“ He had blighted her youth; his son had hurt Marjolaine. She must remember. She must be firm. So she silenced the appealing voice and spoke with an admirable assumption of lightness.
"Why, what does it all amount to? After all these years Lord Otford meets Madame Lachesnais. These are not the Jack Sayle and the Lucy Pryor who loved, years ago. He does not meet a broken-hearted woman pining for her lost girlhood, but," she drew herself up and her voice grew firmer, "but one who has been a happy wife, and a happy mother—and a mother who will defend her daughter's happiness." ”

“ I gave him all I could, and he was content. Oh! the good, true, generous man!"
Once more Lord Otford winced; but he contrived to say with genuine feeling, "I honour him." After all, Jules was dead.
"And I honour his memory," said Madame, gravely.
Lord Otford spoke very earnestly. "We are quite frank, Lucy: you loved your husband; I loved my wife—"
"And there is no more to be said," concluded Madame, rising, with a little sigh.
"Ah! but there is!" he exclaimed, standing and facing her. "Face your own soul, Lucy, and tell me: did the thought of the old vicarage garden at Otford never haunt you?" ”

“ Marjolaine came close to her mother. "Oh, let me laugh, Maman!" She proceeded in a whisper, "They are so droll! Sir Peter is afraid of Mrs. Poskett; Mrs. Poskett is almost in tears; Mr. Basil is gloomy; Ruth is in a bad temper; and Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn has n't got over Saturday's banquet."
"But you, Marjolaine—!" exclaimed Madame with quiet reproof.
"You told me to fight it, Maman," said Marjolaine, with a shy laugh. Then she ran across to Basil, who was watching the door through which Barbara might still come. ”

“ Marjolaine did not notice his going. Nor did she see Jack come. Jack came apparently out of the river. As a matter of fact he tied his boat to a ring at the foot of Pomander Stairs and leaped on shore. A delightful young fellow, the sort of young man you take to, the moment you set eyes on him. Obviously a sailor. His lieutenant's undress jacket was over his arm. A wiry figure, lissome as a willow and as tough as steel; a face tanned by many suns; true sailor's eyes looking frankly and fearlessly at the world. ”

“ Here was a new mystery for Marjolaine. So good and beautiful a woman as her mother could love twice, then?
"Mother," said she, with grave enquiry, "did you love my father as much as you had loved Jack?"
However good and blameless we may be, it is a very uncomfortable experience to be cross-examined by utter, single-minded innocence.
"Listen," said Madame, "life is long, and nature merciful. I recovered very slowly; but I tried to be brave; I tried to take an interest in the life around me: the sordid, sunless life of the very poor, so much sadder than my own. ”

“ She was followed by an enormous footman carrying a gold-headed cane in one hand, while a fat pug reposed on his other arm. The Walk was paralysed and could only stare and gasp. Who was she? Where did she come from? Whom did she want?
She stopped and examined the Eyesore through her uplifted face-à-main, as if he had been some strange, unpleasant animal. "Fellow," she said, "is this Pomander Lane?" A shudder ran through the Walk. Pomander Lane, indeed!—The only answer the lady got from the Eyesore was that at that precise moment he found it agreeable to scratch his back. ”

“ What with the Muffin-man, and Madame, and Marjolaine running to and fro and button-holing everybody who seemed to be inclined to drift towards the summer-house, the Walk's attention was fully occupied. Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn lifted his fat hand and brought it down with a sounding thwack on Jack's shoulder.
"What the devil—?" cried Jack, turning fiercely on his assailant. And then in amazement, "Hoskyn! By all that's improbable, old Hoskyn!"
If it were possible for a large man to shrivel, the great Mr. Jerome Brooke-Hoskyn seemed to shrivel as he recognised Jack. ”

“ In the same year his son John—our Jack—was born, and his birth was closely followed by the mother's death.
Marjolaine, too, was thinking hard. All sorts of new ideas, new conceptions, were looming on her horizon. They came as angels, certainly, but angels with flaming swords. It seemed that great happiness could be inextricably interwoven with great misery, so that a simple human being could not tell where the one began and the other ended. It seemed that a man could say one thing and mean another: that he could look like the Archangel Michael and yet not mean what he said. ”

“ Barbara fluttered to her sister. "Dear Ruth! Come in quickly! Basil and I have such news for you!"
Ruth saw it at a glance. At last they had shed one form of idiocy to take on another. Now, perhaps, she would enjoy a little peace. "Very well," she said. Then she made a low curtsey to Mrs. Poskett, and said, meaningly, "Courage—Lady Antrobus!"
Alas, poor Admiral! The knell of thy freedom has sounded. Shut thyself in thy house as thou wilt: close thy shutters; make fast thy doors; yea, train the little brass cannon on the Walk: nothing will help. ”

“ Barbara avoided her eyes. But she spoke with almost exaggerated feeling. "Dearest! Do you think love can change?"
Marjolaine thought a moment. I suppose she was consulting her own heart. Then she spoke very firmly. "No! I don't think so!"
"And do I not hear the sound of my darling's voice every time Doctor Johnson yells? Is not that enough to keep the flame of love alive even in the ashes of a heart however dead? Oh! if only that innocent fowl had been present when Charles used different language!" ”

“ By midday on Monday Jack had worked his way through every edible thing in the house, and on Monday afternoon the Doctor not only had to go and see the Archbishop of Canterbury on the subject of the licence, but had been strictly enjoined by Jack to bring home food.
Fortunately for Madame's tea-party, that Monday evening was an ideal one. June had come and the roses in the little gardens had taken the opportunity to burst into bloom. The elm was in its fresh summer garb. The setting sun shone level through its leaves and turned them all to burnished gold. ”

“ Lovers who might be perfectly happy, kept apart for want of a word, thought Marjolaine. How wicked, and how silly! "You should speak to Mr. Basil," she said, with all the gravity of her nineteen years and of her bitter experience.
"Me!" cried Miss Ruth. "Bless your dear heart, he 'd up and run away. He 's that shy a body can't look at him but he wants to hide in a cupboard. He 's got it into his silly head he is n't good enough. As if anybody'd notice his shoulder!"
"Perhaps," said Marjolaine, pensively, "if Barbara showed him she liked him—Why don't you speak to her? ”

“ When the Eyesore smoked, everybody had to go indoors and shut their windows.
"His poisonous tobacco!" cried Ruth. "Can you not speak to him, Admiral?"
"I can, Madam, but he'll answer back."
"And then," said Mrs. Poskett somewhat tartly, "of course you are helpless."
"Not at all, ma'am. I hope I can swear with any man; but—the ladies!"
Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn had been observing the Eyesore. "Thank heaven," he whispered, "his pipe won't draw." ”

“ Sir Peter rushed to the cat again, and again found him sound asleep. He turned furiously towards Marjolaine, but Mrs. Poskett intercepted him. "Good morning, Sir Peter!"
Sir Peter looked up, where the widow was shaking the ribbons of her cap at him. "Morning, ma'am," he said, sulkily. "Your cat—"
"Hush!" interrupted Mrs. Poskett, craning forward to see her pet. "Dear Sempronius!—Don't disturb him! He's so happy!"
"But—!"
"I 'm sure it's going to rain," the widow explained. "He always sits there when he feels rain coming; because the fish rise, and he loves watching them." ”

“ Basil's face was very grave. It looked almost like the face of a man who finds himself in the presence of a great tragedy; or of one who knows he is fighting an insuperable obstacle. "Ah, yes," he sighed, "Doctor Johnson. Surely that is very pathetic." And he turned away and leant disconsolately against the railings, with his eyes fixed on the door of Number Three.
"Come and sit down, Missie, come and sit down," cried the Admiral, heartily.
Marjolaine accepted his invitation. "I used to be so afraid of you, Sir Peter!"
"Gobblessmysoul! Why?" ”

“ Marjolaine, in her fresh girlhood, could only think of how pretty the flowers looked in the window.
Barbara exclaimed, "When the sunlight falls on it so, how lovely it is!"
Basil looked into her blue eyes, and murmured, "It reminds me of the music I am at work on."
"What is that?" cried Marjolaine. "It sounds beautiful—through the wall."
The musician's enthusiasm was kindled; he grew eloquent. "It is by a new German composer: a man called Beethoven. My old violin-master, Kreutzer, sent it me.—Ah! These new Germans! They are so complicated; so difficult. I am old-fashioned, you know. ”

“ One morning the Walk had awakened to find him sitting at the corner where Pomander Creek empties into the Thames; sitting on an old box, with a dreadful tin vessel full of worms at his side; sitting fishing. The Walk rubbed its eyes and wondered what the Admiral would say. When the Admiral came out of his house he stopped aghast. Then he gathered himself together for a mighty effort. But it came to nothing: you cannot argue with a man who refuses to argue back. The fisherman met Sir Peter's first onslaught with a curt "Public thoroughfare," and then definitely closed his lips. ”

“ Brooke-Hoskyn sank on the seat in the summer-house, gasping, "Good Lord! He'll tell the whole Walk!"
Jack had acted on the spur of the moment; but now that he was face to face with all the inhabitants of the Walk a sudden shyness took hold of him and he stood irresolute. Marjolaine had sat down exhausted on the seat under the elm, and Madame Lachesnais was coming towards her. Little Barbara Pennymint was the first to see Jack. She gave a demure little scream and ran to the Admiral. "Look! A stranger!" Sir Peter was on his dignity at once. He came straight at Jack. ”

“ He loved the Walk with all his heart; he was proud of it with all his soul. His one ambition was to keep it as spick and span as his own quarterdeck had been. I think, indeed, he confused it in his mind to some extent with that quarterdeck, for in his little garden he had erected the model of a mast, on which he hoisted the Union Jack with his own hands regularly at sunrise, and as regularly struck it at sunset. And once, when the Regent had gone by in the Royal barge on his way to Richmond, he had come out in gala uniform, and dipped it in a Royal salute in the finest style. ”

“ Marjolaine felt she had said a tactless thing. She must try to soften it. "Perhaps the loss of his hair—" she began.
"Yes," assented Barbara. "But he concealed the honourable scar under a lovely wig." She turned her eyes fondly to Basil's window from which the familiar passage from the slow movement of the Kreutzer Sonata came throbbing. "And—oh, dearest!—can any physical infirmity affect true love?" she cried rapturously.
At last she was coming to the point Marjolaine had been insidiously leading up to. Marjolaine watched her closely. "I suppose not." ”

“ Barbara put on as solemn a face as she could contrive. "Promise you will never tell a living soul?"
"Look!" cried Marjolaine, "the Eyesore's caught another fish!"
"Poor darling!" exclaimed Barbara.
Marjolaine gave her a horrified look. "You are not in love with the Eyesore, too!"
"I meant the fish!" explained Barbara, "to be drawn out of the watery element."
"Ah," said Marjolaine, wisely, "that comes of a fondness for worms."
"Worms!" repeated Barbara, lugubriously. "Ah, worms!—I shall let the worm i' the bud feed on my damaged cheek." ”

“ The windows got dirty; dead leaves covered the door-step; the paint peeled off the woodwork and the railings; some wretched boys threw a dead dog into the garden, where it lay hidden for days; and, besides, the old woman's suggestion that the house was haunted, left its poison behind. Presently Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn's nurse saw a face gibbering behind the window, and had hysterics; and next Miss Barbara Pennymint distinctly saw a hand beckoning to her from the same window and fled, shrieking, to her sister. ”

“ Am I the man to deprive you of an innocent pleasure?—"
He might have gone on all the afternoon in this strain, but at this moment Marjolaine came very cautiously out of her house carrying a tray on which was a bottle of claret, a tumbler, and a cake. Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn was immediately absorbed in this new and inexplicable phenomenon. What could it mean? He watched Marjolaine half-way across the lawn. Then in his softest and most caressing tones he exclaimed, "Why, Miss Marjory—!" Marjolaine gave a little cry and very nearly let all the things drop. She stood aghast. ”

“ Sir Peter came closer. "What? Are you broken-hearted?"
Good heavens! What had she been saying? Had she given away her precious secret?
"Certainly not!" she answered, with flaming cheeks. "Of course not. It's nothing. Only somebody—somebody has broken their word."
"Look-a-that, now!" cried the Admiral, puzzled. "But I'll cure you! I'll tell you a story. Something funny. How I lost my eye—what?" He drew her down beside him on the seat under the elm. "Ye see, it was on board o' the Termagant—"
"When you was with Nelson?" asked Marjolaine.
"Ay. Battle o' Copenhagen; year Eighteen-one." ”

“ Mrs. Poskett had rushed out of her house just in time to meet the Admiral bringing the drenched cat up the steps again. In his open window Basil struck up "See the Conquering Hero Comes," and, while Marjolaine, Jack and Doctor Sternroyd stood petrified in the Gazebo, all the rest of the Walk formed an admiring circle round the Admiral and Mrs. Poskett.
"Your cat, Ma'am," said Sir Peter with the simple dignity becoming to the doer of a great deed, as he handed her the struggling and yelling animal. ”

“ Yes, yes, I shall read a paper on it.—Ah! if only my dear wife, my beloved Araminta, were here now!" With mingled melancholy and triumph he drifted across the lawn and into his house—the last house of the crescent.
"Amazing!" said Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn; "but why would n't you let me tell him, Sir Peter?"
There was a wistful look on Sir Peter's face as he replied. "Ah, Brooke! We all live on our illusions. The more we believe, the happier we are!"
This was beyond Brooke; but Miss Ruth understood and sighed her assent. ”

“ Lord Otford looked at him enquiringly. "What do you mean?"
It was some little time before Sir Peter answered. He sat gazing into vacancy a moment, like a man who is remembering happier things, calling up a mental picture of a beautiful landscape—or perhaps of a beautiful face—suddenly smitten by the recollection of his own youth. At last, with something like a sigh he went on.
"We're rather an elderly lot, y'know. Beyond our springtime, Jack, and that's the truth. ”

“ Brooke-Hoskyn had been a mile away, "Ahoy! Brooky, my boy! Here 's your old friend, Otford."
Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn nearly fell out of the window.
"Glad to see you, Hoskyn," said Lord Otford, cheerfully, with an amiable wave of his hand.
"Oh, don't!" groaned Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn, hoarsely. "Oh, my Lord!—Not at this moment! I ain't equal to it, your Lordship! I reely ain't!"
"Sorry you're ill," said Lord Otford, with a pleasant laugh. "Too much to eat, and too little to do. What you want is a family to keep you lively!"
"A family!" almost shrieked Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn. "Oh, my Lord!" ”