot ? ' that's their first question, and I 
 don't blame them, when they can see for themselves 
 that it'll be bills, bills, bills all the time. What's 
 more, gentlemen from London don't care for other
 
 44 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 gentlemen from Lord knows where walking their 
 young ladies out ahead of them." 
 
 ' You mean that he won't like the gentleman at 
 the Frigate Mr. Mr. " 
 
 " Clifford," supplied Miss Job. 
 
 " Being so friendly with her already ? " 
 
 " That's what I do mean," said Miss Job. " It's 
 fast. That's what that is, and I dare say I'm not 
 the only one to think it." 
 
 " It comes maybe from her being orphaned," said 
 Miss Amabelle charitably, " and no mother to look 
 after her." 
 
 " We are orphans," said Miss Job ; " I am not aware 
 that we have ever caused any talk." 
 
 Miss Amabelle sighed. She could not view the 
 escapades of youth and beauty with quite her sister's 
 coldness. Often, reading the serial stones that ran 
 through the fashion papers, she had lived through 
 dashing experiences that seemed almost real, and felt 
 the feverish joy of being in fancy a giddy heroine 
 or even a wicked but smart countess. But she could 
 not tell Jane this. 
 
 " It's true she's wildish," she said, " but I think 
 you're wrong in thinking she won't pay. And even 
 if she don't, Miss Anne'll see to it." 
 
 " She may," Miss Job allowed. 
 
 " What a pity she don't get something herself,"
 
 JOCELYNE PREPARES TO WIN 45 
 
 said Miss Amabelle, encouraged by this confession. 
 " I'd love to gown Miss Anne. She hasn't Miss 
 Wetherborne's roundness, but she's more svelty." 
 
 " She's more honest," said Miss Job, " and knows she 
 can't afford it." 
 
 " Not now perhaps. But who knows ? The 
 gentleman might see in her his fancy's all," said Miss 
 Amabelle. " You never can say what'll happen, Jane. 
 Look what a lot Lady Start thinks of Miss Anne. 
 And her ladyship's nephew, the captain, is coming 
 down again soon I hear. If she were to marry into 
 the county, her custom would be valuable." 
 
 " You can make for her when she does," said Miss 
 Job. 
 
 But though her sister's arguments had not con- 
 vinced, they had to some extent conciliated her ; and 
 Jocelyne, when she was shown into the little room, 
 received the attention due to a client in spite of what 
 Miss Job called her airs. These, though not un- 
 natural to Jocelyne, were somewhat emphasised by 
 the consciousness that Miss Job was, as Jocelyne 
 phrased it to herself, a grasping old creature. The 
 thought embittered a little even the sweets of being 
 fitted. How Jocelyne would have liked to arrive 
 there as an heiress ! She would have loved to be 
 thought capable of ordering a hundred dresses instead 
 of only trying on two. Still, when the Shantung
 
 46 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 was on, and Miss Amabelle, with a thousand pins in 
 her mouth, flowed about her, while Miss Job stood 
 at gaze, scissors in hand, like a fate, other troubles 
 could be forgotten. Viewing herself in the pier-glass, 
 Jocelyne's face beamed, and she forgot her airs. 
 
 " Oh, it's lovely ! " she said, " especially the skirt." 
 
 " Semi-direct oire," explained Miss Amabelle. " It 
 is a sweet fashion and so becoming to you, Miss." 
 
 " Isn't it ? " said Jocelyne. " And now, when can 
 I have it, Miss Job ? " 
 
 " When did you want it, Miss." 
 
 "As soon as possible. I am particularly short of 
 frocks at present. I was thinking of getting you to 
 make me another " 
 
 Miss Job's face stiffened, and Jocelyne went on 
 hastily, " but I shan't bother about that now. Only, 
 I must have these by Tuesday. There are so many 
 things on garden parties including Lady Start's." 
 
 " Of course, Miss," said Miss Amabelle, " it shan't 
 be a day later." 
 
 " Very well," said Jocelyne, " you can send it by 
 the carrier." 
 
 She tripped out of the house in high spirits, in 
 spite of the fact that Miss Job's face had vetoed the 
 third frock. Sufficient for the day would be the 
 Shantung and the Egyptian earth. She walked 
 down Wellington Street at a great pace, and then
 
 JOCELYNE PREPARES TO WIN 47 
 
 turned slowly on to the Parade that was the glory 
 or the shame of Porton Langley, according to whether 
 you regarded it from the point of view of the trades- 
 people or the county. It was meant to bring tourists, 
 and did so, but not at this time of the year. 
 
 Indeed, it was almost deserted. A couple of nurses 
 with perambulators were visible in the distance ; on 
 the beach below a fisherman was painting his boat. 
 Otherwise the only person at hand was a tall man 
 in riding attire lounging near one of the shelters. 
 He saw Jocelyne and came towards her so quickly 
 that she had no time to turn and walk the other way 
 on the pretence that she had not noticed him, as 
 her coyness might have tempted her to do. Instead, 
 she stopped and put up her sunshade, well pleased 
 to see him in a hurry. 
 
 " I hope I'm not late, Mr. Clifford," she said, as he 
 came up and saluted her.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 i 
 
 A DROPPED HANDKERCHIEF 
 
 IF promptness at a fateful moment combined with a 
 considerable knowledge of the weaknesses of human 
 nature could command success, Mr. James Clifford 
 was in a fair way to obtain it. In the meantime he 
 was enjoying his holiday, and beginning to take 
 quite a pride in his name. 
 
 It was just a week since as James Beaver he had 
 sat in the little room adjoining Mr. Mortlake's library 
 and listened to the conversation in which his employer 
 had revealed his intentions concerning the disposition 
 of his great riches. No one had suspected Beaver's 
 presence there, and still less did any one suspect 
 Clifford's possession of Mr. Mortlake's secret. He had 
 gone out of the room undisturbed, and had even 
 accomplished a certain amount of indexing in the 
 course of the half-hour that had intervened between 
 the lawyers' departure and Mr. Mortlake's message to 
 him to say that he could return to the library. But in 
 that half -hour he had also resolved on a plan of action.
 
 A DROPPED HANDKERCHIEF 49 
 
 It was almost instinctive the resolution to make 
 something out of his secret, and minimise as far as 
 possible the loss that would undoubtedly occur to 
 him when Mr. Mortlake's death about which the 
 old man seemed almost indecently positive should 
 relieve him of his secretarial duties. Beaver knew 
 from experience that secretarial posts, little profitable 
 as they are, are not so easily obtained. He had got 
 his present one by a stroke of luck, an old friend of 
 his father's having been acquainted with Mr. Mort- 
 lake's need of an assistant, as well as with Mr. Mortlake 
 himself. This paternal acquaintance had recommended 
 Beaver chiefly to escape his importunities, and had 
 very plainly intimated that it was the last service 
 that he intended to do to his old friend's son, whom 
 as he frankly stated he had helped before without 
 any one being thankful to him for it. 
 
 Two points therefore were clear one that he would 
 be out of a post very shortly, the other that his labours 
 at that post would be unrewarded except by the 
 meagre salary he received and the contemptible 
 percentage on it which Mr. Mortlake intended to 
 leave him. Beaver had worked out that percentage 
 to a ten-pound note. ; : 
 
 A ten-pound note for giving the best of his youth 
 to the depressing toil of indexing a work on scarabs ! 
 If anything were needed to stimulate his zeal in 
 4
 
 50 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 pursuing his secret to a profitable end, the thought of 
 that ten-pound note would have sufficed. Nothing 
 was needed. The curious discussion of the will had 
 excited him sufficiently. He had thought that out 
 too, in all its possibilities. In effect, they amounted 
 to this. A girl one of three living in an out-of-the- 
 way seaside country was, unknown to herself, to 
 inherit a great fortune. He knew ,Mr. Mortlake's 
 ways and tones too well to suppose that his second 
 proposal meant anything different from his first. The 
 lawyers might be deceived, but not he. This girl 
 would be " a prey to every adventurer " Mr. Mortlake 
 had said ; and he had spoken truly, always supposing 
 her affections were disengaged up to the time she in- 
 herited. But supposing they were not ? Supposing 
 a young man, good-looking, presentable, intelligent, 
 one moreover not ignorant of the ways of women, 
 were to anticipate that golden period ? Could he not, 
 having the advantages of knowing the event, step 
 in quickly and keep out the others ? Marriage 
 an estate which, in spite of the cynics, has its ad- 
 vantages, particularly when it is golden lined had no 
 terrors for Beaver. He had indeed often thought of it 
 as a profession, and in imagination had seen himself 
 rather comfortably suited with the post of a well-to-do 
 family man. The idea of ownership which should 
 include a house, a motor, servants, a banking account,
 
 A DROPPED HANDKERCHIEF 51 
 
 and incidentally a wife, appealed to him. These 
 things give a man a certain position and a good deal of 
 solace. The wife may be a mistake. In that case 
 one solaces oneself with the house, the motor, the 
 cheque-book and all that that can purchase, and 
 leaves her to be a " mistake " in her own society. 
 Beaver would not miss her. 
 
 The problem was how to gain her in the first instance. 
 The most striking obstacle on the road to success was 
 the impossibility of knowing beforehand which of 
 the three girls would be Illingborough's selection. It 
 would not do to be engaged perhaps married to one, 
 and then find another romp in an easy winner. By 
 this difficulty a man of common intelligence would 
 have found himself stumped ; and even Beaver 
 desponded for a little, but not for long. Obviously 
 the thing to do was to establish himself in the graces 
 of the family, make himself popular, keep a watch- 
 ful eye for Illingborough's decision, and at the 
 right moment propose. The right moment would 
 be that at which, while Illingborough had made 
 up his mind, the girl was still in ignorance of her 
 prospects, and would welcome the devotion of 
 an independent, delightful, and apparently wealthy 
 admirer. 
 
 There were plenty of other difficulties in the way 
 if Beaver wanted to look for them. Illingborough's
 
 52 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 decision, for example, might not become Beaver's 
 property in time. The girl might change her mind 
 about Beaver when she know her prospects. She 
 might already be engaged. Beaver set all these aside 
 and dealt only with the practical difficulty. That con- 
 sisted of the shortness of the time he would have at 
 his disposal, and he partly solved it by presenting 
 himself to Mr. Mortlake on the morning following 
 his acquisition of the secret with a request for leave 
 of absence. He based his request on the ground of 
 ill-health. 
 
 " What does your doctor say is the matter ? " Mr. 
 Mortlake had asked. 
 
 " I'm ashamed to say it's a threatening of nervous 
 breakdown." 
 
 He would not have been ashamed to say it even 
 if it had been true, and as it was a lie, he was rather 
 pleased with it. 
 
 " Dear me," said Mr. Mortlake briefly, " it's going 
 to be temporary, I hope ? " 
 
 " Oh yes," said Beaver hastily, " the only thing is 
 to take it in time. I am awfully distressed at the 
 inconvenience it will cause you." 
 
 " Not at all." 
 
 " But a rest is imperative." 
 
 " You must have the rest, of course." 
 
 " I am much obliged to you, sir."
 
 A DROPPED HANDKERCHIEF 53 
 
 " How long do you require, and where are you 
 going ? " 
 
 " The doctor advised a sea voyage. I thought of 
 going to Madeira and back." 
 
 " Couldn't do better, I should imagine," said Mr. 
 Mortlake. " And I suppose you would like to start 
 at once ? Well, there's nothing very pressing to be 
 done here. I expect you will find a month's salary 
 in advance useful." 
 
 " Thank you," murmured Beaver. 
 
 The same day he was in Porton Langley, with the 
 assurance that he had some days' start of Illingborough, 
 between whom and the Misses Wetherborne letters 
 and references would have to be exchanged, while he 
 himself was making their acquaintance and creating 
 favourable impressions. As James Clifford he had 
 adopted that name in the train he felt pretty certain 
 that no rumour of his presence in that part of the 
 world would come to Mr. Mortlake's ears. It was true 
 that Illingborough, if they met, would recognise him as 
 the Beaver of their school days, but that would not 
 matter. Beaver had a story ready to account for 
 his change of name, and Illingborough would not 
 be aware that Mr. Mortlake had a secretary named 
 Beaver, now supposed to be on his way to Madeira. 
 Illingborough would only be rather pleased to see 
 an old schoolfellow, and not at all curious to know
 
 54 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 why he was there. He had never been in the least 
 inquisitive. 
 
 Still, Beaver was ready to explain his presence also, 
 if necessary. He had come down he was prepared 
 to say partly for the sea air, partly to acquaint 
 himself with the country where he intended to hunt 
 later. He also intended to put in a little time with 
 the otter hounds. 
 
 He practised this tale on the landlord of the Frigate 
 hotel, in which, understanding it to be the head- 
 quarters of the hunting men, he took rooms. The 
 landlord accepted it willingly enough, being pleased 
 perhaps to have a guest in the slack season, and 
 Clifford as he now was, having signed himself to 
 that effect in the visitors' book set about to make 
 the Misses Wetherbornes' acquaintance. That he could 
 be assiduous, once he had made up his mind to a thing, 
 was proved by the fact that he did not neglect his 
 purpose in spite of the charms of the barmaid of the 
 Frigate Miss Maine a young lady with a good deal 
 of colour, who went the length of taking her hair out 
 of curl papers a couple of hours earlier than usual in 
 the day in order to attract Mr. Clifford. 
 
 Chance decided that Jocelyne should be the sister 
 with whom he should inaugurate the desired acquaint- 
 ance, and that no later than the day after he had 
 arrived at the Frigate. He had ascertained that
 
 A DROPPED HANDKERCHIEF 55 
 
 Mr. Wetherborne often dropped in to the hotel to 
 lunch and see the papers, and he had intended to 
 approach him, if necessary. 
 
 Meeting Jocelyne was even better luck. 
 
 That came about, as has been said, the morning 
 after Clifford's arrival, when he was taking his first 
 stroll through the streets. The streets were dull. 
 It was not yet Porton Langley's season. The shops 
 were open, of course, but no one seemed to be shopping. 
 An errand boy or two with a basket went past sleepily, 
 and a fruiterer drove along with his cart. Otherwise, 
 the place might have been dead. 
 
 The girl under the pink parasol was an oasis in a 
 desert of dullness to Clifford ; and if he had known it, 
 he was the same to her. All he knew was that directly 
 after she had passed him, she dropped her handker- 
 chief. Chance has been given the credit of sending 
 Jocelyne to Porton Langley, where, it is true, her 
 visits, though frequent, were irregular. It was not 
 chance that caused her to drop her handkerchief, 
 though it had the appearance of chance. People do 
 drop their handkerchiefs by chance, and if a lady 
 drops hers and walks on without noticing it, who is to 
 prove, or even to suppose, that it was done on pur- 
 pose ? Nobody. Jocelyne knew that from experi- 
 ence. For it was not the first time that she had 
 adopted this simple means of satisfying her curiosity.
 
 56 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 Some people would call it an unladylike curiosity, 
 others a romantic one. Jocelyne herself, who, like 
 Miss Amabelle Job, was a great reader of novelettes, 
 knew that it was a possible method of setting in 
 motion the most delightful and mysterious happenings. 
 There are many methods. You turn a corner 
 or step into a cab, lose your parasol or twist your 
 ankle instantly you may become the heroine destined 
 to attract a handsome young man, who may tem- 
 porarily have fallen upon dark days and desperate 
 disguises, but is pretty certain to turn out brave, 
 devoted, and as likely as not the son of an earl. 
 Miss Job, charmed by these wonders, was content to 
 enjoy them in print and in fancy. Jocelyne had a 
 more practical mind. She knew herself to have all 
 the exterior qualities of the heroine down to the 
 golden hair and grey eyes why then, if dropping a 
 handkerchief will bring up the hero and the adven- 
 tures, not do so ? She had dropped it once or twice 
 before without anything very remarkable happening. 
 On one occasion a small urchin had picked it up and 
 wanted a penny for finding it. On another the wheel 
 of a dust-cart had gone over it, and it was too dirty to 
 pick up. But one never knows. Here was another 
 chance. If he saw it and rescued it and brought it 
 back to her, at least the handkerchief would have 
 served to give her a good look at this stranger, who
 
 A DROPPED HANDKERCHIEF 57 
 
 must since she didn't recognise his face be a new- 
 comer to Porton Langley. 
 
 The trick worked. Quite innocent of the fact that 
 he was obeying her whim, Clifford, who had turned 
 to stare after her, saw the handkerchief fall, and 
 hastened to restore it to its owner. Jocelyne, who 
 had carefully stopped at a shop window a little farther 
 on, in case he should be one of those bashful men who 
 would not care for a regular stern chase, heard him 
 say 
 
 " I beg your pardon, but is this your handkerchief ? " 
 
 She turned round quickly. 
 
 " Oh, I must have dropped it. Thank you so 
 much," she said, with a gracious smile ; " how stupid 
 of me." 
 
 " They're the sort of things that do get lost," said 
 Clifford. 
 
 " Only if one's careless," she replied. 
 
 " I think you're very hard on yourself." 
 
 " Oh no. But many thanks all the same " ; she 
 bowed slightly and walked on. In the books she had 
 been thinking of some lucky word would have set them 
 on the required footing of friendliness and led on to 
 easy and intimate conversation. Real life is absurdly 
 stiff, conventional, and neglectful of its opportunities. 
 But though she felt this, Jocelyne had far too much 
 sense to remain talking with a man who had merely
 
 58 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 picked up her handkerchief for her. That, she knew, 
 would be to make herself cheap. Whereas now, 
 as she walked off, he was probably looking after 
 her, and wondering who that lovely dignified girl 
 could be. 
 
 So for a moment he had wondered, but he had also, 
 a few minutes later, entirely forgotten Jocelyne in the 
 pleasure of chatting with Miss Maine in the bar of the 
 Frigate, while he drank a whisky and soda she had 
 just brought him. But that Jocelyne recalled herself 
 to him by passing in front of the window a moment 
 later, Clifford would never have asked Miss Maine 
 who she was. 
 
 " Wetherborne's her name," said the bar lady, 
 with a sniff. 
 
 " What name did you say ? " He could hardly 
 believe his luck. 
 
 " Miss Wetherborne. Peacocking round as usual." 
 
 " She's a jolly pretty girl," said Clifford, to excuse 
 his now strong interest. 
 
 " Think so ? " 
 
 " Don't you ? " 
 
 " Don't care for the style myself," said Miss Maine. 
 Too countrified. Going to chase after her to Mazing- 
 hope ? " she added, seeing him rise and put down 
 his glass. 
 
 " Where's that ? " said Clifford.
 
 A DROPPED HANDKERCHIEF 59 
 
 " Where they live. They've got a house on the 
 cliffs there." 
 
 Clifford lingered a few minutes to prevent the 
 idea that he was going in pursuit remaining in Miss 
 Maine's mind ; then sallied out and inquired for 
 the road to Mazinghope. The road went along the 
 cliffs, it seemed, and presently ahead of him the pink 
 parasol became visible. He caught it up easily 
 enough, and when he was level with it lifted his hat. 
 
 " It's rather like wanting a return for the very 
 small service I was able to do you," he said, " but 
 could you tell me the way to Mazinghope ? " 
 
 " It's straight on from here," said Jocelyne. " I'm 
 just going there." 
 
 " Ought I to walk the other side of the road ? " 
 he asked, with a gay politeness, and since she only 
 smiled, took it for granted that he need not. They 
 walked on together, and he explained that he had 
 heard of the charms of Mazinghope as a sequestered 
 village, and wondered if he could get lodgings there. 
 Jocelyne was doubtful about that, but would not 
 discourage him from trying. The walk ended with 
 an introduction to Mr. Wetherborne, whom they 
 met just outside his house, and an invitation to tea, 
 which was the result of Mr. Clifford's instantly taking 
 Mr. Wetherborne 's word for it that no lodgings could 
 possibly be had at Mazinghope. That was the sort
 
 60 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 of young man Mr. Wetherborne liked a young man 
 who did not argue and bother, and listened to a good 
 deal of tedious information delivered in a mono- 
 tonous voice with what appeared to be great in- 
 terest. Mr. Wetherborne did not want to examine 
 a person's testimonials. He knew a gentleman when 
 he saw him. He also knew that a stranger to his 
 anecdotes was a person not often met with in those 
 parts, and one to be taken advantage of accordingly. 
 
 Mr. Clifford stayed for quite a long time, and got 
 on so well that he was able to say to Jocelyne as they 
 parted that he had never been so grateful to anything 
 as to her dropped handkerchief. 
 
 Jocelyne smiled. It is cruel to damp a man's 
 faith for the sake of being stupidly candid, so she did 
 not mention that she had dropped it on purpose.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 LOVE AND MR. CLIFFORD 
 
 LOVE is a kind of deceit. Man a good-humoured 
 creature full of vanities, appetites, and weaknesses 
 suddenly assumes the hero and gives forth, consciously or 
 unconsciously, that he is gallant, tender, long-suffering, 
 and capable of high and lifelong devotion to an ideal. 
 That ideal, as he cannot now for a moment conceal, 
 although he has never somehow noticed it before, 
 he finds embodied in woman. 
 
 She, unaware apparently that she has any part 
 in this quick-time elevation of a mole-hill into a 
 mountain, allows him to suppose that women are indeed 
 remote and lofty things as it were stars, set so high 
 up that they have hitherto ignored the world, stars 
 nevertheless capable of being warmed into an extra 
 refulgence by the sight, so entirely unexpected, of 
 this very fine, distant, and respectful mountain 
 peak. 
 
 That is love, or the prologue to it. A curious 
 theme for poets to have sung (and other people not to 
 
 61
 
 62 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 have laughed at) seeing that poets have in general 
 such an appreciation of truth. 
 
 Yet one finds some excuse for love even some 
 fineness in it when one comes across its shadow, 
 when one sees the deceit not lived but acted, the 
 cheat pretended, the illusion played with. The man 
 or woman who pretends to be in love for the sake of 
 some other end these are the foils to the true knaves. 
 For these hand over to destruction their one chance 
 of being for a little the immortal creatures which all 
 lovers by the intensity of their deception may become. 
 They throw away the best of themselves their 
 illusions. 
 
 It seems, however, that a good deal of interest may 
 be derived from observing the forms of the heroic 
 hypocrite. Thus Clifford, posing as greatly attracted 
 by Jocelyne, had passed an undeniably pleasant 
 week, during which affairs had progressed to what 
 might be called his heart's content, had his heart 
 been concerned. Jocelyne made a very pretty candle 
 for the moth he was pretending to be ; and if they 
 did not know each other well, it was not so much from 
 lack of seeing one another, as from the fact that they 
 were unavoidably acting to one another. Jocelyne's 
 part was coyness, Clifford's that of ardour tempered 
 by superiority. Now, as they met on the Parade and 
 Jocelyne hoped that she was not late, he replied
 
 LOVE AND MR. CLIFFORD 63 
 
 " That's a nice thing to say when a man's been 
 waiting hours." 
 
 " Have you ? " said Jocelyne, betrayed into a 
 smile of pleasure. 
 
 " Of course." 
 
 " I'm sorry," said Jocelyne importantly, " but 
 I had an appointment with my dressmakers. It 
 always takes up time." 
 
 Perhaps Clifford had been waiting and was not 
 pleased, or perhaps he was paying a compliment. 
 
 " I shouldn't have supposed you employed a local 
 dressmaker," he said. 
 
 How easily the smallest cup of joy may be dashed 
 from one's lips. Jocelyne had looked forward to 
 telling him about that appointment with her dress- 
 makers, and now she saw that it might involve an 
 admission of provincialism. 
 
 " Oh, I don't get everything here, of course," she 
 said hastily, and with much truth, for her clothes 
 were mostly home made. " But one likes to en- 
 courage local talent," she added, trying to suppress 
 the vision which would present itself of Miss Job's face 
 stiffening at the suggestion of a third frock. She could 
 have stamped with vexation at Clifford's cool tone. 
 
 " Local talent is all very well," he was saying. 
 " But if I were a woman I should want to go to Paris 
 for my things."
 
 64 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 " Madame Estelle uses Parisian models, of course ; 
 I insist on it," said Jocelyne, but with no assurance 
 of voice. Was it possible that Mr. Clifford, in spite 
 of his obvious admiration, thought her dowdy ? " Let's 
 walk on if we're going anywhere," she added, to 
 change the conversation. 
 
 They left the Parade and took a road that took 
 them inland towards Mazinghope. Jocelyne had 
 informed Mr. Clifford that a friend was arriving that 
 day from London to stay with them. She must be 
 back in time to greet him. She hinted that he was 
 wealthy and delightful. Inwardly Clifford smiled, 
 knowing the facts, but he was aware by now that she, 
 like himself, attached great importance to money, 
 and since this weakness, if it was a weakness, fitted 
 in well with his plans, he was not disposed to dis- 
 courage it. The more Jocelyne craved wealth, the 
 readier she would be to adopt the means of obtaining 
 it. The nature of the means was not yet clear to 
 Clifford. He had begun to see that his first notion 
 that of making himself equally popular with all the 
 three Misses Wetherborne's had been immature. 
 It is much easier to be loved than to be popular. 
 Even the Mormons must have discovered this. Popu- 
 larity requires so much more time, so many more 
 opportunities. And Clifford, while he had found 
 time enough to cultivate Jocelyne, had found no time
 
 LOVE AND MR. CLIFFORD 65 
 
 at all to cultivate Anne or Joan. Anne was illusive 
 a female centaur, not to be impressed in a few moments 
 by a man who wore riding breeches, but did not 
 apparently ride. Again, Clifford's inability to fret 
 had made him appear a mere nothing in the eyes 
 of that juvenile Dorcas, Joan. It was an uncomfort- 
 able thought, but if either of the two younger sisters 
 were to be chosen of Illingborough, Clifford's chances 
 of sharing the spoil were small indeed. He might 
 learn to fret or to ride, but it would be too late. 
 
 Apart from all this, his relations with Jocelyne 
 were no longer the indefinite ones of popularity. 
 Justifiably enough she imagined him to be in love 
 with her, and she was, he took it, quite in love with 
 him. This was satisfactory, in so far that she was 
 the only one that he would care to marry for herself 
 in addition to her fortune. The simple addition was, 
 however, a necessity. 
 
 Everything therefore depended upon whether 
 Illingborough was likely to select her. Clifford felt 
 that he himself would have done so in any case, 
 and regardless of the state of his affections if he had 
 been appointed judge, but that was no guarantee 
 that Illingborough would do it. He had been a 
 curious little fellow, and might be so still. Tricky 
 thing a conscience. In common with a good many 
 people, Clifford regarded conscientiousness as a pig- 
 5
 
 66 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 headed quality which makes its possessors act in a 
 way nauseating and disadvantageous to the ordinary 
 man who does not pretend to be a saint. Conscientious 
 people are painfully apt to appear skeletons at a feast 
 of the merry. But that is not to say that they do not, 
 on the one hand, enjoy feasts of their own ; or, on the 
 other, that they are ready to spoil their own pleasures 
 as well as other people's. To look after one's self 
 Clifford held to be the instinct as much of the con- 
 scientious as of the frivolous man. The way in 
 which the rule would apply to this particular case 
 was clear. Illingborough, however conscientious, would 
 not hand over thousands of pounds to a young girl 
 who was obviously tied to some third person. 
 
 Why should he ? 
 
 It followed that Clifford had gone too fast. He 
 saw now that he should not have allowed himself to 
 dally so conspicuously. It was flattering to know 
 that his manner was irresistible, and that his triumph 
 had been gained in a week, but it was also disconcert- 
 ing. It made Jocelyne's attachment far too con- 
 spicuous under the circumstances. 
 
 How to accomplish a volte face to retire without 
 losing his advantages to blow cold without risk of 
 fanning the flame or, worse still, of putting it out, was 
 the question that made him meditative on the walk 
 along the high hedged lanes that led so circuitously
 
 LOVE AND MR. CLIFFORD 67 
 
 to Mazinghope. He was trying to estimate Jocelyne's 
 character as it would reveal itself in this new turn of 
 events. If only she could be trusted, it would be 
 far simpler just to take her into his confidence, 
 explain exactly how things stood, and leave it to her 
 to attach Illingborough to her interests. If she knew 
 Mr. Mortlake's intentions, she would have every 
 advantage against her sisters and against Illing- 
 borough. It was not the fear that she would refrain 
 from using her advantages against them that deterred 
 Clifford from speaking openly to her. He was pretty 
 sure somehow that Jocelyne would see no unfairness 
 in that. What he feared was that she would use 
 her advantages, if he gave them to her, against him- 
 self. Her ambitions were obvious. Viewing herself 
 as an heiress, she might view him no longer as a 
 desirable match, as the Prince Charming of her some- 
 what commonplace fairy tales, but as a second-rate 
 adventurer, whom she would throw over without a 
 pang. She would picture herself marrying into the 
 peerage. Whether she dropped Clifford or not, she 
 would most decidedly give herself airs. And he could 
 not look forward to being patronised with any pleasure, 
 even supposing patronage were to be the least of his 
 sufferings. 
 
 Watching her sidelong eyes and affected walk both 
 of which he admired uneasily he decided that it
 
 68 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 would be wise to wait before he told her all ; and in 
 the meantime to try in some way to prepare her to 
 make Illingborough think well of her. He might as 
 well begin by confessing that he had known Illing- 
 borough at school. 
 
 " What did you say the name of your visitor was ? " 
 he inquired, coming out of his thoughts to find Jocelyne 
 a little sulky at his unusual silence. 
 
 " I said his name was Illingborough. But I didn't 
 know that you were listening to anything that I said." 
 " Of course I am," said Clifford. " Only the name 
 struck me. I was wondering whether he could be the 
 Illingborough I knew at school." 
 
 " Did you know one ? " 
 
 " Yes, rather a pleasant kid." 
 
 " How interesting," said Jocelyne, yawning. 
 
 " The funny thing is," said Clifford, " that if he's 
 the same he won't recognise me under my present 
 name." 
 
 " Why not ? " asked Jocelyne, rising to this piece 
 of information. 
 
 " Because I only took it a few years ago on the 
 death of an uncle. He left me his money on condition 
 that I took his name." 
 
 This was the story he had resolved to tell if ex- 
 planation should be needed. Jocelyne accepted it 
 readily enough.
 
 LOVE AND MR. CLIFFORD 69 
 
 "Why have you never told me ? " she said; " I 
 wish I had an uncle like that. I believe I have one, 
 but I've never seen him. I fancy he quarrelled with 
 father over something." 
 
 " Really ? " said Clifford. It was the first reference 
 to Mr. Mortlake he had heard from her. " Perhaps 
 he'll end up by doing the same as mine." 
 
 " I wish he would," said Jocelyne. " I wouldn't 
 mind changing my name a bit." 
 
 " It's awfully nice to hear you say that," he said 
 sentimentally, and Jocelyne coloured and pretended 
 to occupy herself in picking some ferns from the 
 hedge-side. " I wonder," he went on, disappointingly 
 abandoning this opening, " if your Illingborough 
 can be the one I know." 
 
 ' You seem extremely interested in him," said 
 Jocelyne, pouting, " but he isn't my Illingborough, 
 you know." 
 
 " Not yet," said Clifford. 
 
 " Is he so fearfully interesting ? " she asked. 
 
 There was no invitation she was so ready to accept 
 as the invitation to flirt, and he saw that this char- 
 acteristic might be turned to his purpose. 
 
 ' You might think so," he said, with an affectation 
 of anxiety. " I don't. He used to be cleverish, fond 
 of poetry and that sort of thing. Not my style." 
 
 " I shan't allow myself to be prejudiced against
 
 70 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 him," said Jocelyne gaily. It was pleasant to see a 
 hint of jealousy in Mr. Clifford. " I expect he is 
 delightful." 
 
 " Of course you do," said Clifford. " It's just like 
 a woman to expect that, and then say she is not 
 prejudiced beforehand. I doubt if you'll get much 
 out of him, though." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " Queer sort suspicious of lovely woman. I don't 
 see him particularly easily netted from what I re- 
 member." 
 
 It was in the nature of a challenge, and so, vaguely, 
 Jocelyne understood it, though she misunderstood 
 the motive underlying it. 
 
 " Do you mean that he's a woman-hater ? " she 
 asked naively. 
 
 Clifford laughed. 
 
 " Rather not," he said. " Put that idea into a 
 woman's head, and she won't rest until the fellow's 
 recanted. I only meant he wouldn't be very keen 
 on being a lapdog, you know." 
 
 " He sounds most charming," said Jocelyne, with 
 a conscious smile. " I wasn't particularly anxious to 
 have him at the house, but after what you've said I 
 shall be quite excited to see him." 
 
 " He'll prefer your sister Joan," said Clifford. 
 
 " Possibly," said Jocelyne.
 
 LOVE AND MR. CLIFFORD 71 
 
 " And anyway, he mayn't be the man I mean at all. 
 I wish to goodness you weren't going to have him." 
 
 " Why ? " 
 
 Clifford's endeavours to explain why endeavours 
 that sounded naturally confused owing to the cross 
 purposes he was playing at were just what Jocelyne 
 delighted in. They made sheer pleasure of a walk 
 which had opened dully enough, and she would have 
 prolonged it (as she could have done by taking ad- 
 vantage of Clifford's ignorance of the locality, to 
 make a still farther detour than they had yet made), 
 if it had not seemed to her more dexterous to appear 
 anxious to be home in time for Mr. Illingborough's 
 arrival. Clifford, though for his part he feigned distress 
 at the walk coming so quickly to an end, was not ill 
 pleased to see Jocelyne turn off by a footpath through a 
 cornfield, that avoided Mazinghope and led straight 
 to the Sea House. Acting is always a laborious 
 business, requiring long intervals. But the labour 
 is much greater and the intervals more necessary 
 when the actor has to invent his part and construct 
 his scenery as he goes along, and knows, moreover, 
 that receipts can be counted only when the play is 
 over and depend for their smallest value on its complete 
 success.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 ANNE ANADYOMENE 
 
 THE faculty of concentration, though it makes no 
 doubt for success in the end, causes a man in the 
 beginning to go slow. Fanciful and impressionable 
 people can turn to a new thing at a moment's notice. 
 They are transferring light weights. The conscientious 
 man is apt to be a fixture, and has to uproot himself 
 before he can move on his heavy way. 
 
 A week had elapsed between Illingborough's inter- 
 view with Mr. Mortlake and his arrival at Porton 
 Langley, and it had been spent vigorously enough in 
 an attempt to drop the subject of the law in favour of 
 woman, or, as perhaps it would be more accurate to 
 say, the female intelligence, as adapted to the handling 
 of wealth. 
 
 He could not rid himself of the notion that, ulti- 
 mately, it was Mr. Mortlake's first proposal 
 and not only his second upon which his decision 
 was required. He earnestly hoped that this notion 
 
 was a mistaken one. Mr. Waterlane maintained that 
 
 73
 
 ANNE ANADYOMENE 73 
 
 it was. Mr. Waterlane's view was that Illingborough 
 had no right in any case to make such an assumption, 
 and though Illingborough felt this to be casuistical, 
 he deferred to Mr. Waterlane as an older and wiser 
 man than himself. Nevertheless the possibility that 
 his assumption was correct which meant that he 
 would be doing as a solicitor what as a solicitor he 
 would not and should not wittingly do had disturbed 
 him a good deal. 
 
 His only consolation was the thought that the 
 most suitable young woman to pay a visit to her 
 uncle would also probably be his most suitable 
 heir. 
 
 It was a compromise with his conscience, the best 
 he could effect ; it did not in any case get him very 
 far towards deciding what suitability in a woman 
 was. He had managed, by much strenuous self- 
 restraint, to banish considerations of leaseholds, 
 rights of way, and such things from his brain, but 
 he had not and the thought worried . him a good 
 deal in the train that carried him westward succeeded 
 in filling the vacancy thereby created with any very 
 satisfactory views as to Suitability in the Female. 
 
 It was a very wide subject of course. The poets, 
 to whom he had gone for information, having a great 
 reverence for them, were not minutely helpful upon 
 it. Indeed, it is doubtful if they helped at all. One
 
 74 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 could disregard the superficiality contained in such 
 lines as 
 
 "O Woman, in thine hour of ease 
 Uncertain, coy, and hard to please " ; 
 
 or 
 
 " What mighty ills have not been done by woman ? 
 Who was't betrayed the Capitol ? A woman ! 
 Who lost Mark Antony the world ? A woman ! 
 Who was the cause of a long ten years' war, 
 And laid at last old Troy in ashes ? Woman ! 
 
 Destructive, damnable, deceitful woman!" 
 
 without finding one's understanding certainly of 
 the sex's relation to money much increased. The 
 serious poets have not considered the matter either. 
 For example, 
 
 "O lyric voice, half angel and half bird," 
 
 may present a capital notion of the female, but 
 scarcely suggests much less guarantees her financial 
 capacity. Birds are not concerned with wealth, nor 
 would one necessarily look out for an angel, if one 
 desired to bank a million pounds. 
 
 Illingborough had to fall back on his own reasoning 
 powers, and even so found many complex and self- 
 entangling considerations presenting themselves. Was 
 a fortune, for example counting to hundreds of 
 thousands to be regarded as a reward for pure 
 virtue ? Might it not rather be thought a test of 
 strength a responsibility that by the labour it
 
 ANNE ANADYOMENE 75 
 
 would entail could not possibly be regarded as a 
 reward ? Certainly, whether one looked upon so 
 much wealth as enviable or not, one must infallibly 
 regard it as a responsibility ; and it was on this line 
 of reasoning that Illingborough saw that he must go 
 to make his judgement. The person to deserve the 
 invitation or the fortune must be the most responsible 
 the most balanced character. The difficulty re- 
 mained that Illingborough felt himself a most inade- 
 quate judge. 
 
 He got out of the train at Porton Langley to find a 
 little wind bringing in the scent of the sea, but no 
 sign of the conveyance which from Miss Wether- 
 borne's letter he had expected to find waiting for 
 him. The two porters whom Illingborough inter- 
 viewed said that nothing had come from the Sea 
 House to the station that day, but the gentleman 
 could get a trap if he liked to wait half an hour or 
 so. Or his things could be sent on by the station 
 cart, if he preferred to walk. He could get to Mazing- 
 hope, he was told, either by the cliff or by the beach. 
 
 Illingborough decided to walk by the beach, and 
 a few minutes later he was marching parallel with 
 the sea. 
 
 The salt air, always stimulating to town dwellers, 
 mounted to his head like wine. And, like a man 
 with wine in him, he forgot for the time being his
 
 76 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 wonted demeanour and routine thoughts. The 
 subtleties of the law in that sparkling atmosphere 
 took wings and vanished from his brain ; the very 
 purpose for which he had come into this sea-bound 
 district became of no account. It might be his duty 
 to execute future justice by careful reflection upon 
 and observation of the capabilities of woman, and 
 women might be light-headed or angelic these 
 things mattered nothing at all to Illingborough, 
 The sun was on the sea, and around him were cool 
 shadowed pools among tumbled rocks and stretches 
 of clean sand and slippery stones and causeways 
 green with weed. At first he pursued his way awk- 
 wardly enough, but soon he began to speed along as 
 though he had been some goat pent a long time in a 
 cage, but now regaining his pristine elasticity. It 
 was no desire to reach his destination that sent 
 Illingborough hurrying ; it was only the intoxication 
 of the air and the feeling of escape in his limbs. The 
 chase of a sedate and melancholy sea-gull which 
 eventually became a part of the wind and left him 
 breathless had the effect upon Illingborough of making 
 him wish to rest. He lay down on a rock, and 
 presently in the warm sun fell asleep. 
 
 He was awaked by a musical voice at no great 
 distance, and rousing himself saw a young girl riding 
 a horse on the edge of the sea. She made a picture
 
 ANNE ANADYOMENE 77 
 
 for an artist, though she was unconscious of it ; and a 
 picture for Illingborough, though he did not know 
 he was an artist. He watched it with charmed eyes. 
 
 Far out the sun shone on the smooth shallow water, 
 and glittered on the smooth wet sand ; and where 
 the girl rode, coaxing her horse, just where the sea 
 and sand met, it made of the beaten ripples a foaming 
 fringe of silver. The horse pawed and splashed a dust 
 of silver froth. It seemed afraid. The girl patted 
 it and coaxed it forward, but it whinnied and jibbed 
 at the advancing sea, at which she headed it so firmly. 
 It tried a sideways motion, as though it felt it could 
 bear the strange element better that way. But this 
 the girl would not have. Eyes front was her motto, 
 it seemed, and she urged it outwards till the water 
 was nearly to its knees, and it moaned with fear. 
 The fear under such a leader might have been van- 
 quished but for a Triton of a wave which followed some 
 minnow-like ripples and broke full on the horse's 
 front. At that it reared mightily for a moment, 
 wheeled on hind -legs, and then helter - skeltered 
 through the shallows. It was in full gallop for the 
 rocks on which Illingborough lay before he had quite 
 realised what was happening. 
 
 He sprang to his feet with the horse almost up to 
 him. To think, with Illingborough, was not necessarily 
 to act, but circumstances alter temperaments. If
 
 78 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 the horse passed him, the girl would inevitably be 
 dashed from her saddle on to the rocks. That was 
 unthinkable. In the twinkling of a second Illing- 
 borough had plunged clumsily at the reins as the 
 horse sped by him, had been pulled to his knees, and 
 by his dead weight had brought the horse to a sudden 
 stand. He was still on his knees with a good deal of 
 sand in his mouth when the girl, who had all but 
 shot over her horse's neck, spoke with a sharpness 
 none the less disconcerting because it was uttered 
 in clear and ringing tones. 
 
 " What on earth did you do that for ? " she 
 said. 
 
 Looking up from his necessarily humble position 
 Illingborough saw that she had recovered herself 
 in the saddle, but her face was all a frown. 
 
 I was afraid," he explained, " that you were 
 going to be killed." 
 
 " Nonsense ! " 
 
 Anne delivered this commentary with so much 
 decision that for a moment Illingborough was com- 
 pletely abashed. He had made a mistake, it seemed. 
 Perhaps she wouldn't have been dashed from the 
 saddle on to the rocks. Perhaps the horse would 
 have stopped in good time. His habit of self-de- 
 preciation made it seem quite possible to Illingborough 
 that he had done a nonsensical thing. Still, the horse
 
 ANNE ANADYOMENE 79 
 
 had been going tremendously fast, and a moment's 
 reflection served to show him that even if his action 
 had been precipitate, he had not done anything so 
 inexcusable that it might not be mended by an 
 apology. 
 
 " I apologise for my mistake," he said. 
 
 " A lot of good that will do," said Anne, " if you 
 have made John Mark strain himself." 
 
 The only thing that Illingborough had caused 
 to be strained was his wrist, but there was no object 
 in mentioning that. 
 
 " I sincerely hope not," he said, and judging that 
 no good could result from further conversation with 
 this apparently hot-headed and undoubtedly plain- 
 spoken young woman, he lifted his hat and turned 
 to go. But an idea had suddenly seized Anne. 
 
 " Who are you ? " she said abruptly. 
 
 Illingborough stopped, thinking she was about to 
 insist on his name and address. 
 
 " My name is Illingborough and " 
 
 " Good gracious ! Why didn't you say so before ? 
 And why didn't you come by the trap ? You are 
 coming to us, aren't you ? " 
 
 So this was one of the Miss Wetherbornes. Illing- 
 borough again lifted his hat. 
 
 " Miss Wetherborne ? " 
 
 " Not exactly. I'm Anne. Jocelyne's the Miss.
 
 8o THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 Not that it much matters. Why didn't you come 
 by the trap ? " 
 
 " Well, the fact is," said Illingborough politely, 
 " I walked because because there didn't seem to be a 
 trap at the station. I had rather expected one, but 
 
 possibly " Illingborough was anxious to explain 
 
 away any possible neglect on the part of his young 
 hostess in case it should make her feel uneasy 
 " possibly it was an inconvenient train for me to 
 come by." 
 
 Anne did not appear particularly uneasy. 
 
 " Didn't we tell you to come by that train ? " she 
 asked. 
 
 " Yes " 
 
 " What's the good of talking like that then ? I 
 forgot the trap. I remember now. Jocelyne did 
 ask me to tell Tom to come, but I forgot." 
 
 It was an explanation without in any sense being 
 an apology, and Illingborough's spirits fell. For here 
 before him was one of the candidates giving herself 
 away terribly. A hot temper and carelessness and 
 Illingborough tried to prevent the word discourtesy 
 from coming into his mind since this perhaps was a 
 personal matter, but the thought would come these 
 were painful revelations to one who was in the position 
 of a judge, having powers of punishment and reward. 
 
 " It really didn't matter in the least," he said
 
 ANNE ANADYOMENE 81 
 
 hastily, in case beneath the calm exterior of this 
 Miss Wetherborne, some as yet invisible embarrass- 
 ment might lurk. If it did, his words did not bring it 
 to the surface. 
 
 " No, it won't kill you to walk, will it ? " said Anne. 
 " The cliff path's shorter." 
 
 " I like to be near the sea," said Illingborough. 
 
 " Do you ? " Anne softened slightly. Jocelyne's 
 plottings had prepared her to be cold to Mr. Illing- 
 borough, and his want of provocation under her rude- 
 ness had further incensed her. But she could not 
 but admit that he seemed well intentioned. And if 
 he liked the sea, that was something. The sea was 
 one of her passions, like horses. All things that moved 
 quickly and strongly, moved her. Perhaps he was 
 not such a nuisance as he had seemed, though dis- 
 posed to talk a good deal. He was talking now. 
 
 " I like it most in calm weather, and on a coast 
 like this. It makes me expect to hear something 
 like the cuckoo-bird. You remember the lines ? 
 
 "Breaking the silence of the seas 
 Among the farthest Hebrides." 
 
 Anne nodded graciously. 
 
 " Let's go on," she said. " John Mark doesn't 
 like standing still. Those lines," she added, thinking 
 it would perhaps be kind to make some conversation, 
 " are rather jolly. Whose are they ? Moore's ? "
 
 82 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 Illingborough, who had moved on meekly enough at 
 her bidding, stopped dead. A literary error showing 
 such gross ignorance could make him pugnacious in 
 his turn. 
 
 "Moore's! Good Heavens, no they're Words- 
 worth's." 
 
 " It's all the same to me," said Anne happily. 
 " I've never read either of them. I think poetry's 
 rather rot." 
 
 " Really ? " said Illingborough, stepping on quickly. 
 She did not notice the irony. 
 
 " But I like those lines well enough," she said, 
 still thinking of them. 
 
 " Wordsworth would be gratified to know it," 
 said Illingborough. His indignation was now so 
 obvious that it reached Anne's intelligence. She 
 looked down at him, saw his frown, and broke into 
 sudden laughter. 
 
 " You're very funny, Mr. Illingborough," she said, 
 pealing away. " You don't seem to mind in the least 
 being called a blithering idiot, and yet you get in a rage 
 because I don't happen to know about your poetry." 
 
 " It is not my poetry," said Illingborough stiffly. 
 
 " Wordsworth's then. Don't you mind being called 
 a fool ? " she asked curiously. 
 
 Her frankness, brusque as it was, restored Illing- 
 borough to his usual good-nature.
 
 ANNE ANADYOMENE 83 
 
 " Not when I am one," he said. 
 
 " I'm not sure that you were," said Anne. 
 
 But in the game of generosity Illingborough was 
 easily to be outdone. 
 
 " Oh, but I'm sure I was," he said. " In fact, I 
 expect I placed you in considerable danger, Miss 
 Wetherborne, by stopping your horse like that, and 
 I hope you will forgive me. Of course I ought to 
 have known that, being quite ignorant about horses, 
 I was pretty sure to make a mistake. I suppose it 
 really wasn't running away." 
 
 " Well, he was trying to," Anne admitted. " Not 
 that it mattered. He's done it often enough. Still 
 you couldn't be expected to understand that." 
 
 " I shall hope to learn more about horses while 
 I am here," said Illingborough. 
 
 " You won't do much in a month," said Anne, 
 " and probably you won't want to stop as long as that 
 when you know what we're like. Don't for goodness' 
 sake be polite," she went on, as he began to protest. 
 " You don't know what we're like, so what's the good 
 of pretending you do ? Of course you'll like the 
 sea. There's the house ! " 
 
 They had been going along the sandy strip at 
 the edge of the sea, and now as they turned a 
 little promontory she pointed with her whip at 
 a grey stone house, standing all by itself in its
 
 84 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 hanging garden. Beyond, the cliff rose to a steep 
 headland. 
 
 "That's Wrack Head," said Anne. "There's 
 quite a race round it at some tides. Rather jolly to 
 have a race of one's own. Practically the whole bay 
 is ours." 
 
 She spoke with a pride which the bay deserved by 
 its picturesqueness rather than by its size. It was 
 very small even at the low tide, when a little chaos 
 of rocks was added to it. Anne pointed out the 
 small stream that ran into it from the valley in which 
 Mazinghope proper lay. The stream seemed to be 
 guided out to sea by tall stakes driven into the sea 
 bottom, and Anne explained that their presence 
 there was to mark the only channel of approach 
 from seaward at most states of the tide. 
 
 " Of course if you know every rock you can run in 
 a bit quicker on a high tide," she said, " but to begin 
 with, if you go out by yourself, you'd better follow 
 the poles." 
 
 " I will," said Illingborough, who was not of a 
 maritime tendency. 
 
 " Both those boats," said Anne, pointing to two 
 boats drawn up on the beach, " are ours. There's 
 some not bad fishing to be had. We go up on to the 
 road now." 
 
 She turned her horse through piles of seaweed,
 
 ANNE ANADYOMENE 85 
 
 which gave the richest odour in the sun, and crossed 
 to where the cobbled road dipped to the beach level 
 before rising again to ascend the headland. Half-way 
 up this stood the Sea House, bowered in its trees that 
 seemed to grow out of the rock, and gay with garden 
 flowers sliding to the water. 
 
 " How awfully jolly," said Illingborough, as he 
 opened the gate for Anne to ride through. 
 
 " Do you think so ? " Anne looked down at him 
 suspiciously. " Most people say it looks so lonely. 
 Down, Buzz ! It's our lodger, Buzz. Don't bite him." 
 
 A massive bull-dog, black and brindled, which had 
 risen and given a tigerish growl on seeing Illingborough, 
 thereupon contented itself with snuffing Illingborough's 
 shins slowly and thoroughly. 
 
 " Shall I pat him ? " said Illingborough. 
 
 " Well, you'll have to try and make friends," said 
 Anne, " or you'll be a dead lodger soon. Scratch him 
 under the elbows." 
 
 Illingborough, bending gingerly to this operation, 
 which threatened as ill consequences for him if he did 
 it the wrong way as a dentist might fear if he touched 
 up the nerve of a madman's tooth, was conscious of 
 the soft rustle of skirts near at hand, and of a sweet 
 voice that said 
 
 " Mr. Illingborough ? Oh Anne, how could you 
 forget the carriage for Mr. Illingborough ? "
 
 86 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 " Same way as I forget most things," said Anne, 
 unabashed, as Illingborough straightened himself 
 awkwardly. " That's my sister Jocelyne," she con- 
 tinued, " Miss Wetherborne to wit. She will offer 
 you any condolences you may require. Come, Buzz." 
 
 She rode off towards the stables, followed by the 
 great dog, while Illingborough, having shaken the 
 small hand proffered to him, listened to Miss Wether- 
 borne's sympathetic voice. 
 
 " I do hope you will be able to forgive us. Anne 
 is too forgetful. That dreadfully long walk ! And 
 you aren't really tired ? Oh, but you must be ! Do 
 come in and let me show you your room. Supper 
 will be ready whenever you are." 
 
 It was early hours to judge, and personal con- 
 siderations were not to be allowed a place ; but 
 Illingborough, as he followed his fair young hostess 
 into the house, could not help feeling glad to know 
 that for Mr. Mortlake's fortune there was at least 
 one worthy competitor.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 THE SCALES BEGIN TO DIP 
 
 ILLINGBOROUGH came down to the dining-room, in 
 which Jocelyne had informed him supper would be 
 ready, to find Mr. Wetherborne sipping a glass of 
 hock at the dining table. A cloth suggesting supper 
 one might say several suppers was undoubtedly 
 laid upon it, but otherwise it did not contain the 
 materials requisite to this meal. Inasmuch, however, 
 as Jocelyne arrived at almost the same moment, 
 dreadfully distressed, and explaining volubly that if 
 she chanced to go out, everything went wrong, and 
 introduced Ilhngborough to her father, who at once 
 offered him some hock and began chatting agreeably, 
 the small wait that ensued was not a thing to complain 
 of even to his inward hungry self. He was charmed 
 with Mr. Wetherborne, as everybody was who met 
 him for the first time, and this in spite of the fact 
 awkward to a sensitive person occupying the peculiar 
 position of a paying guest that Mr. Wetherborne did 
 
 not seem to have heard of his intended arrival or 
 
 87
 
 88 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 even of his name. To those who knew Mr. Wether- 
 borne it was a moot point to what extent he actually 
 was ignorant of the things that went on around him. 
 It seemed impossible that he could be as ignorant as 
 he seemed, until his superb idleness was realised. 
 
 Idleness, whatever the moralists may say, is the 
 rarest of the vices ; and for this reason, that no 
 other vice more continuously irks its victims. There 
 is no sort of relief from it. A tiger in a cage is not 
 more dissatisfied than the ordinary strong man set 
 down to idleness. For the caged tiger at least can 
 look out upon the liberty it wants ; it has the bars of 
 its cage to ravine against, it has the hope and the 
 vision of its desire. But the idle man is caged in 
 illimitability ; the prison out of which he must break 
 is the whole encompassing world. Still, the most 
 hideous fatalism has its devotes human enough 
 otherwise to all appearance and idleness had a very 
 devout, a very human-seeming, and in exteriors a 
 very elegant and gentlemanly disciple in Mr. Wether- 
 borne. He had done nothing all his life, and had 
 retained an unimpaired equilibrium. Those who 
 believe that everything exists solely for the purpose 
 of forwarding the needs of humanity would have to 
 admit that Mr. Wetherborne's only raison d'etre 
 must be to serve as an object lesson to psychologists 
 as the man who has done nothing and suffered
 
 THE SCALES BEGIN TO DIP 89 
 
 nothing. You could not say that he had ever lifted 
 his little finger in active work, and yet you could not 
 look at him and think him in ever so small a degree 
 a victim. The sloth, pendent from an artificial bough 
 in the Mammal's department of a Zoological Gardens, 
 might be supposed to entertain behind its somnolence 
 some regret for the freer more tropical air that used 
 to fan its dreams, might be supposed to pine drowsily 
 for a sky to snooze under rather than a ceiling. But 
 no one could suppose that Mr. Wetherborne regretted 
 anything or pined for anything. He was the example 
 of contentment which might not be divine, but could 
 not be surpassed even by the gods upon Olympus. 
 He had been to a public school and failed gracefully 
 as far as one can fail at such a place. He had pro- 
 ceeded to the University, and done likewise. Then he 
 had begun to read for the Bar. His marriage the 
 most strenuous work of his life had somehow 
 prevented that from being more than a beginning. 
 He had found his hands fully occupied in dispensing 
 not riotously, but with considerable ease his wife's 
 moderate fortune. She had died shortly after Joan's 
 birth, and Mr. Wetherborne had long ago forgotten 
 the grief not to say inconvenience this had caused 
 him. Nowadays he was contented enough. The 
 Sea House suited him. So did the neighbourhood. 
 It is true he had been dropped by neighbours, slowly
 
 go THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 but surely, but he did not mind that. They had 
 dropped him really because he did not mind. Even 
 in a world not very certain why it hob-nobs with 
 some people rather than with other people, and prone 
 to regard the irreproachable as the sociable, Mr. 
 Wetherborne's amiable indifference had, in the end, 
 palled. People less gentlemanly perhaps but more 
 interesting because they were more interested took 
 his place at dinners, shooting-parties, card-parties ; 
 " the calls upon his leisure " as he politely put it, 
 had become fewer ; the leisure had become complete, 
 never having been very much short of complete. 
 
 How he spent his time it would be hard to say. 
 He did things like other people ate moderately, 
 drank a little, smoked a little. Occasionally he took 
 a stroll or read a book. He was ready for a chat 
 with any man. He disliked argument, and would 
 have an engagement elsewhere if any one started 
 arguing with him the only occasions on which he 
 was engaged. He never gave orders if he could help 
 it, because the giving of orders involves, to some 
 extent, the duty of seeing them carried out an 
 impossible task to Mr. Wetherborne. He never 
 rebuked any one for the reason that not only does 
 the act of rebuking verge upon the laborious, but it 
 presupposes a certain passion for one's own views 
 which was unknown to him.
 
 THE SCALES BEGIN TO DIP 91 
 
 Consciously, Mr. Wetherborne never interfered 
 with anything or anybody ; he would not have done 
 so for worlds, consciously. 
 
 Unconsciously, of course, he was usually in the way. 
 Drones always are in the way, by some irony of fate, 
 as surely as the veriest meddler. How could a man 
 indifferent, irresponsible, lazy to the marrow of him, 
 not be in the way ? The best of men unless he be 
 some island Crusoe cannot but get in the way some- 
 times in a world where all is moving. Mr. Wether- 
 borne had three daughters. He would have contended 
 (too strenuous word) that they had grown up natural 
 enough : he had not interfered with nature excellent 
 goddess. Nevertheless he had interfered. Nature 
 would not have set them down there in isolation. 
 Nature would certainly not have caused their neigh- 
 bours to drop them for their father's sake. Nature 
 would certainly have drifted them down the stream 
 of the life of their time, but for the dead weight of Mr. 
 Wetherborne they must drag with them. Drifting 
 unencumbered a boat will surely be drawn into some 
 stream at last that flows to the heart of the world, but a 
 boat with the heaviest of anchors to it cannot even 
 drift. It sticks. 
 
 Still the anchor can be picturesque ; and a human 
 anchor can be outwardly very pleasant. 
 
 Illingborough, modestly supposing either that Mr.
 
 Wetherborne was perhaps too busy to have been 
 troubled by his daughters with so small a matter as 
 that of his arrival, or that it had slipped a memory 
 stored with more important matters, was all the 
 more gratified to find his unexpected intrusion treated 
 with so much affability, and listened respectfully to 
 the lengthy anecdotes concerning polo matches, black 
 game shooting, yachting and other mostly sporting 
 matters with which Mr. Wetherborne regaled him. 
 He would perhaps rather have had his supper, but 
 if there had to be an interval, it certainly could not 
 have been more genially bridged. He had the satis- 
 faction, moreover, of seeing with what grace and 
 absence of self-consciousness Jocelyne could assist 
 in the laying of the table. Anne did not appear 
 until the meal had actually been brought in by Mrs. 
 Odler an elderly woman who had come to Mr. 
 Wetherborne many years ago from another county. 
 She did the chief work of the house, but liked to do 
 it, as she always explained, in her own way. Her 
 own way being one that took little account of punctu- 
 ality, partly accounted for the lateness of the meal on 
 this occasion, though Mrs. Odler also stated to Anne, 
 who went into the kitchen to help dish up, that Miss 
 Jocelyne had never said anything to her about having 
 it at a particular time. 
 " And if she don't pay Ketchup's bill shortly, I don't
 
 THE SCALES BEGIN TO DIP 93 
 
 meself," added Mrs. Odler, " see no use in naming 
 particular times, for without meat you can't dine ; 
 at least gentlemen can't. And Ketchup he said 
 he wasn't goin' to send no more jints till paid he 
 was. This steak I mostly seized from his boy when he 
 come round with the bill. He had orders not to 
 deliver it without the bill was paid." 
 
 " I suppose it'll be tough then," said Anne, a little, 
 but not very anxious, for Ketchup had revolted 
 often enough and come round. 
 
 " If it is, it won't be for want of beating," said Mrs. 
 Odler. " But there what can you expect ? " 
 
 "Oh, it'll be all right," said Anne. "And I'll 
 speak to Ketchup myself about his bill. He'll get 
 it some time of course, and in the meantime Mr. 
 Illingborough has to be fed." 
 
 It generally fell to Anne to speak on such matters 
 to the tradespeople, Jocelyne's pride not permitting 
 her to do it. It was not that Anne demeaned herself. 
 Anne could exercise a simple and one might almost 
 say genial haughtiness on occasions when Jocelyne 
 only felt herself ill at ease. The tradespeople rather 
 liked to be rebuked by their scornful young debtor. 
 Even in this democratic age in many parts of the 
 country those with a natural feudal manner can 
 command an influence that no others can. 
 
 " I hope he don't eat much," was Mrs. Odler's
 
 94 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 comment. "If he do, you'll have to go fishing, Miss 
 Anne. Being from London, he'll like fish and then 
 there's eggs, if Miss Joan wouldn't sell them all 
 to Gardiner's for the church. I don't call it right 
 meself to c'lect money for church charity when there's 
 bills unpaid." 
 
 " I'll tell Tom to get them in before Joan gets up," 
 said Anne. " Then you can hide them from her. 
 And I'll go fishing. There, you'd better take the 
 steak up now." 
 
 Anne followed the steak in and, in her own words, 
 chopped it, whereupon Mr. Wetherborne, who was 
 unable to attend to more than one thing at a time, 
 ceased telling stories of his early days, and ate his food 
 gravely and carefully as one who knows the importance 
 of keeping together a body and soul invaluable to 
 the community. The value of the digestion was 
 one of his favourite topics, upon which he could 
 speak strongly and wisely ; and the only question 
 that sometimes arose in the mind of his listeners 
 was whether the assumption of the equal value of all 
 digestions was justifiable, or whether, if something 
 had gone wrong with Mr. Wetherborne's, it would 
 have greatly mattered. 
 
 The conversation devolved upon Jocelyne, who 
 with great skill fenced with Illingborough's inquiries 
 as to the architectural features of the neighbourhood,
 
 THE SCALES BEGIN TO DIP 95 
 
 while Anne sat silent, cynically interested in her 
 sister's brilliant evasions of facts, and glad to observe 
 that Illingborough promised to be a moderate eater. 
 He refused a second helping of steak, and at that 
 Anne's heart went out towards him. 
 
 " If you want to know the dates of churches round," 
 she said dryly, " you'd better go and see the rector. 
 Jos knows no more about them than Buzz." 
 
 " That's too unkind," said Illingborough, shocked 
 at so unsisterly a remark, " though of course I under- 
 stand you're only speaking in fun. Miss Wether- 
 borne, I should have said, was quite an authority." 
 
 " Oh no, I'm not that," said Jocelyne, with meek 
 candour and a beaming smile. 
 
 " Better wait and see if there are Gothic windows 
 where she's said," said Anne. " I don't believe 
 you've ever been to St. Nicholas Morton, Jos." 
 
 " Not with you, my dear," said Jocelyne quite 
 sweetly. " Because I know you are not really inter- 
 ested. But I have often walked over for my own 
 pleasure " 
 
 " Brass rubbing ? " asked Anne cynically, knowing 
 Jocelyne's walks were taken solely for social and 
 shopping purposes, and that the church in question 
 stood solitary among heather hills seven miles from 
 anywhere. 
 
 " I love it most by moonlight," said Jocelyne
 
 g6 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 amiably. Something in Illingborough's ingenuous 
 face warned her that the bickerings which were often 
 the sole digestive employed at meals at the Sea House 
 would not appeal to him. She scored heavily by this 
 discernment, for Illingborough added to the indict- 
 ment against Anne a frivolous envy of her sister's 
 artistic appreciations which could not be overlooked. 
 He plunged eagerly into a discussion of the effects of 
 moonlight upon medieval architecture so eagerly 
 that Jocelyne was saved any opportunity of giving 
 herself away, while Anne became insensibly interested. 
 She had never met a man who talked with such 
 fervour of things that she had only known vaguely 
 were beautiful. Something that he said brought to 
 her memory a picture of St. Nicholas Morton, as she 
 had seen it in a winter sunset one day when she was 
 riding home alone from a long day's hunting. What 
 that tower on the waste, backed by leagues of redden- 
 ing sky, had suggested to her, she could not have said. 
 But in her somewhat pagan imagination she had been 
 carried for a moment to a paradise that was a happy 
 hunting-ground, where a fox ran for ever with the 
 hounds in full chase, and she followed flying, and 
 crisp winds blew, and hedges and ditches slipped 
 under her horse's belly, and he took with never a jerk 
 the high barred gates of heaven. She had expected, 
 just for a moment, to hear the sound of lovely horns
 
 THE SCALES BEGIN TO DIP 97 
 
 far off ; and an aureoled saint crying " Tally ho " 
 out of that sky would not have surprised her. She 
 actually had waited, the reins slack on John Mark's 
 neck, expecting some of these things, until the red 
 began to fade, and the square-towered church began 
 to gloom in the frosty twilight. 
 
 How was it that Mr. Illingborough, whom she would 
 not have suspected of loving hunting and such things, 
 had brought this memory back ? She could not think 
 how he did it but listened to him in order to find 
 out. It is a method not overfavoured nowadays when 
 short cuts to knowledge are imperative, and intuition 
 is so diffused. Yet it has its advantages. Even if 
 Anne could not discover what it was in Illingborough 
 that made him seem different from people she knew, 
 and interesting in spite of some absurd qualities, she 
 could at least perceive that he had in him that differ- 
 entiating virtue, and that it was not an accident or 
 an assumption of the moment like Jocelyne's interest 
 in architecture. Nor did it hurt her that by reason 
 of his own sincerity he set hers as exhibited in her 
 criticism of Jocelyne down to frivolity and a want 
 of interest in a profound subject. She was not 
 devoid of interest, and his very exclusion of her from 
 the conversation (though Illingborough did not 
 exactly intend to exclude her : he would have been 
 horrified to think he had) helped her to a little know- 
 7
 
 98 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 ledge of what he was talking about. She had not 
 to interrupt her thoughts and growing curiosity by 
 random answers and feigned interest, as Jocelyne 
 had ; and could have given a far more accurate digest 
 of his table-talk than her sister, besides being able to 
 pass the vegetables and to induce her father to refill 
 Illingborough's glass. She would never have supposed 
 that the lodger who had so absurdly stopped her horse 
 that afternoon and had been so angry about Words- 
 worth could be so pleasant and interesting as she 
 found him ; and certainly she would never have 
 expected to feel angry at Joan for coming in half-way 
 through the meal and thereby stopping what had 
 almost become a lecture. 
 
 " What was that you were saying about churches ? " 
 Joan asked as soon as she had been introduced and 
 given a portion of steak. " Are you interested in 
 the church ? Because if so, and you can carve, 
 there's lots of work to be done in this parish." 
 
 " Now, Joan," said Jocelyne warningly, " let 
 Mr. Illingborough have his supper before you cate- 
 chise him " 
 
 " Well, he was talking about churches," said Joan 
 aggressively. 
 
 " Architecture," put in Anne. " Jos is interested 
 in it, you know." 
 
 " No," said Joan, " I didn't."
 
 THE SCALES BEGIN TO DIP 99 
 
 Jocelyne smiled uneasily, but she need not have 
 been afraid. Illingborough, convinced that she had 
 initiated the subject and carried on much of the 
 conversation, regarded Joan's words as only a further 
 example of sisterly depreciation. 
 
 " Then I can answer for it," he said, with a smile, 
 " that you miss a great many opportunities. Miss 
 Wetherborne has told me more about the churches 
 round here than I should have thought possible in the 
 time." 
 
 " Has she told you," said Joan, " what we want to 
 do in ours ? " 
 
 " No," said Illingborough. 
 
 " We were talking about church architecture," said 
 Jocelyne. 
 
 " So am I," said Joan. " Carving is architecture, 
 isn't it ? Well, the rector and I want " 
 
 " Why not say I and the rector ? " Anne asked. 
 
 " Want to get some carving done on the rood- 
 screen. Odo Watterly has promised to try his 
 best " 
 
 " He's the rector's son," interpolated Anne. 
 
 " And I was wondering if you would help too, Mr. 
 Illingborough ? " said Joan. 
 
 " I'm ashamed to say," said Illingborough, " that 
 I can't carve. It sounds most interesting though. 
 What form of carving do you propose to have ? "
 
 ioo THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 " Oh, I don't know. Something showy that won't 
 take too long to do. Flowers in squares look rather 
 well at least I saw some in a paper that did " 
 
 " With skulls and cross-bones underneath," sug- 
 gested Anne. 
 
 " We are talking of work for the church, Anne," 
 said Joan severely. 
 
 " To be sure. I'd forgotten. Flowers in squares 
 and what about squares in flower-pots ? " 
 
 " You understand nothing about it," said Joan, 
 annoyed ; " and I do not think the rector would care 
 to hear you treat a solemn subject with levity. 
 Perhaps, Mr. IlKngborough," she went on, disre- 
 garding Anne's statement that she hadn't been aware 
 that she was talking to the rector " you'd like to 
 come up to the church and give your opinion, even if 
 you can't do any of the carving yourself. And I could 
 show you some of our villagers at the same time. 
 I often visit them, though I get little thanks for it. 
 But they have to be kept up to the mark." 
 
 To prevent Anne from irritating her younger 
 sister further, Illingborough hastened to say that he 
 would be delighted to accept her invitation, though 
 his opinion was, he must warn her, valueless. 
 
 " Oh, I don't know, I ask every one," said Joan. 
 " You never know who may have an idea. By 
 the way, I was to say that there is a rectory tennis
 
 THE SCALES BEGIN TO DIP 101 
 
 party some time I forget when and will you all 
 come ? " 
 
 " Perhaps we may if the date suits," said Jocelyne ; 
 then noticing that her father had finished, rose from 
 the table. 
 
 " You'll entertain Mr. Illingborough, father, won't 
 you ? " she added, relieved to think that for some 
 little time to come at any rate she could escape from 
 telling fibs about the architecture of the country. 
 
 " Certainly," said Mr. Wetherborne politely, " I 
 am going to have a glass of port, Mr. Illingborough. 
 I hope you will join me. What a bad year this is 
 likely to be for grouse."
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 i - 
 
 FISHING AT DAWN 
 
 A FEELING as of peas in his bed caused Illingborough 
 to sleep fitfully and wake early on the morning 
 following his arrival at the Sea House. Too courteous 
 to attribute this vigilant condition of mind and 
 somewhat bruised condition of body to the way in 
 which his bed had been made, and rather suspecting 
 himself of luxurious habits so apt to grow upon a 
 man if encouraged, he rose with a view to a bathe. 
 Mr. Wetherborne had sat so long the night before 
 over his glass of port and had retired so swiftly to 
 bed at the end of it that Illingborough, who had 
 elected to go out into the garden and watch the 
 moon shine on the sea, had been unable to put him 
 a question with regard to the most suitable place 
 for bathing an answer to which would have been 
 convenient. But with illimitable sea in front of him 
 and a moderate swimming capacity, there was nothing 
 much to hinder his dipping where he pleased. 
 
 He went out into the garden, still dewy and scarcely
 
 FISHING AT DAWN 103 
 
 yet awake with birds, and descending the steep path 
 beyond the rose-hedge almost stepped on to a small 
 boy with brown legs who carried a garden fork. 
 
 " Sorry ! " said Illingborough, checking his descent, 
 as the boy turned an equally brown face upon him, 
 and stood aside with a grin to let him go by. " There's 
 not much room for two, is there ? " 
 
 " Iddn't," said the boy cheerfully. " Not less they 
 be two thin yins." 
 
 "Oh, I say, I'm not as fat as all that," said Illing- 
 borough, somewhat confused by the personal allusion 
 involved in this hypothesis. " When you're my age 
 you won't be much less thick, you know." 
 
 " I'll be tarler," said the boy. " Be goin' to 
 bathe ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Illingborough. " Where's the best 
 place ? " 
 
 " Round the big rock with the twitch on it," said 
 the boy, nodding towards a great mass fallen from 
 the cliff-edge almost to the sea, but with all its land- 
 ward greenery still growing on its top. " There be 
 a big pool there, smooth-bottomed and notten to cut 
 yew on the shins." 
 
 " I'll go there then," said Illingborough, starting 
 forward. The boy went ahead of him, but turned 
 now and again to take him in with undisguised 
 interest.
 
 " Miss Anne be there now," he said, during one of 
 these examinations. " Ye won't beat her swimmin'." 
 
 Illingborough came to an abrupt stop. Modesty 
 forbade that he should form a mixed bathing party 
 with an unchaperoned young lady, who had more- 
 over not invited him to do so. 
 
 " You ought to have told me," he said to the boy. 
 
 " I did." 
 
 Illingborough laughed. The boy was so artlessly 
 curt and so smilingly self-possessed, that it was 
 impossible to take offence at him. He wondered a 
 little if he had received his training from Miss Anne 
 Wetherborne. His manner was a quaint edition of 
 hers. 
 
 " I meant you should have told me before. I 
 shall wait till Miss Anne comes up. What are you 
 going to work at ? " asked Illingborough, seeing the 
 boy, who had reached the beach, search out a patch 
 of sand and begin digging. 
 
 " Wurrums ! " 
 
 " Sand-worms ? " 
 
 " Lobs for nshin' Miss Anne's going. Maybe 
 she'll take yew with her, if yew ask her." 
 
 The boy seemed to think Illingborough would not 
 fail to avail himself of such a treat, and Illingborough 
 was not sure himself that he would fail either. The 
 sea sparkled like the grass, as though it too was
 
 FISHING AT DAWN 105 
 
 covered with freshest dew. It called to a man to 
 be on it or in it, even with one who thought poetry 
 foolish. 
 
 " Is Miss Anne a great fisherman ? " he asked, 
 watching the boy as he turned up great fat oozy 
 worms and slipped them unconcernedly into a tin 
 he had brought with him. 
 
 " Miss Anne can dew anything," said the boy. 
 Here was a testimonial that Illingborough had not 
 expected, and it woke him to a sense of duty. He 
 was not here simply to amuse himself, but to deliver 
 a judgment, based on the best evidence. The evidence 
 of a small, brown-legged, lob-worm-digging boy might 
 not be worth much, but it was worth something. 
 It was at least worth sifting. 
 
 " What do you mean by everything ? " he asked. 
 
 The boy leant on his fork and fixed Illingborough 
 with small sharp brown eyes. 
 
 " Everything," he said. " Everything as other 
 folks can do, and everything as other folks can't do." 
 It was royal praise, but he spoilt it a little by going on. 
 " Tell yew Miss Anne can bait her own hooks with 
 lobs." 
 
 Illingborough, with the future slimy victims of this 
 handiwork writhing before him in the tin, shuddered 
 slightly " I suppose it's not very nice work ? " he 
 said.
 
 106 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 " Pends on whether yew want a fish or not." 
 
 There was truth in this, and Illingborough turned it 
 over. "The other young ladies wouldn't like to do it ? " 
 
 " 'Twouldn't matter if they did." 
 
 " Why not ? " 
 
 " Any fish 'ud know who was at th' end o' their 
 lines " 
 
 " And not be hooked, you mean ? " The boy nodded, 
 evidently thinking him very slow of understanding, 
 and a great user of words, which indeed he was dis- 
 posed to be. Lawyers are trained that way, and 
 Illingborough was trying to get his evidence exact. 
 He was not sure even now how much or how little the 
 boy meant by his laudation, and to test him further 
 said 
 
 " Still, baiting hooks and catching fish isn't every- 
 thing, is it ? " 
 
 He must have infused a certain depreciation of 
 Anne into his tone, for this champion of hers, after 
 looking at him askance, said 
 
 " Nobody said as 'twas, 'less yew did," and began 
 digging again. 
 
 Illingborough tried him with one or two ques- 
 tions calculated to bring out his further opinion 
 of Anne, but failed, and had to content himself 
 with trying to methodise what he had heard both 
 for and against. It was to Anne's credit no doubt
 
 FISHING AT DAWN 107 
 
 that she should have so great an admirer in this small 
 urchin, and implied not only a skill in sport which he 
 could quite credit, but also a good nature of which he 
 had had less assurance. On the other hand, small 
 boys are easy-going admirers. He remembered the 
 school heroes of his own youth. Watson Major, 
 Baddelford, Beaver the names recurred of boys who 
 could run, or jump, or play cricket, but had no other 
 great pretensions to heroism. Skill in sport, moreover, 
 does not necessarily accompany skill in " good living," 
 as the moralists had it ; and a girl skilled in sport 
 must be supposed to have certain qualities which are 
 not particularly feminine without on the other hand 
 being highly and necessarily admirable. Was Anne 
 Wetherborne such a girl ? He looked at the digging 
 boy as though he could solve these questions, and had 
 them still unsolved when Anne herself came round the 
 big rock on which the grass grew. Stockingless, with a 
 short skirt and wispy hair, she was distinctly less proud- 
 looking than when on horseback, but she was not the 
 hoyden some girls look in that plight ; rather, she re- 
 minded Illingborough of one of the more graceful 
 water-creatures an otter come to land, all streaming, 
 for a scramble, doubtful in the strange element, but 
 not dismayed or forgetful of the ease that was hers in 
 her own deeper world. 
 
 She nodded a good-morning to Illingborough.
 
 io8 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 " Going to bathe ? " she said. 
 
 " I was thinking of it," said Illingborough. 
 
 " Then you'd better go to my pool," she said. 
 
 " So the boy was telling me," said Illingborough 
 awkwardly, and began to stumble. " I thought I'd 
 I'd wait and see if you allowed it ? " 
 
 At that she turned on the boy. 
 
 " What right had you to say that anybody might 
 go to my pool, Tom ? " she said. " You know very 
 well that nobody may go there except me and John 
 Mark, and you, when you've been particularly 
 good." 
 
 " Thought he'd like to see yew swimming," said 
 the boy. 
 
 " Pooh ! " said Anne, and turned back to Illing- 
 borough. " He thinks me a marvel because I taught 
 him to swim, and a great nuisance he was to teach. 
 Used to funk it, didn't you, Tom ? " 
 
 " Didn't keer for the big waves," said Tom. 
 
 " Funked it," said Anne insistently. " And then 
 offered the pool to a gentleman you don't know. Oh, 
 it's all right," as Illingborough began to say that any 
 available piece of water would serve his purpose. 
 " I call it my pool, but it's the sea, of course, and the 
 nicest piece round. The rocks are worn flat, and you 
 go in deep at once and have to swim through a ring- 
 hole to the open. Only the open's more rocky than
 
 FISHING AT DAWN 109 
 
 the pool, and you're apt to cut yourself. So I don't 
 go except when it's quite calm." 
 
 " Then I'll use the pool," said Illingborough. 
 " You're going fishing, I hear ? " 
 
 " Yes. Would you like to come ? " said Anne. 
 She had not intended to invite him, but a certain com- 
 prehension that he seemed to show with regard to the 
 pool had pleased her. 
 
 " I should like it most awfully," said' Illingborough. 
 " Only only " 
 
 His reverence of the convenances, remarkable in so 
 young a man, was what caused his hesitation. Would 
 Mr. Wetherborne, he wondered, like him to go out 
 fishing alone with one of his daughters before break- 
 fast ? He hadn't quite gathered what Mr. Wether- 
 borne's attitude might be. Of course, it was all right 
 in one way before breakfast wasn't after dinner 
 but was it in another ? 
 
 " Only what ? " said Anne. 
 
 " Shan't I be a nuisance ? " said Illingborough, not 
 quite candidly. 
 
 ' You will be if you want me to row you in just 
 when they've begun to bite because you feel sick," 
 said Anne. " Not otherwise." 
 
 " I think I can promise not to do that." 
 
 " Hurry then," she said. " Tom, you can go up 
 and get some biscuits for Mr. Illingborough. You'll
 
 no THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 want them. We shall be out an hour or more, and 
 you haven't had breakfast." 
 
 Coming back from his swim in the pool, which had 
 more than answered Anne's description of it, except 
 that the water seemed icy, owing to the sun being as 
 yet shut off from it, Illingborough found Anne and 
 the boy standing by a small boat, marked in white 
 letters, The Merry. The Merry was almost in the 
 sea. 
 
 " Get in," said Anne, " and take the oars, please. 
 You look frozen. Tom and I'll shove off. Now, 
 Tom, one, two, three." 
 
 A moment later she had sprung in over the stern 
 with wet feet, and Illingborough was pulling down the 
 channel between the sticks she had pointed out to 
 him the day before. Anne gave directions to him. 
 
 " We haven't got much time, if we're to catch any 
 for breakfast," she said. " Not that we're going 
 far. Pull your right. Do you prefer a rod or a 
 line ? " 
 
 " I'm equally inefficient with both," said Illing- 
 borough. 
 
 " Then you'd better have the line." 
 
 She stopped him not very far out and supervised 
 the throwing overboard of The Merry's anchor, a 
 big stone with rope attached, then put together her 
 sea-rod in two joints and slipped on her huge reel.
 
 FISHING AT DAWN in 
 
 Illingborough watched the easy way in which she 
 managed things, and only looked away when she 
 turned round to the tin of slobbery bait, and dipped 
 a finger for a choice specimen of fat red writhing. 
 He was not certain in his own mind whether he was 
 angry most with the slim fingers for being so merciless 
 or with the snaky worms for being so odious. 
 
 " Feeling ill ? " she said a moment later, when he 
 had heard the plop of her lead followed by the sizzing 
 of the line running out. 
 
 " No," said Illingborough. 
 
 " Why aren't you fishing then ? " 
 
 Illingborough pulled himself together, and decided 
 that he was hypercivilised, as indeed he was. What 
 right had he a parasite by profession to object 
 to the methods of a bread-earner ? She was fishing 
 for breakfast. 
 
 " I'm just going to," he said, and with averted eyes 
 impaled a lob-worm and hurled it desperately into 
 the cool concealing waters. Anne at the same moment 
 pulled up a sizeable fish almost on to Illingborough's 
 lap. The critics and the enthusiasts of fishing have 
 both gone to extremes in dealing with their subject, 
 and perhaps the critics are the more justified of the 
 two. It remains an elementary fact that the sudden 
 capture of a silver flash from a green deep excites 
 a man. Illingborough grabbed at the rock-whiting
 
 H2 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 and almost hooked himself in trying to unhook it. 
 Then, as his own line telephoned news of victory 
 to him, and his own fish streaked up into the daylight, 
 he forgot his scruples. For the next half-hour he 
 forgot the question of whether for his own pleasure 
 he should inflict what may be pain on creatures of 
 incalculable senses, and caught a dozen fish to his 
 own hand. At times he chatted excitedly to Anne ; 
 at others he forgot to talk in the tenseness of his 
 interest. His sense of touch was all for his own line ; 
 his eyes for Anne's rod and the moment when the 
 stout top-joint would begin to quiver. He shook 
 with eagerness once when Anne struck, and the whole 
 rod went double under the weight of whatever was on. 
 
 " What can it be ? " he said. 
 
 " Dog-fish, I expect," said Anne, and brought one 
 up a few minutes later and over the edge of the boat, 
 though it must have weighed ten pounds. 
 
 " Food for Buzz," she said, as the thing began 
 
 crawling the centre of the boat. " Take care 
 
 you'll get nipped," she added; as Illingborough flung 
 himself upon it with enthusiasm. " Hit it on the 
 head with an oar." 
 
 Illingborough did so with a fervour which would 
 have been impossible half an hour before. He felt 
 primitive, like one dancing on the corpse of his enemy. 
 Anne smiled to see him. " It seems rather brutal
 
 FISHING AT DAWN 113 
 
 to hit the poor dog-fish like that, doesn't it ? " she 
 said mischievously. 
 
 Illingborough blushed and sat down. 
 " I ought to be ashamed of myself," he said, 
 frowning. 
 " Why ? " 
 
 He didn't answer. He was trying to think out the 
 moral of the thing. Surely it was wrong for him, 
 who had no concern with such matters, to be gloating 
 over the butchery of a fish. If the fish had to be 
 butchered, it should be done decently and soberly 
 by a professional. He had enough humour to refrain 
 from explaining his scruples immediately upon an 
 exhibition of his barbarism ; and it was a perception 
 of this that caused Anne to deal leniently with him. 
 
 " Buzz will be very grateful to you," she said. 
 " It's time we went back now." 
 
 Illingborough pulled up his line and got the anchor 
 on board in a sobered frame of mind. The sea was 
 very beautiful. So was the girl beside him in the boat. 
 But the sea was cruel too, and had tempted him even 
 in this byway to be a brute. Could the girl do the 
 same ? She had something of its immobility. But 
 what right had he to criticise her ? If she were cruel, 
 she was not consciously so, as he had been. And 
 she t really was amiable. Illingborough based this 
 notion on the fact that Anne, as he pulled shoreward,
 
 ii4 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 suddenly asked him if there were more lines in Words- 
 worth about the sea. He took it as a kind attempt 
 to talk of the things that interested him, whereas 
 it was only curiosity. The other lines were still 
 marching in her brain.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 JOAN DAMAGES HER CHANCES 
 
 MORALISTS must have their off-time like other people ; 
 and those are not the worst philosophers who relax 
 their rigour at meals. Illingborough had his off- 
 time at breakfast when he ate four rock-whiting and 
 enjoyed them. His enjoyment did not, of course, 
 dispose of the question of the humanity of angling : 
 it only proved the character of Illingborough, and 
 proved also that few men have the imagination 
 that can pity a boiled fish. A living fish is another 
 matter. 
 
 Jocelyne came down in some trepidation lest Mr. 
 Illingborough should insist on walking her off to St. 
 Nicholas Morton before she had time to get up any 
 of its features from a guide-book, and she had prepared 
 several excuses that would make such a pilgrimage 
 appear impossible. She was relieved when he accepted 
 Joan's invitation to go to the village that morning 
 and examine the rood-screen. 
 
 "It is not finished yet, but we should like your 
 
 "5
 
 n6 THE JUDGEMENT OF JLLINGBOROUGH 
 
 opinion on it. I have to visit one or two of the poor 
 sick people as well," she continued ; " but you won't 
 mind that, will you ? There's nothing infectious." 
 
 Illingborough. gave her to understand that he 
 would be only too delighted if they all had bubonic 
 plague, and his courtesy gave Joan an additional idea. 
 
 " I shall have to take up a few things," she said 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 " Mr. Illingborough being here to carry them," 
 said Anne. 
 
 " Oh, I can carry them myself, thank you," said 
 Joan, who did not, however, as a rule, care to load 
 herself up the hot lane to Mazinghope. "Mr. 
 Illingborough needn't take anything." 
 
 " But I should like to," said Illingborough. 
 
 " A few flowers then for Mrs. Gideon," Joan con- 
 ceded. 
 
 " Something scented that'll make her sick in bed ? " 
 Anne asked. 
 
 " Why expose your own want of charity ? " said 
 Joan. 
 
 " Well, don't bag all the whiting," said Anne. 
 " We took a lot of trouble catching them, and if you'd 
 seen Mr. Illingborough hammering the dog-fish." 
 
 Illingborough blushed. 
 
 " I still feel a brute," he said " at least now that 
 you remind me of it, I do."
 
 JOAN DAMAGES HER CHANCES 117 
 
 " Sony I spoke," said Anne, and grinned to hear 
 the quick Jocelyne begin to speak of the pity it was 
 that some sports had to be cruel. 
 
 " I really believe I hate them all," said Jocelyne, 
 who was undoubtedly opposed to the fatigue they 
 entailed. 
 
 " I daren't say that after this morning," said 
 Illingborough. 
 
 " The dog-fish would turn in its pot if you did," 
 said Anne. 
 
 " But it is a serious question," said Illingborough, 
 and conveyed that he thought Jocelyne was on a higher 
 pedestal than ordinary mortals. Just for a moment 
 Anne rebelled at the thought, but only said lightly 
 
 " It's just as well then that you're going to do a 
 charity round with Joan you'll feel humaner." 
 
 " And I must take you to St. Nicholas Morton 
 another time," said Jocelyne, unable to resist making 
 capital out of this convenience. 
 
 " Oh, if you had thought of that," said Illing- 
 borough, who would much have preferred it, " per- 
 haps we shan't be long in the village ? " 
 
 " No, no," said Jocelyne quickly, " any time will 
 do for St. Nicholas Morton. Let Joan show you the 
 village to-day. I have plenty to do in the house." 
 
 " Such as killing a pig for dinner," Anne suggested, 
 opening her eyes at the unexpected explanation.
 
 n8 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 " Jocelyne is a tremendous housekeeper, you know," 
 she continued for Illingborough's benefit. 
 
 " I can quite believe that Miss Wetherborne can do 
 well what she gives her mind to," said Illingborough, 
 who thought justly that he discerned disparagement. 
 
 Anne stared at him. Was he joking or merely 
 polite ? Or was he, on the other hand, a peculiarly 
 dull young man ? 
 
 " Do you often say things as nice as that ? " she 
 asked politely. 
 
 " It's a very small compliment to Miss Wetherborne, 
 I know," said Illingborough. 
 
 Jocelyne smiled. She believed he was quite in- 
 credibly stupid, but she did not mind that. Seldom 
 if ever had she come across anybody who had accepted 
 her so readily as the sort of person she liked now and 
 again to picture herself. She rather enjoyed playing 
 this theoretic self. It was a pleasant sensation, and 
 would make things particularly easy for her during 
 the next few days, when she could really not give 
 him her time, but would like to retain his flattering 
 opinion. She felt that she could hand him over to 
 Joan or Anne for weeks without their detaching 
 him from his allegiance to her. She could also affect 
 to disparage herself a thing she usually found very 
 hard to do, so very unusual was it to have her 
 merits observed.
 
 JOAN DAMAGES HER CHANCES 119 
 
 " Mr. Illingborough will find me out soon," she 
 said graciously. 
 
 " I hope so," said Anne. 
 
 " And see that I'm a very ordinary country girl." 
 
 " That I am sure you are not," said Illingborough. 
 
 Half an hour later Illingborough, laden with a large 
 basket containing goods taken from the larder, to 
 Mrs. Odler's speechless indignation, and also a crude 
 but large bunch of flowers, was wending his way to- 
 wards Mazinghope under Joan's guidance. His 
 inclination to stop and admire piece after piece of 
 the road, where hart's-tongues peeped cool and green 
 under high red banks ; or lesser feathery ferns clung 
 to solid walls of shale that looked for ever crumbling, 
 was a good deal hampered by Joan's matter-of- 
 factness. 
 
 " Yes, they like the shade," she would say. Or, 
 " They last a good many years, but they want renew- 
 ing pretty often in parts ; or, " Yes, that's Dabble- 
 thwaite's field. It would be better if he used more 
 lime." 
 
 A want of artistic faculty had to be laid at Joan's 
 door, he decided, though her keenness and desire to 
 serve her poorer neighbours would no doubt obliterate 
 this small failing in the mind of a fair judge. Un- 
 fortunately for Joan, a certain youthful desire to show 
 off her bounty; combined with the great heat of the
 
 120 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 day, which made her protege's peevish and ungrateful, 
 prevented Illingborough from having an opportunity 
 of really admiring her methods. Mrs. Gideon, the 
 sick woman, who received the bouquet, said she didn't 
 hold with flowers in the house much obliged to Miss 
 Joan all the same. A bit of jelly would have been 
 nice, but you couldn't expect healthy folks to think 
 of what poor sufferers took fancies to, and of course 
 jelly cost money too, which flowers didn't. 
 
 " A very grumbling woman," said Joan, with a red 
 face, as she led Illingborough from the stuffy cottage 
 not before Mrs. Gideon had recovered her spirits 
 by narrating to the gentleman the more severe 
 symptoms of her illness, and of how it had arisen in 
 the first place from taking a powder on a full stomach. 
 
 " Which would you ha' know'd yourself, sir, not 
 to do ? " she demanded of Illingborough, who replied 
 in some confusion that he was not sure that he would. 
 
 At the next cottage at which they called for Joan 
 to ascertain why a small girl, by name Christabel 
 Muggs, had not .attended Sunday school on the last 
 occasion, a contretemps arose from the fact that 
 Christabel, who was in and had had a rash but had 
 learnt the collect all the same, refused to repeat the 
 collect to Joan, preferring to keep her fingers in her 
 mouth and watch Mr. Illingborough with large 
 startled eyes. She seemed to think that if she
 
 JOAN DAMAGES HER CHANCES 121 
 
 removed her fingers, Illingborough might take 
 advantage of the fact to bite. 
 
 " You're a very naughty little girl," said Joan 
 severely. " And I shall tell Mrs. Watterly about you." 
 
 Thereupon Christabel set up a wail, which coming 
 through her wet fingers sounded peculiarly shrill and 
 painful. 
 
 " She hevn't got quite over the rash, I fear," said 
 Mrs. Muggs feelingly. " She was always a delicate 
 one like her pore little brother John wot died." 
 
 " Dear me ! " said Illingborough, horrified. 
 
 " Yes, sir, he has a little stone all to hisself, John 
 has, up in the churchyard, as Miss Joan'll tell 'ee," 
 said Mrs. Muggs. "It's 'scribed beautiful " 
 
 "JOHN MARMADUKE HOSEA MUGGS, aged 19 months. 
 Sadly missed." 
 
 " He must have been," said Illingborough feelingly, 
 and was glad to get out of John Marmaduke's mother's 
 residence. 
 
 " They are always sickeningly morbid," said Joan 
 as they walked on up the village street, between the 
 thatched and white-walled cottages, in the small 
 gardens of which pink and yellow snapdragons or 
 blue larkspurs gave touches of brightness. " As for 
 Christabel what she wants is a good sound whipping." 
 
 " Oh, I hardly think that," said Illingborough.
 
 122 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 " That's because you don't know these people." 
 There came into Illingborough's mind the recollec- 
 tion of a prophecy made by a modern writer of whom 
 he thought highly. It was to the effect that when 
 the next revolution took place, and the barricades 
 were up, the first blood with which the gutters would 
 flow red would be the blood of the philanthropists. 
 In the plainer prose in which Illingborough was in 
 the habit of thinking, this meant that modern bene- 
 ficence is not carried on with a complete understanding 
 of those benefited. Charity has become a judgement, 
 and goodwill a tyranny. What would Joan be if 
 she could play Lady Bountiful to her heart's content ? 
 He was too just to press the answer, but imperceptibly, 
 as Joan's round proceeded, her chances of being 
 named a guest and an heiress became less. Even to 
 assist at her charities made him feel a slave-driver. 
 
 He was relieved when Joan, having admonished 
 such humble seniors as she found at home (and once 
 or twice owing to noises within that suddenly ceased, 
 even the unsuspicious Illingborough could not help 
 fancying that some of the women called upon were 
 at home without being visible), turned up a little path 
 over a stile, that led them into the churchyard 
 of Mazinghope Church. At least the occupants of 
 a churchyard cannot be patronised, Illingborough 
 thought.
 
 JOAN DAMAGES HER CHANCES 123 
 
 He was not given to conceits, and was not en- 
 couraged in them on this occasion, for almost directly 
 after this had occurred to him, they came upon a 
 young man in the undress costume of a curate, dark 
 grey flannels and a speckled straw hat, to whom 
 Joan waved commandingly. 
 
 " Odo Watterly ! " said Joan. " I thought he 
 might be here. Odo," she continued, as the curate 
 came up, " this is our guest, Mr. Illingborough. 
 He's very keen on church matters." 
 
 " How do you do ? It's a comfort to find a lay- 
 man keen. So many fellows at the present day are, 
 I fear, slack where the church is concerned," said 
 Odo. He was a nice-looking young man with a face 
 which his mother said was not round, and he had a 
 manner which he tried to make seem austere when 
 he could remember to. When he forgot, it was that 
 of a slangy but pleasant and simple schoolboy. 
 Joan's development into a church worker during his 
 first year of ordination had at first appeared to him 
 so much more rum and awe-inspiring even than his 
 own change into a clergyman, that he had not at 
 first been disposed to accept it as genuine. He had 
 known her 'so long as an untidy and somewhat 
 obstinate little girl, given to sulks, that it was hard 
 to realise the change. But the greater individuality 
 had triumphed over the lesser, and now he took Joan
 
 124 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 at her own estimate and deferred to her, and told 
 her what his vicar in the north advised him to do, 
 and consulted her about his sermons, which were 
 great stumbling-blocks to him. His father was 
 rather too much of a scholar to be understanding, 
 and could not sympathise with the most eloquent 
 exhortations calculated to impress the brethren unless 
 these were accompanied with grammar. Joan did 
 not bother about the grammar so much and abetted 
 the eloquence. Exhortations submitted to her be- 
 came by emendation her own, and her chief concern 
 was that Odo should enunciate them effectively. 
 Illingborough liked his looks, but could not accept 
 his compliment. 
 
 "I'm afraid you wouldn't think me much better 
 than the others if you knew me," he said. 
 
 " But you're very interested in church architec- 
 ture," said Joan. 
 
 " In an ignorant way," said Illingborough. 
 
 " Keenness is the thing," said Joan, and Odo 
 nodded admiringly. 
 
 He could be very keen if kept up to it, and Joan 
 could keep any one up to anything. " I've brought 
 him to see the rood-screen. Unfortunately Mr. 
 Illingborough doesn't carve, but he could give an 
 opinion," she continued. 
 
 " Rather," said Odo. " It's in the vestry. So
 
 JOAN DAMAGES HER CHANCES 125 
 
 are the patterns and some tools. In fact, I've been' 
 trying to do one of those flower things this morning, 
 not on the screen itself. But, of course, it doesn't 
 amount to much. Slippery job, carving." 
 
 " It's like the violin, I suppose," said Illingborough. 
 
 " Ah, yes," said Odo not quite following the 
 analogy. 
 
 " But the difference is," said Joan, " that this is 
 sacred work. Help will be given us " 
 
 " Rather I mean quite, quite," said Odo, 
 shocked to find himself slangy on such an occasion. 
 
 They walked together to the little vestry where 
 the sun came through searchingly upon the rood- 
 screen of plain oak construction in several pieces, 
 upon Odo's tools, and upon the sawdust he had made 
 in his experiments. Even an enthusiast could not 
 admit that help had so far been granted to these, and 
 Odo did not require Joan's face to tell him so. 
 
 " No use at all, are they ? " he said discouragedly. 
 " Broke a chisel too as well as the beastly flower I 
 
 mean the the flower. There'll have to be about a 
 
 
 
 hundred of 'em too on the screen, which is harder wood. 
 Toughish job eh ? " 
 
 " Faith," Joan reminded him, " can move moun- 
 tains." 
 
 " Yes but not in four Sundays I mean, even if I 
 stick to it all day, you know, I doubt if it would come
 
 126 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 out really smart or I should say worthy. What 
 do you say ? " He turned to Illingborough, seeing a 
 somewhat inexorable look on Joan's face. She was 
 quite capable of persevering inexorably by proxy, and 
 Odo did not quite so clearly see the fun or rather the 
 duty of spending his holiday making sawdust. 
 
 "To tell the truth," said Illingborough, thus 
 appealed to, " I think the pattern's hideous." 
 
 " By Jove, I hadn't thought of that," said Odo, 
 brightening. 
 
 " Perhaps we'd better let it alone after all ? Of 
 course Joan and I thought that we ought to to " 
 
 " Give of our best to the rood-screen," said Joan. 
 
 " Quite," said Odo. 
 
 " But if one's best is to let it alone ? " said Illing- 
 borough. 
 
 " Quite," repeated Odo. " He's on to it, Joan," 
 and he looked at Illingborough admiringly. " Per- 
 haps simplicity is more more comely. I'm no judge 
 myself." 
 
 " I'm only an amateur," said Illingborough, " but 
 I'm certain that pattern won't do." 
 
 " We might find another," said Joan, and Odo's 
 face fell. 
 
 Luckily for him, Illingborough's notions on the 
 subject of rood-screens, as it turned out, were strongly 
 in favour of simplicity, except where the finest work was
 
 JOAN DAMAGES HER CHANCES 127 
 
 obtainable. He cited so many instances of notable 
 rood-screens that were simple, and explained so ad- 
 mirably the reasons for this being the case, that even 
 Joan was converted. Odo bestowed open admiration. 
 
 " By Jove," he said, " I don't believe the bishop 
 knows more about 'em. I'm jolly glad Joan brought 
 you along. We'll tell the rector we've chucked it, 
 Joan." 
 
 Joan would have preferred otherwise. She was a 
 regular slave-driver in church matters, and she felt 
 too that Odo was more satisfactory when labouring 
 under her eye. He was too apt to forget at times that 
 he was a priest. Still, it was somewhat obvious that 
 Mr. Illingborough knew what he was talking about, 
 and she gave in. 
 
 " All right," she said, " perhaps we can think of 
 something else to work at that will help to beautify 
 St. Luke's." 
 
 " I shouldn't wonder," said Odo, without enthu- 
 siasm. " May as" well clear out of here now what ? 
 
 You're coming to our tennis squash, Mr. Illingborough, 
 I hope ? You play ? " 
 
 " Not much," said Illingborough. 
 
 " I expect you do," said Odo. " I expect you know 
 the American services as well as you do rood-screens. 
 Wish you'd come and have some singles. Ever see 
 the Dohertys play ? When I was up at Wimbledon
 
 128 THE JUDGEMENT OF 1LLINGBOROUGH 
 
 once, by Jove, they did play. Style ! Wish I had 
 the time to go in for it regularly ! " 
 
 " Odo ! " said Joan admonishingly. 
 
 " Well, of course, I mean if I hadn't felt that I ought 
 to be a clergyman," said Odo, somewhat abashed. 
 But he began to talk about lawn-tennis again almost 
 immediately, in spite of the visible frown on Joan's 
 face. It was painfully worldly of him, she thought, 
 and she was afraid Mr. Illingborough in spite of 
 knowing about rood-screens was not a good in- 
 fluence.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 A JUDGE IN DIFFICULTIES 
 
 ILLINGBOROUGH had come up from an afternoon bathe 
 into the garden, and he was pacing up and down until 
 tea should be ready. 
 
 It was to be early, for after it Jocelyne had promised 
 to accompany him to St. Nicholas Morton. Looking 
 at his watch, he saw that it would be ready in about 
 ten minutes, if punctuality prevailed. In the mean- 
 time, he had plenty to occupy him with his thoughts. 
 He was puzzled. 
 
 He had approached his task, which he knew to be a 
 difficult one, in all humility. Only slowly, and by the 
 exercise of much thought and observation could he 
 expect to unravel some of the amazing complexities of 
 the female mind. Even then, perfect comprehension 
 was not to be looked for, or complete justice to 
 be done. He was bound to remain only partially 
 satisfied. 
 
 But now that he had been several days at the Sea 
 House, he had begun to realise that this satisfaction 
 9
 
 130 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 the satisfaction that springs from the knowledge of 
 having come to grips with his problem was more 
 partial than he had expected. He had not come to 
 grips with his problem. The solution seemed to be 
 sliding away from him, and the more comparisons he 
 made, the less light was vouchsafed to him. Joan 
 indeed was practically out of the competition, and 
 perhaps her elimination amounted to something ac- 
 complished. On the question of her incompetence he 
 was scarcely doubtful. In the sort of mental notes 
 that he had started to make, there had been set down 
 under the heading " Joan " 
 
 " Self-conceit," 
 
 " Want of sympathy," 
 
 " Ignorance." 
 
 The owner of these qualities could under no cir- 
 cumstances be recommended to Mr. Mortlake. It 
 was not as though Mr. Mortlake aspired to the society 
 of one of his nieces in order to effect their moral 
 reform. The reason for his desiring Illingborough to 
 choose one might have been obscured for a technical 
 purpose, so to speak but Illingborough was too 
 candid not to recognise that a fortune in all prob- 
 ability awaited the chosen one. 
 
 Well, self-conceit, want of sympathy, and ignorance 
 are not qualities that prevent people from making
 
 A JUDGE IN DIFFICULTIES 131 
 
 fortunes, but then money-making is not even in our 
 day a complete test of virtue. The methods that 
 lead a man to a fortune or to a prison cell are too 
 similar in so many cases for them to be accepted as 
 ideal. 
 
 Joan then was out of it, unless a miracle happened ; 
 and the choice lay between Jocelyne and Anne. 
 What bewildered Illingborough was that while every- 
 thing that could be set down to the moral credit 
 of a human being seemed properly to belong under 
 the heading " Jocelyne," Anne was making the more 
 headway in his estimation. How ? Why ? Illing- 
 borough could not see. Under " Jocelyne " he could 
 fairly and without bias write down 
 
 " Graciousness," 
 
 " Sympathy," 
 
 " Culture (of a limited kind)," 
 
 " Intelligence," 
 
 " Amiability," 
 
 together with such minor qualities, not to be reckoned 
 perhaps as virtues, but undoubtedly enhancing the 
 value of a person to the social scheme, as 
 
 " Conversational powers," 
 " Quickness of perception," 
 " Charm." 
 
 It was a powerful list, and not to be really weakened
 
 132 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 by the fact that once or twice Jocelyne had let fall 
 petty, and Illingborough even fancied spiteful, 
 remarks ; and had displayed at times a curious 
 lethargy. Illingborough was disposed to condone 
 these fallings off from complete grace. Women 
 were weak creatures physically, and perhaps she had 
 had neuralgia at the time. Illingborough came to 
 the conclusion that she must have had neuralgia. 
 
 When it came to Anne's account, a very different 
 state of affairs was revealed. 
 
 " Brusqueness (amounting to rudeness)," and 
 " Candour (amounting to cynicism)," 
 
 are obviously vices rather than virtues, and they 
 had to head the list. Against them what was to be 
 set ? She also might be granted intelligence (in the 
 midst of amazing ignorance) tempered by brusqueness. 
 But besides that what was there ? Could one in 
 estimating even on paper a person's character 
 put down 
 
 " Horse-management," 
 
 " Ability to bait one's own hook with lob-worms," 
 
 " Devotion of knife-boy." 
 
 The first would perhaps increase the credit of a 
 coachman, the second of a fisherman. Neither could 
 be reckoned as qualities necessary to an heiress.
 
 A JUDGE IN DIFFICULTIES 133 
 
 Tom's devotion was another matter no doubt, but 
 again could hardly be considered a satisfactory 
 guarantee of moral worth. Tom was an eccentric 
 urchin with an intense love of sport which somehow 
 he found impersonated in Anne. To see Miss Anne 
 high-diving was his ideal of pleasure, and artful 
 swimmers and riders would be the first admitted to his 
 Utopia. Obviously Tom was prejudiced. 
 
 As he strode up and down, experiencing in all 
 probability more than the usual difficulties that 
 beset a judge, Illingborough by the merest accident 
 found himself confronted with yet another prejudiced 
 witness, namely, Mrs. Odler. She, happening to 
 catch sight of Illingborough's shadow, as he strolled 
 up and down on the other side of the yard gate, and 
 taking it to be Tom's, called out to him to come and 
 pump. As Tom did not respond, being in truth 
 asleep in another part of the garden, she raised her 
 voice 
 
 " Now, you idle boy, are you a-comen or not to 
 this here pump. If 'ee don't, not a bite o' tea will 
 you have." 
 
 " I'll come certainly then," said Illingborough, 
 stepping up to the kitchen door with a smile. 
 
 Mrs. Odler was overcome with confusion. 
 
 " Well I never, I beg yer pardon, sir, I'm sure, 
 for I did think the shadder was Tom's."
 
 134 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 " Tom couldn't throw such a fat one," said Illing- 
 borough. " At least he'd say so." 
 
 " Oh, I'm sure fat it wasn't," said Mrs. Odler 
 politely, " and I hope you'll firgive me." 
 
 " If you'll let me do the pumping," said Illing- 
 borough. 
 
 " Never, indeed, sir, I couldn't." 
 
 " I should like to. I've never pumped in my life, 
 but it looks jolly. I'm going to. It's no good 
 saying I mayn't." 
 
 Illingborough pumped till he was purple in the 
 face, and Mrs. Odler had to get him a glass of water 
 to ward off a fit. 
 
 " Whatever'll Miss Anne say, if she knows," she 
 said as she watched him drink it. 
 
 " What should Miss Anne say ? " asked Illing- 
 borough. 
 
 " Why allowing of a gent to work hisself 'plectic." 
 
 " I expect she would say it shows he needed 
 exercise," said Illingborough. 
 
 " I'm sure she'd ha' rather done it herself," pro- 
 tested Mrs. Odler. " She do at times when that 
 boy's idled his time and left it, and easily she kin 
 do it too." 
 
 " It's very hard work for a woman," said Illing- 
 borough, scandalised. 
 
 " Not for the strong ones," said Mrs. Odler.
 
 A JUDGE IN DIFFICULTIES 135 
 
 " Wimmen ain't such weaklings as some men think. 
 I worked as hard as any man when I was a gal. My 
 father, he allus said as a woman should hold her own 
 with any man, chopping and pumping. He held 
 that no woman was fit to marry not less she could 
 bake a batch o' bread, and carry a good bundle o' 
 wood, and make a man's shirt. Nowadays gals is 
 so delicate there's no getten 'em to do nothing. O' 
 course it's diffrent with young ladies but even 
 then they'd be better if they was liker Miss Anne." 
 
 " As physically strong, you mean ? " said Illing- 
 borough. 
 
 " As physercally sensible," said Mrs. Odler. 
 
 He was not quite sure what she meant, and she 
 was not he found great at elucidating what she 
 regarded as a very simple statement. He had to think 
 it out for himself when he had finished his pumping 
 and begun strolling again ; and he decided that it 
 must be a dialect version of the old-time line about 
 mens sana in cor pore sano. Certainly Anne had a 
 sane body, and it might perhaps be added to the list 
 of her virtues. Only, one could not argue from the 
 sane body to the sane mind. Otherwise his choice 
 would be made. At least would it ? Jocelyne, 
 too, for that matter, was healthy enough, and for 
 physical grace, she and Anne were a pair. Illing- 
 borough had never found himself dwelling overmuch
 
 136 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 on the physical grace of women before, and it was 
 Mrs. Odler's words that set him going on that tack. 
 He fancied that Jocelyne's was an indoor and Anne's 
 an outdoor beauty. A painter would have shown 
 Jocelyne sitting or leaning or lying pillowed, but Anne 
 about to run or mount or dive. 
 
 Was this outdoor grace which charmed Tom 
 also the quality which charmed Mrs. Odler ? And 
 was it could it be beginning to charm him ? 
 Illingborough felt uneasy at the notion. Charms are 
 dangerous things. True, he had in his mental list 
 allowed " Charm " to Jocelyne as one of the 
 minor virtues or graces which are as a philosopher 
 has said the bloom on the face of life. But by 
 charm he meant something definite something that 
 would be admitted to be agreeable by any disinterested 
 observer. He meant by it, as any other person might 
 mean, a gracious manner of doing and saying things, 
 which pleased without throwing spells. It cast no 
 spells upon him. Anne's charm, if she had it, was 
 something much more elusive. It was something he 
 could neither weigh nor measure. Was it fair to put 
 " Charm " on Anne's list, or should it rather be ruled 
 out because of its elusiveness, as belonging to what the 
 lawyers call inadmissible evidence ? 
 
 Illingborough decided that it was inadmissible, and 
 must be rejected. The trouble was that it would make
 
 A JUDGE IN DIFFICULTIES 137 
 
 itself heard within his mind. It had no respect for 
 the Court of Reason, as long as he strolled up and down 
 there in the sun. He took out his watch again. 
 
 Why did not Jocelyne come down ? She had said 
 tea at four o'clock, and it was already nearly half -past. 
 Of course unpunctuality was not a vice, but it was a 
 pity that Jocelyne should be unpunctual just when 
 Illingborough needed exercise to drive out his doubts 
 with regard to her superiority. 
 
 If he could have seen her, at the moment, his doubts 
 would have been increased rather than left floating. 
 She was lying on her bed, frowning at a page of the 
 Guide to Porton Langley and Neighbourhood, which 
 contained an account of St. Nicholas Morton. She 
 was frowning partly at the architectural descriptions 
 of it which she was committing to heart partly at 
 the whole trouble of having to go. That seemed in- 
 evitable. She had postponed the walk as often as 
 possible, but there, were limits probably even to Mr. 
 Illingborough's patience. If she excused herself 
 again, he could hardly fail to think her rude. She 
 was not sure that that mattered. She could not keep 
 up the angelic pose for ever ; her feet tired on that 
 pedestal. It was one thing to accept his admiration, 
 but if the retention of it meant going out of her way 
 to appear charitable and intellectual and all the rest 
 of it, well, then, she was not going to bother to retain it.
 
 138 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 She supposed, however, that she would have to do 
 St. Nicholas Morton. 
 
 " ' Over the choir stalls hangs a banner said to have 
 been captured single-handed by Sir John Corlande at 
 
 the battle of ' What rot ! " said Jocelyne, and 
 
 threw the book down with a yawn. She knew 
 enough now to save herself from anything very 
 terrible in the way of ignorance, and to chat with a 
 certain appearance of interest. 
 
 She came down a few minutes later in a white frock, 
 which conveyed to her mind a note of innocence, and 
 she hoped would to Illingborough, and she made the 
 most graceful apologies. 
 
 "I'm afraid you'll think me most untrustworthy," 
 she said. " But I had to dust the china in the drawing- 
 room this afternoon." 
 
 " Not at all," said Illingborough, quite accepting the 
 explanation, and ashamed of himself for being im- 
 patient. " I hope I haven't caused you to hurry." 
 
 " Oh no," said Jocelyne " only a very little. I 
 wish I could have left it. But father is so very par- 
 ticular about it." 
 
 " Really ? " said Illingborough, with the least tinge 
 of surprise. He had unavoidably taken notes of Mr. 
 Wetherborne. 
 
 Though Jocelyne could not resist the habit of 
 strengthening her position even at the risk of plausi-
 
 139 
 
 bility, still she was also very quick to see when she had 
 made a mistake. 
 
 "It is the one thing father is particular about," 
 she proceeded, having observed the slight lift of 
 Illingborough's brow. 
 
 " I see," said Illingborough, reassured. 
 
 " And now we must have tea at once," she said. 
 " Oh how vexatious visitors," she added a moment 
 later as the gate banged outside. " It's nobody to 
 stop for, I hope," she continued, perceptibly brighten- 
 ing. 
 
 " It's your sister," said Illingborough, looking out of 
 the window, " and Mr. Odo Watterly, and somebody 
 else." 
 
 " I wonder who that can be," said Jocelyne. She 
 sat gracefully at the tea-table busy with the copper- 
 kettle which was singing over the methylated spirits. 
 Her wonder, if it was genuine, was satisfied a moment 
 later when Joan walked into the room followed by 
 Clifford and Odo. " It's Mr. Clifford," she said. 
 
 " I hope I've not hit the wrong time," said Clifford. 
 " I met these people on their way here, so I ventured 
 to come along with them." 
 
 " Well, I don't know that you haven't," said 
 Jocelyne, beaming on him. " You'll have to ask Mr. 
 Illingborough that." 
 
 Clifford turned politely.
 
 140 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 " Is that so ? " he said. 
 
 " Miss Wetherborne and I were going for a walk to 
 St. Nicholas Morton," said Illingborough. 
 
 " We could do it another day instead, couldn't we ? " 
 said Jocelyne quickly. 
 
 " Don't stop for me," said Clifford. " Really, I 
 mean it. I shall be awfully vexed if I put you off." 
 
 " What do you think, Mr. Illingborough ? " said 
 Jocelyne. 
 
 " Oh, by all means postpone it," said Illingborough. 
 But it was only the polite exterior Illingborough 
 that spoke. Inwardly he failed to see why Clifford's 
 intrusion should stop them.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 A WALK POSTPONED 
 
 CLIFFORD had not so far made many mistakes in 
 the conduct of his plot, but he made one by coming 
 over that afternoon. He had some excuse. Plotting, 
 which is supposed to supply in excitement what it 
 fails to give in the way of ordinary amenities, can be 
 excessively dull. For some days past he had found 
 it so. 
 
 For one thing, if his plot were ripening, it was not 
 ripening particularly fast. Indeed, he was not in a 
 position to be sure that it was ripening at all. For 
 another, the necessity of waiting and gaping in Porton 
 Langley, dependent upon Miss Maine's chatter for 
 his indoor amusement and upon Jocelyne's whims 
 for an outing, was more than he had bargained for. 
 He hated solitude, and neither the sea nor the country 
 gave him anything but the gloomiest feelings. 
 
 These he could have borne with, if the certainty 
 of success had been with him. His intensest disgust 
 
 was due to the fact that he could place no such reliance 
 
 141
 
 142 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLTNGBOROUGH 
 
 upon the future. That depended partly upon 
 Jocelyne, partly upon that fool Illingborough. " That 
 fool Illingborough " was the phrase he used to himself 
 now, whenever he thought of his old schoolfellow. 
 It implied some bitterness as well as a great deal 
 of scorn. The two had re-met at the Sea House, 
 and to tell the truth, Illingborough had not shown 
 himself so delighted to renew his old acquaintanceship 
 as Clifford had supposed he would be. Or if he had 
 been, he had not demonstrated the fact. He was 
 polite. He would be that in any case. But he had 
 not shown himself the meek persuadable person 
 Clifford had expected. He appeared to have for- 
 gotten that he was a mere kid when Clifford had been 
 an important member of their old school. On the 
 other hand, he seemed to have remembered that 
 Clifford had left that establishment under a cloud. 
 There was a squeamish, priggish manner about him 
 that was infinitely annoying. He had the audacity 
 to behave coolly. 
 
 If Clifford could have been certain that Illing- 
 borough's coolness was due to jealousy he would 
 have been delighted. It would have shown that 
 matters were moving the right way. But though 
 Jocelyne coquettishly hinted at her conquest of 
 Illingborough, Clifford was not sure that she did not 
 exaggerate the impression she had made. He felt
 
 A WALK POSTPONED 143 
 
 vaguely that she did not really understand Illing- 
 borough. He was not by any means so simple as 
 he looked, and though Jocelyne might be right in 
 supposing that he had begun by admiring her, she 
 was wrong in supposing that his admiration would 
 continue without criticism. The fool was not of the 
 lapdog order of young men, who like to be played 
 with. Yet Jocelyne was decidedly playing with him, 
 and posing for him. 
 
 It was to decide whether, if things went on in this 
 way, Illingborough would make the decision he must 
 somehow or other soon make, that Clifford had walked 
 over that afternoon, and he saw at once that Jocelyne, 
 in making his presence an excuse for not taking the 
 walk to St. Nicholas Morton, was doing the worst 
 thing possible. Illingborough's manner, more than 
 ordinarily polite, showed it. Jocelyne quite failed 
 to realise this. 
 
 " Yes another time would do equally well," she 
 said. " We might go to-morrow, mightn't we, Mr. 
 Illingborough ? " 
 
 " I say, you're not forgetting our tennis squash, 
 are you ? " broke in Odo beseechingly. He was 
 standing by the table ready to hand cups. 
 
 " Is that to-morrow ? " said Jocelyne, as though 
 her engagements were many and forgettable. 
 
 " Yes and I've been rolling the lawn for hours.
 
 144 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 Talk of galley - slaving. Do you play, Mr. 
 Clifford ? " 
 
 " I used to," said Clifford. " I haven't played this 
 season." 
 
 " Hope you'll begin with us then," said Odo 
 politely. " Has my mother sent you an invite ? No 
 I expect you haven't met. I'll send one off when I 
 get back. But come anyhow. Do 1 " 
 
 " I shall be delighted," said Clifford. It was worth 
 while getting in with the rectory people, he thought ; 
 and if he could only induce Jocelyne not to cut her 
 walk, his arrival would not be so inopportune after 
 all. The difficulty of persuading a person who can 
 see no reason for a plan is, however, rendered twice 
 as difficult if you cannot communicate the reason 
 to them, as Clifford could not. Joan was feeling 
 this difficulty at the moment, when by winks and 
 frowns she was trying to convey to the innocent Odo 
 that his mother would not particularly approve of 
 the invitation he had issued to Mr. Clifford. 
 
 " Have I done anything ? " said Odo, bewildered by 
 these mysterious signs. 
 
 " You've talked so much," said Joan, " that the 
 tea's begun to get cold." 
 
 " Oh, I say I'm awfully sorry," he said, hurrying 
 to her, with a cup, the sugar and the milk jug, so 
 vigorously that he spilt the first two. Clifford took
 
 A WALK POSTPONED 145 
 
 advantage of the opportunity afforded by his self- 
 execrations and pursuit of fallen lumps of sugar to 
 approach Jocelyne. 
 
 " I hope you'll take this walk," he said in a low tone. 
 
 " Why ? " said Jocelyne. 
 
 " I'd like it." 
 
 " Rather than that I should stay here and perhaps 
 walk back with you ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 Jocelyne flushed. It was insulting of him to say 
 such a thing. What did he mean by it ? More than 
 once of late he had hinted at a wish that she should 
 try and please Mr. Illingborough. Did he intend to 
 throw her over ? He professed still to admire her, 
 but a girl's admirer is not the person to challenge her 
 to show that she is not doing all she can to retain the 
 admiration of a third person. She would have liked 
 to say something horrid to Clifford, but could not 
 think of anything, and decided to pass on the provoca- 
 tion to Illingborough, whose fault it was ultimately 
 that she herself had been so provoked. 
 
 " Mr. Illingborough," she called out across the low 
 tea-table, " Mr. Clifford is so anxious to get rid of 
 me that perhaps we had better take our tiresome 
 walk after all." 
 
 " I couldn't think," said Illingborough quickly, 
 " of asking you to go for any walk likely to tire you." 
 
 10
 
 146 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 Clifford laughed uneasily. 
 
 " That's Miss Wetherborne's way of putting it," 
 he said. " She really means that she's longing to 
 take it. Only, she's such a hostess that she doesn't 
 like to leave a guest, even if he has come just at the 
 wrong time." 
 
 t It didn't sound very plausible to Clifford himself, 
 but Illingborough's modesty appeared to make him 
 think he must have been wrong. 
 
 " In that case I must apologise to Miss Wetherborne 
 for making a mistake," he said. 
 
 Just for a moment it seemed to Clifford that he had 
 saved the situation. He had not reckoned with 
 Jocelyne's injured feelings and her habit not to be 
 conquered at a critical moment of behaving like 
 an ill-tempered child when she felt like one. 
 
 " I didn't mean that," she said pettishly. " And 
 it will be too late for the walk now." 
 
 " Where to ? St. Nicholas Morton ? " asked Odo, 
 who did not understand quite what was going on. 
 " Plenty of time to get there still, if you're keen on 
 it. It's only five o'clock." 
 
 "I'm not keen on it," she said. She could see 
 Clifford frowning, and she was the more determined 
 to make herself disagreeable. " There is nothing I 
 should dislike more than a walk this evening " 
 
 " Or any other time," said Joan audibly. She
 
 A WALK POSTPONED 147 
 
 had a great contempt for childish and objectless 
 displays of temper. Her own exhibitions, though 
 rarer, were a great deal more effective. She felt 
 that Jocelyne was merely silly, especially when she 
 snapped back. 
 
 " I didn't ask you to speak, Joan." 
 
 " Still, you know you hate walks except to 
 Porton Langley," answered Joan in her matter- 
 of-fact voice, than which nothing could be more 
 infuriating. 
 
 It was Odo who saved Jocelyne from exhibiting 
 herself in a still worse light. 
 
 " Well, it's quite flat, Mr. Illingborough," he said, 
 in his jolly good-natured way, " that Jocelyne's off 
 it. But if you feel like going yourself, and don't 
 mind taking me instead, there's nothing I'd like 
 more. Want some ekker badly." 
 
 " It's awfully kind of you," said Illingborough. 
 " Are you sure it's not too late ? " 
 
 " Positive. Isn't that so, Mr. Wetherborne," he 
 continued, as that elegant gentleman strolled into 
 the room at that moment for, as he announced, a 
 cup of tea. 
 
 " Isn't what so, Odo ? " asked Mr. Wetherborne 
 amiably. " Ah, Clifford, how are you ? Most enter- 
 prising of you to come over ; I should have found it 
 too hot myself. What is this matter, Odo, that you
 
 148 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 want my opinion upon ? I must ask for a rather more 
 lucid explanation." 
 
 "Why," said Odo, "Mr. lUingborough and I 
 are going over to St. Nicholas Morton, and Jocelyne 
 thinks there isn't time. What do you say ? " 
 
 " Ah, well," Mr. Wetherborne shook his head and 
 helped himself to cream. " Jocelyne, I expect, is 
 like her father not a great walker. In my young 
 days we never walked. A ride perhaps or a drive 
 with a smart pair tandem we might have con- 
 sidered. But a walk ! I don't know how it was, 
 but in the days I am talking of we hardly considered 
 walking quite gentlemanly." 
 
 It was not a helpful contribution to the discussion, 
 and Odo said they must have been spoilt in Mr. 
 Wetherborne's young days. 
 
 " What about ekker ? " he wanted to know. 
 
 " Perhaps we did not want it in the same way," 
 said Mr. Wetherborne, shaking his head again. " We 
 made a greater point of being gentlemanly." 
 
 A want of relevancy about Mr. Wetherborne's 
 method prevented Odo from replying to his criticism 
 if it was a criticism but he confided to Illing- 
 borough, when they had started a few minutes later, 
 that there must have been a good deal of rot about 
 the gentlemen of those days. lUingborough agreed. 
 He did not enlarge upon the matter, because he
 
 A WALK POSTPONED 149 
 
 could only have done so hotly, and Mr. Wetherborne 
 was in a sense his host. The walk was not quite 
 the pleasure he had expected. Odo, though good- 
 natured in the extreme, was too matter-of-fact a 
 companion for such a scene as that fine Norman 
 church presented in the yellowy light that evening. 
 And Illingborough himself could not give it all the 
 attention that it deserved. Miss Wetherborne's 
 petulancy kept recurring to him ; and also those 
 words of Mr. Wetherborne's : " Jocelyne is, I expect, 
 like her father." 
 
 He could not accept that statement as a whole. 
 With all possible respect to Mr. Wetherborne, he 
 hoped it was an exaggeration. But even if she were 
 a little like Mr. Wetherborne, it would be a pity. 
 He felt most discouraged about his prospects of 
 judging.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 PROLEGOMENA TO A GARDEN PARTY 
 
 IT was the afternoon of Mrs. Watterly's garden party, 
 a few minutes before the guests were expected. On 
 the rectory lawn, a fine piece of turf, green and smooth, 
 with the court-lines beautifully white and staring, and 
 the net stretched taut, Odo was visible going through 
 some final evolutions with the roller. Chairs and tables 
 were dotted about under the big copper-beech fronting 
 the house ; and, to the left of this tree, on a nice 
 slopy piece of grass, between the little geometrically 
 shaped beds where geraniums, lobelias, and such 
 summer flowers had been planted out, a suitable golf- 
 clock awaited the competition of such guests as did 
 not play tennis, but required mild amusement. In 
 the rector's study, which looked out upon this prospect, 
 the usual litter of books and papers had been tidied 
 up, and the writing-table groaned with dishes of 
 cakes and strawberries, which, from this point of 
 vantage, could most easily be carried into the garden 
 when the time for such refreshment should arrive. 
 
 150
 
 PROLEGOMENA TO A GARDEN PARTY 151 
 
 The study also contained the rector brushed and 
 burnished and Mrs. Watterly, looking what it would 
 be no exaggeration to call smart, in a grey silk 
 dress with white spots (modistes the Mesdames 
 Estelle). 
 
 The slightly wrinkled condition of the rector's brow 
 might be ascribed partly to the unwonted and festive 
 condition of his study, which carried with it a sug- 
 gestion of pamphlets tidied away, and manuscripts 
 removed, and perhaps lost for ever ; partly to the fact 
 that Mrs. Watterly, having tired herself out with pre- 
 parations for making her friends and acquaintances 
 enjoy themselves, was suffering from a reaction which 
 caused her own state to be sad and even complaining. 
 
 " Unless people come," she had just said to her 
 husband, " and realise what I am giving this party for, 
 and make some return for it, which everybody is so 
 ready not to do, all my trouble will be wasted." 
 
 " Exactly what are you giving it for ? " asked the 
 rector, who personally saw no return that would 
 compensate him for having his study turned into a 
 strawberry bed. " I understood that it was, in its 
 original conception, a matter of hospitality." 
 
 " Of course it was, John," said Mrs. Watterly 
 darting to and fro as she spoke, and poking away any- 
 thing dusty that had escaped her previous clearance. 
 
 " For hospitality," said the rector, trying not to see
 
 152 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 what was happening to all that he most valued 
 " one does not in theory expect any return." 
 
 " It depends on what you mean by return." 
 
 " No doubt. The feeling of virtue engendered by " 
 his eye wandered over the strawberries " going to a 
 good deal of trouble on behalf of one's neighbours is 
 or to speak exactly, should be its own reward." 
 
 " Of course it should be," said Mrs. Watterly. 
 " But besides that one naturally expects that people 
 will be a little grateful. Please put that disreputable 
 dictionary away, John. Any drawer will do, though I 
 should have thought the kitchen fire was the most 
 suitable place." 
 
 " People will be a little grateful yes ! " said the 
 rector, hastily hiding the tome. 
 
 " And, as a consequence, try to do the same for us," 
 said Mrs. Watterly, beating several MS. books together 
 outside the window, and then concealing them under 
 the mat in front of the fireplace. 
 
 " Do I understand then," said the rector patiently, 
 " that you have suddenly developed an enthusiasm 
 for lawn-tennis, and wish to be invited to some similar 
 entertainments ? " 
 
 " Why be absurd, John," said Mrs. Watterly ; who 
 was now very very hot. " You know, so far as I am 
 concerned, I do not care about going out much I 
 have quite enough calling and visiting to do to please
 
 PROLEGOMENA TO A GARDEN PARTY 153 
 
 me. But Odo is another matter. What I'm anxious 
 to do is to let people know that Odo is back for his 
 holiday." 
 
 " And get him invited out ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Well, there is no harm in that," said the rector 
 placably. 
 
 Mrs. Watterly sniffed. 
 
 " I think the harm is that we should have to do so 
 much to let people know that poor Odo is here. I 
 think the people round are horribly inhospitable in 
 that way." 
 
 " Oh, I don't know," said the rector. " I shouldn't 
 say that." 
 
 " I do say it," said Mrs. Watterly. " And how 
 among such an unenterprising and dull and selfish lot 
 of neighbours poor Odo is ever to have a chance of 
 finding a wife, I cannot see. Please get out of the way. ' ' 
 
 The rector sat down. It seemed the safest thing to 
 do. Otherwise it looked as if he might be swept under 
 the mat or into a drawer for the afternoon. Besides, 
 the conversation had now arrived at a point at which 
 it was very evident that he could give no assistance. 
 
 " A wife ? I didn't know you had begun to think 
 of that," he said. 
 
 " I have," said Mrs. Watterly. " And I begin very 
 seriously to wish that you had never settled here."
 
 154 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 Want of foresight may be a matter for regret, but 
 Mr. Watterly could hardly be expected to feel guilty 
 over the fact that, when he had accepted his present 
 living, he had not foreseen the possibility of there 
 being a lack of marriageable young women in the 
 neighbourhood some six-and- twenty years afterwards. 
 Yet this was the charge, it seemed, that Mrs. Watterly 
 was bringing against him. 
 
 " My dear," he said mildly, and not without 
 humour, " when I was offered Mazinghope six-and- 
 twenty years ago, the question hardly arose. Odo 
 to put the matter shortly was not." 
 
 " Still," persisted Mrs. Watterly, " we might 
 
 have " she paused delicately, and shook out her 
 
 duster. 
 
 " Anticipated Odo ? " 
 
 " Really, John," said Mrs. Watterly, blushing. 
 " I am surprised at you the rector allowing yourself 
 to to express yourself like that." 
 
 " To paraphrase certain matters is not a simple 
 task," said the rector genially. " And in any case, 
 my dear, does regret avail, assuming your argument 
 re the scarcity of damsels to be correct ? " 
 
 " I suppose regret doesn't do any good," said Mrs. 
 Watterly. " But it is annoying. I cannot help feel- 
 ing that." 
 
 " Are there no damsels in Manchester by the
 
 PROLEGOMENA TO A GARDEN PARTY 155 
 
 rivers ha of Pharpar and Abana whom Odo could 
 select from ? " inquired the rector, but with a manly 
 indifference to the subject of match-making for which 
 his wife could have shaken him. 
 
 " You don't understand," she said. " In Man- 
 chester Odo is working hard all the time as the 
 bishop advised him to do. He is, so to speak, under 
 the bishop's guidance." 
 
 " But when the bishop is away ? " 
 
 " Odo would be too proud to spend any of his 
 precious time in social doings. He has put his 
 shoulder to the plough. And in any case he lives 
 in too poor a part to meet any girl worthy of his 
 consideration. Besides, Odo is not pushing. He is 
 not a carpet-priest." 
 
 " Quite right, quite right." 
 
 " It isn't quite right," said Mrs. Watterly. " I 
 mean that, of course, it's quite right of Odo to devote 
 himself to his work, but when the poor boy is back 
 here for his holidays only four Sundays, John he 
 ought to see some society." 
 
 " I should have thought," said the rector, 
 trying hard to be interested, " that he had been 
 seeing a good deal of that little Wetherborne 
 girl." 
 
 " Exactly," Mrs. Watterly stopped dusting in her 
 excitement at hearing him make a sensible remark.
 
 156 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 " That child, for she is no more, absolutely pursues 
 the poor boy. Under a cloak of enthusiasm for 
 church work which I regard as impertinent and 
 I wonder you put up with it, John, seeing it's only 
 result is meddling and mischief she follows Odo 
 about. What is bound to be the result ? " 
 
 " I should think either Odo would get pretty sick 
 of her or " 
 
 " Exactly or the poor generous boy will probably 
 be trapped." 
 
 " Trapped ? " 
 
 " Into an engagement with her. Can't you see her 
 object ? She is a child, but a cunning one. Cunning 
 is in the family. Jocelyne is a trifle worse than 
 Joan if possible, and I doubt if Mr. Wetherborne 
 knows what the truth is. It is into that family that 
 you, John, are willing that your only son should 
 marry." 
 
 " Nothing of the kind. It never entered my 
 thoughts," protested the rector. 
 
 " Your thoughts ! " Mrs. Watterly smiled tragically. 
 " Odo might be married without disturbing your 
 thoughts, John. But perhaps you see now why I 
 am trying to get some other girls here for the boy 
 to see and, I hope, to visit." 
 
 "And possibly to marry ? " 
 
 " One of them possibly."
 
 PROLEGOMENA TO A GARDEN PARTY 157 
 
 The rector smiled. It was the eternal feminine 
 motive at the matronly stage of existence. 
 
 " Well, well," he said. " Not being a Moslem, 
 Odo cannot have more than one. But who is that 
 one to be ? One of the Pollendons ? " 
 
 Again Mrs. Watterly wanted to shake him for his 
 masculine indifference. 
 
 " Really, John ! The Pollendons are retired green- 
 grocers. Mr. Pollendon made boots or something in 
 the Midlands before he came here." 
 
 " A mixed store, no doubt," said the rector. 
 
 " You have no pride if you wish to mix your blood 
 with the Pollendons." 
 
 The rector could bear much for the sake of peace, 
 but this accusation was unjust. 
 
 " I don't as a matter of fact wish to mix my blood 
 with anybody's," he said dryly. " So far as I am 
 concerned, my dear, there is no hurry whatever about 
 Odo's marrying. I merely inquired because from 
 your manner I thought you must have some young 
 lady in your eye, and you wanted me to know of it." 
 
 It was this ramming home of facts that more than 
 anything else made Mr. Watterly at times the despair 
 of his wife." 
 
 " I have no intention," she said, with dignity, 
 " of providing Odo with a wife. He will, as you 
 say, choose for himself. But we may at least see
 
 158 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 that he has some opportunities. What I thought 
 was that if Lady Start comes this afternoon, as she 
 has promised to do, and brings her niece from 
 London " 
 
 " Her nephew, you mean, don't you ? Captain 
 What's-his-name." 
 
 " Both are staying with her," said Mrs. Watterly. 
 " Miss Irene Hatton is pretty sure to come." 
 
 " And see and conquer and be conquered ? " 
 
 " It is not out of the question." 
 
 " High game, my dear," said the rector. 
 
 " I don't know about that," said Mrs. Watterly. 
 " Lady Start is very democratic. Too much so in 
 my opinion. Considering that she once confided to 
 me that she would not mind if her nephew were to 
 fancy Anne Wetherborne a girl like that " 
 
 " I see a fortiori Q.E.D.," said the rector, rising. 
 " Well I shall go out and congratulate Odo. And 
 take a turn with the roller perhaps. He must not 
 look too hot when the young lady arrives. One 
 cannot, I understand, look both hot and interesting." 
 
 " I hope you won't say or do anything silly or put 
 the boy against it." 
 
 " On the contrary, I shall promise him a fortune, 
 and the young lady a bishopric provided they do 
 not request me to have strawberries in my study 
 again."
 
 PROLEGOMENA TO A GARDEN PARTY 159 
 
 The rector strolled out, and Mrs. Watterly looked 
 after him worriedly. How little, she thought, can 
 men sympathise with their wives. East and West 
 are not further asunder on certain points. The sound 
 of carriage wheels entering the drive caused her to 
 conceal her duster hastily and to compose her features 
 to a smile.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 A MATCH IS PLAYED AND HINTED AT 
 
 " THIS ought to make a good sett," said Lady Start, 
 adjusting her lorgnettes upon the lithe figure of Odo 
 Watterly, who was engaged at the moment in handing 
 balls to his partner. 
 
 " Oh, charming ! " said Mrs. Watterly. 
 
 The charm to her eyes was that Odo and Miss Hatton 
 were to play together against Anne and Captain 
 Hatton. Anne looked nice in a white frock, but she 
 had not the air of Miss Hatton. Mrs. Watterly decided 
 that the air was due partly to the consciousness of 
 superiority, partly to Miss Hatton's striking blondness. 
 Odo was dark. But it did not matter in a man. He 
 looked better than Captain Hatton, who was well 
 built, but might be stout some day. Odo would 
 never be stout, especially if he ran about as much as 
 he had done that afternoon. He was as fresh as ever, 
 though he had played several games already and 
 handed tea assiduously. Mrs. Watterly was glad tea 
 
 was over, and that her party was going so well. It 
 
 1 60
 
 A MATCH IS PLAYED AND HINTED AT 161 
 
 certainly was. The golf -clock had become a little 
 centre of hits and misses, the rector was conducting 
 parties of guests round the rose and vegetable gardens, 
 naming roses to enthusiastic inquirers, quite regard- 
 less of the labels affixed to them (and which in most 
 cases gave a different version), and pointing out with 
 pride his cucumbers and young tomatoes ; and now 
 this desirable sett had been arranged and was about 
 to be played. 
 
 Mrs. Watterly felt that nothing but genial con- 
 versation was required from her. 
 
 " Lawn-tennis is always such a pretty game to 
 watch," she observed as Miss Hatton began serving. 
 
 " When the play is pretty," said Lady Start, sitting 
 back. She and Mrs. Watterly were seated side by side 
 on the bench of honour under the copper beech, 
 with other people at no great distance, the nearest 
 being Illingborough, hugging his knees on the grass. 
 
 " Of course," said Mrs. Watterly. " But it so 
 often is." 
 
 " I wish I could agree with you," said Lady Start. 
 She was a little stout woman, advanced in years, 
 but with the face and almost the dress of a child. She 
 also had the candour of a child and a boy's pugnacity. 
 Probably she would have been happiest in defending 
 her castle against the Roundheads, as an ancestor 
 had done. But she derived a good deal of pleasure 
 
 ii
 
 162 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 from routing people in conversation. Therefore, when 
 Mrs. Watterly, to whom lawn-tennis was a series of 
 bewildering evolutions, with little point to any of them, 
 and whose one anxiety was that Odo should distinguish 
 himself without getting too hot, attempted to defend 
 her position by stating that at least Miss Hatton 
 was a very brilliant player, Lady Start bore down 
 upon her. 
 
 " Irene is not so bad as some," she said. " Most of 
 the play this afternoon has been appalling. I do not 
 know what English men and girls are coming to." 
 
 " Really," said Mrs. Watterly deprecatingly. 
 There were so many within earshot, and Lady Start 
 did talk so audibly. 
 
 " It is not only that they cannot take a fine game 
 seriously as they do on the Continent, but they cannot 
 even attempt it on occasions gracefully. They look 
 as if their legs and arms did not belong to them. Yet 
 they consider themselves athletic." 
 
 "Such a mistake, perhaps," murmured Mrs. 
 Watterly. 
 
 " A mistake if they cannot act up to it. In our day, 
 Mrs. Watterly " Lady Start was some twenty years 
 older than Mrs. Watterly, but she preferred to general- 
 ise " we did not affect athleticism. We belonged 
 to a generation that took no exercise, but held 
 itself straight and looked graceful. I do not see
 
 A MATCH IS PLAYED AND HINTED AT 163 
 
 any result from this outdoor life except longer 
 feet." 
 
 " Yet small sizes in shoes are still obtainable," said 
 Mrs. Watterly. " I had a catalogue the other day. 
 Actually there were Two's to be had." 
 
 " There are all sorts of silly things to be had by 
 those who will pay for them and suffer for them," 
 said Lady Start. " That does not alter my contention 
 that modern young people are most ungainly. I 
 believe that if I took one of those racquets into my 
 hand, and tried to hit one of those balls, I should look 
 more graceful than any of the girls I have seen 
 playing." 
 
 " I'm sure you would," said Mrs. Watterly. 
 
 But just as soldiers are rarely enamoured of peace, 
 so Lady Start hated to be agreed with. She looked 
 about her for a possible foe. 
 
 " What do you say, Mr. Mr. ? " She turned on 
 Illingborough the only person properly within 
 reach. 
 
 " Mr. Illingborough," said Mrs. Watterly. 
 
 " What does Mr. Illingborough think, then ? " 
 said Lady Start. 
 
 It is possible that she had all along had the intention 
 of drawing him into conversation with her, and she 
 loved to test people with pouncing remarks. Illing- 
 borough, who had been attracted by her in the midst
 
 164 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 of the somewhat formal speech of the other guests, 
 rose to the occasion. 
 
 " I am certain you would excel at anything you 
 tried," he said. 
 
 Lady Start smiled, for fighters love courtesies. 
 
 " Now that's nice," she said. " Here is a young 
 man who can be quite polite to an old woman without 
 being stupid, and I don't know him. Why is that ? " 
 
 " Oh, I don't know, I'm sure," said Mrs. Watterly. 
 
 " But it's curious," insisted Lady Start. 
 
 " Perhaps," said Illingborough, quoting a modern 
 poet, " The explanation is that I ' not only don't 
 deserve success, But haven't managed to achieve it.' ' 
 
 " Oh ! " said the lady, smiling. "Go on ! Where 
 do you come from ? " 
 
 " London." 
 
 " I don't like Londoners," said Lady Start. 
 " Couldn't you have come from any other place ? " 
 
 " Oh, I think some London people are nice," said 
 Mrs. Watterly, afraid that Illingborough would be 
 crushed by Lady Start's displeasure. " Many of the 
 people who come for the hunting seem quite pleasant. 
 And of course it is difficult to to decide for oneself 
 where one is to come from." 
 
 " That is true," said Lady Start. " I shall forgive 
 Mr. Illingborough under the circumstances, especially 
 as he has come to these parts now."
 
 A MATCH IS PLAYED AND HINTED AT 165 
 
 " Only on a visit, I believe," said Mrs. Watterly. 
 
 " I am afraid so," said Illingborough. 
 
 " Where are you staying ? " 
 
 " At the Sea House." 
 
 Lady Start's smiles were exchanged for a frown. 
 
 " You don't mean to say you are the Wetherbornes' 
 lodger ? I heard of it. I quite disapprove. They 
 don't need a lodger, and I think it is very silly of them 
 to have one." 
 
 " I thought it was very kind," said Illingborough, 
 with great temerity, Mrs. Watterly thought. 
 
 " You would. But what do girls want with a 
 young man lodger ? " 
 
 " I am staying with Mr. Wetherborne," said 
 Illingborough gravely. He disapproved of innuendoes 
 even from an old lady, and his face showed it. 
 
 "Hoity-toity!" said Lady Start. " You'U be 
 saying, ' Hold your tongue ' next, I suppose. I 
 never did. And I said you were a polite young 
 man ! " 
 
 " I hope I have not been rude," said Illingborough. 
 
 " Oh, you hope ! " said Lady Start, and proceeded 
 in a very aggrieved way, " I suppose I'm not at liberty 
 to criticise the domestic economy of young women 
 whom I have known from their cradles, and I mayn't 
 even decide where a stranger is to take up his 
 abode."
 
 166 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 " Mr. Illingborough didn't mean that, I'm sure," 
 said Mrs. Watterly. 
 
 " I don't know what he meant. He glared at me," 
 said Lady Start. " And I won't be glared at. You 
 are a very fierce young man, Mr. Illingborough, and 
 I shall only ask you to my tennis party on Wednesday 
 if you promise not to glare." 
 
 " I'll try not to," said Illingborough. 
 
 " Then I shall try and forget your tigerish scowl," 
 said Lady Start. She turned to Mrs. Watterly, who 
 had got up from her seat nervously, as one who fears 
 to be crushed between two buffers. " It's all right 
 now if you were thinking of deserting me," she 
 said ; "I still feel shaky, but as he's promised not to 
 do it again, I shan't be afraid to be left." 
 
 " I was only just going to speak to one of the 
 servants," said Mrs. Watterly, hesitating. 
 
 " Very well. I'll scream if I'm frightened," said 
 Lady Start, " and then you'll come back, won't you ? 
 Now," she said to Illingborough, as Mrs. Watterly 
 trotted off, " the first thing you may tell me is 
 what you think of them ? " 
 
 " The Misses Wetherborne ? " said Illingborough. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " They are very charming." 
 
 Lady Start pouted. 
 
 " I thought you were a conversationalist, Mr.
 
 A MATCH IS PLAYED AND HINTED AT 167 
 
 Illingborough. I am not asking you to repeat the 
 Shorter Catechism. I am interested in these girls." 
 
 Illingborough smiled. 
 
 " I am afraid I am horribly deceptive without 
 meaning to be. I can't talk in the way you mean. 
 I'm really awfully dull, and find it very difficult to 
 put things into words. The fact is " 
 
 " I begin to think you do prefer quantity to quality," 
 said Lady Start. " But it doesn't matter if you're 
 not unstoppable. And I don't really think you are. 
 I am. We ought to get on rather nicely together. 
 Do you think they're pretty ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Lovely ? " 
 
 " Miss Wetherborne and Miss Anne Wetherborne 
 might be so described." 
 
 " Not Joan, of course. Squat little creature. 
 Rather my own figure at that age. With luck she 
 may grow out of it too. No compliments, please," 
 she added as Illingborough's face expressed doubt 
 as to whether he had heard correctly. " You think 
 they're both lovely ? Well, which is the more so of 
 the two ? " 
 
 " I shouldn't like to have to decide," said Illing- 
 borough, though such a decision would have been, 
 he felt, easier than the one he had to make. 
 
 " My nephew, Captain Hatton thinks there is no
 
 i68 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 doubt about the matter. But then he isn't fit to 
 judge. He's prejudiced. He came down I don't 
 know why I should be telling you this, but then it's 
 perfectly obvious and I never could keep a secret 
 simply to see her again." 
 
 Lady Start had mentioned no names, and Illing- 
 borough had just said he would not like to have to 
 decide. Yet he was conscious of a feeling of intoler- 
 able discomfort as a result of what the old lady had 
 just said. Why should Captain Hatton, a fine-looking 
 man, and by no means unintelligent, have no doubts 
 in his mind ? And what was his certainty ? Illing- 
 borough could not rest without knowing. 
 ; " May I ask, if it is not a secret, which your nephew 
 admires more ? " 
 
 " Look at him ! " 
 
 Anne was serving and Captain Hatton, standing 
 at the net, had his eyes on her. Experts maintain 
 that server's partner should watch the ball from the 
 start, and that might account for the captain's gaze. 
 Only did a tennis ball ever attract such fervid 
 attention ? She was good to look at, cool and fresh 
 in her white frock. Captain Hatton himself was red 
 in the face and damp, and even the leaner Odo was 
 mopping himself with a handkerchief, having bounced 
 about in the alertest manner, taking brilliant shots 
 of his own and apologising breathlessly for missing
 
 A MATCH IS PLAYED AND HINTED AT 169 
 
 his partner's. Her air which Mrs. Watterly had 
 so much admired had degenerated into one of 
 statuesque fatigue which made her look rather 
 cross, and made Odo feel guilty, though indeed she 
 was only too winded to utter her forgiveness for his 
 comparatively few errors. 
 
 How lightly Anne moved ! Now she was smiling 
 and making one of her brief quaint answers to some- 
 thing Captain Hatton had just said to her. What 
 had he said ? She was serving again now and 
 Lady Start was talking. 
 
 " Absolutely epris ! Yet he is a man who has seen 
 a good deal of the world and a good many of the girls 
 in it. Malta, Simla, London. You would not somehow 
 expect it of him. As Irene says, she is so unlike a 
 woman of the world. A Patience in many ways. 
 Gilbert and Sullivan's, I mean. ' I cannot tell what 
 this love may be, that cometh to all and not to me.' ' 
 Lady Start fluted the sweet absurdity in a little high 
 voice that showed she had sung once. " You prefer 
 the sister, I suppose ? " she demanded. 
 
 Illingborough did not reply at once. The words 
 the old lady had just rehearsed ran in his head. They 
 were part of a burlesque, and meant as such. But 
 they were also, as applied to Anne, enlightening. 
 Almost they supplied the key to the puzzle of her 
 character. He. had wondered what made her un-
 
 170 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 nameable charm that was not Jocelyne's too describ- 
 able charm. Here might be the explanation of it. 
 Her charm was her aloofness from the desire to 
 charm ; her superiority consisted in her unreadiness 
 to triumph. 
 
 That he felt in some vague way. But he did not as 
 yet realise how greatly it armed her for love. He 
 did not know that in that warfare she who is unready, 
 whose eyes are not scouts looking for the enemy, whose 
 arms are most unpractised, whose thoughts plan no 
 ambush, is more potent than the subtlest manoeuvrers, 
 than the best drilled and most vigilant of women. 
 
 The reason is that their schemes of conquest are 
 plans to surrender, but she can be captured only by 
 those who beg for quarter. Illingborough did not 
 know this somewhat paradoxical truth, because he had 
 himself no notion of what love might be, or thought 
 he had not. He concluded that all his discovery 
 amounted to was the discovery that he had made 
 no discovery at least so far as deciding between the 
 sisters went. It was easy enough for a man like 
 Captain Hatton, who fancied himself in love with 
 Anne, to decide upon her superiority. But he 
 himself was a lawyer in the position practically of 
 a judge. Anything in the nature of a personal pre- 
 judice must be crushed ; to allow his emotions to 
 influence his judgment which he took to be the
 
 A MATCH IS PLAYED AND HINTED AT 171 
 
 process of love would be a scandal. He disliked 
 the idea of Captain Hatton doing this : it made him 
 indeed indignant furious when he thought of it. But 
 he was not going to imitate the captain. " I shouldn't 
 feel justified in ' preferring ' either Miss Wetherborne. 
 Both I think are most most pleasant," he said. 
 
 " Oh ! " said Lady Start, who had been watching him 
 with some interest. " It seems to require a good 
 deal of consideration to be really non-committal, 
 doesn't it ? What is about your age, Mr. Illing- 
 borough, if it isn't a rude question ? About ninety ? " 
 
 " Twenty-eight," said Illingborough. 
 
 Lady Start held up her hands. 
 
 " In the interests of all impetuous people, I hope 
 you won't live to be a hundred," she said. " It's 
 nice to know you feel so perfectly judicious though." 
 
 " Why so ? " 
 
 " If you didn't, I should regard so cautious and 
 yet amiable a person as a dangerous rival to my 
 nephew." 
 
 Illingborough had never been so confused by any one 
 before.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 TOM SPY 
 
 TOM had been lent to the rectory for the afternoon. 
 He had on his Sunday clothes, including a motor-cap 
 with flaps, which gave him a top-heavy but smart 
 appearance. His duties were to lend a hand with the 
 teacups and fetch balls at one end of the court, the 
 rectory boot-boy, by name Samuel, being similarly 
 employed at the other end. 
 
 Though allied for the afternoon, Tom was not 
 disposed to make the understanding with the rectory 
 boy, who was of a mean intelligence and greedy, a 
 needlessly cordial one, especially as Samuel, knowing 
 the ways of the kitchen, had secured for himself a 
 better tea than his guest had managed to get. There- 
 fore when Samuel who had been placed, to begin 
 with, at the worse-netted and sunnier end proposed, 
 after the tea interval, that they should exchange 
 positions, Tom had not assented. It was true 
 that he had the shadier side, but he had also 
 
 contributed some mental toil in the way of 
 
 172
 
 TOM SPY 173 
 
 arranging the netting, so as to make his post a 
 sinecure. 
 
 " Yew'll want to work off they maggeroons," he 
 said. " I didn't get any." 
 
 " Fetch yew one ef yew'll change, Tom," said 
 Samuel persuasively. 
 
 " Don't keer about 'em myself," said Tom loftily, 
 though the struggle with his appetite was a keen 
 one " an' I'm quite comferable here." 
 
 " A bit o' choklit cake," urged Samuel. " Harf a 
 pot o' jam ? " 
 
 " No thank yew." 
 
 " What'll yew go for ? " asked Samuel, crestfallen. 
 
 " Notten, me fat lad," said Tom, buttressed by his 
 pride. " I never were a gurmant, nor fond o' try en 
 to look like a potato sack, and, as I've told yew, 
 I'm comferable here. Jest now I'm goin' to have a 
 smoke." 
 
 " That's not what yew' re here for," said Samuel 
 angrily. " An' if th' Missis catches yew at it, yew'll 
 hear about it." 
 
 " Yew'll hear bout someet alse, if yew doant get 
 along an' fetch that ball," Tom assured him. 
 
 The voice of Odo crying " Samuel ! Ball ! " was 
 indeed becoming painfully audible, and Samuel, who 
 had crossed to Tom's side, where the garden became 
 half wild, half shrubbery, on the pretext of hunting for
 
 174 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 a ball that had fallen midway, felt that it would be 
 wise to obey it. 
 
 " Comen', Mr. Odo," he said, scowling at Tom, who, 
 in the safe umbrage, had drawn forth a penny packet 
 of cigarettes, and was selecting one with all the care 
 and air of a connoisseur. " Wait till yew're catched 
 wi' it." 
 
 Tom licked the cigarette well, and placed it between 
 his lips. 
 
 " I'm agoin to wait," he said. " Agen this tree. 
 Maybe I'll have a bit on a sleep when I done my 
 smoke." 
 
 " Samuel ! Ball ! where are you ? " came Odo's 
 voice again. 
 
 " Hop along, Stouty ! " said Tom. 
 
 The discomfited Samuel shook his fist and lumbered 
 off, conscious that Tom, seated on the ground with his 
 back to a thick-spread yew, was striking the match 
 that would light the cigarette of peace, preparatory 
 to enjoying a siesta, such as he himself hunting balls 
 in the concentrated rays of the setting sun would have 
 no chance of. He thought of slyly undoing on his way 
 back some of the netting that so admirably guarded 
 Tom's preserve from invading balls, but there was no 
 time for it. Mr. Odo's voice had become too insistent. 
 
 Tom finished his cigarette, as he had vaunted that 
 he would do, but he did not proceed to indulge in the
 
 TOM SPY 175 
 
 sleep with the prospect of which he had taunted 
 Samuel. This was indeed from no sense of duty. 
 Conscious that he had rendered his post a sinecure 
 only three balls had come over in the last two sets, 
 and these were from the exceedingly high-bouncing 
 service of Mr. Odo, who, with his partner, had now 
 changed sides for a return match. Tom intended to 
 avail himself of the leisure his intelligence had secured 
 him. By passing through the shrubbery, he could 
 unseen gain the back wall of the kitchen garden, 
 against which many gooseberry trees grew. He had 
 heard the rector remarking upon the advanced state 
 of the gooseberries " a particularly fine eating kind." 
 They might not be quite ripe, but they would be 
 worth trying. Farther along were strawberry beds. 
 Tom had only been able to abstract quite a few from 
 the many plates he had been carrying that afternoon. 
 Yet the labourer is worthy of his hire. 
 
 Best of all, a white-heart cherry tree was crammed 
 with its shining fruit. Tom knew the tree, having 
 been to the rectory garden before. He had never 
 tried it. He meant to try it now. It grew right in 
 the middle of the kitchen garden ; among apple trees, 
 with bushes of black and red currants at their feet. A 
 path box-edged led up to a great mulberry with a seat 
 under it, and there stopped. But one had only to 
 dive in among the currants to reach the white-hearts.
 
 176 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 The ground was so hard after weeks of hot weather, 
 that hob-nails would not show. Even if they did, they 
 would appear to be Samuel's. Samuel had spoken 
 of the tree with watering mouth, 
 
 A venture so simple, yet promising such reward, was 
 not likely to try Tom's easy and, towards himself, 
 tender conscience. Introspection is out of place in a 
 cherry thief ; and outward vigilance is its substitute. 
 
 It was outward vigilance on Tom's part that pre- 
 vented him as he stole up the mulberry tree path 
 having surmounted previous obstacles, such as the 
 wall, with encouraging ease from plumping right 
 upon the two people who sat on the seat below the 
 mulberry. The two people, as Tom saw out of the 
 side of one eye, and in the moment of slipping behind 
 cover, were Clifford and Jocelyne ; and the question 
 was need they interfere with his plans ? . 
 
 Tom decided that they needn't. Folks walking out 
 are proverbially unnoticing, being taken up with 
 kissing and cuddling a contemptible business to 
 watch, but one which has the merit of occupying the 
 attention of its conductors to the exclusion of most 
 other things. They would not, of course, care to be 
 overlooked, if they happened to know, but they were 
 not likely to happen to know, and if by any chance 
 they spied him, their condition was still so much to 
 the good in that, being confused at being caught
 
 TOM SPY 177 
 
 themselves, they were less likely than ordinary 
 sensible people to want to catch their confuser. 
 
 For their feelings Tom didn't care. Miss Jocelyne 
 he had a lively scorn for, and Mr. Clifford he disliked. 
 Exactly why he disliked Clifford he could not probably 
 have explained, though there were good reasons. 
 One was that Mr. Clifford, whenever he saw Tom, 
 called him " Bill." Clifford did so under the im- 
 pression that he was being friendly, and would have 
 been surprised to learn that it created a grievance. 
 Yet it is a safe assumption that the friendliness which 
 exacts no effort from the friendly person is rarely if 
 ever appreciated. Perhaps it bears too close a re- 
 semblance to familiarity, which is, of course, friendli- 
 ness with its tongue in its cheek. 
 
 Certainly Tom disliked Mr. Clifford just as much 
 as he liked the other gentleman, Mr. Illingborough. 
 Mr. Illingborough called him Tom, and also asked him 
 questions about what the rocks were made of, and 
 how he explained the action of the tide at various 
 points all as if Tom could give him information 
 which caused Tom to think that though possibly 
 " queer," Mr. Illingborough was very pleasant. 
 
 It is possible that, if the parties under the mulberry 
 tree had been different, Tom might have considered 
 their feelings, and foregone his cherries. Reverence 
 was not a conspicuous feature in his character ; and 
 
 12
 
 178 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 small boys are not abashed by the same things as 
 grown men. Yet Tom was not insensitive. He 
 knew that people walking out preferred privacy, only 
 he felt that the respect owed to their wishes depended 
 on the genuineness of their attachment. Those two 
 would go it anywhere. 
 
 The thought did strike him, as he stood there 
 watching, that this was convenient. Supposing, for 
 example, they had been Miss Anne and and Mr. 
 Illingborough, and his better feelings had had to 
 prevail ! They might have been. At least they 
 might have been, if it had not been a part of Mr. 
 Illingborough's queerness that he did not seem to 
 understand that the rest were nowhere with Miss 
 Anne. Certainly he had made no attempt to walk 
 out with her. Tom was glad of it. He would have 
 been exceedingly annoyed with any one who had 
 dared to try such a thing. So would Miss Anne 
 mostly. She was not the walking-out kind. Yet 
 she liked Mr. Illingborough. That Tom knew from 
 observation. She laughed at him out loud, and she 
 laughed at hardly anybody ; and she wasn't stiff 
 with him, when she was with him. On the other 
 hand, Tom had seen her go away when she saw she 
 might have to go with him, instead of sidling up, as 
 Miss Jocelyne would have done to anybody she 
 fancied. That seemed queer in a way. But then
 
 TOM SPY 179 
 
 Miss Anne was queer too in quite another sense 
 from Mr. Illingborough's queerness. Still queerness 
 was a sort of bond between them. 
 
 Tom had lost sight of Jocelyne and Clifford as 
 soon as he began to work his way among the bush 
 fruit. The ascent into the first fork of the cherry tree 
 gave him an excellent view again, and it was from 
 this point that he made the discovery that they were 
 not kissing and cooing at all, but having a row. At 
 least that was what it looked like. Miss Jocelyne 
 was seated at one end of the bench ; Mr. Clifford at 
 the other. That looked very like a row not only to 
 Tom, but to Clifford. 
 
 Jocelyne had just said with an air of finality 
 presuming finality to be the most unpleasant thing 
 she could at present deal in 
 
 " I don't understand you. And nothing that you 
 can say will make me." 
 
 Clifford looked at her uneasily. He had done his 
 utmost with smarming words and silky tongue to 
 gloss over the undeniable fact that he had to some 
 extent avoided her. Jocelyne had chosen to be 
 intransigent. The truth is that she had looked 
 forward to the rectory party as a triumph in which 
 she should, so to speak, drag Clifford at her chariot- 
 wheels for all to see. And he had scarcely been near 
 her. She might, in the green Shantung, which she
 
 i8o THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 was wearing for the first time, have begun other 
 conquests, had there been any one there worth con- 
 quering. There wasn't. She had begun to dislike 
 Illingborough so much as the cause of her grievance 
 that she did not even want to impress him, and, 
 except for Captain Hatton, there was nobody good 
 enough to look at. Captain Hatton was after Anne. 
 Anne in her old muslin ! Jealousy had taken hold of 
 Jocelyne, as she thought of it, and she had begun to 
 sulk where she sat. Presently she had found that 
 she was sitting by herself. In all probability that 
 was the result of her ill-temper. Young ladies, 
 wearing scowls, may be beautiful and beautifully 
 dressed, but they are apt to be avoided. 
 
 Petruchios are rare at garden parties, and the Kates 
 have to sit alone in consequence of the taboo they 
 have set on themselves. So Jocelyne had sat until 
 Clifford had inadvertently come near her. Then her 
 request to be conducted round the garden was ac- 
 companied by looks that threatened a scene if he 
 did not acquiesce. Hence the drama under the 
 mulberry tree with Tom in the gallery to 
 watch. Clifford had come to the conclusion that 
 there was no help for it but to make her privy to his 
 secret. 
 
 " I'm going to tell you something," he said, " that 
 will make you understand me, and what's more
 
 TOM SPY 181 
 
 realise that I've been doing what I've done for your 
 sake." 
 
 " Indeed ! " said Jocelyne scornfully. 
 
 " Perhaps a little for my own too," he said, nodding ; 
 " since we're engaged." 
 
 " I expect so," said Jocelyne, replying first to 
 the first part of his remark. "I'm not so sure that 
 we are engaged though." 
 
 " Wait ! " he said, with a smile that, without 
 melting her, roused her curiosity. 
 
 It was not an easy story to tell. He had to admit 
 her to his secret an ill-gotten one and at the same 
 time persuade her that his attachment to her was 
 unconnected with it a genuine incident and not 
 a part of the ignoble programme he had sketched out 
 for himself. But he had rehearsed the story pretty 
 often, and he was net unsuccessful in telling it. He 
 touched very lightly on the sordid parts, omitting 
 the eavesdropping altogether. The impression he 
 conveyed was that, being apprised of Mr. Mortlake's 
 scheme, he had come down out of sheer curiosity 
 to see how it would fare with Illingborough's manage- 
 ment. Naturally he had fallen in love with Jocelyne 
 as soon as he saw her even before he realised that 
 she was the one who deserved to be chosen. Of 
 course, she was that one. What were Anne and 
 Joan in comparison with her ? Nobodies. Yet that
 
 fool Illingborough, with his narrow-minded prejudice, 
 was just as likely more likely indeed to name one 
 of them before her. Fancy Anne an heiress ! It 
 was ridiculous. She would not even want it. Whereas 
 Jocelyne was cut out for the part. He dwelt with 
 warmth almost with moral indignation upon the 
 way that personal bias was bound to tell with a man 
 like Illingborough. 
 
 Jocelyne listened with parted lips and eyes sparkling. 
 She too but it was unconscious in her case was 
 ready to gloze over the less pleasant features of the 
 revelation. Her mind soared and fixed itself instantly 
 on the salient point in it the fortune that would 
 reward success. It was the one thing she had dreamed 
 of, hoped for. At last she touched it a gorgeous 
 reality ; that resolved itself in her thoughts into 
 Paris frocks and lady's-maids and motors and yachts, 
 and an ever-present figure of herself moving superb 
 through the brilliant mazes of an incredibly smart 
 set. All this was within her grasp, if only she could 
 propitiate Illingborough. 
 
 " Is it true ? Is it true ? " she kept saying, as he 
 added details. 
 
 " Absolutely I'll swear it if you like ? " 
 
 She broke into delighted laughter like a child. 
 
 " How lovely ! " she said. " Oh, I must have it. 
 I must I must."
 
 TOM SPY 183 
 
 " You can, if you'll follow my advice," said Clifford, 
 relieved by her readiness in accepting the golden 
 point and ignoring all else. " But you must be 
 guided by me." 
 
 She looked at him saucily. 
 
 " Oh, I see what's wanted now," she said. " Of 
 course, if I'd known it would all have been so different 
 with Mr. Illingborough, I mean. It was very silly 
 of you not to tell me. You nearly spoilt it. I don't 
 know that I forgive you ! " 
 
 " It was for your sake," Clifford reminded her, not 
 quite so happy. 
 
 " Don't let's bother about ' sakes,' " said Jocelyne, 
 rising. " We can think of those afterwards." 
 
 " But you love me ? " 
 
 Jocelyne looked at him provokingly. 
 
 " I don't know," she said. " It depends, doesn't 
 it, on a lot of things." 
 
 " Perhaps," said Clifford, " and a lot of things 
 depend on it." 
 
 He too had risen, and Jocelyne took his 
 arm. 
 
 " Silly ! " she said. " Of course I like you." 
 
 They walked down the box-edged path in blissful 
 ignorance that Tom was still perched like some black- 
 bird in the cherry tree, having listened with a good 
 deal of interest to their conversation. Tom's curiosity
 
 184 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 had been stirred, though he had not fully under- 
 stood. He decided to communicate the gist of it 
 to Miss Anne, though she would disapprove of his 
 listening. Meanwhile he filled his pockets with white- 
 hearts.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 SOME EMOTIONS, MRS. ODLER AND A SEED-CAKE 
 
 " DON'T you go to bother, Miss," said Mrs. Odler. 
 
 " I may as well. There's plenty of time before I 
 go to change," said Anne. She seated herself at the 
 kitchen table with a bowl and a wooden spoon, and 
 began compounding a salad dressing for supper. She 
 had just come in from playing tennis at Lady Start's 
 the same four that had pleased that lady at the 
 rectory. It had been repeated several times lately, 
 both at her garden party and on other afternoons 
 when no one but Anne and Odo were invited up. 
 Lady Start had openly explained that why she 
 invited only them was because they were the 
 only capable exponents of the game in the neighbour- 
 hood. 
 
 It was a plausible explanation, yet Mrs. Watterly 
 could not help hoping that there was more in it than 
 met the ear. For example, Anne might be invited 
 up to gratify Captain Hatton. He was supposed to 
 
 be attracted by her. That was amazing ; yet it 
 
 185
 
 i86 THE^ JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 might be true. If true was it not much more 
 possible Mrs. Watterly asked herself that Odo was 
 asked because Miss Hatton was attracted by him ? 
 In Mrs. Watterly's opinion it was very much more 
 possible. She recognised that it was not a necessary 
 consequence. One could not argue that because 
 Captain Hatton fancied Anne Wetherborne, therefore 
 Captain Hatton's sister must have fallen a victim to 
 Odo. Love is not so logical as that. 
 [_On the other hand, Love is strangely swift and 
 impetuous. It falls without warning and heavily, 
 like thunder rain from a clear sky upon some people. 
 Miss Hatton did not superficially look the sort of 
 young woman who would conceive a sudden tropical 
 passion ; but, once again, you never knew. Under a 
 calm and even statuesque exterior the warmest fire 
 may be smouldering. Odo had been asked up five 
 times in a week. Nominally it was to make a four. 
 Well, two pairs make a four, as mathematics teach us ; 
 is it not also true that one four makes two pairs ? 
 Odo was so good-looking, so nice, so clever, so every- 
 thing ; and he had gone in such absolutely spotless 
 flannels every time with that purple and green sash, 
 that was so wonderfully becoming to him, round his 
 waist ; that she would be a curious sort of girl in 
 Mrs. Watterly's opinion that did not find him 
 attractive. Of course, the boy himself was so
 
 SOME EMOTIONS 187 
 
 absolutely modest and generous that he did not quite 
 realise what an opportunity lay before him. More 
 enthusiasm on the subject of Miss Hatton would 
 certainly have availed him better with her. More ? 
 Even some enthusiasm would have sufficed. Had he 
 any at all ? Veiled questions calculated to make 
 clear this point had only elicited the fact that he 
 considered her " weak on her back-hand." The boy 
 was so dreadfully wrapped up in the actual game 
 that he could only think of his partner as related to it. 
 That was a pity, and Mrs. Watterly would have liked 
 to do more than hint (hints require so much self- 
 restraint at critical moments) that whatever his 
 feelings, he might try to show Miss Hatton that it 
 was not only back-hands and reverse American 
 services and lobbing that he was devoted to. Mrs. 
 Watterly's difficulty was not to hint so much that 
 he would take alarm and his modesty develop into 
 shyness. Undeniably shyness in love does not pay. 
 Better an indifference which piques. Miss Hatton, 
 thinking him bound up in " lobbing," might be tempted 
 to make advances absolutely maidenly ones like 
 our late gracious Queen. Perhaps that would be best, 
 particularly as she was, vulgarly speaking, a catch 
 at least for a curate. The worldly point of view has 
 to be considered. A princess would not be too fine 
 for such a boy as Odo. But let her make the advances
 
 188 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 by all means : only a mother's anxiety in the mean- 
 time is bound to be great. 
 
 Odo, it must be confessed, had enjoyed his tennis 
 without bothering about such things. So at first had 
 Anne. She was fond of Lady Start ; she liked Captain 
 Hatton and his sister. Also for the first time in her 
 life she was glad of having something from outside 
 to occupy her attention. The things that usually 
 sufficed for her pleasure solitary riding and fishing 
 and boating had not been altogether satisfactory 
 the last few days. Solitude allowed her to think too 
 much new uneasy thoughts that sometimes only 
 worried, at other times almost startled her. These 
 thoughts, starting in all sorts of odd ways, had a habit 
 of coming back ultimately to the notion that for some 
 reason or other Mr. Illingborough did not think much 
 of her and avoided her. 
 
 That hurt Anne, as well as puzzled her. What 
 puzzled her was that she should want any one to think 
 well of her in that way. Before, she had never 
 troubled to think what people thought of her. It had 
 seemed rather a waste of time. And yet now she kept 
 doing it when the waste of time was so obvious, in 
 that, however she might trouble, it was plain that 
 Mr. Illingborough thought nothing of her. It must be 
 so, because he avoided her. There was no getting over 
 that. Once when she had suggested another fishing
 
 SOME EMOTIONS 189 
 
 at dawn, he had even made some pretext for refusing 
 frightfully long and polite and blundering but a 
 pretext. He must have wanted dreadfully to avoid 
 going, to make a pretext. Pretexts were utterly 
 unlike him. 
 
 Therefore Anne was glad at first to have Lady 
 Start's invitations to tennis, since the strenuous 
 games took her out of herself. What she could have 
 wished was that there were no pauses between the 
 games. She would have liked to play straight on 
 without even a break for tea. In that event, another 
 worry would not have had its chance of besetting her. 
 The origin of this other worry was in Captain Hatton's 
 attitude. He was very pleasant. Anne liked him. 
 They had many subjects of conversation in common 
 hunting and sailing ; and while those were being dis- 
 cussed, all was well. She did not mind that he could 
 not talk of things in Mr. Illingborough's way " the 
 poetry way," she supposed it was that made such 
 shareable wonders of the sea and sky, and gave her 
 strange thrills at unexpected moments. She knew 
 that very few men did or could talk in that way. 
 Mr. Illingborough was the only man she had known 
 who could. 
 
 She did, on the other hand, mind what she vaguely 
 set down as Captain Hatton's gallantry. He always 
 began it so soon as they were by themselves, which
 
 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 they were at intervals. Lady Start managed that 
 also quite openly. She was the kind that liked to talk 
 frankly of flirtations and young people enjoying them- 
 selves, and so on ; making it all seem amusing and 
 friendly and commonplace. But why should Captain 
 Hatton try to make such trifling seem of real import- 
 ance ? He seemed absolutely sentimental at times, 
 and made Anne quite uncomfortable. It wasn't 
 surely possible that he had by . some horrid chance 
 fallen in love with her ? To Anne, falling in love 
 conveyed nothing very definite. It was the sort of 
 thing Jocelyne did very often, and it seemed to have 
 the result of making her want to dress up and grimace 
 and be restless and talk a good deal of nonsense. 
 Mr. Clifford, Anne fancied, was rather the type of man 
 who could do it, just as Jocelyne was the girl- type. 
 It was more objectionable in a man even than in a 
 girl, and suggested that he had some monkey in him. 
 
 There was nothing of the tricky beast about Captain 
 Hatton, though he had seemed weak-minded at in- 
 tervals. She was forced to the conclusion that nice 
 men as well as stupid ones were perhaps capable 
 of falling in love temporarily, and that the effect upon 
 them of the passion was deplorably similar to that 
 which it had on the disagreeable ones. 
 
 It distressed Anne to think she herself could in any 
 way be a cause of stumbling in Captain Hatton, and
 
 SOME EMOTIONS 191 
 
 it might all be her fancy which was working stupidly. 
 She would see him to-morrow at the otter hunt, and 
 find perhaps that she had merely been stupid. 
 
 Now, as she broke the yolks of eggs into her bowl 
 and mixed the oil and let the vinegar slide in drop by 
 drop, she decided to worry no more about what might 
 be all pure fancifulness both in regard to Captain 
 Hatton's sentimentality and Mr. Illingborough's re- 
 serve. There might even be a good reason for the 
 latter. It could not be only fancifulness indeed, as 
 Captain Hatton's attitude might be. It was real 
 enough. But then Tom's story might account for it. 
 It was a rambling story, and Anne, who was almost 
 destitute of inquisitiveness the feminine of curiosity 
 had not troubled to get it clear before she packed Tom 
 off with a scolding for eavesdropping. Afterwards 
 her dignity had forbidden her to cross-examine him. 
 Still, it was clear that Mr. Illingborough was in some 
 way the emissary of a rich relation who meant to leave 
 one of them a fortune, and that Mr. Illingborough had 
 to name that one. Anne had no doubt that he would 
 choose justly, but it must in the meantime mean a 
 great deal of worry for him. She was very little in- 
 terested in the results, hardly picturing what a fortune 
 might be to any one, and not in the least seeing herself 
 (as Jocelyne did) an heiress. 
 
 How Mr. Clifford came into the business she could
 
 192 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 not understand ; nor even whether Mr. Illingborough 
 was aware that he knew of it. Just for a moment 
 she had thought of telling Tom to repeat his story to 
 Mr. Illingborough, but that seemed rather like poking 
 even like wishing to secure a favour for herself. The 
 latter consideration decided Anne to have nothing 
 to do with it, especially as Mr. Illingborough had so 
 avoided her of late. She was so unscheming herself 
 by nature that at first the notion of Jocelyne's taking 
 advantage of her knowledge to push her way with 
 Illingborough had not entered her mind. 
 
 It was Mrs. Odler, chatting while Anne stirred her 
 salad dressing, that first gave her the notion that 
 Jocelyne might be playing a part more earnestly 
 than usual. 
 
 " Whatever," asked Mrs. Odler, apropos of nothing 
 at all, " have come over Miss Jocelyne the last few 
 days ? " 
 
 " What do you mean ? " asked Anne. " Has 
 anything come over her ? " 
 
 " That's for you to say, Miss." Mrs. Oldler pursed 
 her mouth, as though to say that if information was 
 not required, it was not by that organ that it would 
 flow. 
 
 As Anne, however, remained incurious, and there 
 was no other means of conveying the effect she wished, 
 Mrs. Odler retracted and became a torrent. " Down
 
 SOME EMOTIONS 193 
 
 to breakfast at 8.45 every morning regular. Out in 
 the boat before lunch with Mr. Illingborough walks 
 in the afternoon. Splashes and dashes into the 
 kitchen ! Why, tisn't like Miss Jocelyne not as 
 I've knowed her. Why, she baked a cake yesterday, 
 Miss Jocelyne did, while you was away." 
 " A good one ? " asked Anne. 
 
 " There was a good one for tea," said Mrs. Odler 
 darkly. " And the gentleman he thought she'd 
 made it. P'r'aps she thought it too. I couldn't 
 say about that." 
 
 " There was some mistake about it ? " 
 " I can't say about mistakes." At the beginning 
 of a conversation Mrs. Odler was always terribly 
 exact. She seemed to feel that it gave her the right 
 to a larger latitude in speaking later on. 
 
 " You think there was ? " said Anne patiently. 
 " I know her'n went stone heavy. What else 'ud 
 you expect bakin' for the first time an' not botherin* 
 to weigh your 'terials, nor do nothen proper, unless it 
 be to wear a smart apron ? Stone heavy it went, an' 
 the pig had et. I made another but I ain't sure, 
 Miss Anne, that there was sense in my doing of et." 
 
 Anne asked why, though she was still not greatly 
 interested. 
 
 " Because men is simple creatures," Mrs. Odler said. 
 " I don't say nothen of the master. ' Made by my 
 13
 
 94 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 own daughter's pretty hand ? ' says he, blind as a 
 bat. Not that he was ever one to notice anything, 
 or before now he'd have lamed how little pretty 
 hands has to do with decent vittles. That's what he 
 says. ' Made by my own daughter's pretty hand ? ' 
 ' Your own daughter's very floury hand,' says Miss 
 Jos, a-smilin' and a-wilin'. There ! And hers 
 what the pig had a curren cake, and mine a 
 seed " 
 
 " She probably didn't notice the difference," said 
 Anne. She often had to squash Mrs. Odler when on 
 the subject of Jocelyne. 
 
 " Nor didn't want to," said Mrs. Odler contu- 
 maciously. ' You don't say so ? ' says Mr. Illing- 
 borough. 'I've never tasted a better,' says he. 
 ' Wunnerful ! ' he says. Miss Jos smiles like the 
 angels only more innocent to look at. ' It's jest a 
 little heavy,' says she. A little heavy ! when flakes 
 couldn't never be lighter." Indignation took posses- 
 sion of Mrs. Odler's windpipe. 
 
 " That shows she thought it was hers," said Anne 
 extenuatingly, and deeming it to be a matter of injured 
 feelings on Mrs. Odler's part. " Clearly ! Because 
 she knows yours are always light." 
 
 " What Miss Jos knows I ain't able to answer for," 
 said Mrs. Odler. " But she knows one thing more'n 
 you know, Miss Anne ; and that is the thing I was
 
 SOME EMOTIONS 195 
 
 telling you on the innercence of men, and in par- 
 ticular of gentlemen. He swallered it whole, Mr. 
 Illingborough did. ' Here/ says he to himself, ' is 
 a young lady as can cook; an' cook well. In ten 
 minutes, and in a apron smart enough for a droring- 
 room she can turn out a cake as I haven't tasted 
 the better of.' What then, you says, perhaps, Miss 
 Anne ? " proceeded Mrs. Odler, it being pretty certain 
 that Anne was not going to say anything. " What 
 next; says you ? Well, I can tell you that too. 
 ' There ain't many young ladies like that,' he'd say 
 to himself. ' Very few, from all I can hear I'm 
 a bacheldore and a bacheldore's is a comferable 
 position for a young man. But there's something 
 better if folks is to be believed and that's the 
 married state, if you don't go and make mistakes.' 
 Mark my words, Miss Anne;" said Mrs. Odler, re- 
 turning to her own most characteristic voice, after 
 acting most dramatically the supposed communion 
 of Illingborough with himself, " that young man 
 will make a mistake, and that cake o' mine will 
 be the rightful cause. I wish I hadn't baked it, 
 I do." 
 
 " Well, don't burn the pie in consequence," said 
 Anne flippantly. " There, the dressing's done. 
 I think you've been talking nonsense, Mrs. 
 Odler."
 
 ig6 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 She went out of the kitchen quickly, leaving Mrs. 
 Odler snubbed but not crushed. She would have 
 felt even less snubbed than she did if she had 
 known the effect of her conversation on Anne's 
 mind.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 JOAN FINDS WORK FOR HER HAND 
 
 THE defection of Odo, for that is what his goings to 
 Storr Court amounted to, had the effect upon Joan 
 of producing an outburst of beneficence unparalleled 
 in the annals of Mazinghope. Not a cottage was 
 left unvisited, not an old woman, though six times 
 Joan's age, but was offered most salutary and un- 
 compromising advice. 
 
 The weather might be warm, the more superficial 
 courtesies of the good Samaritan might be difficult 
 to observe when one was suffering oneself from a 
 heat rash. These considerations did not deter Joan. 
 She felt that if those who should be the workers chose 
 to waste their time and their opportunities in worldly 
 games and dallyings, it was the more incumbent upon 
 one who had a sense of duty to do what she could. 
 
 People who have a sense of duty are the drivers of 
 the vast engine of humanity : they sometimes err by 
 forgetting to apply the brakes when the points are up. 
 
 Joan did not stop until Mazinghope by passive and 
 
 197
 
 198 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 in some cases almost active resistance forced her to. 
 In less than a week two old women became stone 
 deaf, and could not hear a word that Joan said, though 
 she shouted herself hoarse. Mrs. Gideon put a lock 
 on her door, and Christabel Muggs cheeked Joan to 
 her face. When Joan, rendered desperate, tried to 
 catch the child in order to shake her, the little brute 
 ran blubbering into her mother's cottage, and Mrs. 
 Muggs came out and was very abusive and said she 
 would be much obliged to Miss Joan if she would 
 leave her child alone. 
 
 " They as is practically chil'n theyselves," said 
 Mrs. Muggs, with needless rancour, " haven't got no 
 call to come poking into the ways of growd wimmen 
 which have work to do." 
 
 " Very well, Mrs. Muggs," said Joan, with what 
 dignity she could. " You are very ungrateful. I 
 shall not bring you any more chicken broth." 
 
 " Thank you, miss, I' m sure," said Mrs. Muggs, 
 misunderstanding the nature of this food, in a very 
 loud voice " but I don't keep chickens, and ef I 
 did I'd giv 'em somethen more nurturing than that 
 there soup." 
 
 There was a gargle of laughter from the rear of 
 the cottage adjoining, where lived Mrs. Toop, a person 
 whom Joan only the day before had massaged for 
 rheumatism. Joan walked off with a very red face
 
 JOAN FINDS WORK FOR HER HAND 199 
 
 and heaving chest. Wounded pride was not relieved 
 till she had left the village behind her, and indulged 
 in a brief burst of tears. 
 
 It was little wonder if, after this experience, Joan 
 washed her hands of charity in Mazinghope, at any 
 rate for the time being, and looked about for fresh 
 victims to assist. They were not easy to find. Mrs. 
 Odler had made it clear, long since, that any help 
 rendered by Miss Joan in the kitchen would have to 
 be of a subordinate nature, and that she would brook 
 no advice or instruction. Under such conditions 
 Joan could not feel that she was being " helpful " in 
 the strenuous manner that alone satisfies any one 
 in whom the spirit of the reformer burns. Nor was 
 the garden a much more inviting field of labour. 
 Tom needed reform as much as any savage, it is true. 
 On the other hand, he was far more elusive than a 
 savage. He had not even the inquisitiveness that 
 draws the ingenuous cannibal from his lair to see 
 what the white visitor is made of. Tom fled into his 
 cave so to speak at the first approach of the mis- 
 sionary Joan, and stayed there till she went away. 
 
 Joan would have been willing to try her luck with 
 Mr. Illingborough, if she could have got hold of him. 
 She felt that he at any rate was not a mocker or 
 frivolous. Serious things appealed to him, though 
 perhaps not the best serious things. Unfortunately
 
 Jocelyne had quite suddenly appropriated him. Joan 
 was convinced that Mr. Illingborough did not relish 
 being appropriated, but she dared not dispute with 
 Jocelyne over her captive. Joan could take a snub 
 with anybody, but Jos could be so particularly 
 unpleasant. 
 
 There really seemed to be nobody left to look 
 after but her father in the buzz of whose immovable 
 complaisance even a zealot would begin to feel drowsy 
 and Joan was beginning to think she must leave 
 home and become a hospital nurse a vocation that 
 had always appealed to her owing to the physical 
 helplessness, as a rule, of the patients when a chance 
 meeting set her thoughts in other grooves. 
 
 She had set out for Porton Langley to look at a 
 paper called Nursing Notes. She knew it was taken 
 in at the circulating library there, and she thought 
 it might assist her in acquiring a knowledge of the 
 preliminaries of her future profession. 
 
 If not, she could at least while reading it have the 
 feeling of being almost a professional, while the 
 Lancet would probably afford gruesome titbits that 
 would be in harmony with her sombre frame of mind. 
 She went ^by the cliff, and coming down the path 
 into the town she saw Clifford a little way ahead. 
 He saw her too, and stopped and came towards her 
 at once and entered into conversation.
 
 JOAN FINDS WORK FOR HER HAND 201 
 
 " It's most awfully pleasant to see you, Miss Joan," 
 he said. " I haven't seen any of you for such a long 
 time." 
 
 His tone was warm and almost, you might say, 
 emotional ; nor could Joan be expected to guess that 
 the yearning note in it was due to the fact that he 
 felt a little nervous lest, hurrying on, she should 
 observe Miss Maine from the hotel, and guess what 
 was indeed the truth, that he had only just parted 
 company with that young lady. There was no harm 
 whatever in his going for a walk with Miss Maine, 
 of course, but at the same time he did not wish 
 Jocelyne to be informed of it, for the reason that 
 Jocelyne (though they did not meet now) was sending 
 him daily notes, expressive of her continued affection 
 for him, and of the progress she was making with 
 Illingborough, and she would not understand that a 
 man must also talk to somebody, if only to solace his 
 exile. 
 
 Joan, of course, could not be expected to guess all 
 this, and as a matter of fact his tone and manner 
 very favourably impressed her. Before, when 
 Jocelyne and he were always together, she had dis- 
 approved very highly of him and (but this was in no 
 way the cause of her disapproval) he had taken 
 almost no notice of her. Jocelyne 's appropriation 
 of Mr. Illingborough, suggesting to Joan the natural
 
 202 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 idea that she had thrown Mr. Clifford over or meant 
 to shortly, if she had not already done so gave to 
 the latter a colouring of pathos that had not hitherto 
 been noticeable. He was he must be in trouble. 
 She could tell that from his voice, even if she had 
 not known the predisposing causes. The temptation 
 to be a ministering angel, ever strong in Joan, over- 
 whelmed her ; and she even forgot the Nursing Notes. 
 
 " How do you do, Mr. Clifford ? " she said briskly. 
 " Yes, it is a very long time since we've seen you. 
 Haven't you been well or what is it ? " 
 
 " Oh, I don't know," said Clifford pleasantly, 
 astonished by her friendliness and awkwardly placed 
 by her questions. " One can't always do what one 
 wants, you know." 
 
 Joan nodded. He required sympathy, it was clear. 
 
 " The great thing is to be able to feel that it is other 
 people's faults and not our own," she said. That 
 was the great thing with Joan. She sailed over a 
 lot of troubles wafted by that feeling, and she believed 
 that it must help any one. " Next to that, I suppose," 
 she continued, " it is important to hope on, hope ever." 
 
 Clifford stole a glance at her face. What was the 
 perfect little prig up to ? She was apparently quite 
 serious, so he responded 
 
 " I expect you're right. I hadn't thought of it. 
 Another stunning day, isn't it ? "
 
 JOAN FINDS WORK FOR HER HAND 203 
 
 He had turned with her, and they were walking 
 together towards the little town. For a moment 
 Joan did not reply. His reference to the weather 
 bothered her. She had grown suspicious of references 
 to the weather when she was trying to comfort or 
 admonish people. It was an annoying way people had 
 of trying to evade the sympathy which they really 
 required without perhaps being aware of it. Joan 
 had to quell her kindliness often owing to some such 
 commonplace remark. But she was too much in 
 need at present of allowing her charitable impulses 
 free play to be put off by it. 
 
 "It is a beautiful day," she said softly. " I am 
 glad you can appreciate it. Of course Jocelyne is 
 very well." 
 
 " Is she ? " said Clifford, more puzzled than before. 
 
 Joan looked up at him earnestly 
 
 " Mr. Clifford," she said, " if I can help you, you 
 must tell me. Perhaps you think I haven't noticed, 
 but I have " 
 
 Clifford was startled. 
 
 " Noticed what ? " he said sharply. Was it poss- 
 ible, he asked himself, that she had got possession 
 of his secret in some way ? It was an unpleasant 
 notion. " Please explain," he said. 
 
 " Need I ? " said Joan, revelling in the thought 
 that she need. " Oh, Mr. Clifford, it is all so sadly
 
 obvious. But I fear Jos is like that. She has never 
 been of what you can call a loyal disposition. We 
 all have a weak spot in our characters, and I am 
 afraid that disloyalty is Jocelyne's. You must not 
 think too hardly of it." 
 
 She paused. Clifford had brightened his face was 
 quite changed already. She continued 
 
 " Only time will show what dear Jos really thinks 
 and feels. You see, Mr. Illingborough is somebody 
 new. He may not stay very long. Even if he 
 does, Jos may get tired of him ; or he may find 
 out that he has made a mistake. I think," went 
 on Joan succulently, " the man who will win her 
 and whom she will need will be one who is 
 patient and constant and willing to put up with 
 with " 
 
 " Her ups and downs ? " suggested Clifford, who 
 was beginning to relish the conversation. What a 
 superb little prig she was after all ! She might in 
 her bumptious innocence even be useful. 
 
 " Yes," said Joan, " her changes of mind, poor 
 Jos ! " The opportunity of thus taking Jocelyne, 
 all unwitting, under her moral patronage, was in- 
 toxicating delight to her. It made her more fluent 
 and earnest than ever. " I do not know if you are 
 that kind of man, Mr. Clifford ? " She turned her 
 solemn eyes on him.
 
 JOAN FINDS WORK FOR HER HAND 205 
 
 " I hope so," said Clifford modestly. " I shouldn't 
 like to say so, of course " 
 
 " No," said Joan. " But if you are, I should like 
 to help you, if I can." 
 
 Clifford protested his gratitude, and Joan realised 
 that she had previously been mistaken in him. He 
 was not the odious philanderer she and Mrs. Watterly 
 had thought. He was an honest and steadfast lover, 
 who had had the misfortune to fix his affections upon 
 a flirt. That fickle creature was her sister. Joan's 
 indignation against Jocelyne rose high, as she thought 
 of this. She decided that it was her duty to speak 
 to her before it was too late. The sooner a straight- 
 forward talk took place the better. It might be 
 useless, a waste of trouble but Joan was no econo- 
 mist of moral effort. And even if Jocelyne hardened 
 her heart, Mr. Illingborough would get more than an 
 inkling of whither she was leading him. 
 
 She arrived back somewhat late for supper, but 
 with every prospect of relishing the meal.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 THE EVE OF THE CHASE. JOAN REPULSED 
 
 NEVER had her father's conversation seemed so futile 
 to Anne as in the course of that meal for which she 
 had a little time before to the tune of Mrs. Odler's 
 gossip prepared the salad-dressing. Otter-hunting 
 was Mr. Wetherborne's theme, and no quarry was 
 ever done to death more thoroughly. 
 
 The subject had been started by reason of the fact 
 that there was to be a hunt the next morning, the 
 meet being arranged at no great distance from Storr 
 Court. Anne, as has been related, was going. She 
 had the love of hunting ingrained in her, and if she 
 ever considered the matter from the humanitarian 
 point of view, she was not inclined to do so to-night. 
 She craved excitement. A tiger-hunt on foot would 
 have suited her most completely. 
 
 Jocelyne and Illingborough were also going, but 
 they had qualms about it. Illingborough's were 
 real qualms, and Jocelyne's affected. She disliked 
 getting wet, and muddy, and having to rush about 
 
 of
 
 THE EVE OF THE CHASE 207 
 
 breathless, but for this occasion and for reasons not 
 eminently connected with it she also was for hunting. 
 She had, in fact, persuaded Illingborough to go, though 
 he was not aware of it and she pretended reluctance. 
 He felt reluctance, but candidly confessed to curiosity. 
 He had never seen an otter-hunt and would like to, 
 though he felt that he ought not to lend his counten- 
 ance to what must surely be a heartless sport. 
 
 Mr. Wetherborne, who liked to be modern and 
 civilised, developed the view that it was a brutal 
 sport. People, he said, ought to be ashamed to 
 follow it. He would not do it himself for anything 
 you could offer him. What had the poor otter done 
 that it should be hunted by a pack of men, women, and 
 hounds, whom it had never seen before, and would 
 never have the chance of seeing again ? The poor 
 otter had done nothing nothing at all. Of course 
 the brute was very destructive to fish, and ought to 
 be destroyed. Personally, he would like to have it 
 shot at sight, or trapped. It was mere vermin, and 
 the way it ripped up a fine fish and left it to waste was 
 disgusting to think of. It deserved no mercy. If we 
 must be merciful, let us be merciful to the fish which 
 gives good sport. Otter-hunting was wretched sport 
 at the best. Wading about in mud and water after a 
 lot of noisy hounds could not be called sport. It was 
 scarcely gentlemanly, and certainly not ladylike. It
 
 208 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 was also very apt to sow the germs of rheumatic fever. 
 For example, Mr. Wetherborne attributed the twinges 
 he occasionally felt in his left wrist to the soakings he 
 got when after otters in his youth. By Jove, he had 
 had some capital days, though. It was something 
 like hunting then. The rivers were deeper, the otters 
 were more plentiful, the hunting people were keener. 
 Now they put on a uniform and thought they knew 
 all about it. Mr. Wetherborne doubted if they did. 
 He thought he could give them a good many hints if 
 they came to him. Then followed a series of otter- 
 hunting anecdotes, all remarkable for the fact that only 
 by reason of Mr. Wetherborne's acuteness and inde- 
 fatigability had they been brought to a successful , 
 issue. 
 
 Anne snapped at him once or twice. She had a 
 headache, or something like it. Ordinarily she bore 
 her father's conversation in the most equable manner, 
 having come to the conclusion, as many women must, 
 though without denning it, that it is good exercise for 
 elderly gentlemen to talk, and keeps them in health, 
 and that there is no more reason to expect epigrams 
 from them, or even good sense, than from bees droning. 
 To-night it all got on her nerves, and she showed 
 it. Thereafter she was annoyed at what she took 
 to be Illingborough's disapproval of her ill-temper. 
 With him, instinctive respect for age and experience
 
 THE EVE OF THE CHASE 209 
 
 quelled the rebelliousness which he felt now and again 
 as a result of the shocks brought to bear by Mr. 
 Wetherborne upon his logical faculties that she felt 
 vaguely. What right had he to criticise her even 
 silently ? She was nothing to him. And in any case 
 he too was blind as a bat, as her father was. Well, 
 let him be. Let him think Jocelyne perfection, if he 
 chose. He seemed to have decided to. 
 
 If Anne could have known it, Illingborough's grave 
 appearance was due far more to inward doubts of 
 himself, than to any certainties he had of whom to 
 approve or disapprove. The past few days had only 
 impaled him further on the horns of his dilemma. 
 His avoidance of Anne had been instinctive rather 
 than deliberate. Ever since the rectory party he had 
 feared that he might become as biassed towards 
 her as Captain Hatton was, not that he suspected 
 himself of being in love with her. For one thing, 
 Captain Hatton had, so to speak, pegged out his 
 claim. For another, Illingborough himself would not 
 have dreamed of such a thing. Duty forbade it. 
 With none of the Wetherbornes could he possibly fall 
 in love. Lastly, he had never felt the emotion at least 
 not recognisably. It could not, he fancied, and also 
 resolved, be the sort of feeling he had towards Anne 
 of a kind of unbalanced admiration at odd moments 
 for some one whom in cold blood or at any rate in 
 14
 
 210 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 cold theory he could not and would not particularly 
 esteem. That sort of feeling was merely a weak- 
 minded deference to her unnameable charm. He 
 wished it were not unnameable, for if he could have 
 named it he would have been so much more certain 
 that his intellect was not clouding. She made his 
 brain misty. Yet he had to do her justice as well as 
 Jocelyne. 
 
 Jocelyne was so different. He was quite clear as to 
 her, or thought he was. Mrs. Odler thought otherwise, 
 it will be remembered ; and certainly in the matter of 
 the cake Illingborough had been deceived. So, perhaps, 
 in his willingness to think the most of people (which 
 became, in the case of Anne, a most strange unwilling- 
 ness), he was to some extent deceived by Jocelyne in 
 other matters, only to some extent, however. 
 
 He gave her the utmost credit for the virtues she 
 endeavoured to show herself possessed of amiability, 
 the desire to improve her mind, housewifely ability, 
 courtesy but he could now see behind them all the 
 mainspring of their action which was the wish to 
 please. That also was creditable, if as he naturally 
 supposed there was no plot behind. Still, though 
 the desire to please may produce virtues, in itself as 
 Illingborough recognised, it is not a virtue. There 
 was Jocelyne's weakness. 
 
 It was a weakness which, for the last day or two,
 
 THE EVE OF THE CHASE 211 
 
 had, however, made Illingborough uneasy, and he 
 had been thinking of it a good deal before supper. 
 Modesty absolutely forbade him to suppose that 
 Jocelyne could have become attracted by him. Illing- 
 borough reviewed his own limitations, and confirmed 
 the absolute impossibility of such a thing. A further 
 review of his acts and speeches since he had been at 
 the Sea House only strengthened this opinion. At the 
 same time he had to confess that if he were a conceited 
 puppy, he might have supposed that the painful 
 accident of her fancying most mistakenly, of course 
 that she liked him in that particular way had occurred. 
 He almost cut himself (he was shaving at the time) 
 under the shock of this admission, and blushed at 
 his own reflection in the glass. If it was so, he must 
 leave at once. It would be the only right thing to do, 
 the only chivalrous thing. 
 
 He could not then fulfil his commission, but that was 
 a small consideration comparatively. He had always 
 doubted his ability to fulfil it. In any case this new 
 development if it was a development and not the 
 phantasy of a brain in improper working order made 
 the task impossible. How could he pretend to give 
 an impartial judgement under such circumstances ? 
 
 He went down to supper uncertain whether he 
 should write first to Mr. Waterlane and ask him to 
 explain to Mr. Mortlake that he must resign his post,
 
 212 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 before he actually left, or whether he should go off 
 by some train to-morrow and explain the necessity 
 on his arrival. To a young man in such a quandary 
 Mr. Wetherborne's valuable disquisition on the hum- 
 anity of otter-hunting was naturally of a secondary 
 interest ; and though he listened with his ears, and 
 said " Yes " and " No " at intervals, he would have 
 found it difficult to give the smallest precis of Mr. 
 Wetherborne's argument. 
 
 Joan's arrival in the middle of the meal which 
 Mr. Wetherborne's delicate manner of cutting up 
 and eating lettuce, in the breathing spaces of his 
 conversation, threatened to render interminable 
 created a diversion, for Joan not only had some- 
 thing to say, like Mr. Wetherborne, but, unlike him, 
 was quite clear as to what that something was. 
 She took advantage of a dramatic pause on Mr. 
 Wetherborne's part, following on the account 
 of the mysterious escape actually between Mr. 
 Wetherborne's legs of the largest dog-otter that 
 he had ever seen that (in all probability) any one 
 had ever seen, to plunge in. 
 
 " I've been over to Porton Langley," she said 
 importantly. 
 
 " Had they a triumphal arch ready ? " inquired 
 Anne, not without spitefulness. She had a vague 
 desire to make Illingborough annoyed with her.
 
 THE EVE OF THE CHASE 213 
 
 " I don't know what you mean, Anne," said Joan, 
 in her matter-of-fact way. " I didn't see any arch, 
 and I don't see why there should have been one. 
 I met Mr. Clifford, poor man." 
 
 She fixed her eyes on Jocelyne, who gave her a 
 sweet smile. " Why ' poor man ' ? " she inquired care- 
 lessly. " You didn't massage him, did you ? " 
 
 The story of Mrs. Toop's screams under Joan's 
 handling had got about, much to Joan's annoyance, 
 as Jocelyne knew. Joan went very red. 
 
 " No, I didn't," she said, furious to hear Anne 
 sniggering and to see a faint smile even upon Illing- 
 borough's face. " I sympathised with him." 
 
 " Really ! " said Jocelyne. She had a sort of 
 presentiment that Joan was on the moral war-path, 
 and she was not anxious to have Clifford brought up 
 at that juncture of affairs. 
 
 ' You gave him a sort of spiritual massage, Joan ! " 
 said Mr. Wetherborne who sometimes perceived the 
 drift of a joke when it was not particularly opportune. 
 " I trust he did not scream ? " 
 
 " I sympathised with him," said Joan, scorning 
 her father's interruption, " because I think he needed 
 it." 
 
 " A capital reason capital ! " said Mr. Wether- 
 borne. " We all need it we do not all get it." He 
 sighed and helped himself to a small heart of lettuce.
 
 214 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 " Why I think he needed it," pursued Joan, looking 
 at Illingborough this time, " is because I believe he 
 is in love." 
 
 " Oh yes," said Illingborough. His mind had 
 gone off to the question of what day he should leave 
 whether to-morrow or not. Jocelyne, congratulat- 
 ing herself on his evident absent-mindedness, saw a 
 way of nipping Joan's intentions. 
 
 " I think you're right, Kid," she said. " It's that 
 Miss Hatton, I suppose. Eveiybody seems to be. 
 Odo is in a positively ridiculous state about her. 
 Poor Odo ! " She laughed, but Joan went redder 
 than ever. Jocelyne had indeed with great skill hit 
 the weak point in her armour. Joan had a vision of 
 Odo at the feet of that hateful, stiff, worldly London 
 woman, and the vision was followed by a choking 
 feeling. 
 
 " How how dare you say such a thing ? " she 
 said. " He isn't. Odo isn't." She glared about 
 her fiercely. 
 
 " Why not, why not ? " said Mr. Wetherborne, 
 cheerfully unaware that tender chords had been 
 touched. " Young men will be young men, and Odo is 
 a good-looking lad. Hallo ! Anything the matter ? " 
 
 Joan had suddenly got up from her chair, marched 
 out of the room, and banged the door behind her. 
 
 " I'll go and^see," said Jocelyne tactfully, and she
 
 THE EVE OF THE CHASE 215 
 
 followed Joan out as far as the passage. She knew 
 better than to go farther, and returned to the room 
 a minute or two later to explain that Joan was all 
 right. 
 
 " A passing touch of indigestion, I daresay," said 
 Mr. Wetherborne. " It was in her mother's family." 
 
 " I expect she got a little hot walking to Port on 
 Langley this afternoon," said Jocelyne, congratulat- 
 ing herself on the successful result of her skilful inter- 
 vention. Illingborough, she knew, had not noticed 
 it, and had only observed the sisterly way in which 
 she had gone to see after Joan, while Anne sat still 
 and scornful in her chair. It was rather an effective 
 contrast between them. What was Anne thinking 
 about it all ? Jocelyne did not know, but she knew 
 enough of Anne to know that she would not meddle 
 after Joan's fashion. Her indifference was the best 
 of Anne. 
 
 Altogether Jocelyne felt in great spirits. She felt 
 that things were going well with her, and that she 
 was born to scheme skilfully. She and Anne left 
 Illingborough with Mr. Wetherborne to hear more 
 of the remarkable dog-otter that had now become a 
 tradition with all a tradition's possibilities, and retired 
 to bed. They were to be up early to drive with the 
 mail-cart to Dants the farm near Storr Court where 
 the hunt was to meet.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 AN OTTER IS HUNTED 
 
 ILLINGBOROUGH had understood that Jocelyne and 
 Anne and he were to start together for the meet, and 
 he had looked forward to that arrangement. As a 
 square is the safest formation for repelling the onset 
 of a savage foe, so is a triangle the best security against 
 the attacks of a too insidious friendliness. 
 
 He had decided in his sleep partly and partly as 
 he dressed to write to Mr. Waterlane, stating his 
 determination to withdraw from the Sea House. 
 That would be more businesslike than leaving at a 
 moment's notice, and would appear less strange to 
 his hostesses. They could hardly be expected to 
 understand an absolutely sudden departure, and it 
 would involve discourtesy. Illingborough shrank from 
 discourtesy as much as from anything. Moreover, 
 the humility which conies with early rising, that feel- 
 ing of the unimportance of oneself which laps a man 
 in the grey dawn, had reacted upon him to such an 
 extent that he had almost persuaded himself that 
 
 ti6
 
 AN OTTER IS HUNTED 217 
 
 his uneasiness was unfounded. What he asked 
 himself could possibly be the attraction to a lovely 
 and charming young woman of such a shivering worm 
 as he felt himself to be ? 
 
 He came down to a dewy sunrise reminding him 
 of that first morning at the Sea House when Tom had 
 pointed out to him the pool where Anne was bathing 
 to find Anne at the breakfast-table, hastily gobbling 
 the last of that meal. She was in a green woollen 
 jersey, short skirt, and thick boots, and a long tipped 
 pole leaned against the chair beside her. She looked 
 most enviably fresh and awake. 
 
 " I hope I'm not late," said Illingborough, after 
 they had exchanged " Good-morning." 
 
 " No. Jos isn't down yet. The cart won't be at 
 the cross-roads for another half-hour." Anne got up 
 as she spoke and grasped her pole. " Begin, if you 
 like. There's the egg-boiler. I'm going on." 
 
 " Going on ? " echoed Illingborough, dismayed. 
 
 " Yes. I hate driving at this hour. Schrams you. 
 See you later, I daresay " 
 
 She nodded, and walked to the door. Illing- 
 borough, sleepy and miserable, made an effort to 
 detain her. 
 
 " Won't you get tired ? Or mayn't I go with you ? 
 I'd love the walk." 
 
 " You haven't had breakfast yet," she said. " And
 
 2i8 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 I can't wait. Besides, Jos is expecting you to go 
 with her " 
 
 " But she wouldn't mind. I don't want breakfast/' 
 His protest was eager, even beseeching. 
 
 Anne looked at him curiously. She seemed to 
 hesitate a moment. 
 
 " Yes, you do," she said finally, in her curtest way, 
 and walked out. The feeling that she had gone out 
 into the day while he was left behind in the darkness 
 and staleness of the night oppressed Illingborough, 
 striking him as it did not only in a literal but also 
 in an imaginative way, and he began boiling eggs in 
 as half-hearted a manner as a man can begin that 
 task. The most ardent disciple of Wordsworth may 
 sometimes feel that Dawn can depress as well as 
 uplift. Still, the secret of its power is that it cheers 
 as it proceeds, and even by the time the eggs were 
 boiled, Illingborough had become at any rate more 
 resigned. 
 
 Jocelyne, entering a moment later, contributed 
 somewhat unexpectedly to his enlivenment. He had 
 rather thought she would be as dull as himself, and 
 inclined to languor and querulousness. She entered, 
 on the contrary, in the sunniest of moods, and the 
 news of Anne's departure made her still more lively. 
 Her mock imperiousness became her. 
 
 " You'll have to do everything, then," she said,
 
 AN OTTER IS HUNTED 219 
 
 seating herself in a chair. " You've boiled some 
 eggs, have you ? Well, now you must make the 
 tea. You look very cold and wretched. You'll have 
 to run behind the cart, if you don't look warmer after 
 breakfast. Is this your passion for otter-hunting ? " 
 
 " I'm afraid I can't call it a passion," said Illing- 
 borough, rather glad to be made to work. 
 
 " All the better," said Jocelyne. " I shan't scruple 
 to make you look after me. I always get left behind, 
 but I shan't mind so much if you'll keep with me." 
 
 He wished then that he had not been in such haste 
 to disavow his hunting instincts, arid characteristically 
 made himself take sides against his own inclination. 
 
 " If I can be of any use," he said, " I shan't feel 
 such a helpless donkey as I know I shall look." 
 
 Jocelyne beamed upon him. 
 
 " You say that kind of thing just as if you meant 
 it ; but just think if I would let you escort me if 
 it were true ! " she said archly. " You'll be end- 
 lessly useful, for I'm a dreadful walker, and these 
 boots one has to wear only make me worse." 
 
 The boots in question were a high-laced kind with 
 lower heels than Jocelyne fancied. Whether it was 
 compulsory to have them both so new and so tight 
 was a matter Illingborough felt doubtful about, but 
 not competent to pass an opinion on. For the kind 
 of hunting she meant to do they were perhaps ade-
 
 220 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 quate, though even the walk to the cross-roads, where 
 they were to pick up the mail-cart, was rendered slow 
 by them, and the new laces came undone and had 
 to be retied twice. 
 
 Apart from the somewhat excessive gratitude she 
 showed for Illingborough's assistance on these occa- 
 sions, Jocelyne seemed to have forgotten her senti- 
 mentality of the past few days, and was even a little 
 absent-minded. Illingborough did not regret it. To 
 watch the twilight fading on every side into day, 
 the drenched grass twinkling from gossamer to pearl, 
 the hedge flowers lifting drooped heads and opening 
 shut eyes, to hear the herald birds and the whole 
 landscape beginning to buzz and quiver at the coming 
 of the sun, was pleasure enough without conversation. 
 
 The mail-cart, an antiquated vehicle with a box 
 for His Majesty's mail behind, and a plank bench 
 behind the driver's seat for passengers, would not 
 have broken the spell, in spite of an off-wheel having 
 " gone screaky," as the driver said, and vastly out- 
 twittering the birds in consequence, had it not been 
 that the driver himself, Josiah Topp by name, was a 
 garrulous old man with a sly insinuative manner that 
 Illingborough mistrusted. 
 
 " I han't seed yew go otter-hunten, Miss Jos'lin, 
 not these last tew years," he said, as soon as he had 
 established them safely on the plank behind him.
 
 AN OTTER IS HUNTED 221 
 
 " I did go t'reckin 'twaddn't in yew're line anny 
 more." 
 
 " Well, you were wrong, Josiah, you see," said 
 Jocelyne. 
 
 The old man turned and winked at Illingborough. 
 " Maybe 'tiddn't on'y the otter as draws missienow," 
 he said. 
 
 " Oh yes, it is, Josiah," said Jocelyne quickly, after 
 a quick glance at Illingborough's face. " We hope to 
 have a splendid day." 
 
 " So yew should, so yew should," chuckled the old 
 man. " For yew've started et fright way. Et minds 
 me o' the old song ' Hares on the mountains.' Yew 
 know et, sir ? " 
 
 " No," said Illingborough. 
 
 Mr. Topp began to quaver the first verse of that true 
 ditty 
 
 "If all yew young men were as hares on the mountain, 
 Then all yew young maidens would get guns, go a- 
 hunting." 
 
 " Take care the horses aren't startled," said Joce- 
 lyne, hoping to quell him by irony. But Mr. Topp 
 was no diplomatist, capable of detecting the very 
 whispers of breezes. He knew human nature and how 
 it liked to be rallied. 
 
 " Doan't yew be afeard. 'Tiddn't the first time 
 they've heerd music. Why, they dew know wedding
 
 222 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 marches by heart. Mr. Hidgecock, when he had 'em, 
 he used 'em for bridals he did. Times it was bridals, 
 times it was burials an' always steady, whichever 
 'twere." 
 
 " And now they carry the mails ? " said Illing- 
 borough, glad to seize any opportunity that promised 
 to lead Mr. Topp to other subjects. 
 
 " Parcelcesses and passengers," said Mr. Topp. 
 " Look at 'em a-steppin' out. Seem to know like as 
 it might be a happy couple they're a-carryin'." 
 
 There was no stopping him, and they had no relief 
 till Mr. Topp set them down two minutes' walk from 
 the meeting-place. They had only to cross a field to 
 look down on it, a place where the river widened out 
 to a shallow pebbly ford, with here and there a big 
 clean boulder, that leaned scornfully against the thin 
 swirl of water. Farther along, the banks rose and 
 closed to cliffs, and the river deepened and went with 
 a rush, and there was only a scramble way by rocks 
 and fallen stones, shadowed by tree-hung steepnesses. 
 
 The scene at the ford was picturesque, as are most 
 hunting scenes. There were several men in the hunt 
 garb proscribed by Mr. Wetherborne, carrying their 
 lengthy implements notched with the tale of perished 
 otters. Captain Hatton was among them, looking 
 broad and big, and in his element. He was talking to 
 Anne one of several ladies who were evidently in-
 
 AN OTTER IS HUNTED 223 
 
 tending to follow. She had her hands elapsed round 
 her pole and listened eagerly. There were boys and 
 hobbledehoys, and a terrier or two brought by their 
 private owners to see otter life, and terriers belonging 
 to the hunt, and the hounds themselves, woolly-maned 
 creatures, slow and clumsy, but river-lovers, eager to 
 begin and find their enemy, and give tongue to their 
 deep music as of horns blown and echoing in water- 
 caves. 
 
 Jocelyne and Illingborough must have been some 
 time on the road in spite of the way the horses had 
 " stepped," for, even as they came up, a signal was 
 given and the hounds went lumbering down stream. 
 
 " They're starting," said Jocelyne. " Don't you 
 think it would be best if we cut across to Nagley 
 Wynd ? They're bound to come that way, and it's 
 awful having to struggle along that bit of undercliff 
 where they are now." She had just caught a glimpse 
 of Clifford among the hunt followers, and thought it 
 as well they should not meet, at least, just yet. She 
 wanted Mr. Illingborough's attention concentrated 
 upon herself. 
 
 " Certainly," he said. " You know best. Your 
 sister appears to be wading already." 
 
 " Oh, Anne goes everywhere," said Jocelyne 
 scornfully. " She wouldn't miss a foot of it. We 
 shan't see much of her."
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 ILLINGBOROUGH IS CAUGHT 
 
 No sport is pursued through a lovelier diversity of 
 scenes than otter-hunting in a country of hills and deep 
 valleys and many streams. The river that runs in 
 such a country, now fast and now slow, hustling over 
 falls to drowse suddenly in deep pools, creeping from 
 these to opener spaces where the hurry and clatter 
 begins again, or between equal banks of greenest 
 meadowland mimicking the sober roll of the Thames 
 is in itself a model of changefulness. Dodge from one 
 such to another, and so on to a third, and through 
 again, testing their backwaters and marshy outlets, 
 and letting a short steep climb or breakneck downhill 
 scramble alone intervene between water and water, 
 and then while the one element prevails, the changes 
 that are rung upon it are infinite. 
 
 The hounds and the hunters pursued such a course, 
 and sometimes near by and sometimes far off Jocelyne 
 and Illingborough heard the hounds give tongue, or 
 saw them dipping and swimming. The particulars of 
 
 234
 
 ILLINGBOROUGH IS CAUGHT 225 
 
 the hound-work were lost upon Illingborough, though 
 now and again from some point of vantage Jocelyne 
 would vaguely remark that such and such a hound 
 was " feathering," or that another one roaring in the 
 shallows proclaimed a find. She talked at random of 
 " flashing," and " recovering," and swimming the foil, 
 and professed to distinguish between the sharp bell 
 notes of the foxhound and the deeper bugling of 
 the shaggy otter-hounds. She explained that some 
 hounds would swim all the time, while others would 
 not wet their feet but kept on the dry land, while the 
 pack were swimming their otter. " Skirters " they were 
 called, Jocelyne said ; and the name dwelt in Illing- 
 borough's mind, since it also in a way distinguished 
 Jocelyne from Anne. Only there was this additional 
 difference in Jocelyne's case, that she not only did not 
 care to wet her feet, but seemed unanxious even to 
 keep up with the Field. 
 
 It was due to this perhaps that when, after some 
 steady walking and false alarms and markings, an 
 otter was put down, and hunted for hours, Illing- 
 borough and Jocelyne generally seemed to be in 
 the wrong place. They came up just after stickles 
 had been formed, and when the people who had been 
 standing knee to knee across the river to keep the 
 poor quarry from getting through (as the dog-otter 
 had gone between Mr. Wetherborne's legs) were
 
 226 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 dispersing to re-form higher up or lower down. 
 Jocelyne justified her various movements by saying 
 that they should be very careful not to forge ahead 
 and perhaps spoil sport, though the members of the 
 Field did not seem to be so particular. Illingborough 
 had the satisfaction of hearing in the distance such 
 cries as " Hold hard," " Stand still," and so on, and 
 a good deal of exhilarating and no doubt sound 
 advice to mostly invisible hounds, but he could not 
 feel that he had taken much part in the pursuit. 
 The first kill occurred not so very far from them, 
 though they did not see it. 
 
 " That's the rattle," said Jocelyne, and Illing- 
 borough was not sorry that he had missed the 
 " Worry." Only he would have liked to come up 
 with the others and with Anne, and not always be 
 taking short cuts to where the Field didn't somehow 
 seem to be, or long circuitous walks to avoid deep 
 water. The country was very beautiful, but the 
 incessant walking to nowhere in particular, the 
 perpetual loitering followed by hurrying to catch up 
 people with whom they could not keep up, seemed 
 to him futile. He was rather glad when Jocelyne 
 announced that the Master would be pretty sure now 
 to call a halt for lunch. By going a little farther 
 down to where the bridge crossed the river they could 
 have come up with the Field, which was indeed in
 
 ILLINGBOROUGH IS CAUGHT 227 
 
 sight across a deep channel. It was scattering in 
 groups about to partake of sandwiches. But it 
 appeared that they two were to form a Field of their 
 own in which Jocelyne was the Master. 
 
 " It's so hateful picnicing in crowds, isn't it ? " she 
 said. She had seated herself as she spoke on a green 
 stone within easy reach of the river. " It's perfect 
 here." 
 
 Illingborough agreed, with forced politeness. " But 
 I'm afraid I'm rather dull company," he said. " Are 
 you sure you wouldn't prefer to cross over and join 
 them, and find out what they've been doing ? " 
 
 " Quite sure," said Jocelyne. ' They'll only be 
 talking their horrid sporting shop. You don't want 
 to hear that, I know." 
 
 " I'm afraid it wouldn't convey much to me," 
 Illingborough had to admit. " But I should rather 
 like, if you don't mind, trying to get close for a bit 
 later on, just to see how the hounds do work. I 
 suppose that must be the charm of the thing, though 
 of course I shouldn't appreciate it properly." 
 
 " We'll cross over, then, as soon as we've finished," 
 said Jocelyne agreeably. " They're sure to try the 
 Hack backwater next. But there's no hurry. How 
 my feet do ache ! " 
 
 " Are you sure," said Illingborough, " that you 
 wouldn't prefer me to see you home from here ? "
 
 228 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 " Oh no, I wouldn't spoil your day for anything," 
 said Jocelyne. 
 
 Nothing that Illingborough could urge would make 
 Jocelyne forego this unselfish attitude, which somehow 
 or other put him in the undesirable position of forcing 
 a footsore maiden to tramp the country, hours after 
 she was worn out, for his sole edification. It is 
 probable that she saw the advantages to be won 
 from this position more clearly than he saw the dis- 
 advantages, though he found himself becoming deeply 
 apologetic as well as reluctantly grateful almost 
 directly afterwards, and wished he had not mentioned 
 his curiosity to see the hounds at close quarters. 
 
 As it happened, moreover, Jocelyne's determination 
 not to keep him back resulted, curiously enough, in 
 achieving an unexpected delay. For, just as they 
 were about to start for the bridge, she conceived 
 the notion that the only way for her to qualify for a 
 real trudge with the hounds was to bathe her feet. 
 She besought Illingborough to go on and leave her 
 while she paddled. The others might start, she said, 
 while she was in the water, and she would not 
 delay him for anything. Illingborough would not, 
 of course, hear of this plan ; and therefore walked 
 up and down while Jocelyne let the water trickle 
 over her toes and splashed white ankles in the 
 sunshine. i
 
 ILLINGBOROUGH IS CAUGHT 229 
 
 He did not watch the performance, having taken 
 quite solemnly her request " not to notice," though 
 Heaven knows paddling is an innocent enough 
 matter. She was piqued into taking her time, viewed 
 only by a Kingfisher, and before her stockings were 
 on again and the boots, which seemed a little tighter 
 than before, were laced, the start by those on the 
 other side had been made. 
 
 She called to him at last that she was ready, and 
 got up panting with her efforts. 
 
 " Now we must run, if we've to catch them up ! " 
 she said, and was disgusted to find that he actually 
 expected her to run. The only consolation was that 
 running would get her into the fevered, excited state 
 in which she wished to be. 
 
 She had determined somehow or other to make 
 him propose to her that day, and she had fancied in 
 the beginning that it would be easy the amusement 
 of a summer's afternoon. She had planned it all 
 out his humble approach at her feigned gracious 
 encouragement, his stammered words, and her sweet 
 pretence of acceptance a half-real courtship rather 
 gratifying at the moment, and how laughable to 
 look back on afterwards. She might even feel a 
 little pity for him, if he were very devoted and 
 excessively humble. He was not the sort of man 
 she could in reality even half fall in love with, but
 
 230 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 she could enjoy and even feel kindly towards any 
 one's devotion. 
 
 And now he was turning out a regular stone. Her 
 conquest wasn't going to be easy at all, or in the 
 least amusing. She would have to do much more 
 than graciously lure him. How much more she 
 could not tell yet. 
 
 Now and then she took a sideways glance at him 
 as they ran together, following the distant music. 
 He looked as sober as ever, though he must be getting 
 hot. She bit her lip and increased the pace. 
 
 " Don't tire yourself too much," he said anxiously. 
 
 " I I'm not tired," gasped Jocelyne. " I want you 
 to see the fun." 
 
 They had crossed the bridge and the road that ran 
 alongside beyond it, and she pointed to a footpath 
 through a perpendicular piece of woodland that led 
 up from the one river-valley and sloped down into 
 the valley of the Hack beyond. 
 
 " That's our way," she said, between a smile and 
 sob. " Haven't we flown ! Pull me, please." 
 
 Illingborough received a hot small hand into his 
 own, and went ahead tugging. He was breathless 
 himself by the time they had got to the top a ridge 
 of firs and thin birches through which, away below, 
 was visible the silver wind of the Hack. There was 
 no sign of the hunt at first, but they had not paused a
 
 ILLINGBOROUGH IS CAUGHT 231 
 
 moment before the upstream valley to the left rang 
 with a full-throated chorus. 
 
 " They've found ! " said Jocelyne. " We shall 
 just be in time. They're on the other side. Come 
 on!" 
 
 She darted ahead of him, with a look that somehow 
 seemed to challenge him. To what ? Lumbering in 
 her wake, he wondered, and felt his uneasiness of 
 the night before rising again. Why had he not 
 taken precautions not to be alone with her ? If he 
 was not careful, he might very easily, it seemed 
 and without any intention on his part, it also seemed 
 do or say something that would confirm in her a 
 notion that he entertained feelings which he was quite 
 positive he did not entertain a notion which, seeing 
 in what a very painful position it would place her and 
 in what a very awkward position it would place him- 
 self, he would not willingly, for anything that could 
 be offered him, think of confirming. Trying to plan 
 some commonplace way out of this predicament, and 
 little thinking that his fate was upon him, Illing- 
 borough arrived at the brink of the Hack. 
 
 Jocelyne had got there first, and she stood as if 
 waiting for him. 
 
 " It's deep," she said, " isn't it ? " 
 
 " I'm afraid it is," said Illingborough, wading in. 
 The water threatened to come up to his waist. " I'm
 
 232 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 afraid it's too deep for you," he added, preparing to 
 come back. 
 
 She looked at him. 
 
 " Could you carry me ? " she asked softly. 
 
 " May I ? " said Illingborough. His politeness 
 had not forsaken him, but his luck had. She came 
 to the edge of the water and held up her arms to him 
 in a helpless, self-surrendering way. 
 
 " If you would like to," she said, and the next 
 moment he had her in his arms and was blundering 
 across the stream with a sensation as though some one 
 had hit him over the head with a club. In this 
 mentally stunned condition he became conscious 
 that her hair was in his face and her arms about his 
 neck, and that she was whispering to him that she 
 was not frightened. He was frightened of what 
 would happen when the opposite bank was reached. 
 She was no weight, but the traverse of the little stream 
 seemed interminable. He came up out of it feeling 
 like a man in a dream, she still clinging to him and 
 now whispering that she knew he had loved her all 
 the time. Whether in a dream or no Illingborough 
 was a man, and there seemed to be no help for this 
 amazing error except one. He put her down gently 
 on the little green slope of bank. Then he asked her 
 to be his wife.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 THE FEELINGS OF AN ENGAGED MAN 
 
 NEITHER could have told the other exactly how 
 long they stayed on that little grassy slope of bank 
 where Illingborough had set Jocelyne down ; and 
 they might have been excused this inexactitude of 
 knowledge, for if they passed through less tumult of 
 feeling than real lovers, the tumult in any case was 
 not small. 
 
 Jocelyne's emotion took the form of fear at what 
 she had done, and no little shame, alternating with 
 gratification at the prospect of ambitions shortly to 
 be realised, and anxiety lest something should go 
 wrong. She had done so much more meanly than 
 she had expected to have to do that her modesty 
 long suppressed threatened to rise and rend her. 
 Again, what remained to be done began to bulk 
 enormous and depress her with its immensity. Was 
 it all going to be worth while ? And could she go 
 on pretending ? She thought at first that she 
 could not, and found that she had given herself
 
 234 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 less credit for ability to play a part than she 
 deserved. 
 
 The discovery did not prevent her from being angry 
 with Illingborough, whom she had meant to pity. 
 It was he who was forcing her to go on pretending. 
 Why couldn't he leave her alone and go away ? She 
 reflected that he was pretending too, so far as that 
 went. She forgot that he was pretending at the 
 sacrifice of himself, while she was pretending for 
 her own petty sake ; and, forgetting this with an 
 agility amazing in a young girl, she found it easier 
 than she had expected to go on pretending. She 
 needed to do that, because in truth he did not pretend 
 whole-heartedly. He ought she considered to have 
 pretended to think himself the luckiest man in the 
 world, instead of explaining, tediously and lengthily 
 (oh, how she hated that tedious manner of his, so 
 different from Clifford's !), that he ought not to have 
 proposed to her as he did (as though he could help 
 it !) because, although he trusted that his income 
 would be sufficient to keep them in moderate comfort, 
 it was not a large one, and he would never, he feared, 
 be able to provide her with the luxuries that perhaps 
 she had a right to expect. Why didn't he mention 
 her uncle's fortune when he must know that she 
 would now inherit it who else ? and that wives 
 usually shared their money with their husbands ?
 
 THE FEELINGS OF AN ENGAGED MAN 235 
 
 She was not going to marry him, of course, and she 
 did him the justice, even while she was getting angry 
 and angrier at his platitudes, to be certain that no 
 thought of that fortune had induced him to make 
 the offer of marriage. That she repeated con- 
 temptuously to herself he could not help. But 
 why could he not mention the fortune, seeing that it 
 was the one thing of real interest to her ? 
 
 He came no nearer to it and she was not ready 
 as yet to cajole him nearer than in saying that 
 there was one thing in particular which made his 
 proposal not only, he was afraid, inopportune, but 
 also unfair in many ways, both to her and to others, 
 and he must ask her to remember that, for it might 
 make a great difference to her feeling for him, and 
 in any case they must talk it over very seriously, 
 though not now. 
 
 Naturally, Jocelyne had to pretend that nothing 
 would make any difference in her affections, and 
 that she was in no way curious. Illingborough 
 thanked her gratefully, though not with the effusion 
 of a lover. He could not indeed evoke even the 
 ghost of a lover's feeling. Now less than ever did 
 that ecstasy which the poets speak of which makes 
 the grass seem greener and the birds more melodious 
 and the sun a dazzling bewilderment possess him. 
 He felt, on the contrary, intensely practical in a dismal
 
 236 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 way, as though he might be an undertaker arranging 
 the details of his own interment. He tried to rid 
 himself of this selfish feeling. She poor girl was 
 to be pitied, and not he. A man has his work to do 
 in the world, and can dispense with love. He had 
 dispensed with it so far. Not she. She, by some 
 extraordinary fatality, had bestowed her love upon 
 a man who had no conception of love who seemed 
 incapable of it. 
 
 A sudden vision of Anne, as he had first seen her, 
 rising from the sea, swept his brain. If he had 
 carried her across the river, and felt her hair in his 
 face, and heard her whisper ? 
 
 The vision was stifled, and tingling with what he 
 took to be shame at his unbridled thoughts, Illing- 
 borough addressed himself to the decent arrangement 
 of his life's remains. The future would take that 
 funereal aspect. But he could be sure of making a 
 model husband, ecstatics apart. He could devote 
 himself to Jocelyne without fear of wearying. He 
 was not, he felt sure, the sort of man to marry and 
 desert her. Otherwise, even at the risk of outraging 
 her maiden love, he would explain now what a mistake 
 the whole thing was. 
 
 He almost wished that he was not so sure of his 
 ability to do his duty, and tried to persuade himself 
 that he was mistaken, and did not succeed.
 
 THE FEELINGS OF AN ENGAGED MAN 237 
 
 They talked spasmodically, and not of the things 
 that Illingborough had somehow expected from his 
 occasional readings of the literature of the affections. 
 She did not, for example, want to know when he had 
 first loved her, or how much he did so, or why. If 
 she had wanted to know, he felt sure that he would 
 have made some blunder that would have revealed 
 the inadequacy of his feelings. His relief at not being 
 questioned was tempered by his desire to be found 
 out ; but, as the moments went by and the chances 
 of the latter waned, the feeling of relief became pre- 
 dominant. It is a relief of a kind to know that, 
 though one's future will be grey and blank, it will 
 not be spent on the edge of hideous precipices, in a 
 nightmare temptation to cry out words that must 
 not be spoken because they make existence unthink- 
 able and dishonoured. 
 
 Otter-hunting the subject to which they had 
 reverted might be supplemented in the course of 
 time by other topics in which they were, or could 
 become, mutually interested such as house-furnishing, 
 the affairs of friends, politics. Many fascinating little 
 points often arise in the course of a lawyer's business. 
 These he could jot down, and talk over with Jocelyne 
 during the long winter evenings. 
 
 They had got back to otter-hunting mainly for the 
 reason that, both being eager to find something to say
 
 238 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 that should give them an excuse for talking of things 
 that did not matter, the distant cry of the hounds 
 had simultaneously appealed to them. Jocelyne 
 asked if Illingborough could now distinguish the fox- 
 hounds' note. Illingborough fancied he could not, 
 and then fancied he could. Was that because they 
 were coming nearer ? It seemed that they were. 
 They had passed up the valley at first and out of 
 earshot ; now it was becoming clearer and clearer 
 that they were returning. The fact reminded Illing- 
 borough that they two were not for ever alone upon 
 the face of the earth. He had had a sort of feeling 
 that they were alone not indeed the feeling of the 
 lover who exults in it, but rather a vague, desperate 
 Robinson-Crusoe sort of feeling. The prospect of 
 other people coming up at once stimulated and con- 
 fused him. Jocelyne had begun to look thought- 
 ful. An audible cry of " Down water," showing 
 quarry was coming down stream, moved her to 
 speak. 
 
 " They'll be here in a minute," she said. " What 
 shall we do ? " 
 
 " Go back before they arrive ? " said Illingborough, 
 though his heart fell as he proposed it. 
 
 " No," said Jocelyne. " There's hardly time, for 
 one thing. Besides, I want you to see some of it. 
 I'm afraid I've spoilt your otter-hunting for to-day,"
 
 THE FEELINGS OF AN ENGAGED MAN 239 
 
 she smiled gently, " and I feel that I must try 
 and make up for it. You can go on from here with 
 them, and I shall go back by myself when they've 
 passed." 
 
 " I couldn't think of allowing that," said Illing- 
 borough chivalrously. 
 
 " But I wish it," she said. " I don't want you to 
 come back with me." 
 
 She spoke so positively that though it seemed a 
 curious state of affairs to Illingborough in spite of 
 its representing his own sentiment he could not but 
 believe her. 
 
 " You really mean it ? " he asked. " I don't care 
 twopence about the hunting." 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 " Really and truly," she said. " Oh, listen, they're 
 coming. There's only one thing more. We needn't 
 tell everybody about it, need we ? I mean, tell them 
 we're engaged." 
 
 " Do you wish nobody to be told at all ? " asked 
 Illingborough. 
 
 " Well, perhaps we shall have to tell my family, 
 but no one else." 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " Hark ! " 
 
 The hunting cries that Illingborough had heard 
 before were coming towards them merrily. There
 
 240 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 were appeals to the hounds to " Try for him," 
 " For'ard on," " Mark him there " things that grew 
 to a mild babel as they came nearer. 
 
 " Oh, look ! " said Jocelyne. " They're on a drag 
 again. Oh, I saw the otter. Tally-ho ! " 
 
 Whether Jocelyne had seen him vent or not, she 
 would have tallied in her excitement, but in any case 
 the Field was well up. Now on either side of the 
 river came the hubbub of the hunt, people striding 
 along the bank, splashing along the edge of the water 
 singly, in couples, in groups excited, noisy, 
 hustling. Illingborough, as he watched, saw Captain 
 Hatton pass, also Anne and Miss Hatton to- 
 gether. 
 
 " Please go ! " said Jocelyne. She had just caught 
 sight among the followers of the hunt coming along 
 her bank of the Hack of somebody whom she wished 
 particularly to speak to. How senseless Mr. Illing- 
 borough was ! Why would he not go when she bade 
 him ? She waved her hand at him peremptorily, 
 and his hesitations vanished ; and he hurried along 
 the bank to jo.'n the others. While he was still in 
 view but with his back turned, the person she had 
 noted came up with Jocelyne. 
 
 " I want to walk home with you," she said, in a 
 low voice. " Go on a little and then come back. It's 
 no use everybody seeing everything."
 
 THE FEELINGS OF AN ENGAGED MAN 241 
 
 Clifford obeyed her with a smile and went on. 
 
 Jocelyne stood where she was, and waved her hand 
 again to Illingborough as he turned to look back at 
 her. He also went on and was soon lost with the 
 hunt in the dip of the valley. 
 
 16
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 ANNE WALKS HOME ALONE 
 
 THE second kill ended the day's sport. From that 
 flurry in a bleak pool where now only a few rays of 
 the setting sun came (and the last otter fought gamely 
 against hounds made keen with the blood of his 
 predecessor) Illingborough kept aloof. He had a great 
 pity for the poor creature, for all poor creatures, 
 and if he had hunted it with the rest, it was with no 
 desire to take its life. The chase had not excited 
 him ; he had followed blindly like a sheep following 
 a flock. The going had not even roused him from 
 the stupid state into which he had drifted since leaving 
 Jocelyne. 
 
 He had not spoken to Anne since he had joined the 
 hunt, though he had walked beside her at times and 
 behind her at others ; and when he found her close to 
 him on the bank above the pool, he only felt rather 
 glad to know that she also had no desire to watch 
 the otter's death, and he experienced no particular 
 wish to talk to her. It was indeed with an effort, 
 
 242
 
 ANNE WALKS HOME ALONE 243 
 
 and because silence seemed strained, that he addressed 
 her a remark to the effect that he hoped the poor 
 beast would get away. He did not speak with any 
 enthusiasm. Anne nodded. 
 
 " But I don't suppose he will," she said. 
 
 " One never does," said Illingborough hoarsely ; 
 and then, conscious that that must sound curious 
 coming from a man recently plighted which she would 
 shortly know him to be added irrelevantly, " I mean, 
 it's all been very interesting " 
 
 Anne looked at him sharply. She had never heard 
 him talk like that before or look like that. A man 
 never looks his nattiest at the end of an otter-hunt. 
 Earth and water have combined to exact from him 
 some of the sport that he has sought from the otter. 
 Illingborough had had his share of wading. He 
 was splashed with mud. But so were all the other 
 men. So was Anne herself, for that matter. Looking 
 at him, she became aware that it was not his outward 
 appearance that gave him so much the look of a man 
 who has been in the sloughs. It was the dazed 
 expression of his eyes. He was not an excessively 
 good actor, though in an emergency no one probably 
 would try harder. 
 
 " Anything the matter ? " she said curtly, as he 
 stood looking away from her. 
 
 " No," said Illingborough. " That is to say yes
 
 244 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 I mean " ; he sought at the back of his brain for the 
 right word " I'm I'm the luckiest of men." 
 
 " You don't somehow look it," she said. Her glance 
 was as steadfast as before, and her voice as calm, 
 though inside her some instinct was hammering a 
 warning on her heart. " Why ? " she asked. 
 
 " Your sister " said Illingborough " your 
 sister " 
 
 " Jos ? " said Anne, and knew the worst before he 
 spoke. 
 
 " has consented to do me the honour of promising 
 to become my wife." Even in his stupor the pro- 
 prieties of expression were thoughtfully and duly 
 enunciated by Illingborough. He would have tried 
 to thank courteously the fireman who was sliding 
 with him through dense smoke down a fire-escape. 
 " I can never thank her sufficiently," he added, after 
 a momentary cast for the right phrase. 
 
 " I shouldn't try, then," said Anne. 
 
 It was so exactly what she would have replied to 
 him in normal circumstances, and Illingborough was 
 so used to her brusqueness, that even if he had been 
 in a critical mood he would not have noted that for 
 this occasion only it was mistrust of her voice that 
 made her so sharply short. He went on clumsily 
 
 " Of course I do not consider Jocelyne bound. Mr. 
 Wetherborne may not sanction an engagement which
 
 ANNE WALKS HOME ALONE 245 
 
 he cannot think in any way an advantage to his 
 daughter." 
 
 If he hoped that she would second this somewhat 
 improbable account of her father's attitude he was 
 disappointed. 
 
 " He will say, ' Really ? Jocelyne ! Dear me ! ' 
 said Anne. She had a feeling of rebellion against the 
 parent who would so lightly and indifferently accept so 
 great a fact, as though he were in some way responsible 
 for what had come about. 
 
 Then she remembered it was Jocelyne who had 
 controlled, and would control, the situation for an 
 end sordid and selfish enough, if that story of Tom's 
 were true. For a moment she hated Jocelyne. Why 
 could she not have taken that fortune which was 
 nothing to Anne, and left her what ? All the world 
 in one sense and in another nothing. What, after 
 all, could Jocelyne have left ? She could take Illing- 
 borough away, but she could not in any case have 
 given him to her Anne. 
 
 A man's love that love that had so puzzled her 
 was like the wind. It blew where it listed ; and it 
 had never listed her way. Mr. Illingborough thought 
 nothing of her. Why should he, indeed ? 
 
 Seeing herself, as she supposed, with his eyes, she 
 saw that she could never have been Jocelyne's rival' 
 and her hatred of her sister died away, leaving only
 
 246 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 that slight scorn which Jocelyne's methods always 
 evoked in her. What did it matter, after all ? Some 
 one less cunning might have caught him. She would 
 have preferred that it should have been some one who 
 would take him far away, so that she should never 
 see him again or see her in his arms. Otherwise, it 
 did not greatly concern her if it were Jocelyne or 
 another. In the end he would have wanted as men 
 do some one clinging and tender, some one beautiful, 
 some one that had more of the woman in her than Anne 
 could boast or, up to that moment, had ever wished 
 to boast. Even now and for that end she could 
 not picture herself with sidling eyes and outstretched 
 arms and fond words, such as women use, making 
 strength out of their weakness, for the trapping of 
 men. 
 
 She came back from these thoughts to a conscious- 
 ness that she must get away from him. It appeared 
 that he was still talking, in his rambling, self- 
 deprecatory fashion, about the little he had to offer, 
 and the sort of men Jocelyne might have looked 
 for. 
 
 " Oh, it's all right," she said, with a sort of tolerant 
 impatience. " I don't think you need anticipate all 
 sorts of obstacles that don't at present exist. You 
 aren't a millionaire, perhaps, or a Lord Chief Justice, 
 or even a senior partner, but I don't know that Joce-
 
 ANNE WALKS HOME ALONE 247 
 
 lyne ever expected one. Anyhow, she's probably 
 turned things over, you know." 
 
 " Do you think so ? " said Illingborough anxiously. 
 
 "I'm certain of it," said Anne. " And now I must 
 be going. You don't seem to have Jocelyne with 
 you ? " 
 
 " She felt that she wanted to be by herself," Illing- 
 borough explained. " Are you not going on with the 
 Hunt ? " 
 
 " They're chucking it." 
 
 There were indeed signs of men and hounds coming 
 up on to the bank in the leisurely, easy way signifying 
 that the strain of their sport was over. 
 
 " Then may I," Illingborough said, with melan- 
 choly eagerness, " have the pleasure of seeing you 
 back ? " 
 
 Anne shook her head. It was the last thing she 
 wanted, though she could not explain why to him. 
 
 " No, thank you," she said. 
 
 " I should most awfully like to," he pleaded, and she 
 could have struck him in the face for his blindness. 
 She only said in her level voice 
 
 " Sorry not to oblige. But I have an escort. You're 
 only about three miles from the house. Take the first 
 stile on the left, and you'll hit the Mazinghope road. 
 The left ! Not the right ! " 
 
 She watched him go off rather like a blind man
 
 248 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 without his dog, and was about to take another 
 road herself for she had not, as she had told him, 
 arranged an escort when Captain Hatton came up 
 to her. 
 
 " Won't you come and have some tea ? " he said. 
 " There's an inn quite close. Several of the people are 
 going my sister for one." 
 
 " I'd rather get back, thank you," said Anne. 
 
 " Really ? I'll walk a bit of the way with you, if 
 I may. Decent day, eh ? Two of 'em ! About the 
 best sport they've ever had here, I should say." He 
 walked on beside her, a self-contained, easy, vigorous, 
 cheerful man. Tactful too, for when Anne said, 
 " Oughtn't you to see to your sister ? " scarcely know- 
 ing herself that her desire to be alone expressed itself 
 in her tone, though not at all in her words, he seemed 
 to have understood. 
 
 " If you'd like me to," he said at once. " I'd 
 rather escort you, if I may for several particular 
 reasons." 
 
 She was not sure what he meant, and felt worried, 
 and looked it. 
 
 " Say you find me a nuisance, and I'm off at once," 
 he said lightly, and added, " It's for you to say, Miss 
 Anne. But anything that you say will mean a great 
 deal to me." 
 
 She knew then what was in his mind, and answered
 
 ANNE WALKS HOME ALONE 249 
 
 gravely, " If it's only the walk you want, please 
 come, and I should like it." 
 
 He stopped directly. 
 
 " It isn't only the walk," he said, and without 
 more ado made his proposal. 
 
 What amazed her as she listened was that suddenly 
 she was completely understanding things that only 
 a few hours before had been nothing but a puzzle to 
 her. She had thought this man only yesterday the 
 victim of a queer ailment of gallantry that itch to 
 philander which she had noted indeed in many men 
 and girls but thought of as something absurd and 
 weak and temporary. Now she knew that he loved 
 her, and that love is terrible and great and makes 
 all the years of a man's life uplifted or overcast. 
 
 There are those who, having seen that sun without 
 flinching, can yet face unlighted prospects and can 
 credit others with their own courage. Anne was 
 among them. Otherwise, in her pity she might have 
 been drawn to promise what she could not fulfil. He 
 was eloquent and sincere, and made her feel that on 
 her answer to him most of his hopes and all of his 
 ambition depended so he said and seemed to believe. 
 He took her " No " standing up, though she gave him 
 to understand that the refusal was unconditional and 
 that neither soon nor late was there any hope of her 
 surrender. She did not tell him that she liked and
 
 250 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 admired him, though these were facts. Never fluent, 
 she knew that there were no words that could make 
 black at that moment seem to be any other colour. 
 Nor did she delay the necessary parting. 
 
 She was conscious that she had never felt so tired 
 as she did that evening walking home alone.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 MR. WETHERBORNE IS TRIED. JOAN IS ROUTED 
 
 AT the hour of 11.20 on the morning following the 
 otter-hunt Mr. Wetherborne might have been observed 
 making his way leisurely but in a distinctly aggrieved 
 frame of mind towards Porton Langley. Over- 
 night, he had given his consent to Jocelyne's engage- 
 ment, using very much the language Anne had in her 
 bitterness prophesied. 
 
 " You want my little Jocelyne ! You surprise me, 
 my dear boy," Mr. Wetherborne had said, laying 
 down his newspaper and swiftly taking it up again. 
 " I had no idea of such a thing positively." 
 
 " But you can trust her to me?" said Illingborough, 
 in a voice that faltered. 
 
 " Of course ! Of course ! " said Mr. Wetherborne. 
 " I shall miss my little housekeeper sadly, but Mrs. 
 Odler will do her best. And I have the greatest 
 confidence in you. There is no doubt you understand 
 one another." 
 
 Illingborough thanked him. He could not help 
 
 251
 
 252 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 being aware that Mr. Wetherborne would have said 
 precisely the same thing if anybody else had asked 
 him for Jocelyne, or if he himself had requested the 
 hand of either Anne or Joan. With equal geniality 
 Mr. Wetherborne would have resigned any one or 
 indeed all of his daughters, and would have reposed 
 an equally flattering confidence in any suitor that 
 happened to turn up. It would have been wrong 
 to wish that his future father-in-law was one of those 
 who delight in making their daughters' marriage a 
 prolonged obstacle race, yet Illingborough could have 
 desired that Mr. Wetherborne had, instead of bringing 
 out a bottle of champagne to drink his and Jocelyne's 
 future prosperity, been willing to enter into the ways 
 and means that make for prosperity. 
 
 Mr. Wetherborne, on the other hand, could not 
 understand Illingborough's insistence upon the dis- 
 cussion of such vulgar matters as income, profession, 
 and the date of marriage. Over his glass he waved 
 them away. 
 
 " Yes, yes, my dear boy, but we all have to make 
 a start," he said. " I had to myself. Here is long 
 life to you ! " 
 
 Fortified by his wine, he was under the impression 
 that he had quieted Illingborough's scruples, and his 
 disgust was great when he found, on coming down 
 to a late breakfast in the morning, Illingborough
 
 MR. WETHERBORNE IS TRIED 253 
 
 waiting for him with an earnest face, to request an 
 interview from him. 
 
 " But we talked it all over last night," said Mr. 
 Wetherborne pettishly. 
 
 " Not everything," said Illingborough. 
 
 " Oh, I think so," said Mr. Wetherborne, pouring 
 himself a cup of coffee. " I should say so, from what 
 I remember. We talked a long time, my dear boy. 
 You've forgotten. It's the natural excitement of the 
 thing. Where is the little witch who is responsible ? " 
 
 But Illingborough was not to be put off in that 
 airy manner. 
 
 " She has gone for a short walk. I told her that 
 
 " Not quarrelled, I trust?" interrupted Mr. Wether- 
 borne lightly. 
 
 " No," said Illingborough. They had indeed 
 neither quarrelled nor renewed the temporary ardour 
 of that moment in which they had so unexpectedly 
 plighted themselves the previous day, but had as it 
 were reserved themselves during the few minutes 
 they had been together at the breakfast table for 
 something that was to come later. Neither Anne 
 nor Joan had been present, which made it easier to 
 chat at random. " I told Jocelyne," Illingborough 
 went on, " that there is one thing in particular I 
 must explain to her before I can feel that she really
 
 254 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 knows me. She asked me to tell it to her when she 
 came back from her walk. I agreed to that because 
 I thought it best on the whole to tell you first." 
 
 The length and austerity of his future son-in-law's 
 speech alarmed Mr. Wetherborne. 
 
 " Have it out with Jocelyne, my dear boy," he 
 said hastily. " Don't bother about me. I am not 
 curious. Never was. I can remember that virtue 
 call it vice if you will attracting the attention of 
 my old friend, General Hayling.. Hayling had a shoot 
 somewhere in the Highlands, as I happened to know 
 though not exactly where and he invited me up by 
 telegram. As it happened, he forgot to put his name 
 or address to it. I didn't bother about that took 
 the Northern Express for the nearest station to the 
 telegraph office, and turned up in due course. Hayling 
 was astonished. ' Didn't you want to know,' he said, 
 ' who'd asked you ? ' ' No,' I replied. ' I have 
 several excellent friends in the Highlands and if 
 you'd denied the invitation, I should have tried the 
 others in rotation.' Curious ! " 
 
 " Very ! " said Illingborough. " About this other 
 matter, I intend to tell Jocelyne in any case. But 
 I think you should know of it too. Of course I won't 
 disturb you at breakfast." 
 
 " That's it," said Mr. Wetherborne, relieved. " No 
 business at breakfast. A capital rule."
 
 MR. WETHERBORNE IS TRIED 255 
 
 " Then perhaps I may come and find you in an 
 hour ? " 
 
 " Well if you must," said Mr. Wetherborne. 
 "I'll come to your room at 11.30 if I may," said 
 Illingborough. 
 
 The decision in his voice was so great, and the 
 prospect of a serious interview so portentous, that 
 after balancing the comparative evils of the two 
 courses Mr. Wetherborne decided that it would 
 be better to hurry over his breakfast and go out for 
 the day than take his usual time and be caught in 
 his room. He had often before found procrastination 
 a great help to him. 
 
 Hence the possibility, for any one on that road 
 himself, of observing Mr. Wetherborne at 11.20 a.m. 
 proceeding in a leisurely way, but in a highly aggrieved 
 state of mind, towards Porton Langley. 
 
 Hence also the failure of Illingborough, when he 
 went to his room at the appointed hour, to find him. 
 It was a hot, breathless day, with thunder in the 
 air, and Illingborough, who had only had a few hours 
 of sleep and these broken by nightmares such as he 
 had never experienced before felt the unwonted 
 stupidity of the previous afternoon gaining upon 
 him again. What was he to do ? Wait for Mr. 
 Wetherborne's return, which might not be, he realised, 
 before evening, or tell Jocelyne as soon as she came
 
 256 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 in of the strange commission which had brought him 
 to the Sea House ? 
 
 He would have liked advice upon the matter. 
 Again, he would have liked some one to assure him 
 that he was right in revealing his secret at all. He 
 thought that he was right. A grader wrong would 
 be done by keeping it. And after all, secrecy had 
 not been enjoined on him as witness Mr. Mortlake's 
 cynical words. The gravest wrong of all had really 
 been his acceptance of the instructions for apart 
 from the lowering thereby of the standards of pro- 
 fessional conduct, he had by his own inefficiency 
 by his inability to maintain the attitude of a judge 
 grievously wronged two people. Jocelyne he had 
 condemned to a loveless marriage, Anne to the loss of 
 a fortune. For somehow he knew now that if there 
 was any justice in the thing at all Anne was the 
 rightful heiress. An ideal judge would have given 
 the verdict in her favour. He himself far from 
 ideal as he was had given it unconsciously, and he 
 was conscious that he had given it rightly. But he 
 was not fit to pronounce it. 
 
 Therefore he had robbed Anne, and this he must 
 confess. His confession to Jocelyne must be that 
 though he had asked her to marry him, he considered 
 Anne greater than her. 
 
 It did not strike Illmgborough, in spite of his all-
 
 MR. WETHERBORNE IS TRIED 257 
 
 consuming modesty, that this confession might alter 
 Jocelyne's regard for him. Possibly he had under- 
 cultivated the humorous sense. Certainly he con- 
 templated the confession merely as an act of fairness 
 towards her. He must tell her since it was bound 
 to come out that his judgement pronounced the 
 sentence which a life's devotion and patience and 
 gratitude would endeavour to atone for. The grati- 
 tude, devotion, and patience would of course be some 
 slight return for the affection she had granted to the 
 most unworthy person who, being far below her 
 himself in every possible way (and really Illingborough 
 went to zero in his own estimation), had the unfortunate 
 perspicuity to notice that she was not, as it were, on 
 the highest peak of all. 
 
 Martyrs are said at times to have hugged their 
 stakes. Illingborough, on the contrary, had one of 
 the strongest impulses he had ever felt to disappear 
 from the Sea House and bury himself in the remotest 
 corner of the world before Jocelyne came in. It is 
 tolerably certain that his life's training would have 
 got the better of this impulse in any case, but, as 
 it happened, he was prevented from carrying it into 
 effect by meeting Joan in the hall. She was sorting 
 out the morning's letters which the postman had just 
 delivered. 
 
 " Good - morning, Mr. Illingborough," she said. 
 17
 
 258 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 " There is a letter here for you. After you have read 
 it, I should like to speak to you, if you can spare me 
 a moment or two." 
 
 " Certainly, with pleasure," said Illingborough, 
 and apologised for reading his letter first. He had 
 seen that the address was in Mr. Waterlane's hand- 
 writing. He tore open the envelope, and found the 
 following, written with all the cryptic carefulness 
 of the old-world lawyer : 
 
 MR. ILLINGBOROUGH, Re Mr. Mortlake's instruc- 
 tions. I regret to state that our client has received 
 somewhat untoward report of state of health from 
 medical attendant, with result that he, client as above, 
 is desirous of hastening as far as convenient the 
 pronouncement of your opinion upon matter under 
 consideration. Kindly write therefore per return 
 post giving if possible name of selection as agreed 
 upon, if any ; if not, earliest date, or dates, upon 
 which aforesaid selection is likely to be made. I am, 
 Yours truly, TAUNTON T. WATERLANE. 
 
 Illingborough put the letter in his pocket, distressed 
 to know that Mr. Mortlake was worse, at a moment 
 when he himself must in the nature of things cause 
 him disappointment, but none the less determined 
 to throw up instructions which he ought never to 
 have accepted. Mr. Waterlane, he felt sure, would
 
 MR. WETHERBORNE IS TRIED 259 
 
 agree with him, though he would regret the impossi- 
 bility of humouring the views of an old friend and 
 client. The sooner he wrote and explained how 
 matters stood, the better it would be ; and he resolved 
 to write as soon as his interview with Joan had come 
 to an end. 
 
 She had been waiting for him in the hall while he 
 read his letter, and looked at him with her serious 
 expression when he signified that he was at her 
 service. 
 
 " Thank you," she said. " I daresay you have 
 noticed, Mr. Illingborough, or perhaps I ought now 
 to say John, that I have not expressed my feelings 
 to you on the subject of your engagement with 
 Jocelyne." 
 
 " Not at all," said Illingborough, thinking that she 
 was doing so. "I mean, thanks very much. Very 
 kind of you." 
 
 " One minute, please," said Joan, holding up a 
 finger. " I have not done so, Mr. Illingborough or 
 shall I say John for the time being ? I would 
 rather you did not call me Joan, I think, until you 
 have heard what I have to say. But I have no ob- 
 jection to calling you John, if you would prefer it ? " 
 
 Illingborough, somewhat bewildered, conveyed that 
 her pleasure in this matter would be his. 
 
 " Very well. I think there can be no harm in my
 
 260 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 saying John," said Joan, not ungratified by the hold 
 it somehow gave her. " Why I have not congratu- 
 lated you, John, is that I cannot, try as I may, feel 
 happy about it. I have tried to, John, for your sake 
 as well as Jocelyne's. But I cannot. I hope I do not 
 hurt your feelings by saying so." 
 
 Illingborough was too depressed himself to derive 
 any frivolous pleasure from the sight of Joan's primmed 
 lips. 
 
 " I should feel sorry, of course, if you disapproved," 
 he said. 
 
 Having satisfied herself by a perusal of his features 
 that no irony lurked in his words, Joan gave a little 
 sigh really of satisfaction, but meant to be taken 
 as one of dismal sympathy. 
 
 " It is not of you yourself, John, that I disapprove," 
 she said. " In many ways I should welcome you as 
 my brother. We do not agree on all points, but that 
 would not be essential." 
 
 " As long as we got on in a general way," suggested 
 Illingborough. 
 
 " Quite so," said Joan. " It is possible that as we 
 got to know each other more, you would think more 
 like me about many things. I mean, we should ap- 
 preciate one another's views more. I should not wish 
 to force my views on you." 
 
 " Is there such a divergence ? " asked Illingborough.
 
 MR. WETHERBORNE IS TRIED 261 
 
 " I am afraid so," said Joan. " But it does not 
 matter. I did not mean to talk of that. I am not 
 influenced by it when I say that I think it will be a 
 mistake for you to marry Jocelyne." 
 
 " Why ? " asked Illingborough. 
 
 " Because," said Joan, softly, but firmly, " because 
 it would not be fair to poor Mr. Clifford." 
 
 " Clifford ! " said Illingborough, completely as- 
 tonished. Joan nodded. With great difficulty she 
 kept her face in the rigid and austere lines proper to 
 one who has taken upon herself so delicate and painful 
 a mission. Strive as she would, the subdued satis- 
 faction of intervening, self-sacrificingly, to prevent a 
 fatal error, threatened to get mixed with the more 
 earthy ecstasy of putting a spoke, so to say, in 
 Jocelyne's wheel. Jocelyne deserved it for her horrid 
 and hateful and unsisterly insinuations about Odo. 
 She would find she could not insult her sister with 
 impunity. 
 
 " Yes," said Joan, gloating. " Poor Mr. Clifford. 
 Perhaps you do not realise that before you came here 
 Mr. Clifford was in love with Jocelyne ? " 
 
 " I had no idea of it," said Illingborough. 
 
 " Or that he still is ? " 
 
 " No . I didn ' t kno w that either, "said Illingborough . 
 The hope that had sprung up for a moment died down 
 again. " Even if he were, you know, and Jocelyne
 
 262 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 happens to prefer me, it can scarcely be helped, can 
 it ? I almost think " Illingborough became rather 
 grave, chiefly with self-reproach, that he had allowed 
 something like rebellion to rise in his heart " that 
 if there is any ground for your supposition at all, it 
 would be better to say and see nothing of it besides 
 being kinder to Clifford." 
 
 The rebuke directed against himself hit Joan none 
 the less hard. She had been so convinced that she 
 would make things nasty for Jocelyne, and that in 
 any case her unselfish intervention would be appre- 
 ciated, that Illingborough's stupidity infuriated her. 
 He had actually charged her with unkindness. 
 
 " Very well John Mr. Illingborough, as I shall 
 say in future. It has nothing to do with me, of course. 
 If you like to be selfish, and supplant Mr. Clifford, and 
 marry a flirt, you can do so. Only only " 
 
 " Only what ? " 
 
 It was Jocelyne who spoke, having entered at that 
 moment. She had heard the last few words, and 
 more or less imagined the conversation, Clifford and 
 she having amused themselves a good deal over Joan's 
 self-imposed mission on behalf of the former. She 
 looked very arch and pretty and humorous, standing 
 there in the doorway, complete mistress of the situation. 
 
 " Only what, my dear ? " 
 
 Joan went brick red.
 
 MR. WETHERBORNE IS TRIED 263 
 
 " Wouldn't it be nicer, Joanie/' said Jocelyne, in 
 her sweetest, most elder-sisterly manner, " if you 
 gave up meddling and mischie'f-making now that you 
 are growing such a big girl ? We should all love you 
 more if you did, and I am sure you would be happier 
 yourself." 
 
 Joan choked. It was the one attitude of Jocelyne's 
 that rendered her completely helpless. 
 
 " i_i " s he stammered. " I " 
 
 " Try my advice ! " said Jocelyne silkily. 
 
 " I I hate you ! " spluttered Joan, and rushed 
 from the house.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 JOCELYNE LEARNS THE DISADVANTAGES OF 
 CONSCIENTIOUSNESS 
 
 " SHALL we go out into the garden for our talk ? " 
 said Jocelyne. 
 
 They had stood there in the hall for a full minute 
 watching Joan disappear, without anything being 
 said except " Poor little Joan ! " by Jocelyne, in a 
 tone that she intended Illingborough to receive as 
 an amiable and forgiving one. He had done so, and 
 been pleased by it, for if he could never love he was 
 at least eager anxious, perhaps, would be a better 
 word to admire his fiancee. He was pleased that 
 she did not now refer further to Joan's meddling. 
 It seemed to him dignified as well as kind. 
 
 " Yes, let us go out by all means," he said, almost 
 warmly. " I should like some fresh air." 
 
 " Yet you had a great deal of it yesterday, John. 
 I ought to call you John now, oughtn't I ? " said 
 Jocelyne. " It seems so strange, John ! " 
 
 It seemed even stranger to Illingborough. He had 
 
 364
 
 DISADVANTAGES OF CONSCIENTIOUSNESS 265 
 
 few relations or friends who called him by his Christian 
 name. Jocelyne's cooing of it made him feel somehow 
 like a performing dog suddenly called upon to take 
 part in a Greek tragedy. At least he could try and 
 go through his tricks nicely. 
 
 " And I may call you Jocelyne ? " he asked. 
 
 " Anything you please," she said, with a soft 
 glance. 
 
 " Thank you," he said hurriedly. He had a horrid 
 foreboding that she would expect him to call her 
 something even more familiar and pointedly affection- 
 ate. Would " my dear " do, he wondered ? There 
 was a breaking-point. " Shall we sit down here ? " 
 he continued, lest that breaking-point should be 
 reached. 
 
 They had reached the end of the lawn in front of 
 the house, before the garden began to dip for the sea. 
 Jocelyne sat down obediently, under the shade of 
 some tamarisk. 
 
 " I am awfully anxious to know what your mysteri- 
 ous news can be," she said lightly ; and added " I 
 needn't tell you that nothing will make any difference 
 to my feelings." 
 
 She felt self-possessed and sprightly, very different 
 from what she had been during those first minutes 
 that had followed his proposal. Then she had been 
 ashamed of herself, nervous, ill at ease. The walk
 
 266 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 back with Clifford had set her up. He had mingled 
 praise and amusement in a way that had made her 
 feel the heroine of a comedy in which Illingborough 
 was only one of the main characters. He had vowed 
 that she deserved to go on the London stage, if it 
 were not that she deserved to enter the even jollier 
 profession of an heiress. And she would become an 
 heiress. He was certain of that. All that remained 
 for her to do was to induce Illingborough to submit 
 her name to her uncle. Of course she must make 
 him promise to keep her engagement a secret from 
 Mr. Mortlake. There would be no difficulty about 
 that. Illingborough would see the force of it as well 
 as she. Even if he had the sort of canting scruples 
 that would make him dislike the idea of benefiting 
 himself by keeping the secret, he would keep it out of 
 justice to her. 
 
 Then she would go up to town, be on her prettiest 
 behaviour, win her uncle's heart, and in a little while 
 inherit his fortune. 
 
 Clifford had kept to the brighter side of what was 
 going to happen throughout their conversation, and he 
 presented it skilfully. Jocelyne was not to take the 
 view that she was deceiving an old man, not far, 
 perhaps, from death, but rather to remember that 
 she would by her tact and charm soothe and cheer 
 what remained to him of life. She was just the
 
 person to do it. As for Illingborough, though she 
 would have to deceive him, of course, had he not all 
 along acted in a way that was very near to, if it was 
 not actually, deceiving her ? 
 
 It was tit for tat. He might have named Anne, 
 but for the charms Jocelyne had laid upon him. 
 Clifford skirted that point rather quickly, for it brought 
 into prominence the fact that Anne and Joan too 
 would suffer by Jocelyne's triumph. He managed 
 somehow to make out that Jocelyne would have 
 triumphed in any case. She herself felt so generous 
 by anticipation, so lordly in her prospective largesses 
 to her sisters (they would receive from her more 
 than they would ever want), that she was able to shut 
 her eyes to any treachery in her acting. 
 
 What Clifford had chiefly dwelt on was the import- 
 ance of inducing Illingborough to act as soon as 
 possible. She must not let him know, of course, 
 that she knew his secret, but she must get him to 
 tell it to her. Then she could urge him to fulfil his 
 errand. 
 
 It seemed to Jocelyne, seated under the shade of 
 the tamarisk with Illingborough beside her, as though 
 that auspicious moment had arrived ; and she could 
 not have been in a better mood to take advantage 
 of it. She smiled to herself at the artful way in 
 which she had just told him how nothing would
 
 268 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 change her feelings. It wasn't even a fib ; for 
 nothing, she felt sure, would change that mild scorn 
 which he roused in her, for any other emotion. She 
 was so pleased with her skilful trifling that she could 
 not help adding to it. "It will be lovely to feel that 
 you trust me," she said. 
 
 Illingborough bent his head. 
 
 " It is I who have to ask you to trust me to do 
 what I feel to be right," he said. 
 
 " Oh, I'm sure you will," said Jocelyne. 
 
 He took Mr. Waterlane's letter out of his pocket, 
 and handed it to her. It had arrived rather con- 
 veniently, for without it he would hardly have 
 known how to begin his explanation. 
 
 " Would you mind reading that ? " he said. " I 
 got it this morning. It will make it easier to explain." 
 
 Jocelyne read it with a blank face, but an inward 
 excitement. She understood at once that it served 
 the purpose of hastening matters. Illingborough 
 was asked in the letter to give a prompt reply. What 
 luck that she had so opportunely struck in so as to 
 make any but the one reply impossible. 
 
 " What is it all about ? " she asked, handing it 
 back to him. 
 
 Illingborough began his explanation. It was a 
 long-winded one, in which the description of the 
 exact nature of Mr. Mortlake's instructions was inter-
 
 DISADVANTAGES OF CONSCIENTIOUSNESS 269 
 
 spersed with accounts of the difficulties attending 
 their execution, a disquisition on the various views it 
 was possible to take on the subject of the relations 
 of wealth and virtue, and apologies for having allowed 
 himself to enter the Sea House in what was not only 
 to some extent a false position, but also the unpardon- 
 able position of a judge. He was warming to his 
 work, and forgetting, it is possible, some of his present 
 misery while he unfolded the argument of his past 
 doubts and difficulties, when the consciousness that 
 he was approaching the deduction to be made from it 
 and that the victim of that deduction was facing 
 him caused him to grow cold, and falter. 
 
 " And so and so " he said, " it seemed that 
 
 that " 
 
 " Yes ? " said Jocelyne. Her eyes were fixed 
 upon his face with the utmost eagerness. She had 
 not listened to half he said. She had wondered 
 now and then how it was possible for anybody to 
 prose and prose away, as he did, when the matter 
 was all so simple. She had heard his praise of her- 
 self (which seemed ample, though stupid), and vague 
 comparisons of her virtues and Anne's (which did 
 not interest her), and she was only waiting and waiting 
 for him to say as was obvious that he had chosen 
 her. Why could he not say it straight out ? 
 
 " Yes ? " she said encouragingly. " And so ? "
 
 270 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 " And so," said Illingborough, " it seemed that 
 there was only the one thing for me to do or rather 
 I ought to say two things." 
 
 " Two ? " echoed Jocelyne. What was he talking 
 about now ? " Two things ? " she repeated. 
 
 " Well, the one inevitable thing, you see, is for me 
 to resign my task altogether." 
 
 For the moment Jocelyne's brain refused to work, 
 and Illingborough was almost able to get out the 
 remainder of his characteristically punctuated per- 
 oration 
 
 " And the other is to confess to you that, though 
 I appreciate to the full your kindness and and in- 
 telligence and amiability which I shall hope to 
 try and merit a little though I can never really 
 deserve them, of course by devoting myself to you, 
 as any one would only too readily do in return for the 
 honour done them by such a promise as you have 
 made to me, still I feel that I should otherwise 
 and ought to confess it have have " 
 
 " Have what ? " said Jocelyne hoarsely. 
 
 " Named your sister ! " said Illingborough, with 
 sudden simplicity. 
 
 Jocelyne did not rise or even, for another moment, 
 speak. She sat there with heaving chest and glaring 
 eyes. The audacity of his saying such a thing to 
 her ! Did he really think she would allow it allow
 
 DISADVANTAGES OF CONSCIENTIOUSNESS 271 
 
 her dreams to be shattered by his apologetic obstin- 
 acy and senseless conscientiousness ? Did he ? She 
 glared at him. What an owl he looked with his 
 stupid grave expression ! Oh, but she would show him 
 that he was mistaken in thinking that he could 
 practise on her his wearisome honesty ! Fool, fool, 
 fool ! Only it would be wisest, perhaps, to go quietly 
 with him. So much was at stake. She would have 
 liked to scream at him. But she must win. The 
 way to get round him was to coax him into feeling 
 his absurdness. He was ready enough to do that. 
 The very fact that he had spoken to her before he had 
 acted showed how ready he was to be persuaded 
 of his doltishness. Yes, decidedly she must speak 
 quietly at first. She rose, slowly and gracefully, and 
 looked at him. 
 
 " And you expect me to forgive you when you're 
 as silly as that ? " 
 
 He marvelled at her gracious tone. Somehow he 
 had expected her to be indignant as she had a right 
 to be instead of gracious and tender. He could 
 have wished she had not been tender, but she had 
 a right to be that too, of course. He must try and 
 respond." 
 
 " Do you forgive me ? " he asked, with a faint smile. 
 
 " If you'll say that you've been talking great 
 nonsense, and will promise never to do it again ? "
 
 272 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 " I can promise that," he said, more cheerfully. 
 " It isn't a thing I ever wish to speak about. The 
 sooner I can forget it, the better I shall be pleased." 
 
 She was hopeful, but not quite sure yet, that he 
 took her meaning. 
 
 " Thank you," she said, and put a hand on his arm. 
 " Then you'll go and write to my uncle at once ? " 
 
 " I was thinking of it." 
 
 It looked as if he had understood and yielded. 
 Jocelyne's heart began to sing. 
 
 " You'll tell him what a mistake you nearly made ? " 
 
 " A mistake ? " f 
 
 " In nearly naming Anne ? " 
 
 The puzzled look had come into Illingborough's 
 face again. She withdrew her hand. " What is it 
 now ? " she said pettishly. 
 
 " Do I understand," he said, " that you wish me 
 not to withdraw ? " 
 
 " Of course." 
 
 " I am to chose your sister ? " 
 
 " Anne ? Certainly not," said Jocelyne, again 
 feeling what a fool he was. 
 
 " Who then ? " 
 
 " Who should you choose ? " Jocelyne gave a little 
 uneasy laugh. " We're engaged, aren't we ? I quite 
 understand that you thought there was something in 
 Anne at one time. But I don't know what you mean
 
 DISADVANTAGES OF CONSCIENTIOUSNESS 273 
 
 when you say, ' Who, then ? ' Who should you choose 
 but me ? " 
 
 There. It was out, and at least there could be no 
 further misunderstanding. There was not. 
 
 " That is impossible," said Illingborough. 
 
 " Impossible ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 Their eyes met, and Jocelyne's flashed fury. 
 
 " Do you dare to say that to me ? " she said, very 
 low. 
 
 Illingborough made no reply. But for the first 
 time since Jocelyne had met him she realised that if 
 he was a fool, he was not the sort of fool to be turned 
 from his purpose by any arts at her command. 
 
 18
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 VEXATION OF LADY START 
 
 " So there's no help for it ? " said Lady Start. She 
 was sitting on the terrace outside her great house, 
 Anne beside her. In front, as far as the eye could see, 
 there was a view of undulating park land ; on the left 
 rich fields, on the right cliff pasture and heather land 
 that rose and fell, giving peeps of the sea. As likely 
 as not, Lady Start had specially selected to sit upon 
 the terrace that morning for the wide and lovely views 
 it gave her, and would give to her successor. She 
 knew that Anne knew that her successor would be 
 Captain Hatton, and though she would most heartily 
 have scorned any one who yielded to the temptation 
 offered by that knowledge, she was not the person to 
 resist making the most of it. 
 
 " Positively no use my talking ? " she went on. 
 
 Anne shook her head. 
 
 " Of course," said Lady Start, speaking in her most 
 matter-of-fact voice, " I need hardly say that Stephen 
 hasn't mentioned a word about it to me. I don't
 
 VEXATION OF LADY START 275 
 
 know that he has even looked it to any one else. I 
 doubt if Irene knows it. I knew at once. Why I 
 sent over for you was because I wanted to know for 
 myself if it was hopeless. It looks rather as if it 
 were." 
 
 "I'm sorry," said Anne. 
 
 Lady Start swept sorrow away with a gesture of 
 her hand as if it were not worth talking about. 
 
 " If it can't come off, it can't. I'm wanting to 
 satisfy myself more than interfere. Not that I should 
 mind interfering if it would do any good. I enjoy 
 meddling as a general rule especially with fools. I 
 see no harm in it. They don't know their own minds ; 
 why shouldn't one poke them up ? Even if it did 
 harm, I shouldn't mind. Unfortunately, my dear, 
 you're not a fool. I wish you were." 
 
 " It's very nice of you," said Anne, answering the 
 meaning rather than her words. 
 
 " Oh, I want the match, of course," said Lady 
 Start. " I started being absurd about you before 
 Stephen even saw you. You needn't feel flattered. 
 I always did like impossible people. Serves me right 
 in this particular case, eh ? " 
 
 " I can't say anything else," said Anne, again 
 answering the unspoken question. 
 
 Lady Start looked at her keenly enough, and nodded. 
 Nods are not often tragic, but this one was not far
 
 276 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 from being so. She had set her heart on this match, 
 and it was not to be. 
 
 " There's only one thing to make me go on babbling," 
 she said, after a pause. " You're young, and you're 
 motherless. That's why I'm going to say that if 
 there's the smallest doubt, give him the benefit of it. 
 It's not mere prejudice. It's not that he's got things 
 to offer that no woman dislikes money, standing, 
 good friends this," she pointed ahead of her, " per- 
 haps in no great time either. It's not that. I've 
 known many men good, bad, indifferent. He's one 
 of the decent ones." 
 " Yes," said Anne. 
 
 " And ' No thank you once more,' you mean ? " said 
 Lady Start. " Don't say ' Yes ' again, or it'll get 
 on my nerves. I used to like your yes's and no's 
 and want of woman-jabber, but I don't know that I 
 do now. What right have, you to know your own 
 mind ? " 
 
 " None, I dare say," said Anne. 
 " If you did know it," said Lady Start, " you'd 
 be right to stick to your No. I'm no believer in 
 convenient marriages for the few people that can 
 make ideal ones. But how few can ! Love ! Not one 
 person in a thousand knows what it is. People haven't 
 the intelligence. When most people ' love,' it's not 
 their hearts expanding, it's their heads contracting."
 
 VEXATION OF LADY START 277 
 
 " You think mine is ? " asked Anne. 
 
 " I wish it would," said Lady Start fervently. 
 " But no, you can't take a man worth ten of you, 
 because you think you're not one of the elect. You 
 only ' admire him,' I suppose, and like him, and could 
 possibly ' respect him.' ' She mimicked the sort of 
 thing she would have loved to hear Anne say that she 
 might leap on her and demolish her. Her exasperation 
 was largely due to the fact that Anne would say 
 nothing. " You think he's ' very nice,' but you 
 ' don't love him enough.' Not even ' enough,' little 
 mule ! You don't even confess to loving him at all ! 
 And why, pray ? Whom do you love ? " 
 
 " Must I love somebody ? " said Anne calmly. She 
 was too familiar with Lady Start's sudden pounces to 
 be taken off her guard. 
 
 " Must you ! " The old lady almost squealed with 
 passion at Anne's impassivity. " No, you mustn't, 
 and needn't, and never will. You'll die a spinster 
 made of rock and iron, like what's his name in the 
 legend. But I believe you do love somebody all the 
 same, and it's that sober-faced young man, Mr. Illing- 
 something. Oh, I know he's got all the virtues, and 
 he's a poet too or something like it odd mixture, 
 but you'll have a very bad time with him. You 
 haven't got the virtues, you know, and he'll point 
 that out awfully delicately and at immense length
 
 278 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 and you'll have to listen and try to be an angel. And 
 you won't succeed. And then he'll be unhappy, and 
 so will you, and I shall be glad of it ! " 
 
 She fell back in her chair quite exhausted, and Anne 
 said 
 
 " Mr. Illingborough is going to marry Jocelyne. 
 They became engaged yesterday." 
 
 " What ! " said Lady Start, sitting up again as 
 quickly as she had sat back. Anne repeated her 
 information, more calmly than before, because she 
 knew that the old lynx eyes were watching her, and 
 with a new wistfulness. It seemed thereafter that 
 Lady Start's opinion of Illingborough's misery-making 
 capacity was only contingent on his suspected designs 
 upon Anne, for she said 
 
 "I'm sorry for him. I liked him. Your sister 
 Jocelyne ! " and remained silent for quite a long time. 
 When she spoke again, it was to dismiss her visitor. 
 
 " Well, Miss Anne Wetherborne," she said, " you 
 have told me enough vexatious things for to-day, 
 and the sooner you leave me the better. I can't ask 
 you to lunch, because Stephen will be here, and he 
 might kidnap you if he saw you. I should. So off 
 you go ! " 
 
 Anne rose, and as the old lady nodded her good- 
 bye, said again 
 
 " You know how sorry I am."
 
 VEXATION OF LADY START 279 
 
 " I suppose I do," said Lady Start grudgingly. 
 " Yes, I do, child. And you must come and see me 
 soon, and try and make up for it. Not to-morrow. 
 I shall be ill to-morrow for a certainty, because I'm 
 going to take some whisky and water now to quiet 
 my nerves, and it's sure to get on to my liver."
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 THE CRISIS 
 
 ANNE had ridden over to Storr Court by the road. 
 She made John Mark carry her home by a longer 
 way that led through steep lanes and out on to the 
 springy turf of the cliffs, where a fast canter made 
 the sultry air move by in the likeness of a breeze. 
 She would have preferred a great blowing wind and 
 clouds scurrying, instead of that stillness around and 
 the sky above looking like dead smoke. She had 
 never known the cliffs so windless and soundless. 
 You could hardly hear the sea. The creatures of the 
 cliffs seemed to share in the general lethargy. Hardly 
 a bird chirped ; there were no butterflies chasing 
 from flower to flower ; and if rabbits were abroad 
 from their burrows, they lay low as she and John 
 Mark passed, instead of starting up and running for 
 their lives until they became not even quivers in the 
 bracken. 
 
 Anne stopped at Coster's Farm a little stone- 
 built place in a hollow lying behind a few wind- 
 
 280
 
 THE CRISIS 281 
 
 curled hazels, in a fume of farmyard ; and when the 
 farmer's wife came out in response to her call, asked 
 for some bread and a glass of milk. She partook of 
 these without dismounting, chatting the while of farm 
 matters to Mrs. Coster, who was delighted to see 
 the face of a passer-by, though she did not betray it 
 by any volubility. 
 
 " Things done well ? " Anne asked. 
 
 " Fair, Miss, to middlin'," said Mrs. Coster. " Twont 
 be our best year." 
 
 " Not enough rain for the corn ? " 
 
 " Not nigh." 
 
 " But it looks as if we were going to get some soon." 
 
 " It might be soon," said Mrs. Coster. 
 
 " Children all right ? " 
 
 " Pretty well, thank you, Miss." 
 
 " Been trying pigs this year ? " asked Anne, flitting 
 from subject to subject without embarrassment. Mrs. 
 Coster admitted as was indeed evident that they 
 had been trying pigs, and that Mr. Coster believed 
 in them. Then she took the cup from Anne, and 
 watched her ride off, having had a pleasant relaxa- 
 tion from work always hard and sometimes dull as 
 well. 
 
 Anne rode along a sheep track down Hagg Combe on 
 to the beach, or rather the undercliff, walking John 
 Mark very slowly. She did not want to get home.
 
 282 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 That is why she had eaten and drunk at Coster's 
 Farm. At least that would tide her over lunch. The 
 meals would be the most unbearable things at the 
 Sea House for the next few days. Her father always 
 sat so long over them. If things had not happened 
 as they had, she could have gone over pretty often 
 to Storr Court. She was very sorry for Lady Start 
 much sorrier for Lady Start than for herself. After 
 all, she Anne could find things to do fishing, 
 sailing but Lady Start was old. She could not 
 live by doing things any longer ; she had to live by 
 thinking, and thoughts, if you have nothing else to 
 fall back on, can be the dreariest things in the world, 
 as sullen as the sky was and as grey as the sea. And 
 there was no hope if you were as old as Lady Start 
 was or even much younger of a storm that would 
 come and break them as surely as, very soon, a storm 
 would come and break that sky and sea. 
 
 The imminence of the storm, combined with the 
 state of the tide, which compelled Anne to go up on 
 to the cliffs again for the last part of her ride, turned 
 her attention to the practical matter of the safety 
 of her sailing-boat, the Gull, which would have to be 
 drawn up and beached if the weather were really 
 rough ; and she rode down into the bay to inspect 
 her before stabling her horse. 
 
 The little bay was flat and full with the high tide,
 
 THE CRISIS 283 
 
 so full that the rock platform to which the row-boat 
 was tethered by a ring in the rock was only just above 
 water. The Gull rode easily in her channel, anchored 
 stem and stern, and so close in that one could step 
 on board her across the smaller boat without rowing 
 a foot. Decidedly the Gull would have to be moved. 
 Both boats would. But whereas the Merry could be 
 drawn up by the aid of Tom, and perhaps of Joan 
 and Mrs. Odler, the Gull would require extra help. 
 Anne sniffed the sea and took a connoisseur's glance 
 at the leaden horizon. Probably it would be a couple 
 of hours before the storm broke. There would be 
 plenty of time to send Tom up to Mazinghope for 
 extra hands. Still, he had better be sent ; and she 
 rode up to the stable to find him. 
 
 As happened as often as not, Tom's presence in the 
 stable was not conspicuous, and having herself rubbed 
 down John Mark who was sweating merely from 
 the sultriness, for he had walked the best part of the 
 way Anne went out into the garden to look for the 
 truant. He was not among the vegetables and 
 he was not in the potting shed, and Anne was about 
 to go into the house to see if Mrs. Odler could give 
 any news of him when she heard some one the other 
 side of the rose hedge. She walked quickly in that 
 direction without calling for if Tom was not in the 
 mood for work, he sometimes regarded an invisible
 
 284 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 summons as a providential warning giving him time 
 to disappear and came right upon Illingborough. 
 
 " Oh, it's you ? " she said curtly. " I'm looking 
 for Tom." 
 
 " I haven't seen him," said Illingborough. " Miss 
 Wetherborne, may I will you advise me ? " 
 
 " What about ? " said Anne. She did not want to 
 talk to him, much less advise him, and his appear- 
 ance, which was agitated and woebegone, annoyed 
 her. Surely he might have had time since yesterday 
 to have rid himself of the effects of becoming engaged, 
 if those were the effects. He seemed, indeed, to be 
 rather more forlorn than when she had come up to 
 him during the " Worry." 
 
 " What is it ? " she asked, without any great 
 sympathy. 
 
 " Jocelyne," stammered Illingborough " Jocelyne 
 I don't know if we're still engaged." 
 
 " Indeed," said Anne. The news was nothing 
 to her. Jocelyne, she was sure, meant to have him, 
 but she was Jocelyne. Did he expect to have 
 his love without lover's quarrels ; and did he expect 
 Anne to condole with him every time something went 
 wrong ? Her lip curled involuntarily. 
 
 " I want to tell you why, if I may," said Illing- 
 borough, unnoticing. " I cannot believe that she 
 would really wish me to do what she says. I am not
 
 THE CRISIS 285 
 
 telling you what she would not wish me to tell. The 
 last thing she said almost was that I had better ask 
 you. That is why I cannot help thinking she spoke 
 impulsively did not mean it." 
 
 " Mean what ? " said Anne, with a shrug. It was 
 rather amusing, perhaps, for him to be so full of 
 Jocelyne to her, to be so careful of not telling her 
 anything Jocelyne would not like him to tell, to be 
 so careless as to tell her everything that she hated to 
 hear. At least it showed how little he dreamed of 
 what her feelings were. Oh, it was very amusing, if 
 she looked at it the right way ! 
 
 Whether Illingborough would have been hindered 
 by knowing the spirit in which she was trying to 
 listen to his story is doubtful. He had received too 
 many shocks that day to be easily shocked further. 
 
 He had seen a revelation of woman such as he 
 would have believed impossible. He had seen 
 Jocelyne to gain an end to him unutterably mean 
 weeping, Jocelyne entreating, Jocelyne screaming 
 like a fish-wife, Jocelyne whining like a condemned 
 criminal in the hands of the hangman. What had 
 revolted him most and made him most patient 
 was the knowledge that this was his future wife. By 
 the strange fatality of her affection for he supposed 
 he must still believe in it he was responsible for 
 her in this special way. This girl tearing all his
 
 286 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 unspoken, undefined ideals of love to tatters was all that 
 he would ever possess of that ideal. So he imagined. 
 It was not his way, as it might have been most men's, 
 to make his disappointment an excuse for his escape. 
 He felt the more bound now that the actual chains 
 were loosened. 
 
 She had ended by flinging from him in a paroxysm 
 of temper, vowing that she would never see him or 
 speak to him again unless he would do what she 
 asked him. 
 
 " That must be half an hour ago," said Illing- 
 borough, " and I have tried to find her since. I 
 think I could make her see that what she asks is 
 dishonourable. Of course she doesn't yet, or she would 
 not ask it." 
 
 " I suppose you had better tell me what it is," 
 said Anne, for he had begun at the end, and generalised, 
 and tried to minimise Jocelyne's fury and to make 
 the most of his own dull-wittedness in not being able 
 to prove to her her unreason. 
 
 He poured out the story now. As Anne had 
 suspected, it was Tom's story in detail. He was to 
 choose one of them nominally, to go on a visit ; 
 actually as he confessed he more than suspected 
 to inherit a fortune. But his new relationship with 
 Jocelyne had made the position of judge impossible 
 apart from the question of legal etiquette, which
 
 THE r CRISIS 287 
 
 was also more than etiquette as to which Anne 
 understood nothing. 
 
 What struck her instantly was that he appeared to 
 think Jocelyne had heard the story for the first time 
 that day, just as he thought Anne was hearing it now 
 for the first time. Should she tell him of Clifford's 
 intervention ? It made no essential difference if he 
 was going to withdraw from his judgeship. It would 
 only hurt him to see Jocelyne in a still worse light 
 if he was going to marry her, as apparently he was ; 
 for if he were willing to, Anne not knowing Clifford's 
 real plot and Jocelyne's intentions as adapted to it 
 could see no reason why Jocelyne, after she had calmed 
 down, should reject him. No doubt she would be 
 mad about the fortune, but to be mad about one loss 
 was not likely to make Jocelyne mad enough to 
 submit to another voluntarily. Jocelyne could cal- 
 culate even in her worst temper. Yes, she would 
 summon him back. 
 
 Anne came out of this train of thought, with which 
 she had travelled far ahead of Illingborough's speech 
 (which, nevertheless, she had taken in mechanically) 
 with the consciousness that all that she herself could 
 say for Illingborough's comfort was that he was silly 
 to make such a fuss about so small a point as the 
 nomination for a fortune. He was very silly. For 
 what, after all, did it matter who got the fortune ?
 
 288 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 She didn't want it. Joan might, perhaps. But 
 Joan was nobody, and anyhow, it was all so paltry. 
 Jocelyne wanted the thing done meanly, of course, 
 but it wasn't worth making scenes over. 
 
 Anne's conscience did not embrace, like Illing- 
 borough's, the guardianship of other people's. She 
 could endure other people's faults more easily and for- 
 give them more easily. She said, as soon as a pause 
 on Illingborough's part gave her the opportunity 
 
 " Why bother about it so much ? Why not go on 
 with your judging ? " 
 
 Illingborough reiterated the formal objections, and 
 Anne grew impatient. 
 
 " Yes yes I see that," she said. " But it doesn't 
 matter ? Even if you weren't engaged to Jos you 
 wouldn't be absolutely unprejudiced." 
 
 " I should be much more so," said Illingborough 
 miserably. " But in any case, Jocelyne will not hear 
 of my proceeding." 
 
 " Why ? " said Anne, puzzled. " I thought the 
 fortune was what she wanted." 
 
 " But " 
 
 " And she would have got it if she weren't engaged 
 why shouldn't she get it in spite of it ? " 
 
 The case was so absolutely lucid to her. Illing- 
 borough groaned. 
 
 "I'm terribly afraid," he said, " that is what she
 
 THE CRISIS 289 
 
 thinks, and I suppose in my stupid way I must have 
 given her some reason for supposing it. I take all 
 the blame." 
 
 " For what ? " 
 
 " For giving that impression." 
 
 Anne stared. 
 
 " Which of course is a totally wrong one. I had, 
 as a matter of fact, practically decided that I would 
 name you." 
 
 It was the very last thing she had expected him to 
 say, and it came like a slash in the face. Just as if a 
 lash had caught her, her cheek paled and reddened 
 in a moment. Then she stiffened. 
 
 " Pray why ? " she said, all her pride arming her 
 to chastise him. " As a slight compensation to me 
 for not being engaged to you ? " 
 
 " Miss Wetherborne ! " cried Illingborough, horrified. 
 
 She laughed contemptuously at his dismay. 
 
 " I am not surprised," she said, " that Jocelyne 
 is indignant. If I had a brother, I would ask him 
 to horsewhip you." 
 
 She turned on her heel and walked off, head in 
 air, leaving Illingborough to his reflections. These 
 so far as they did not consist of mere chaos and be- 
 wilderment were of the nature of anguished and 
 self-branding wonderings as to what exactly his 
 latest folly had been. 
 19
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 CLIFFORD CUTS THE KNOT 
 
 WHEN Jocelyne, apparently beside herself with fury, 
 had flung away from Illingborough, she still possessed 
 more self-control than a casual observer would have 
 supposed. The power of calculating, even in her 
 worst temper, was as Anne had guessed by no 
 means lost to her ; and one proof of it was though 
 Anne had not guessed this that in the last resort 
 Jocelyne had cried out to Illingborough to " ask 
 Anne." 
 
 She could not it is best to suppose have foreseen 
 quite all that actually happened, but at least she 
 had decided that Anne, in her scorn of a mere 
 material inheritance, would pooh-pooh Illingborough's 
 scrupulousness, and shrug at his intense honesty 
 producing the petty storms she hated, and generally 
 make him feel that he was exaggerating trifles. It 
 was detestable that Anne should have to know. 
 Jocelyne would never afterwards when she had 
 
 attained her ambition and become the heiress 
 
 290
 
 CLIFFORD CUTS THE KNOT 291 
 
 have quite the magnanimous feeling that she had 
 expected to have when making presents to Anne and 
 Joan. Anne, at any rate, would know that she was 
 being doled out money that might easily have been 
 her own. Still, the important thing to be secured 
 was not the right to be magnanimous, but the tangible 
 wealth ; and if Anne's ridicule could force Illing- 
 borough to act in accordance with Jocelyne's desire, 
 Anne's knowledge of the secret could be excused. 
 Later on, when it was all settled, Jocelyne could in her 
 turn make light of Anne's assistance. 
 
 Another proof that Jocelyne's brain worked in 
 spite of her storming was that she did not forget 
 that she had appointed to meet Clifford not far from 
 the Sea House shortly after lunch. She did not 
 want any lunch ; indeed nobody in the Sea House 
 partook of any that day it is a meal that can be 
 dispensed with in times of great excitement (unlike 
 breakfast and dinner, which even the persons in a 
 tragedy must eat, though stage directions on the 
 subject are few) : and she sallied out even earlier 
 than she needed to keep her appointment, which was 
 why Illingborough could not find her when he had 
 sufficiently recovered his spirits to want to reason 
 with her. 
 
 The meeting was to have been a record of her 
 triumph over Illingborough, leading in its turn to
 
 292 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 the delightful assurance that Clifford really and 
 truly adored her. Jocelyne was aware that his 
 complete adoration depended on her success ; and 
 she had not greatly disliked the knowledge, when 
 she thought her success certain, for just that sort of 
 adoration was what she liked best. She understood 
 it best and felt most safe with it. A man who loved 
 her, as Illingborough might have done, for imagined 
 virtues and intangible ideals, was always liable to 
 find out that he had made a mistake, and it would be 
 a great bother to keep him in the blinded state. A 
 man, on the contrary, who loved her for her possessions 
 and all the queenship they implied could never 
 (unless she went bankrupt) find himself mistaken. 
 If he faltered in his allegiance for a moment, she 
 could so to speak flash diamonds at him and 
 refer him to her bankers. Besides, the man who loves 
 in that way is not apt to falter. It is far easier to 
 be moved from love of a person or an ideal than 
 to be moved from love of a material thing like wealth. 
 Such Jocelyne felt was human nature. Men com- 
 fortable in the fat valleys do not take as a rule to 
 scaling barren hills. 
 
 Now that she was threatened with the failure of 
 her inheritance, she realised that she was also 
 threatened with the failure of Clifford's affections, 
 and she felt utterly miserable. In her own petty
 
 CLIFFORD CUTS THE KNOT 293 
 
 way she had come to love him. He satisfied her 
 eye, his conversation entertained her, his flattery was 
 very pleasant, and he was no critic of her faults. 
 She pictured him as a man fairly well off, pecuniarily 
 and socially, though nothing to what she would make 
 him. 
 
 They met in a cornfield, where the poppies were 
 beginning to peep up red among the still green corn, 
 and Jocelyne shivered a little as his always narrow 
 gaze contracted upon her. 
 
 " Well, my pretty queen ? " he said, in a light tone 
 that did not conceal his anxiety. 
 
 She told her story breathlessly, indignantly, self- 
 pityingly, but his own self-pity was too great to allow 
 him even to feign any sympathy for her. 
 
 " You've messed it," he said savagely, when she 
 stopped, half-sobbing. 
 
 " I haven't," said Jocelyne. 
 
 " Yes, you have. Trust a woman ! " He swore, 
 and Jocelyne turned on him in a rage. She was not 
 going to be trampled on by him as well as by Illing- 
 borough. 
 
 " Don't dare to use such language to me ! " she 
 said. " I won't have it. I've done my best, and 
 you know it. It's you that have got to think of 
 something now. I'm sick of it all." 
 
 " I don't see a chance," he said moodily.
 
 294 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 " Give it up, then ! " she said. " And give me up 
 too I I don't care." 
 
 He had been balancing the advisability of doing 
 so or not doing so. Should he clear out there and 
 then, and return to Mr. Mortlake, or look for some new 
 situation ? If he did, everything that he had hoped 
 for was certainly lost. The drudgery of work without 
 prospects would begin again. What a fool he had 
 been to take Jocelyne into his counsel, and make 
 her a partner of his fortunes ! If only he had waited 
 as he had planned at first to do Anne might have 
 had the fortune and he might have had Anne. There 
 had been a possibility of it at least, though he could 
 not picture himself marrying Anne. Certainly there 
 was no chance of it now. Fancy Illingborough 
 pitching on her ! Though he might have guessed 
 it too. Birds of such queer feather were bound to 
 get thick. Only, they hadn't got thick either. It 
 was pure unadulterated pig-headed conscientiousness 
 that had decided Illingborough in favour of Anne. 
 Curse the fool ! Still, supposing there was a chance 
 left, he had best stick to the skirts of it. Jocelyne 
 could have another try at wheedling Illingborough. 
 And what was that she had said about telling him 
 to consult Anne ? Something might come of that. 
 It would be foolish to give up before there was no 
 hope at all left.
 
 CLIFFORD CUTS THE KNOT 295 
 
 Jocelyne had turned her back on him, and was 
 sobbing softly into her handkerchief. She was 
 thinking bitterly that it was the very one she had 
 dropped in Porton Langley days and days ago, in 
 order that Clifford might pick it up and come to her. 
 And now he hated her. The irony of it was very 
 painful. 
 
 Not very much later considering that Jocelyne's 
 feelings had taken a great deal of soothing this pair 
 of lovers were on their way to the Sea House. It 
 had been agreed that another assault should be made 
 on IDingborough's conscience by Jocelyne, who was 
 to keep her temper and try to work on his reason and 
 affection combined. Anne's advice, if he had taken 
 it, might have weakened him ; so might solitary 
 reflection, which Jocelyne felt sure would have 
 weakened her. Clifford was not to show himself 
 until Jocelyne's new attempt had failed, in which 
 case Jocelyne's suggestion that Clifford should try 
 the effects upon him of threatening physical violence 
 might be tried. Jocelyne was more hopeful of the 
 results to be derived from that than was Clifford, 
 who foresaw two difficulties : the one being that even 
 if it succeeded it would put himself and Jocelyne in a 
 hopelessly wrong and if Illingborough afterwards 
 invoked the law against him unpleasant position ; 
 the other being that it might not succeed. Clifford
 
 296 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 was a good deal the bigger of the two. There was 
 probably no comparison in physical strength ; but 
 Illingborough was a plucky sort of chap, and not 
 exactly a weakling. If it came to blows, he might 
 not know when he had been thrashed. 
 
 Altogether, Clifford, as he took up his stand out- 
 side the Sea House, heartily hoped that physical 
 violence would not have to be resorted to. In the 
 stuffy lane the time that he waited seemed intermin- 
 able. He strolled up and down, beat at nettles with 
 his stick he carried, watched a spider at work catching 
 flies in its web, till the flies gave up and buzzed 
 stickily in his face as he watched. All the time the 
 density of the sky seemed to increase and the light 
 to grow less, so that it seemed almost evening in the 
 lane before Jocelyne came out. 
 
 He did not know that he had really expected 
 much from her attempt, but her shake of the head 
 signifying failure made him feel savagely disap- 
 pointed. 
 
 " What does he say ? " 
 
 Jocelyne answered in gasps and jerks that showed 
 her own wrought-up anger. 
 
 " He says he ' can't.' He wants me to marry him 
 and go away and forget that there's such a thing as 
 money. He thinks it can ' easily ' be done. He's 
 seen Anne too. I don't know what she said to him.
 
 CLIFFORD CUTS THE KNOT 297 
 
 She must have told him what I thought she would. 
 He said he had not thought ' every one would be 
 against ' him, and ' did I know how he could have 
 offended her ? ' As if I cared. He seems half- 
 stupid except about the one thing. I could kill 
 him ! " 
 
 " Did you tell him so ? " asked Clifford cynically. 
 
 " I repeated what I'd said before that I couldn't 
 marry him if he refused my smallest request." 
 
 Clifford sniggered furiously. 
 
 ' You needn't laugh," she went on passionately. 
 " He insults me by refusing. He thinks he's a martyr, 
 but he's really a selfish brute all men are, I believe. 
 Why don't you do something ? Why don't you go to 
 him ? " 
 
 " Where is he ? " 
 
 " On the beach. There's going to be a storm soon." 
 Jocelyne began to whimper with excitement. " Oh, 
 everything's going wrong. The boats are there, and 
 they'll be smashed up if it's rough. The Gull's pulling 
 now. I don't know where Anne is. She ought to 
 have seen to them." 
 
 " Curse the boats ! " said Clifford. 
 
 " Oh, you don't care about them, I know," said 
 Jocelyne, angry with everybody and everything. 
 ' You don't care about anything ; but you don't 
 do anything, either."
 
 298 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 " What's there to do ? " he said gloomily. 
 
 " You'd better go and see. If you're afraid to 
 thrash him, you can help pull up the boats. I believe 
 you are afraid. Oh now there's somebody coming," 
 said Jocelyne, breaking off her disjointed speech and 
 hastily wiping her eyes. 
 
 It was only a telegraph boy from Porton Langley, 
 who came up the hill at a very slow pace, with his 
 tongue out like a dog's. 
 
 " Telegram Illingborough," he said, in an injured 
 tone. " People didn't ought tew send 'em not so 
 hot a day's this." 
 
 Jocelyne stretched out her hand for it, but the boy 
 demurred. 
 
 " Illingborough's the name," he said ; " and there's 
 a answer prepaid." 
 
 " You'd better take it to him, then," said Jocelyne 
 haughtily. " He's on the beach." 
 
 " An't goin' no farther," said the boy. 
 
 " I'll take it," said Clifford, seized with a sudden 
 idea. The boy surrendered it to him together with 
 the reply-form, and Jocelyne, obeying a scarcely 
 perceptible motion of Clifford's eyes, followed him 
 into the house. 
 
 " What are you going to do ? " she asked curiously, 
 as he tore open the envelope. He read the message 
 without answering, and then passed it to her. The
 
 CLIFFORD CUTS THE KNOT 299 
 
 telegram was from Mr. Waterlane, and ran as 
 follows : 
 
 " Client dangerously ill. Requires your decision by 
 return . WATERLANE . ' ' 
 
 Jocelyne read it, looked up, and found Clifford's 
 eyes on her. She returned his gaze and, for a moment, 
 neither spoke. Then Jocelyne translated his look and 
 hers into words. 
 
 " We could send the answer without his knowing 
 it ? " She put it into the form of a question, and 
 Clifford replied 
 
 " It would amount to forgery if he prosecuted 
 Illingborough, I mean. It doesn't look as if the old 
 man was likely to. Probably dying." 
 
 " And you think he would have time before to 
 to ? " 
 
 " To make the will yes. Very like providence, 
 isn't it ? " He laughed unpleasantly. " I don't know 
 that it would be worth Illingborough's while to fuss 
 either. Lawyers aren't supposed to advise their 
 clients with regard to their heirs. I think Waterlane 
 would try to keep quiet about it. One can't trust 
 Illingborough, though, with his conscience." 
 
 " Would it be a forgery ? " said Jocelyne, awed. 
 
 " I'm not sure I shouldn't care to do ten years 
 for a chance or for you to do them." Jocelyne
 
 300 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 shuddered. " But I doubt if there's ever been a chance 
 like it." He fingered the reply-form, then suddenly 
 crushed it into his pocket and moved to the door. 
 
 " Where are you going ? " said Jocelyne uneasily. 
 
 "I'm going down to the bay to see Illingborough. 
 I'll give him a last chance. If he says he'll name you, 
 he can write his own wire. If not, I'll take the risk 
 and do it for him." 
 
 " You're not going to tell him the telegram's come ? " 
 asked Jocelyne. She was not sure what was going to 
 happen. 
 
 " Only if he comes to heel. Coming with me ? " 
 
 " I'll come part of the way," said Jocelyne mechani- 
 cally ; and they walked out into the garden in silence- 
 Where the path cut through the rose hedge she 
 stopped. One could see over on to the bay from there. 
 
 " Why, he's in the Gull," she said, surprised, 
 " trying to get up the fore-anchor. I suppose I said 
 something about it to him. I believe I did. But 
 he can't possibly beach her himself. You'd better 
 tell him so. You couldn't do it together, and if he 
 pulls up the one anchor the other may drag." 
 
 " That would be awkward, wouldn't it ? " said 
 Clifford. " You're not coming any farther ? Well, 
 then, you'd better get back and tell the boy the 
 telegram'll be coming in a minute." 
 
 He went down alone on to the beach, and across it
 
 CLIFFORD CUTS THE KNOT 301 
 
 on to the rocky platform, over which the high tide, 
 now just beginning to ebb, was washing. Illingborough, 
 busy tugging at the anchor, under the somewhat con- 
 fused impression that the Gull must be beached as soon 
 as possible, and that it was his duty to get ready for 
 pulling in as soon as some one came to assist him (he 
 had rather gathered from Jocelyne that she was going 
 to fetch some one, but she might have forgotten in her 
 excitement, for as in speaking to Clifford she had 
 mixed up the danger to the boats with the whole 
 calamity of the day) Illingborough then did not see 
 Clifford at first, but went on tugging. 
 
 Clifford stood there in the swirl watching thought- 
 fully. The Gull, in the receding tide, pulled on her 
 stern-anchor. Her bows faced seaward, so far as the 
 cable on which Illingborough was hauling would let 
 her. Once it came up with the anchor, she would be 
 all for the sea, but not seaworthy with her sails 
 ashore. Clifford had noted them under the wooden 
 shelter as he crossed the beach, and he had them in his 
 mind as he called out. 
 
 " Illingborough ! " 
 
 Illingborough turned at the shout, and let the rope 
 run through his fingers again. 
 
 " What is it ? " he said, seeing Clifford. 
 
 " I wish to know," said Clifford, " on Miss Wether- 
 borne's behalf, if you have changed your mind."
 
 302 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 " About what ? " said Illingborough. It did not 
 occur to him that Jocelyne had taken a mere acquaint- 
 ance into her confidence. 
 
 " About your recommending her to Mr. Mortlake." 
 
 Illingborough was astounded, and still more annoyed. 
 He had borne patiently and even humbly with Jocelyne, 
 but this was too much. 
 
 " No, I have not," he said. " Nor can I see in the 
 least that it is your business." 
 
 " I think you had better," said Clifford sullenly. 
 
 " I think you had better not say so to me," replied 
 Illingborough, with sudden anger, for which he could 
 not have accounted even to himself. But the most 
 sober men can be wrought up on occasions, and he 
 was wrought up at present. " If you disagree with 
 me in that opinion," he added, in an access of 
 furious politeness, " I shall endeavour to teach you 
 better." 
 
 " Damn you ! " said Clifford ; and then, just as 
 Illingborough was wondering whether it would be 
 more correct to wait on board till Clifford came to 
 fight him or step ashore and deliver the first blow 
 himself, his adversary's whole mood changed. 
 
 " My dear man ! " he said, with a burst of laughter, 
 " I'm afraid I've meddled. Well, you'll have to 
 forgive me. I was asked to. I'll apologise if you 
 like. But it looks to me at present as though we
 
 CLIFFORD CUTS THE KNOT 303 
 
 should be most usefully employed in getting that 
 boat up." 
 
 Illingborough looked at him wistfully. 
 
 " I suppose that's true," he said. " I was just 
 going to when you arrived." 
 
 "I'll give a hand," said Clifford, and stepped 
 into the rowing boat alongside. " We ought to 
 hurry. I should cut that front rope if I were you." 
 A sort of low soughing wind that seemed to scurry 
 over the sea at that moment emphasised his advice. 
 " I say, we want to be quick," he added. 
 
 " I haven't a knife," said Illingborough ; " have 
 you ? No ? I expect there'll be one in the cabin. 
 In fact, I know there's one to cut bread with. I'll go 
 down and get it." 
 
 He disappeared into the Gull's cabin, and as he 
 disappeared, Clifford did with his own knife what 
 he had advised Illingborough to do. Then using 
 the sides of the Gull to pull the little boat towards 
 her stern, he cut that cable also. It appeared to take 
 endless moments, but luck was favouring him. A 
 moment ago he had not been clear as to what he 
 intended doing. The notion that the sea might 
 somehow drift his enemy out perhaps not to return 
 had come to him in a flash, but it had left him dazed. 
 He had not known how to accomplish it. He was not 
 sure if he had suggested to Illingborough to go into
 
 304 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 the cabin or not ; and he had lied about the knife 
 half-unconsciously. At any moment Illingborough 
 might present himself on deck again. Even now 
 he felt that, seeing himself adrift, Illingborough might 
 swim ashore. He was not a bad swimmer, and might 
 manage it even with the tide strong against him. It 
 was strong ! The Gull was fifty yards out now. 
 Surely Illingborough must feel the motion ? Clifford 
 stared at the drifting boat, unable to believe that 
 Illingborough had not yet realised his danger, or at 
 least found what he had gone into the cabin for. 
 
 But it was not easy to find things in the Gull's 
 poky and untidy cabin, and to Illingborough, searching 
 fussily, the motion of the boat did not seem to have 
 changed. When at last he discovered a knife and 
 came up on deck, the Gull was well to seaward on 
 her last voyage.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 * 
 
 ANNE TO THE RESCUE 
 
 HIGH indignation is often more easily felt than ex- 
 plained. When Anne, head in air, straight-backed 
 as some young poplar tree, like that tree also in being 
 one suppressed quiver, removed herself from Mr. 
 Illingborough's presence rather than walked away, 
 she could not have explained even a tithe of her all- 
 possessing wrath. She did not want to explain it. 
 Complete understanding says the proverb is com- 
 plete forgiveness ; and for that very reason, if for no 
 other, Anne would have shrunk from explanations. 
 She did not want to forgive Mr. Illingborough. She 
 would not have forgiven him at that moment if a 
 word from her could have saved him from sentence 
 of death, and he had pleaded for that word upon his 
 knees. She would have rejoiced to see his head, if 
 convenient, upon a charger. 
 
 It would be useless to make the attempt on Anne's 
 behalf to explain what she herself so little required 
 to be put either into words or thoughts. Sufficient 
 
 20
 
 306 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 to state that in her white-hot rage she forgot that she 
 had been looking for Tom in order to send him to 
 Mazinghope to get help in pulling up the boats, forgot 
 altogether that a storm was impending (these things 
 were excusable perhaps under the circumstances), 
 and strode out upon the cliffs, calling to Buzz, the 
 bulldog, to follow her. 
 
 What Buzz thought inexcusable was the fact that 
 Anne did not allow him to stray for a single moment 
 not so much as to snuff at a rabbit-burrow but kept 
 him sternly to heel and made him walk a great deal 
 faster than a bulldog cares to, particularly on a hot 
 day. 
 
 People at high tension always appreciate the import- 
 ance of disciplining others ; indeed, history would 
 probably show that the sternest martinets have been 
 always the most peppery of individuals. 
 
 Anne walked and walked, and Buzz panted and 
 walked, and the period that seemed at times 
 moments and at times years to Anne, seemed to 
 Buzz long and hard hours. 
 
 Probably they walked for an hour and a half. 
 Then unconsciously Anne turned homewards. She 
 realised that she had got on to a road again by meeting 
 a telegraph boy with his tongue hanging out. The 
 boy paused in his saunter and drew in his tongue. 
 " Hot day," he said, by way of inviting sympathy.
 
 ANNE tO THE RESCUE 307 
 
 " Yes," said Anne. 
 
 " People didn't ought tew send telegrams not so 
 hot a day's this," said the boy. 
 
 " Why not ? " said Anne unfeelingly. 
 
 " Tiddn't right," said the boy. " I jest taken one 
 up to th' Sea House. Illingborough was the name. 
 Answer prepaid." 
 
 " That's all right," said Anne, frowning. 
 
 " Coin' to be a storm, I dew think," said the boy 
 tentatively, as she appeared to be going on. 
 
 Anne stopped. She had forgotten the storm and 
 the Gull and everything : yet the storm was coming 
 on very fast. The trees were beginning to shiver 
 now as a prelude to it. 
 
 " Are you going through Mazinghope ? " she asked 
 sharply. The boy nodded. " Well, you can do 
 something for me, then. Only you must run, mind. 
 I want you to call at Joe Evans' and ask him to bring 
 some one to haul up my boat. If Joe Evans isn't 
 in, tell them at the post office. Say Miss Anne sent 
 you, and they're to hurry. There." 
 
 She gave him sixpence and sent him trotting off 
 with his tongue farther out than ever. She herself, 
 with the bulldog lumbering painfully in her wake, 
 set out at a run for the Sea House. 
 
 She saw no one in the house as she passed through, 
 nor was there any sign of anybody in the garden, as
 
 308 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 she ran down it, calling " Tom " as she went, in case 
 he should be anywhere within hearing. There was 
 no response, and she reached the rose hedge alone. 
 
 There she stopped, and put her hand to her eyes. 
 Adrift under bare mast in the little bay and doomed 
 in a very few minutes to be caught in the race that 
 runs round Wrack Head, and so carried into the 
 great bay beyond was the Gull, and on board of the 
 Gull was Mr. Illingborough. She recognised him by 
 something in his attitude as he stood there on the 
 Gull's deck barely a quarter of a mile from shore, 
 but in great danger. Did he not realise the danger ? 
 Anne did. Already the waters of the small bay had 
 begun to flick and quiver to the call of the wind 
 that seemed to come from nowhere in short and sudden 
 gusts that vanished only to return instantly. The 
 horizon that had been leaden-hued was now lined, 
 and its lip overhung white and jagged waves. Anne 
 did not pause to consider the view, but ran down 
 the garden path and across the beach. The Merry 
 was still there, tied to her ring, bumping a little. 
 
 In less than a minute Anne had untied her, and 
 was pulling out after the Gull. Buzz was left moaning 
 and panting on the beach. Illingborough did not 
 appear to notice that she was coming to the rescue. 
 
 She forgot, as she pulled, that an hour or two ago 
 even a few minutes ago nothing short of his head
 
 ANNE TO THE RESCUE 309 
 
 on a charger would have satisfied her wrath. Indeed, 
 she quite forgot her wrath. The fact that he would 
 soon be in a position not much more satisfactory 
 than that on a charger would be for whether one 
 has been decapitated or drowned may be presumed 
 to count little after the deed has been done made 
 a pale ghost of what had been her so great fury. 
 Could she save him still ? She did not know, but she 
 could get to him and be with him. Together in the 
 Merry they might have a chance. 
 
 She pulled on, vaguely wondering how he had got 
 into that plight. She supposed he had seen the need 
 of hauling in the Gull, had begun to do so single- 
 handed, and had somehow got the anchors up too 
 soon and then been drifted out suddenly. It mattered 
 very little now the accident had happened. 
 
 She was more curious to know the spirit in which 
 he was taking his adventure and she turned her 
 head to see, when she still was some distance from 
 the Gull. He had not hailed her. He might be 
 dazed with fright. She had not seen him in anything 
 like danger before. Suppose he were panic-struck, 
 as he might be. She could not see him at first, for 
 he was stretched on the deck and only his straw hat 
 was visible over the stern. She stood up in the boat 
 to make sure. Illingborough was lying back with one 
 arm on the tiller, keeping the Gull's head straight,
 
 3io THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 in the other hand he held a book, which he was 
 reading. 
 
 So that was the way he was taking his fate. Far 
 out the white caps were gathering under a monstrous 
 sky ; close in to the shore the waters had begun to 
 froth about the rocks ; the cliffs looked hard as steel, 
 and about the Gull the waves were beginning to leap 
 threateningly. Illingborough was reading calmly. 
 Anne's heart leaped like the waves. He was not 
 afraid, at least. She might have known it, she said 
 to herself ; she had known it, and yet how it pleased 
 her. A kicking wave met the Merry broadside on, 
 and Anne sat down hastily to her oars, and pulled 
 forward. She was practical again now, and it was 
 in the most matter-of-fact voice that, as the Merry 
 reared up towards the Gull, she called 
 
 " Mr. Illingborough ! " 
 
 Illingborough came to his feet as wonderingly as 
 though it had been a siren hailing him. 
 
 " Miss Wetherborne ! " 
 
 " What are you doing there ? " said Anne. 
 
 " Well the fact is I " Illingborough was be- 
 ginning to involve himself in a long-winded explana- 
 tion when Anne cut him short. 
 
 ." It doesn't much matter at present," she said. 
 " You'd better come on board the Merry as soon as 
 possible. You won't get back in the Gyll, you know."
 
 ANNE TO THE RESCUE 311 
 
 " It's most awfully good of you to have come after 
 me," said Illingborough gratefully. " I thought I 
 should have to drift. But don't you think it would 
 be best if you were to row back and warn the coast- 
 guards. I don/t like to leave {he Gull to herself. 
 The wind seems to be getting up rather, and if she 
 were lost, Mr. Wetherborne would be awfully vexed. 
 Besides " 
 
 Anne could have screamed with merriment and 
 impatience combined. 
 
 " If you don't come at once, I shan't be able to 
 get back at all. We shall have to pull as it is, and 
 then we mayn't." 
 
 " I say ! " The idea that Miss Wetherborne could 
 t>e in danger horrified Illingborough, and for a moment 
 Anne was afraid that he would, with his usual con- 
 tradictoriness, make amends for his delay by leaping 
 too soon. 
 
 " Wait a bit," she had to say. " You may as well 
 come on board dry. Now ! " 
 
 Next moment Illingborough had leapt, clumsily 
 enough, and was in the Merry at Anne's feet, clamour- 
 ing to know if he hadn't better take both oars, sure 
 that Miss Wetherborne must be tired after rowing all 
 that way, positive that he was much fitter, not having 
 done anything but rest. Anne gave him an oar and 
 bade him keep his breath for rowing.
 
 312 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 " We shall have to pull as hard as we know how 
 for the Beacon Cove." 
 
 " The Beacon Cove ? Aren't we going to go back, 
 then ? " 
 
 " We're almost past Wrack Head already. We 
 can't go back against this tide. Pull ! " said Anne, 
 and smothered his desire for explanations. Then for 
 five minutes they pulled against an increasing current, 
 and Anne, with her back to Illingborough, could hear 
 from his laboured breath that he was getting all the 
 explanation he required by experience. 
 
 In another five minutes Anne gave up rowing with a 
 little gasp. They were fifty yards farther out to sea 
 than when they had parted company with the Gull. 
 
 " We can't do it," she said, and turned round to 
 Illingborough. He was crimson in the face and 
 grunting like a pig, and she expected him to welcome 
 this decision, despairing though it sounded. Instead, 
 he managed to get out 
 
 " Give me your oar." 
 
 Anne gave it meekly and retired to the stern, where 
 for some minutes longer she had the doubtful privilege 
 of watching Illingborough row himself out vainly. 
 He was a purple colour, and they had lost a hundred 
 yards when he bent forward on his oars at last, having 
 given in without a word said. 
 
 " It wasn't any good," said Anne, with an attempt
 
 ANNE TO THE RESCUE 313 
 
 at consolation. " You'd better put her head round 
 if you feel up to it. It'll be safer." 
 
 Illingborough did this, awkwardly enough, and 
 nearly lost an oar in the process. 
 
 " What now ? " he said. 
 
 " We may get in at one of the coves towards Rock 
 End Point," said Anne, " if the sea doesn't get up 
 too much. There's going to be a gale. You needn't 
 pull. Just keep her straight." 
 
 They drifted out gently, as Anne had guessed from 
 the first they would. The foreknowledge had given 
 her a certain serenity with which to meet this moment 
 when the certainty of their danger was established. 
 She felt mostly only sober, with just a touch of curiosity 
 to know what Illingborough would do next. For 
 he had not known the thing for a certainty. He 
 must surely have felt that he was drifting into danger 
 alone in the unmanageable Gull, with a gale impending, 
 but he might not have realised the greatness of it. 
 He had made incredible efforts to row out of it, when 
 she warned him efforts that had taken it out of 
 him and left him exhausted and speechless. Could it 
 be that now he would show himself weak ? Anne 
 shivered a little at the thought. She would not be 
 afraid if he were brave ; but if he were not brave, how 
 should she keep up ? The woman in her fainted 
 with the fear of finding him unmanned. He had
 
 not spoken since he putthat simple question. Wouldn't 
 he ever speak ? They were parallel with the Point 
 now. Illingborough lifted his head. 
 
 " You knew the danger all the time ? I can't ever 
 thank you," he said, with a brave simplicity that she 
 had never before heard him use. 
 
 Anne smiled back at him. That was the tone 
 she wanted. Next moment, with Anne still smiling, 
 they had rounded the head, and the storm broke on 
 them.
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 THE SEARCH 
 
 THE sun had been shining when Joan, after her vain 
 attempt to induce Illingborough to give up Jocelyne 
 in favour of Mr. Clifford, left the house routed. 
 
 Joan was glad when it went in. The grey sky 
 that supervened, as she walked along somewhat 
 aimlessly, was more in harmony with her feelings. 
 It was, she felt, a grey world whether the sun shone 
 or not ; and it was only sensible to recognise this, and 
 act in conformity with it. Once she had longed to 
 be a sunbeam bringing joy to dark corners and obscure 
 people preferably as a rector's wife in some quiet 
 English village. Odo's disloyalty had destroyed 
 that dream, and given her yearnings for the more 
 subdued life of a hospital nurse. 
 
 Even so she had looked forward to being a breezy 
 cheerful nurse, at whose visits patients would lift 
 their heads and smile. 
 
 This morning her thoughts turned to a convent 
 
 or at least to some very severe Order of Sisters, who 
 
 315
 
 3i6 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 only attended death-beds and never had to pretend 
 to a gaiety that their vocation would render indecent 
 and impossible. 
 
 Joan felt that she could be the severest sister of 
 them all ; and composed her features to the sort of 
 grim austerity that would, under such circumstances, 
 be incumbent upon her. She had also begun to 
 practise a kind of mute's walk, which was rather 
 difficult to manage going up the very steep hill she 
 happened to be on, when the sound of a horse and 
 trap behind her caused her to look round. 
 
 A dogcart driven by one of Lady Start's grooms, 
 and containing Captain Hatton and his portmanteau, 
 was the sight that presented itself to her. She paused, 
 and allowed her features to relax. 
 
 " Good-morning, Captain Hatton," she said, as the 
 dogcart came up at a slow walk. 
 
 " Good-morning, Miss Joan," he said politely. 
 " Taking a walk ? " For a moment he had hoped 
 that she was Anne, and that he would have a last 
 chance of speaking to her, but his handsome face 
 showed no sign of his disappointment. 
 
 " Yes," said Joan, walking alongside. " Are you 
 leaving Storr Court already ? " 
 
 He nodded. " Have to, unfortunately," he said. 
 " Business." 
 
 Joan's first impulse had been to try and find out
 
 THE SEARCH 317 
 
 whether affairs between him and Anne were progressing 
 at all, and if not, why not. But something in his 
 pleasant but curt tone suggested to her that he would 
 not really welcome inquiry or assistance, and she 
 recollected that she had just cast herself for a more 
 austere if less interesting role than that of helping 
 lame dogs over stiles. Captain Hatton and Anne were 
 both butterflies. They might be flitting in the sun or 
 the shadow, in any case it mattered little. Her part 
 in aiding them could only come when they were 
 stricken down by some mortal illness ; then they 
 would welcome the stern-faced sister visiting them 
 perhaps for the last time. 
 
 Still, there was no harm in a little conversation 
 meanwhile. 
 
 " How soon it seems ! " she said. " I suppose 
 Miss Hatton will be staying on ? " 
 
 " I expect so," said the captain, relieved to have got 
 away from his own trouble. " At any rate her young 
 man's coming down." 
 
 " Her young man ? " said Joan, with sudden eager- 
 ness. 
 
 " Well, I oughtn't to have said that," said Captain 
 Hatton, repentant. " I believe it's one of those not 
 absolutely fixed-up sort of things. They are engaged, 
 but not formally, don't you know ! A secret seems 
 to make it pleasanter. I don't suppose it will be long
 
 318 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 before they confess, as he's coming down. But I 
 oughtn't to have let it out." 
 
 " Of course I shall not repeat it," said Joan, and 
 when the dogcart had driven off she turned her 
 steps in the direction of Mazinghope. After all, 
 Mazinghope was her native village. It had treated 
 her ill, but she would not give it up without a 
 struggle. 
 
 " Why, we haven't seen you for ages," said the 
 rector, who was the first person to meet her as she 
 walked into the rectory garden. 
 
 " I've been very busy the last few days," said Joan, 
 " thinking about whether I ought to become a hospital 
 nurse. I fancied for some time that I was in a way 
 called to it, but it's a difficult thing to make up one's 
 mind about. I thought I'd come and ask your opinion 
 about it and Mrs. Watterly's. If I took it up, I 
 should like to do so whole-heartedly, and with the 
 approval of my friends." 
 
 " Quite so, quite so," said the rector. " You must 
 stop to lunch, and we must talk it over. Odo's eating 
 strawberries, I believe. That lazy fellow never does 
 anything in the garden but eat fruit." 
 
 " He rolls the lawn," said Joan, up in arms in Odo's 
 defence. 
 
 " Well, he's got a champion in you," said the rector, 
 who was himself anxious to do some summer pruning
 
 THE SEARCH 319 
 
 of shrubs. " I should go and make him pick fruit for 
 me, if I were you." 
 
 Joan went, and in the intervals of eating straw- 
 berries somehow managed to learn from Odo and 
 that without in any way breaking her promise to 
 Captain Hatton to preserve the secret of his sister's 
 engagement that Miss Hatton had not and never 
 had had the smallest attraction for him. 
 
 " Mater admires her frightfully for some reason," 
 Odo admitted ; " but I can't see it myself. She's 
 got an awfully stiff manner frightens me and as 
 for her backhand, well, it's disgraceful." 
 
 Joan, who was rather good at backhand strokes 
 herself, promised to play Odo a single after lunch. She 
 enjoyed that meal in her old un worried manner, in 
 spite of the fact that Mrs. Watterly took the somewhat 
 unexpected line of very strongly encouraging her in 
 the idea of becoming a hospital nurse. Joan almost 
 saw herself driven off, willy-nilly, to scrub floors 
 in some London hospital, and only prevented Mrs. 
 Watterly from writing at once to a matron who was a 
 dear friend of hers, by suggesting that Mr. Wetherborne 
 might not be willing to hand over the money which 
 would be required to start her. Mrs. Watterly then 
 agreed that they must wait and see. 
 
 The tennis came to an end sooner than it might 
 otherwise have done owing to the badness of the light,
 
 320 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 and when Joan said she must hurry home to get in 
 before the storm, Odo insisted on accompanying her. 
 
 " Why, you might almost lose your way," he said, 
 as they set out. " I've never seen it so black in June." 
 
 It was an exaggeration perhaps, but Joan did not 
 mind that. She was glad to have Odo with her, 
 especially when the storm broke in a scurry of wind 
 and rain that in no way lightened the face of the sky. 
 She was gladder still to have him when they reached 
 the Sea House, to find something not unlike a catas- 
 trophe had occurred. 
 
 The first symptoms of it were observable in the 
 porch where was gathered an animated group, con- 
 sisting of Joe Evans and two other men from Mazing- 
 hope, Mrs. Odler, and Mr. Wetherborne. 
 
 " Whatever can be the matter ? " asked Joan, 
 hurrying up. 
 
 Mr. Wetherborne began to unfold a state of affairs 
 unparalleled, he was bound to say, in his pretty long 
 experience. Personally, he had been over to Porton 
 Langley for the day. He had not wanted to go to 
 Porton Langley. The weather was far too sultry, 
 and he had got very wet coming back. He had gone 
 at a sacrifice of his own feelings, and because his 
 absence had appeared to be desired. He had always, 
 he fancied, made it quite clear that anything in the 
 nature of scenes and of promises of scenes was equiva-
 
 THE SEARCH 321 
 
 lent to telling him that his company was not required. 
 He hated scenes, and he would rather endure dis- 
 comfort and even hardship than take part in 
 them. Very well. He had gone to Porton Langley, 
 and he had had a very inferior luncheon at the Frigate. 
 He did not know what the Frigate was coming to. It 
 might be good enough for tourists and holiday-makers, 
 and if such were the people the landlord wished to 
 cater for, well and good. Mr. Wetherborne himself 
 was not a tourist, and he hoped it would be a very long 
 time before he became one. This passion for rushing 
 about the country like a herd of sheep was in his 
 opinion a sign of decadence ; and it would soon make 
 the Frigate intolerable. It would be a long time 
 before he went over to Porton Langley again. But 
 he thought it would be a still longer time before, if 
 he did go to Porton Langley, he had to come back 
 to his own house, mind you only to find a state of 
 affairs which, for discomfort, mystery, and unpleasant- 
 ness, were he repeated it unparalleled in his ex- 
 perience. 
 
 " Yes but what is it ? " said Joan impatiently. 
 The three men from Mazinghope were shuffling their 
 feet uneasily, not liking to interrupt Mr. Wetherborne, 
 but evidently of opinion that something was to be 
 done. Mrs. Odler could scarcely restrain herself. "Is 
 something the matter, Evans ? " Joan went on. 
 
 21
 
 322 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 " Well, Miss," began Evans a hairy-faced man 
 whose voice seemed to be muffled by having to pene- 
 trate the thick tangle about his mouth " it dew 
 seem that " 
 
 Mr. Wetherborne held up his hand. 
 
 " One moment, Evans ! " he said, and proceeded 
 to explain what was the matter. It appeared that 
 Anne had sent up a message to Mazinghope for Evans 
 and his companions to come over and help pull up 
 the boats, which were likely to be damaged if left 
 out. Evans and his companions had come. They 
 had been down to the beach, where they supposed 
 they would find the boats they had to pull up. That 
 natural supposition had been a mistaken one. There 
 were no boats there. The Gull was not there. The 
 Merry was not there. Nor was Anne there or in the 
 house. Jocelyne too seemed to have vanished. Tom 
 was nowhere about. Joan would be aware that to 
 within the last few minutes she herself had been 
 absent. Mr. Wetherborne did not complain of that. 
 He was very glad to see Joan. And Odo. All he 
 wished to point out was that if nobody was ever 
 going to stay in the Sea House at all, particularly 
 at moments when some one in authority was needed 
 to give Joe Evans and his companions instructions 
 as to what they were to do, the Sea House might as 
 well be let or sold. Perhaps it would be best to sell it.
 
 THE SEARCH 323 
 
 " Oh, I can't abear this," said Mrs. Odler suddenly, 
 and rushed into the house. 
 
 " But what's become of the boats ? " Joan asked, 
 bewildered. 
 
 " Exactly," said Mr. Wetherborne. 
 
 It was at this moment when Joan was staring at 
 her father, the picture of worried incompetence ; 
 when Mrs. Odler had hurried back into the porch, 
 wringing her hands with the certainty that something 
 dreadful had occurred ; when Odo had drawn Joe 
 Evans aside to try and learn from him whether he 
 had any idea as to what could have happened to 
 the boats ; and when, with a sudden drop of the wind 
 and rain, the sky seemed to have grown more extra- 
 ordinarily dark than before that Tom came flying 
 into their midst. 
 
 " Miss Anne's swep out intew th' bay," he cried. 
 " She an' Mr. Illingborough. Leastways Mick Gerton 
 says that he see th' Gull a-driftin' out with a gentleman 
 a-board, and dreckly after Miss Anne in th' Merry 
 seemin' tew follow. He were gone to see tew his 
 goats Mick were on th' cliff and he see 'em 
 nigh tew rounding th' Wrack." 
 
 He paused, and all eyes were turned upon 
 him. 
 
 " Are you certain of that, Tom ? " asked Odo. 
 
 " Mick says it. I come on straight," said Tom.
 
 324 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 " For certain they're out in th' storm." His voice 
 quavered with breathlessness and excitement. 
 
 If he had wanted to make an impression, Tom had 
 his wish. Nobody spoke until Joe Evans, in his 
 muffled voice that would have tuned well with the 
 Dead March, exclaimed 
 " Then may th' Lard have mercy upon them ! " 
 After that sentiment action was demanded, and 
 Odo gave orders in a quick, matter-of-fact way that 
 made Joan admire him more even than when he 
 was preaching. The first thing necessary was to 
 warn the coastguards, and one of the younger Mazing- 
 hope men was sent off running to the nearest station, 
 which was some five miles along the cliff. The other 
 was sent to Porton Langley to ask if the lifeboat 
 could be sent out. Tom was bidden to go up to 
 the Rectory and request the Rector to bring all hands 
 he could to watch the cliffs and beach. They were 
 to equip themselves with ropes and lanterns, Odo 
 said, for it might be that Anne would try to get in 
 somewhere along the coast, or they might be driven 
 in, and there was not likely to be much light until 
 the morning. Odo did not feel hopeful himself, 
 though he pretended to be so for Joan's sake. Tom, 
 on the contrary, though excited in the extreme, was 
 convinced that Miss Anne would effect a landing 
 somewhere not far off, if she tried that in preference
 
 THE SEARCH 325 
 
 to crossing to the opposite coast. Miss Anne, he 
 maintained, could do anything. He was not sorry 
 to be sent off without questions asked as to his where- 
 abouts during the afternoon, when he had played 
 truant. 
 
 Mrs. Odler was left to guard the house with Mr. 
 Wetherborne, who volunteered indeed to accompany 
 Odo along the cliffs, but was of opinion that it would 
 be more useful if he stopped behind and kept a lamp 
 burning in the drawing-room window which faced 
 seaward. 
 
 " This," he said, " may actually serve to point 
 them to the bay, and also if, as I quite recognise, 
 they should be unable to row back against the tide, 
 they will at least be encouraged to see a light in the 
 old familiar house, and to know that they are not 
 forgotten." 
 
 " Yes," said Ode. 
 
 " Besides which, Jocelyne, for all one knows, may 
 be lost on the cliff somewhere," said Mr. Wetherborne. 
 Mrs. Odler's story that she had seen Jocelyne leave 
 the house with Clifford not so very long before seemed 
 to him unsatisfactory. For why should she go out 
 at that hour and with a storm obviously impending ? 
 Jocelyne had too much sense to wish to get wet for 
 no reason. 
 
 " Quite," said Odo. " The lamp will be very useful.
 
 You may kill two birds with one stone so to 
 speak." 
 
 It was the first time he had ever been sarcastic, and 
 he was glad to hurry away after it with Joan and Buzz. 
 
 In the long hours of search that followed, some- 
 times in the face of the wind that almost blew them 
 along, sometimes in thunder rain, at first deafened 
 with noise and afterwards oppressed by the stillness 
 that succeeded to the first violence of the storm 
 for a lull came at one point, and out of brown and 
 purple skies a few rays of the sunset came faintly, 
 before the dark day settled down into a darker night 
 in these long hours Odo was indefatigable both in 
 spying for the lost ones and in comforting Joan. 
 
 And through all the misery and weariness and 
 terror of it Joan carried a constant conviction that 
 even if things more terrible and gloomy had happened 
 than anything that had yet crossed the equable 
 current of her life, even then she would not be so 
 dispirited as ever to wish to go into a convent or 
 even to become a hospital nurse except perhaps for 
 a few months.
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 ANNE AND ILLINGBOROUGH AT SEA 1 
 
 THE storm was more violent on the sea than on the 
 land, yet if Anne could have looked down on herself 
 from some safe place, she would have been amazed to 
 realise how she was almost enjoying that dangerous 
 game of pitch and toss which the sea was playing 
 with them. She had nerved herself for death from the 
 start ; at the start she had looked bravely but gravely 
 in the face of the swirl of water that was now a 
 mountain, now a sudden gulf, for the little boat to 
 climb or sink into. She believed that one of these 
 waves would probably in the end lift the Merry too 
 high and dash her down too instantly into the next 
 rearing giant sea ; she hoped that when that moment 
 came she would not cry out over-weakly as she 
 was swallowed down she and Mr. Illingborough 
 together. 
 
 That was at the start. But though this probability 
 remained as conspicuous as ever and not less imminent 
 for the waves were higher than she had ever dreamed
 
 328 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 a small boat could live in Anne forgot her brave 
 sobriety in a bravery that had actually become 
 frolicsome. Therein she was so to speak playing 
 at Follow my Leader. Illingborough had become 
 gay, utterly unlike himself, and was winning smiles 
 and even gurgles of laughter from her natural ones, 
 not hysterical, but extracted by his abuse of the 
 sea, his appeals to the Merry to pull herself together, 
 his jibes at his own oarsmanship, which was neverthe- 
 less extremely careful. 
 
 They had had one grave talk due to Anne's question- 
 ing him as to how he had managed to get adrift. He 
 gave her the account of Clifford's conversation with 
 him, and admitted that Clifford must have cut the 
 cable when he himself was below, though he had not 
 seen him do it. 
 
 " And what's more, I can't conceive his object," he 
 said. " Of course we were pretty angry with one 
 another a moment before. I know I felt fierce enough 
 with him, and I dare say he felt the same." 
 
 " You seem to have made a good many people 
 feel fierce in the course of the day," said Anne. 
 
 " It was unavoidable except in one case. I can't 
 forgive myself," said Illingborough earnestly, " for 
 whatever I did wrong then. I wish I knew what 
 it was." 
 
 " I've forgotten," said Anne lightly. " I had a
 
 ANNE AND ILLINGBOROUGH AT SEA 329 
 
 sunstroke, I think. Or no there wasn't any sun. 
 A cloud-stroke." 
 
 "I'm sure I said something stupid," Illingborough 
 persisted. 
 
 " No," she said, and added, " By the way, did you 
 get your telegram ? " 
 
 " Telegram ? No," said Illingborough. 
 
 ' You weren't expecting one ? " she said. 
 
 " I can't say that I was." 
 
 That set her thinking. For how had the boy 
 been going back with the prepaid answer if the 
 telegram had not been delivered ? Besides, he said 
 he had taken it to the Sea House. Some one must 
 have received it. What if Clifford had been the 
 person ? 
 
 " I suppose you didn't know," she said at the end 
 of a short silence, broken only by the splash of the 
 seas, " that Mr. Clifford knew what you were here 
 for all the time ? " 
 
 " All the time ? But it's impossible," said Illing- 
 borough, and explained to her the circumstances 
 under which he had received his instructions. 
 Evidently there was a mystery somewhere, but 
 neither of them were at the time greatly disposed to 
 bother about it. There was mystery enough around 
 them and ahead of them to make the one that lay 
 behind them of little interest.
 
 330 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 Not that they concerned themselves with the 
 mysteries of the sea and of death, either. Beyond 
 this one conversation, the only serious question 
 Illingborough had put her regarded her opinion :is 
 to what the best chance awaiting them might be. 
 
 Anne's view was that their best and also their only 
 chance was to keep inshore as much as possible, and 
 when an opening occurred in the chain of the rocks 
 make an attempt to beach the boat. Beach v 
 perhaps a rather euphemistic term, for there was no 
 beach in the true sense of the word between the Sea 
 House Cove and Melcombe Sands, fourteen miles 
 to the west a point impossible to attain in an open 
 boat in that sea. The floors of all the coves between 
 were formed of nothing but smaller rocks. Still, if 
 they could force a channel to these, the boat might 
 be driven near enough inshore to permit of their 
 struggling on to land. It was not a very good dunce, 
 partly because it was doubtful how long the boat 
 would live in any case, partly because it was probable 
 that in the course of beaching her she would be upset , 
 < \ en if they could secure the most favourable channel. 
 Anne advised that they should wait for a channel 
 which led to a little cove known as Fern Cove, lying 
 just short of Rock End Point. They would be out 
 of the force of the current that had carried them 
 round Wrack ll< ad.
 
 ANNE AND ILLINGBOROUGH AT SEA 331 
 
 She had explained this plainly enough in response 
 to Illingborough's question, and he had asked her 
 to tell him when he should put the Merry's head for 
 the channel. After that they had dropped the 
 subject, and Illingborough, whom Anne had never 
 known frivolous, had begun, as has been said, to indulge 
 in frivolity, rowing carefully all the time. His best 
 efforts had not prevented the Merry taking in a good 
 deal of water, which Anne, armed with his hat, had 
 been baling pretty arduously. The vision of her 
 with his hat had set Illingborough talking about hats 
 as pitchers. 
 
 " I've often read of hats being used for that purpose," 
 he said, " but I never expected to see my hat 
 being so useful. Now, if I were a no-hat enthusiast, 
 we should be badly off." 
 
 " You might have had a less leaky hat," Anne 
 observed. 
 
 " I'll make a point of it when I get a new one. 
 It mustn't leak, I'll tell the hatter." 
 
 " He'll think you're mad," said Anne. 
 
 " Water on the brain," suggested Illingborough. 
 " Oh Miss Wetherborne, what a low notion. No, I 
 shall confide in him that I am a great squire of dames, 
 that they often faint when out for walks with me 
 (they do in novels, or they used to), and that I 
 want a hat that I can run to the nearest sparkling
 
 332 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 pool with and carry water back in to sprinkle on 
 them." 
 
 " I don't believe I should like to be revived with 
 water from a hat." 
 
 " You wouldn't mind if you'd properly fainted. It 
 would just be sprinkled over you like that." A 
 wave broke over the Merry's bows and threw a 
 foam of spray over Anne and a couple of gallons 
 of water into the Merry. " And it would come 
 from a crystal pool, remember. You'd like it really ; 
 and you would open your eyes of speedwell blue 
 if you were anything like a real heroine and softly 
 murmur Dash ! " 
 
 Another wave had lipped over the side of the Merry 
 and interrupted Illingborough's flow. 
 
 " ' Dash ' is just what I do murmur not at all softly, 
 though," said Anne. " I'm quite sure I should 
 murmur it still louder if you threw a hatful of water 
 over me when I'd fainted." 
 
 " And I'm quite sure you never would faint," said 
 Illingborough. 
 
 It was the first compliment if it was a compliment 
 the first personal thing he had ever said to her, and 
 a faint pink came into Anne's cheeks. She felt the 
 absurdity of blushing it was a blush of a kind 
 in the middle of that tossing sea, and could not help 
 hoping earnestly (little, after all, that it mattered)
 
 ANNE AND ILLINGBOROUGH AT SEA 333 
 
 that he had not noticed her. She said awkwardly 
 enough 
 
 " I don't know. I never have, but I might." 
 
 " You wouldn't," Illingborough asseverated. 
 
 " Well, it doesn't matter now, anyhow. We won't 
 argue about it." Anne laughed a little, for he was 
 capable of beginning an argument. " There isn't 
 time, Mr. Illingborough. We're getting opposite Fern 
 Cove." Her voice became grave at once. " You want 
 to pull your right oar still. Don't turn her yet. 
 Now your left. The channel's ahead of us." 
 
 Illingborough looked over his right shoulder as 
 the Merry swung round to the shore. Thirty yards 
 ahead of them a tall sharp rock on the left stood out 
 of a black eddy : beyond it to the right were low rocks 
 that were hidden now and again in showers of spray. 
 
 " You must shave the big rock," said Anne quickly, 
 for they were approaching it now at the great pace 
 with all the sea, as it seemed, in their wake " keep 
 under it ! Touch it ! Touch it ! Pull your left." 
 
 They went under it so close that Illingborough 's 
 right oar was ground against it : he only knew that 
 it was broken as they came round into a white froth. 
 If he had known, the loss mattered little, as it happened, 
 for the sea running east was pulling more strongly 
 than any oar. But in his distress he rested on his left 
 oar and it got swept round under the boat. He heard
 
 334 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 Anne, he saw Anne saying, " Left, left," and could 
 not pull. Then in a moment the Merry had come 
 broadside on in all that spume, and following Anne's 
 eyes, Illingbo rough saw a great wave coming down 
 on them. Instinctively he leapt to his feet to go 
 towards her. 
 
 " Anne ! " he cried loudly, and stretched his arms 
 for her. 
 
 That was the last thing she heard, for the roaring 
 water took them the next instant and smothered 
 them down. So for a little there was nothing in her 
 ears but that sea-sound that shells give out, and 
 nothing in her eyes but the smart of the sea, and 
 nothing in her body but the desire for breath. After- 
 wards, there were pitchings to and fro : her feet 
 touched bottom and were dragged again from under 
 her ; she was a part of all the reluctance of the sands 
 that the sea drags back from dry land to smother 
 and make oozy. Then suddenly the earth took 
 sides with her, as it seemed : something that was 
 strong and not the sea enclosed her and drew her 
 from the sea, though the sea still pursued. She was 
 conscious of that only for a second. 
 
 For it was Anne in a swoon whom Illingborough, 
 breathless himself, half blind with the spray, and 
 staggering like a drunken man, bore up out of the 
 sea and deposited on the rocky strand of Fern Cove.
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 LOVE IN THE COVE 
 
 " So I fainted after all," said Anne. 
 
 She was half sitting, half lying against the smooth 
 side of an overhanging cliff, with Illingborough 
 kneeling beside her, looking desperately anxious. 
 For some minutes he had been watching beside her 
 lifeless form, chafing her hands, blaming himself 
 bitterly that he could not recollect the proper pro- 
 cesses of artificial respiration, going hot and cold 
 by turns. He had thought of climbing the cliff to 
 get assistance, but failed at the first glance to see a 
 way up ; he could not go hunting for a path with her 
 lying there it was impossible. So he had returned 
 to her side and begun chafing again. And now she 
 had come to and was actually speaking to him. 
 
 " Thank Heaven ! " said Illingborough. " Do you 
 really feel better ? " 
 
 " I feel all right," said Anne. She stretched her- 
 self a little, lazily. She felt intensely inert. " Did 
 you sprinkle me with water from your hat ? " she 
 
 335
 
 336 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 said, with a smile of recollection. " I feel very 
 wet." 
 
 " That's sea- water, you know," said Illingborough 
 soothingly. " We got rather wet, you know, coming 
 ashore." 
 
 Anne shivered a little. 
 
 " Oh yes, I remember. What became of the 
 Merry ? " 
 
 " I'm afraid there's not much left of her. You see, 
 what with the rocks and so forth," his eyes went 
 involuntarily to the sea, and Anne's followed, " there 
 wasn't much chance for the Merry." 
 
 " No," said Anne, watching the scene before her. 
 
 On one who had not been only ten minutes ago in 
 the thick and chaos of it, the scene, for its fury and 
 splendid wildness, might have cast a spell of allure- 
 ment. Under a near and pendulous sky huge waves 
 leapt and humped themselves nightmares rearing 
 to be quit of the blackness that rode them. They 
 threw it, and suddenly stampeding, raced madly 
 towards the land. And there among the ramparts 
 and entanglements of the rocks the wild phalanxes 
 were caught and split in a thousand thunderous units. 
 The spray was like smoke on an ancient battlefield, 
 for the water, poured by this storm far beyond the 
 natural limit of the tide, shattered upon rocks that in 
 a calm they would never have reached.
 
 LOVE IN THE COVE 337 
 
 Anne shivered, and turned her eyes for preference 
 to the cliff. 
 
 The calm before a storm is a common phenomenon, 
 but Fern Cove presented that rarer one calm in a 
 storm. Perhaps there had come that lull that the 
 searchers on the cliffs had noted ; perhaps the cove 
 was protected by the high cliffs which hemmed it 
 in on three sides. Whatever might be the cause, 
 though the noise of the sea filled it, there was 
 no wind raging in it. A suppressed yellow light, 
 such as a storm sunset throws, illuminated it, as 
 it were with sunlight seen through a tent. The 
 cliff opposite looked as if painted by some old 
 master of ochre tints. 
 
 " Are you really feeling all right ? " 
 
 It appeared that Anne's gazing had distressed 
 Illingborough ; the earnestness of his question seemed 
 to suggest that he thought but badly of her chances 
 of pulling through and she was to let him know the 
 worst. 
 
 " Yes, really," said Anne. 
 
 " I was afraid that you were hurt," said Illing- 
 borough. 
 
 "No." In spite of herself, she felt the pink rising in 
 her cheeks again as it had risen in the boat. When he 
 had called her Anne, she had thought it did not matter : 
 very soon the sea was to have held them both. She
 
 must not let him see that she remembered. " Not a 
 bit," she said lightly. 
 
 Illingborough sighed, obviously with relief. 
 
 " Then I ought to begin getting back," he said, in 
 his most matter-of-fact way. 
 
 Anne stared. " Getting back ? Where to ? " 
 
 " Well, to the Sea House, I suppose," he said, as 
 though it was the simplest matter in the world. " Any- 
 way, to some place where I can get some one to help 
 me bring you up. You see, we can't stop here all 
 night." 
 
 Anne could have stopped there for ever speaking 
 comparatively. She had not thought of getting back 
 or not getting back. She had been thinking that Illing- 
 borough had called her Anne. But there is nothing 
 more infectious than the tone of matter-of-factness. 
 
 " Of course," said Anne cheerfully. " The only 
 thing is how are you going to get back ? " 
 
 " By climbing the cliff, I suppose." 
 
 " It's impossible." She had landed there before 
 in calm weather, and knew its inaccessibility. 
 
 Illingborough smiled that smile of his which had 
 often provoked a devil in Anne. The smile was not 
 exactly a superior one : it did not condescend at all. 
 It was a smile that implied finality the smile of the 
 doctrinaire. It implied, almost as if he had said it, 
 ' ' My dear young lady, I have no doubt that what you
 
 LOVE IN THE COVE 339 
 
 say is ordinarily correct. But circumstances demand 
 that the cliff shall be climbed : therefore I propose 
 to consider it climbable, and in fact to climb it." 
 Bridge players will recall the rule which says that if 
 the game can only be saved by a certain card being in 
 one's partner's hand, one must act as if it were there. 
 The chances are two to one that it isn't there, but for 
 the player it is there beyond any manner of doubt. 
 Anne knew that the cliff was not climbable ; for Illing- 
 borough it was climbable. 
 
 He said 
 
 " Of course I'm an awfully poor climber, but I must 
 see what I can do." 
 
 " You can break your neck," said Anne. 
 
 " My dear Miss Wetherborne ! " Illingborough de- 
 precated her exaggeration with another smile more 
 moral than the last. 
 
 Seven devils entered Anne. 
 
 " Well, you'd better be quick about it," she said. 
 " I'm getting cold. Please don't fuss," she added, 
 as Illingborough began his usual distressful apologies 
 for not having thought of that, for not having done 
 anything or thought of anything (as though he were 
 responsible for water being wet). " I dare say I shall 
 get warm watching you." 
 
 " I'll hang out my coat to dry, and then, if you don't 
 mind," said Illingborough, " you could put it on."
 
 340 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 " You'd much better keep it on yourself to break 
 your fall." 
 
 But Illingborough had it off, and was suspending 
 it over a rock in silence. He came over to Anne 
 before he started. 
 
 " You couldn't tell me which side of the cove is 
 easier to start from ? " 
 
 " I tell you it's impossible." 
 
 " Then I think I'll try the right. If I might suggest 
 that you walked up and down, it would be more 
 warming." 
 
 '' Oh, leave me," said Anne in a pet, and pretended 
 not to see Illingborough cross the little cove to where 
 some spurs of rock gave a semblance of leading up to 
 the sheer cliff above. 
 
 They were not particularly easy to climb in them- 
 selves, but Illingborough went at them in a business- 
 like way which Anne had not somehow expected 
 perhaps she had hoped he would not display it. The 
 thought in her mind was : If he can get up these so 
 easily, he will be tempted higher, and will get higher ; 
 then he will find the impossibility. 
 
 She was dismayed to see that this was to be the case. 
 Already Illingborough was on the sheer wall of the 
 cliff, and getting higher with a spread-eagled method 
 of progress. She had intended not to look, but now 
 she could not help looking. He was reaching out now
 
 LOVE IN THE COVE 341 
 
 for a tussock that certainly would not hold him. 
 There were sharp rocks below. Anne sprang to her 
 feet, and began hurrying across the intervening space. 
 
 " Mr. Illingborough," she called. 
 
 Illingborough turned half round, a perilous pro- 
 ceeding where he was. 
 
 " Yes ? " he said. 
 
 " Please don't go any farther." 
 
 " It's all right," said Illingboroug'h. " I'm getting 
 up finely." 
 
 ' You aren't it's dangerous. I don't believe you 
 can get down now." 
 
 " Oh yes, I could but I don't propose to come 
 down. I'm going up." 
 
 Illingborough reached for the tussock as he spoke 
 caught it and swung out. Anne, staring horribly, 
 could see the grass giving at its roots as it felt his 
 weight. It just held, and Illingborough got a foothold 
 which relieved the strain. To get higher he would 
 have to put all his weight on it again. 
 
 " Stop," said Anne, feeling sick. As a matter of 
 fact, she had no need to call. Illingborough had 
 realised at last his position was an impossible one. 
 He did not need to look round this time, but called 
 
 " I'm afraid I have got a bit stuck this time. I 
 shall have to come down and try if you don't mind 
 getting out of the way "
 
 342 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 He had turned in the moment of falling to see 
 Anne just below with her arms stretched out, and this 
 sentence characteristically was not quite finished off. 
 He fell talking, or rather swung himself off. He came 
 down with a thud on Anne's left, having just missed 
 her and the rocks by a hair's breadth. She stood 
 still looking at him, scarcely able to breathe, unable 
 to believe that he had reached earth uninjured. He 
 having done so, and having lain there a moment to 
 collect his wits, picked himself up as' matter-of-fact 
 as ever, and began dusting the sand from his clothes. 
 
 " It was awfully clumsy of me," he said. " I hope 
 I didn't startle you ? " 
 
 " Not in the least," said Anne. She felt her voice 
 shaking. " It it was very funny to see you." 
 
 He looked at her, the least bit hurt. It hadn't 
 been exactly fun, he thought. 
 
 " Funny ! " said Anne, and turned upon him 
 fiercely. " How dared you ? How dared you ? " 
 she said. 
 
 " But " 
 
 Anne never knew what he was going to say some- 
 thing ridiculous, no doubt for at that moment she 
 burst into sobs that shook her all over. 
 
 " How dared you ? How dared you ? " she kept 
 saying ; and when he, densely realising that he had 
 startled her, began profusest apologies, she walked
 
 LOVE IN THE COVE 343 
 
 away. It is probable that an onlooker would have 
 been amused Anne sobbing and gliding, Illing- 
 borough sidling after, abjectly apologising. They 
 were too far gone in love to see the humour of it 
 or Illingborough was. Anne felt hysterical ; and 
 it was her involuntary laughter that caused her in 
 the end to regain possession not perhaps of her wits, 
 but of her wit. Something in the manner of Illing- 
 borough's repeating in an agonised voice, " My dear 
 Miss Wetherborne, I can't tell you what a brute and 
 a fool I feel to have alarmed you," set her laughing 
 almost naturally, through her sobs. " It's not that 
 I'm cold," she said, and began to run. " You 
 can't catch me," she cried over her shoulder ; and 
 there was something in her voice that challenged him 
 to he knew not what. He ran after her, slowly at 
 first, then faster, and soon she knew that her challenge 
 had been taken. She increased her pace, and made for 
 the rocks, where she was goat-footed. Often he had 
 seen her leaping lightly from boulder to slippery 
 boulder, and had stumbled and lost ground in her 
 wake. But now, though she went quicker and quicker, 
 he gained ground. She saw that, and dodged and 
 broke back like a hare. The wind began blowing 
 her hair as she ran, and a great heave of rain came on. 
 " You'd better stop," cried Illingborough, nearly up 
 to her.
 
 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 She turned to laugh, and doubled and got away. 
 After that he kept his breath. Hers was going. He 
 could hear her little gaspings, and her leaps were not 
 so bold. It seemed she was aware of her tiring, for 
 she made for the smoother part, where she need 
 only run ; and there she made a spurt, and her feet 
 pattered quicker and shorter. Now he was wearying, 
 and because there was a chance that she might escape 
 him, he also spurted, heading her for a corner of the 
 cliff. She saw her danger and tried to fly past him 
 on her circle, and failed and half turned ancj held 
 out her arms as though to fend him off, when he 
 grasped at her triumphantly. In that chase the 
 quarry that turns at bay too late is lost. She cried 
 out against him, but he had seized her. He could feel 
 her fluttering like a bird in his arms, and a great fear 
 came over him. 
 
 " Anne," he cried, " don't you love me ? " 
 
 She did not answer, but the fluttering ceased, and 
 he took courage and looked at her, and saw in her 
 eyes the light that is the light of love. 
 
 After that the tumult and the darkness were lost 
 upon these two lovers. They did not know it was 
 night, and storms seemed gone from them for ever.
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 MR. MORTLAKE'S WILL 
 
 " NOT at home no," said Mr. Wetherborne. 
 
 It was the afternoon of the day following upon the 
 storm, and Mrs. Odler had just come in to announce 
 that a gentleman of the name of Waterlane was in 
 the drawing-room, desirous of speaking with Mr. 
 Wetherborne. Considering the fatigues and the an- 
 xieties of the previous night fatigues and anxieties 
 which he had not (as he had several times announced) 
 expected to survive, and had not by any means 
 surmounted since one of his daughters was still 
 missing Mr. Wetherborne felt justified in refusing to 
 see callers. 
 
 " Not at home at all to-day," he repeated firmly. 
 " Not to any one." 
 
 " I told the gentleman you was at home," said Mrs. 
 Odler frankly. 
 
 " This is very annoying very annoying indeed," 
 said Mr. Wetherborne, rising. 
 
 Mrs. Odler defended herself. 
 
 345
 
 346 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 " Well, I knew you was, and I said so, he askin' 
 the question straight out. O' course I could say 
 you had'n slep and was feelin' sick-like, if you wished 
 it, sir, that being truth, I dessay. For what with 
 a-settin' up with that there lamp last night til it a-gan 
 to smell, and then 'cos I was out havin' to pour 
 paraffin into it with your hands and a mercy you 
 did'n set the house on fire and that there's only the 
 two stains on the carpet it would'n be strange not 
 if you did feel a retching. And that I could tell 
 him if you wished. But I don't believe meself that 
 he wishes to see you, sir, except for the politeness. 
 It's Mr. Illingborough he wants." 
 
 " By all means, Odler, then," said Mr. Wetherborne, 
 " let him see Mr. Illingborough." 
 
 " You'd have me show him straight into the 
 garden, sir ? " 
 
 " Certainly," said Mr. Wetherborne. " Certainly. 
 Or stay. I will explain to him myself." He went 
 out, gracious but melancholy, into the drawing- 
 room, where Mr. Waterlane sat, trim and sharp- 
 eyed, suggesting an early bird on the look out 
 for worms. 
 
 " Mr Wetherborne ? " 
 
 " My dear sir," he said, " you will excuse me, I 
 feel sure, if I am unable to spare you more than a 
 minute. But my nerves are broken. A daughter and
 
 MR. MORTLAKE'S WILL 347 
 
 a guest blown out to sea and despaired of another 
 daughter vanished a sleepless night. I do not 
 as a rule request strangers to share my domestic 
 troubles, but the circumstances are unparalleled 
 unparalleled." 
 
 " My dear sir ! " said Mr. Waterlane, alarmed and 
 sympathetic. " Might I ask if the guest you 
 mention is is ' ' 
 
 " Mr. Illingborough yes." 
 
 " Blown out to sea, you say ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Wetherborne. " But luckily saved 
 by the sagacity of a dog of ours. A curious thing, 
 because bull-dogs as a rule are more remarkable 
 for courage than intelligence. With a St. Bernard 
 one might have expected it. Buzz, however, assisted 
 by a boy whom I employ in my stables, tracked 
 them." 
 
 " Out to sea ? " said Mr. Waterlane, astounded. 
 
 " To a cove in which Mr. Illingborough, together 
 with my daughter, managed to effect a landing. They 
 lost the boat, though. I do not blame them or say 
 that they could have saved it the sea was a rough 
 one. But I have put in before now myself in the 
 same spot. It may be that the sense of proprietor- 
 ship makes one more careful. I am grateful that 
 they are saved. If you care to see Mr. Illingborough 
 and can spare me ? "
 
 348 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 "Delighted. I mean thank you," said Mr. 
 Waterlane. 
 
 " Would you object to finding him for yourself 
 in the garden ? We are naturally short-handed. 
 And my own nerves or I would fetch him myself. 
 Through the French window is the shortest way 
 straight on, I fancy yes." 
 
 Mr. Waterlane found himself alone in the garden 
 of the Sea House. The sun shone brilliantly upon 
 it ; the flowers, beaten down by the storm and the 
 rain, were beginning to raise themselves refreshed 
 from the wet earth. A small brown-faced boy was 
 hoeing leisurely in one of the beds. 
 
 " Could you inform me," said Mr. Waterlane, 
 stopping to address him, since no one else was visible, 
 " where I shall find Mr. Illingborough ? " 
 
 The boy turned. 
 
 " What for ? " he said. 
 
 " Well," said Mr. Waterlane blandly, " I could tell 
 him that, couldn't I, when I saw him ? " 
 
 " Yew middn't see him," said Tom, "if he didn' 
 want yew. I dunno as he wants anny one." 
 
 " Oh, I think he'd see me," said Mr. Waterlane, 
 and made an appeal to a girl who, with a young man 
 in the dress of a curate, came towards him at that 
 moment. " I wonder," he said, " if you would be 
 good enough to direct me to Mr. Ilh'ngborough, who
 
 MR. MORTLAKE'S WILL 349 
 
 is, I am told, in the garden. I have asked this lad, 
 but without success. He seems to think " 
 
 " It's exceedingly rude of you, Tom," said Joan, 
 interrupting. " I hope," she said, turning to Mr. 
 Waterlane, " that you will excuse him. Things are 
 rather at sixes and sevens in this house, and Tom is so 
 pleased with himself at being right about Fern Cove 
 that he has forgotten his manners. He will apologise 
 to you later. I think you will find Mr. Illingborough 
 just the other side of the rose hedge." She walked on 
 with Odo, and Mr. Waterlane proceeded towards the 
 rose hedge. 
 
 " Yew'd better cough," called Tom, who had 
 listened to Joan's directions without making it clear 
 whether her sketch oi his future conduct was a correct 
 one or no. " He flewed out on me." 
 
 " Eh ? " said Mr. Waterlane, stopping. " Cough ? " 
 
 " He's courtin'," said Tom, grimacing. 
 
 " Oh, I'll cough then, certainly," said Mr. Water- 
 lane. He coughed so loudly and frequently that when 
 he arrived at his destination Illingborough and Anne 
 had almost disappeared in the opposite direction, 
 and he had to call out to prevent being left 
 behind. 
 
 " Illingborough I say Illingborough ! " 
 
 Illingborough stopped, scarcely able to believe his 
 eyes. " Mr. Waterlane ! " he said, and came towards
 
 350 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 him, accompanied by Anne. " I'm awfully pleased 
 to see you," he said, as he shook hands. 
 
 " Didn't look like it didn't look like it," said Mr. 
 Waterlane, turning an inquisitive glance on Anne. 
 " This young lady is ? " 
 
 " My future wife," said Illingborough proudly, and 
 Anne found her hand being shaken very warmly 
 by the little gentleman and her face being sharply 
 scrutinised. She liked his looks and smiled at him from 
 her big grey eyes, and he smiled back. 
 
 " I presume that for the present I must refer to her 
 
 as Miss Miss ? " He paused for the name to be 
 
 supplied him. 
 
 " Anne," said Illingborough, and was puzzled by 
 the great satisfaction visible upon Mr. Waterlane's 
 face. 
 
 " That's right that's right," he said, and turned 
 to Anne with his most courteous manner. " Now, 
 Miss Anne, you'll forgive me if I take him from 
 you. I've got to talk secrets to him. I dare say 
 you think he mustn't have any nowadays, and perhaps' 
 he won't when he gets back to you ; but in the mean- 
 time I may have him for five minutes' business ? " 
 
 She smiled again and gave her curt nod and left 
 them. Whereupon Mr. Waterlane turned upon Illing- 
 borough with a great pretence of indignation. 
 
 " This is a nice state of affairs for a lawyer to get
 
 MR. MORTLAKE'S WILL 351 
 
 into. Shipwrecks, rescues, engagements, eh ? What, 
 in the first place, do you mean by getting engaged 
 to one young lady and naming another for a visit 
 to her uncle ? Not but what it's lucky in a way, as I 
 shall be able to show you." 
 
 " I have named nobody," said Illingborough, 
 puzzled. 
 
 " In your telegram, I mean." 
 " I never sent one." 
 " What ? " Mr. Waterlane started. 
 Illingborough took from his pocket-book a letter 
 which he had composed that morning, and 
 handed it over to Mr. Waterlane, to whom it was 
 addressed. 
 
 " I was going to post it by the next post," he 
 explained. " You will see from it all that I have 
 done or failed to do. Mr. Mortlake will have every 
 right to be angry. That I feel. But I also feel that I 
 ought never to have accepted his instructions." 
 
 " As far as that goes," said Mr. Waterlane, " I may 
 inform you that they are at an end." 
 " And Mr. Mortlake himself ? " 
 " Is better. In fact, his doctor told him last night 
 that he need be in no hurry to make his will. I 
 always told him that the doctors might be wrong, 
 and now he has had to own that I was correct." 
 " Thank Heaven ! " said Illingborough fervently.
 
 352 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 " Instead of which he has made it, I believe the 
 will. Not with us. He merely told me that he would 
 do so this morning at latest. I have come down 
 for quite another reason. I'll tell you about it in a 
 minute. I want to know what's in this." He tapped 
 Illingborough's letter and began to read it. 
 
 It contained Illingborough's notice of withdrawal, 
 together with a statement of reasons for this pro- 
 ceeding ; and Illingborough had to supplement it 
 a good deal in order to satisfy Mr. Waterlane's 
 curiosity. Indeed, much was extracted from him 
 in regard to Clifford and Jocelyne that he had 
 intended generously to keep secret. 
 
 " There can be no doubt," said Mr. Waterlane at 
 the end of something like half an hour's cross-examina- 
 tion, " that those two sent the telegram. And you 
 say this Clifford tried to drown you. A very skilful 
 rascal. But how the deuce did he ever get hold of 
 your instructions ? You didn't speak of them to 
 any one ? " 
 
 " To nobody at all until yesterday." 
 
 " What sort of a man was he to look at ? " asked 
 Mr. Waterlane, reflecting. " Clifford was his name, 
 you say. You didn't hear any other ? An alias, of 
 course, is the most obvious stock-in-trade of a 
 criminal. It serves useful enough purposes, no 
 doubt."
 
 MR. MORTLAKE'S WILL 353 
 
 " I never heard any other name," said Illingborough. 
 " At least when I knew him at school, as I did curiously 
 enough, his name was Beaver. An uncle left him his 
 money on condition that he changed it." 
 
 " Ah h ! " said Mr. Waterlane. " We've heard of 
 that uncle before. The fact is, Illingborough, the 
 fellow's Mr. Mortlake's secretary. Must be. Beaver's 
 the name right enough. I expect he listened at the 
 keyhole. Mr. Mortlake was getting rather anxious 
 to know when he was coming back to finish the scarab 
 work. From Madeira. We might have thought of 
 the connection if we'd known anything of Clifford 
 down here. Of course we didn't." 
 
 " I'm afraid I thought of nothing sensible," said 
 Illingborough apologetically. " And I shall always 
 reproach myself with the idea that I might perhaps 
 have saved Jocelyne from him." 
 
 " She's supposed to have gone off with him ? " 
 
 " We are afraid so." 
 
 " Thinking she would inherit on the strength of 
 the telegram ! There seems to be a certain similarity 
 of tastes and ideas between the young lady and Mr. 
 Clifford Beaver that may make them happy together. 
 Well I don't see what you could do to stop it, 
 Illingborough, I really don't. You seem to have had 
 some little difriculty in looking after yourself last 
 night." 
 23
 
 354 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 " I should have been drowned but for Anne," said 
 Illingborough. 
 
 " So you're going to try to make up for it in the 
 only way," said Mr. Waterlane slyly. " A capital 
 plan. And she seems to me a most charming young 
 lady. Not too much to say, eh ? Leave the talking 
 to you, Illingborough, what ? If I keep you much 
 longer, though, she may begin to have something 
 to say to me. So I'd better tell you my news. You 
 haven't inquired yet why I came down." 
 
 Illingborough apologised. He still felt somewhat 
 confused from the stresses of the last two days. 
 Would Mr. Waterlane excuse him for any apparent 
 lack of interest ? 
 
 " I will," said Mr. Waterlane. " But I think you 
 ought to be interested in what I have to tell you. 
 I came down here at Mr. Mortlake's request to decide 
 a little wager we had. I have to confess beforehand 
 that my part of it involves an injustice to you. When 
 that telegram arrived with the message ' I advise 
 Jocelyne,' I happened to be at Mr. Mortlake's. He'd 
 just got over his bout. More by way of amusing 
 him than anything I said to him, ' Now what would 
 you bet that Miss Jocelyne hasn't captured her 
 judge ? ' 'A thousand pounds/ said Mr. Mortlake 
 without hesitation. I wouldn't take him of course, 
 but I stuck to my point. I must tell you that my
 
 MR. MORTLAKE'S WILL 355 
 
 objection to his plan from the first was that it would 
 tend to a judgement of Paris. I reminded him of 
 that. Mr. Mortlake wouldn't hear of that. ' You've 
 shown me an honest lawyer,' he insisted, meaning 
 you, of course, Illingborough, ' and there'll be no 
 Paris about his judgement ! ' ' He's only recommend- 
 ing for a visit,' I reminded him, and at that he 
 hummed. ' If he's named the girl he's in love with,' 
 he said, ' I'll leave my money to charity. But he 
 hasn't. You don't believe it ? Well, go down and 
 see and oblige me.' 'I don't wish to defraud Miss 
 Jocelyne of her visit,' I said. ' I only say he probably 
 admires her. Let her come and see you.' ' And 
 inherit my money ? ' he said. ' We agreed,' I 
 replied, ' that there was to be no connection between 
 the visit and the money.' ' Nor will there be/ he 
 said. ' And for this reason. I intend to leave it to 
 Illingborough himself.' ' 
 
 " What ? " said Illingborough, startled. 
 
 " That's what I said," said Mr. Waterlane. 
 
 " I couldn't possibly accept it." 
 
 Mr. Waterlane shrugged. 
 
 " You'll do as you please," he said. " But I believe 
 he has now drawn up a will to that effect. He intended 
 to all along, so he told me. He said he might be 
 eccentric, but he was also logical. He wanted to leave 
 his money in the best way. That might, he thought,
 
 356 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 mean his most satisfactory relation, or it might mean 
 some one else. When he saw you, he decided on his 
 heir. You cannot help it if you look reliable, Illing- 
 borough." 
 
 But Illingborough was distressed. It was most 
 awfully kind of Mr. Mortlake of course to have thought 
 of such a thing, but he was entirely mistaken, and in 
 any case it would be unfair and impossible, and 
 generally unthinkable. Mr. Waterlane could not take 
 that view. 
 
 " Mr. Mortlake may change, of course," he said. 
 " I don't think that he will personally. And I don't 
 see how any one can dispute it. I'm rather inclined 
 to think he will be all the more bent on his plan when 
 he hears my story. And after all," added Mr. Water- 
 lane slyly, " if you marry Miss Anne, then Mr. Mort- 
 lake's ' most satisfactory relation ' will get the fortune 
 too. But now I must be getting back. Business, 
 Illingborough, business." 
 
 " I shall be ashamed to go into the house after 
 what you have told me," said Illingborough. " I 
 hope you will tell Mr. Mortlake I do not want the 
 money." 
 
 " Certainly," said Mr. Waterlane ; and on that 
 understanding was allowed to take his departure. 
 He had lunch first, however, and the privilege of hear- 
 ing from Mr. Wetherborne his disgust at Clifford's
 
 MR. MORTLAKE'S WILL 357 
 
 conduct, a disgust which was heightened by a 
 letter from Jocelyne, which had arrived while Mr. 
 Waterlane and Illingborough were chatting in the 
 garden. 
 
 " She marries him to-day," said Mr. Wetherborne, 
 and read a piece of the letter. " ' Mr. Clifford will 
 marry me, because I expect to get my uncle's fortune. 
 He has no money of his own. I do not know that he 
 would marry me otherwise ; though he is frightened 
 to-day for a reason I cannot tell you. Only, I know 
 that he did what he did because I tempted him. And 
 I must try to make up to him for that.' They give 
 us no address," went on Mr. Wetherborne pettishly, 
 " and I cannot understand Jocelyne's reasoning. It 
 appears that she with her eyes open is marrying not 
 only a murderer in intention but also a penniless 
 adventurer. My little Jocelyne and he dares to 
 accept that self-sacrifice." 
 
 " Perhaps they will manage to be happy," said 
 Mr. Waterlane sympathetically. 
 
 " I fail to see how they can be," said Mr. Wether- 
 borne. " They are to live in one of the colonies. 
 Jocelyne expects to come into my brother-in-law's 
 fortune. But I do not suppose he would dream of 
 leaving it to a colonist. It is a great mistake to go 
 thousands of miles away like that." 
 
 " Less easy for the police to find him," suggested
 
 358 THE JUDGEMENT OF ILLINGBOROUGH 
 
 Mr. Waterlane, " had there been any need of it. 
 Luckily there isn't." 
 
 " Quite so," said Mr. Wetherborne. " It is the most 
 astounding thing I have ever known. He was a man 
 I believed in thoroughly. The pleasantest manners." 
 
 " I have known pleasant-mannered men," said Mr. 
 Waterlane dryly, " who were hanged." 
 
 Anne and Illingborough drove him to the station ; 
 and it was on their way back together that Illing- 
 borough narrated to her the new development that 
 Mr. Mortlake's eccentricity had taken. She had not 
 wanted a fortune before, and it did not impress her 
 now. All that she could understand was that her 
 uncle must be one of those like herself who knew 
 Illingborough. She felt a kindly feeling for him, and 
 said she should like to know him. But she agreed 
 that Illingborough could do what he liked about the 
 money. 
 
 As they got home, a groom on horseback, in Lady 
 Start's livery, was waiting at the gate. 
 
 " A note for you, Miss," he said, touching his hat. 
 
 Anne took it and read 
 
 MY DEAR, So it is the fierce young man. I was 
 afraid it would be. Tell him I hate him, and always 
 shall, no matter how polite he is or how long he argues 
 with me. But if he brings you to see me sometimes, I 
 shall disguise my feelings as much as possible, and he
 
 MR. MORTLAKE'S WILL 359 
 
 may even fancy, if he is very innocent, that I rather 
 like and respect him. Fancy an old woman respecting 
 a young man ! Comic, isn't it ? Good-bye, little 
 wretch, and come soon, and don't ever let him glare 
 at me. GEORGIANNA START. 
 
 Anne passed the note on to Illingborough, and asked 
 the groom to tell Lady Start that they would call on 
 her the next afternoon. She was very happy. They 
 went into the garden together, and Illingborough 
 fancied that he had never seen the grass so green 
 before. But that might be due to the unusually 
 heavy rain that had fallen during the night. 
 
 THE END
 
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 MORRISON & GIBB LIMITED 
 Edinburgh