Margaret Pedler

“ Always the vision of anything overwhelmingly beautiful seemed to fill her soul, drawing with it the memories of all that had been beautiful in life. And watching this glory of moon and sea and shore, Nan felt oddly comforted. Maryon Rooke had no part in it, nor Roger Trenby. But her love for Peter and his for her seemed one with it. ”

“ Lady Gertrude and Isobel had never been frequent visitors at Mallow, and it had so happened that neither they nor Roger had chanced to meet Nan Davenant during her former visits there.
Now that she had seen her, Isobel's ideas were altogether bouleversé. Never for a single instant would she have imagined that a woman of Nan's type—artistic, emotional, elusive—could attract a man like Roger Trenby. The fact remained, however, that Nan had succeeded where she had failed, and Isobel's dreams of a secure future had come tumbling about her ears. ”

“ Whether it happens early or late, it is always somewhat of a shock.
Nan was conscious of feeling deserted. Maryon had gone completely out of her life; Peter, the man she loved, could never come into it; and the only man who strove for entrance was, as Penelope had said, the last man in the world to make her happy.
Nevertheless, it seemed as if Fate was forcing her toward Roger, so that she might escape from forbidden love and the desperate fear and pain of it. ”

“ From the moment of Mallory's departure, she flung herself with zest into each day's amusement, behaving precisely as though she hadn't a care in life, playing about with Sandy and flirting so exasperatingly with Roger that, although she wore his ring, he never felt quite sure of her.
Kitty used every endeavor to get the girl to herself for half an hour, hoping that she might be able to extract the truth from her. But Nan had developed an extraordinary elusiveness and she skillfully avoided tête-à-tête talks with any one but Roger. ”

“ Even Roger himself seemed different in the environment of his home, less spontaneous, less of the adoring lover. Lady Gertrude's influence appeared to dominate the whole house and every one in it. But, as Nan realized, she had given her promise to Roger, and too much hung on that promise for her to break it now: Penelope's happiness and her own desire to shut herself away in safety, to bind herself so that she could never again be free. ”

“ A shadow fell across Sandy's pleasant, freckled face. It was a matter of unavailing regret to him that, owing to his parents' prejudice against music and musicians, he had been debarred from earning a living in like manner with his long, capable fingers.
His mother saw the shadow and pursed her lips obstinately together.
“There'll come no blessing with money that's earned by mere pleasuring,” she averred.
“If you only knew what hard work it means to be a successful musician, Aunt Eliza, you'd be less drastic in your criticism,” interposed Nan with warmth. ”

“ Presently Peter swung around and came to her side. But he did not touch her. His face looked drawn, and his eyes burned smolderingly, like fire half quenched.
“Nan, if I didn't care so much I'd ask you to go away with me. I—don't quite know what life will be like without you—hell, probably. But at least it's going to be my own little hell and I'm not going to drag you down into it. I'm bound irrevocably. And you're bound, too. You can't play fast and loose with the promise you've given Trenby. So we've just got to face it.” ”

“ They could not mar the loveliness of this mystic, legend-haunted corner of the world.
At length, with a faint sigh of regret, she crossed the bridge and walked slowly up a path which appeared to be little more than a rough track hewn out of the rocky side of the cliff itself, uneven and strewn with loose stones. Nan picked her steps gingerly. At the top of the track her way turned sharply at right angles to where a narrow ridge, so narrow that two people could not walk on it abreast, led to Tintagel Head. ”

“ Penelope Craig was always conscious of a sense of foreboding when she thought of Nan Davenant with whom she lived in London and whose brilliant future as a pianist was of more absorbing interest to her than her own career as a singer—for Nan was a gifted musician. ”

“ He crossed the lawn rapidly, pausing beside her, and, without looking up, she read aloud the grim couplet graven round the dial.
“That's a nice, cheery motto,” commented Trenby lightly. “They must have been a lugubrious lot in the good old days!”
“They weren't so afraid of facing the truth as we are,” Nan answered musingly. “I wonder why we always try to shut our eyes against the fact of death? It's there, waiting for us round the corner all the time.”
“But there's life and love to come first,” flashed out Roger.
Nan looked at him thoughtfully. ”

“ Nothing pleased Nan more than to persuade them to sing that quaintly charming old song, “The Keys of Heaven,” the words of which hold such a tender, whimsical understanding of the feminine heart. Perhaps the refusal of the coach and four black horses “as black as pitch,” and of all the other good things wherewith the lover in the song seeks to embellish his suit, was not rendered with quite as much emphasis as it should have been. One might almost have suspected the lady of a desire not to be too discouraging in her denials. ”

“ He went on in silence, conscious in every fiber of his being of the supple body gathered so close against his own, of the young, sweet, clean-cut curve of her cheek, and of the warmth of her hair against his shoulder. He jerked his head aside, his mouth set grimly, and crossed quickly to the other bank of the river.
As he let her slip to the ground, steadying her with his arms, he bent swiftly and, for an instant, his lips just brushed her hair. Nan scarcely felt the touch of his kiss, it fell so lightly, but she sensed it through every nerve of her. ”

“ On a visit to his kennels, Nan was attacked by the pack of hounds before he was about to reach her. The accident precipitated Roger's proposal and Nan promised to marry him, but immediately afterward pleaded for more time to think over her answer. When she returned to Mallow Court Kitty told her that Peter would be there soon. That knowledge made the idea of marriage with Roger more impossible than ever, but, frightened by her love for Peter, Nan felt that her own marriage would prove a shield against the desire of her heart. ”

“ John. “After all, beauty is in the eye of the beholder,”
“Not with an artist,” asserted Nan promptly. “He can't see beauty where there isn't any.”
To the depths of her soul she felt that this was true, and inwardly she recoiled violently from the idea of Maryon's marriage. She had been bitterly hurt by his treatment of her, but, to a certain extent, she had been able to envisage the whole affair from his point of view and to understand it. Nan refused to blame Maryon simply because he had not married her. ”

“ At the gates of Trevarthen Sandy, who had accompanied her down the drive, stopped abruptly.
“Nan,” he said quietly, “is it quite O. K. about your engagement? You'll be really happy with Trenby?”
Nan paused a moment. Then she spoke, very quietly and with a touch of cynicism quite foreign to the fresh, sweet outlook upon life which had been hers before she had met Maryon Rooke.
“I don't suppose I should be really happy with any one, Sandy. I want too much. But it's quite O. K. and you needn't worry.” ”

“ Nan surmised that she was intended to infer that it would be her duty to make everything “easy and comfortable” for him in the future! She almost smiled. Most of the married men she knew were kept busy seeing that everything was made easy and comfortable for their wives.
“Still,” continued Lady Gertrude, “there could be no objection to your making an occasional trip to London.”
The “occasional trip to London” sounded bleakly in Nan's ears. Still, she argued, Lady Gertrude would only be her mother-in-law, and she was sure she could “manage” Roger. ”

“ Maryon Rooke, a rising young artist, had won Nan's love, but while he cared for her, he frankly admitted that art came first with him—and love a poor second. So he left London to go abroad and Nan felt that her moon was, indeed, out of reach. Several weeks after his departure Nan started to Exeter alone to play at a charity concert. On the way there she was twice rescued by a good Samaritan whose name, she learned, was Peter Mallory. Back in London, later in the week, Nan met Mallory again at the Seymours' dinner party. ”

“ To Nan the use of the word “we” sounded rather ominous.
“Oh, I like country life very much,” she replied. “After all, you can always vary the monotony by running up to town or going abroad, can't you?”
“I don't think Roger cares much for traveling about. He is extremely attached to his home. We have always made everything so easy and comfortable for him here, you see,” responded Lady Gertrude, with a certain significance. ”

“ Most people, nowadays, would have laughed outright, but Roger regarded his mother's objection as quite a normal and reasonable one. It must be overcome in this particular instance, that was all.
“But, of course, Nan will give up everything of that kind when she's my wife,” he asserted confidently.
“Roger has rather taken me by surprise with the news of his engagement,” said Lady Gertrude, after she and Nan had exchanged a few labored platitudes. “Do you think you will be happy with him? We live a very simple country existence here, you know.” ”

“ Nan renewed the attack.
“It amounts to this, then, that I've got to get married in order to let Ralph marry you!”
“Of course it doesn't!”
“Well, answer me this: If I were going to be married, would you give Ralph a different answer?”
“I might,” Penelope replied noncommittally.
“Then you may as well go and do it. As I am going to be married—to Roger Trenby.”
“To Roger! Nan, you don't mean it? It isn't true?”
“It is—perfectly true. Have you anything to say against it?” Nan retorted defiantly.
“Everything. He's the last man in the world to make you happy.” ”

“ Eventually she and Roger passed out of the room to discuss, with immense seriousness, the shortcomings of the gardener as exemplified in the shape of one of the geranium beds.
“You won't like it here!” observed Isobel Carson bluntly, when the two girls were left alone.
“Why shouldn't I?” Nan smiled.
“Because you won't fit in at all. You'll be like a rocket battering about in the middle of a set piece.”
Isobel lacked neither brains nor observation, though she had been wise enough to conceal both these facts from Lady Gertrude. ”

“ Or, better still, lend me your bike, Kitty, and I'll spin over to Tintagel. By the time I've climbed up to King Arthur's Castle I'll be better.”
“But, my dear, it's five o'clock already! You won't have time to go there before dinner.”
“Yes, I shall,” persisted Nan. “Half an hour to get there, an hour for the castle, half an hour to come back, and then just time enough to skip into a dinner frock. I must go, really, Kitten,” she went on, with a note of urgency in her voice. “That appalling visit to Trenby Hall has got into my system, and I want to blow the germs away.” ”

“ He felt sure that Nan's charm would soon overcome the various objections which Lady Gertrude had raised to the engagement when he had first confided his news to her. She had not minced matters.
“But, my dear Roger, from all I've heard, Nan Davenant is a most unsuitable woman to be your wife. For one thing, she is, I believe, a professional pianist.” The thin lips seemed to grow still thinner as they propounded the indictment. ”

“ And except for the fact that Nan Davenant was staying at Mallow something might have come of it! Since community of tastes is responsible for many a happy and contented marriage.
Throughout the time she had lived at Trenby Hall, Isobel had contrived to make herself almost indispensable to Roger. It was Isobel who found all the things which, manlike, he so constantly mislaid, who tramped over the fields with him, interesting herself in all his outdoor sports. ”

“ McBain, presenting a chaste cheek for Nan's salute. The soft red lips pressed against the hard-featured face curved into a smile. Nan was no whit in awe of her aunt's bitter tongue, and it was probably for this very reason that Mrs. McBain could not help liking her.
“And how's your uncle, St. John?” she asked.
“He's at Mallow, too. We all are—Penelope and Uncle David and Ralph Fenton.”
“And who may Mr. Fenton be? I've never met him, have I, Sandy?” Mrs. McBain handed a cup of tea to Nan as she spoke.
“No. He's a well-known singer Kitty's recently admitted into the fold.” ”