During the days which elapsed before Mr and Mrs Goring and the two schoolboys arrived at the Cottage, Jean kept sedulously by her friend's side, and allowed Robert Gloucester no chance of a _tete-a-tete_.

Instead of being ordered to keep her distance, as on the occasion of Piers Rendall's visit, Vanna was held firmly by the arm, invited to join every expedition, considered so necessary that, without her company no expedition could be faced. Where Jean went, Vanna must needs go also; who wished to see one, must see the other also.

But when the family arrived, the chaperonage could no longer be preserved. The Cottage was crowded to its fullest limit. Miggles was busy with household affairs. Mr Goring, his wife, the two schoolboys, all made their own demands on the girls' time. If Jean were bidden to accompany her father for a walk along the downs, Vanna must needs hunt for crabs among the rocks below. If Vanna was writing letters to tradespeople, Jean must run to the village and order cakes for tea.

Young girls should make themselves useful; a daughter should be ready to wait on her father; a sister should be glad to amuse her brothers in their holidays. In these days it was worth while for an occupant of the inn-parlour to keep a sharp lookout on the winding path leading from the cliff to the village, for if by chance a girl's graceful form were seen descending, there was time to s.n.a.t.c.h hat and stick, and reach the corner of the road at the same moment as herself.

Jean, intercepted on her way to fulfil a commission, and without possibility of escape, would promptly adopt an air of freezing dignity, reply in monosyllables, and hurry through her work in the shortest possible s.p.a.ce of time; but no amount of coldness, of snubbing, or neglect could damp the ardour of Gloucester's pursuit. Before a week was past, the budding romance was discerned not only by the different members of the household, but by the village _en bloc_; and while parents discussed prospects and settlements, and the schoolboys planned holiday visits to "Jean's house," Mrs Jones of the general stores moved the position of a row of sweet-bottles in the shop window, in order to enjoy a better view of the daily encounter, and the boatmen waiting impatiently for customers consulted their watches on the appearance of either of the interesting couple, and indulging an apparently ingrained habit, bet pennies together concerning the time which would elapse before the advent of "t'other," And still Jean wrapped herself in her mantle of reserve, and refused to mention Gloucester's name even in private conclave with her friend.

Piers Rendall often walked over to the Cottage to spend some hours of the day with his friends, and, strange as it might appear, the two young men seemed mutually attracted to each other. Vanna believing them both to be in love with the same girl, was constantly watching for signs of jealousy and irritation, but none appeared. If Piers was occasionally somewhat silent and distrait, the fact did not interfere with his transparent enjoyment of Gloucester's company; while Robert himself seemed to take a positive pride and pleasure in the knowledge of the other's devotion.

"He admires her desperately, doesn't he? Every one does. There are dozens of fellows head over heels in love with her, I suppose. Scores!

She must be kept busy refusing them, poor fellows! Hard lines for a girl, especially when she is so sweet and sensitive, and sympathetic, and--"

Vanna threw up her hand with a comical little grimace of appeal.

"That's enough, that's enough! Three adjectives are quite a good allowance for one sentence. Spare me the rest. Miss Goring has a charming disposition, and she is duly appreciated. That's settled. Now we'll talk of something else. How did the fishing go this morning? A good haul?"

They looked at each other and laughed with mischievous enjoyment. Each time they found themselves alone the same thing happened. Gloucester persistently endeavoured to talk about Jean; Vanna as persistently turned the subject. On both sides the contest was conducted with absolute good humour. It was as amusing as a game, in which each tried to outwit the other, to set for him an unconscious trap and pitfall.

To-day they walked along the country lanes, Jean and Piers Rendall ahead, Miggles bringing up the rear, with a schoolboy hanging on each arm. These two lads, Jack and Pat, adored the old woman who had been their confidante and mentor from their earliest years, and there was literally no end to the sympathetic interest which she bestowed upon them. Father and mother might weary of eternal cricket and sixth-form reminiscences, and impatiently suggest bed or a book. Jean might, and did, wax frankly cross and bored, but Miggles never failed to produce a due display of surprise; never denied the expected admiration, nor shirked a question which gave the conversation a new turn of life. At this moment Vanna could hear Pat's voice reeling off the everlasting details:

"Smith, major, was bowling his hardest--he's a terror to bowl--and the pitch was fast, and a ball got up, and got me on the shoulder--"

"Dear, dear, think of that! And you went on playing? You _are_ brave!

And made a fine score too, I'll be bound!"

How much of Miggles's happiness did she owe to this blessed capacity for sympathy in the interests of others?

The destination of this afternoon's walk was a little wood lying about a mile inland, and as a short cut across country, Jean and Piers led the way through a farmyard, and thence on to a winding lane, sunk deep between two hedgerows, fragrant with honeysuckle and wild rose. To right and left lay the fields belonging to the farm; pleasant fields of wheat and corn, of delicate, green-eared barley, of sweet-smelling beans.

It was a typical English lane; a perfect English afternoon, not typical, alas! except so far as it demonstrated the perfection to which our erratic climate can occasionally attain. The sky overhead was deeply, uncloudedly blue; the sea in the distance the clear, soft green of an aquamarine, sparkling with a thousand points of light; all that the eye could see was beautiful and harmonious; all that the ear could hear, peaceful and serene; laughter, happy voices, the soaring notes of a lark; all things animate and inanimate seemed to speak of peace and happiness; and then suddenly, horribly, the scene changed. What had appeared the distant lowing of cattle, swelled into a threatening roar; a man shouted loudly, and his call was echoed by many voices, by a clamour of sound, by high, warning cries. From the far end of the narrow lane came the sound of galloping feet--heavy, thundering feet seeming to shake the ground; light, racing feet pursuing; swifter footsteps, which were yet mysteriously left behind. Borne on the air came the cries of men's voices, and ever and anon that deep, dull roar.

Nearer and nearer drew the danger, but the tall hedges hid it from sight.

Jean and Piers turned hurriedly back; Miggles and the boys hurried forward to where Vanna and Gloucester stood, the centre of the group.

The two men exchanged swift, anxious glances, divining, without consultation, the nature of the danger--a bull, escaped from its chain, rushing towards them. What could be done?

The towering hedges gave no chance of escape, and so far as the eye could reach there was neither gate nor entrance into the fields. Before there was time to consult or to issue directions, the danger was upon them. With incredible swiftness, within as it seemed one moment from the time when the first cry had burst upon their ears, the danger was at hand.

Round a corner of the road the huge beast rushed into view; a terrible, nerve-shattering sight, filling up, as it seemed, the whole s.p.a.ce of the narrow path, pawing the earth, sending up clouds of dust, bellowing with rage and fear. Breathless with horror, they stood and watched it come.

And then a strange thing happened. At that moment of strain and terror the thoughts of the four elders of the little party flew instinctively towards Jean. Danger and Jean! Death and Jean! The idea was insupportable. Jean, who was in herself the embodiment of youth, of health, of joy. The woman who had been to her as a second mother; the girl who was her lifelong friend; the man who until now had been the most favoured of her admirers, turned with a common impulse to succour Jean, and Jean, white-faced, trembling, primitive woman, stripped in one moment of conventions and pretence, indifferent, oblivious of them all, leapt forward into Gloucester's arms.

They closed round her; she clung to him, hiding her head on his breast; he pressed a hand on her hair, screening her eyes till the danger should have pa.s.sed. In another moment it was upon them. An agonised gasp of fear pa.s.sed from one to another. The danger was past!

The great brute went plunging down the lane, his head bent low, his small eyes blinking, foam upon his lips; in his anxiety to escape his pursuers, taking no heed of the figures flattened against the hedge.

With shouts and oaths, brandished sticks and panting breath, the farm hands galloped in his rear. They pa.s.sed out of sight, and the quiet lane, sunk beneath its flowering hedges, regained its wonted peace.

Not so the human beings for whom that moment had been fraught with such startling emotions. Jean's revulsion of feeling was as swift as the impulse which had preceded. Hardly had the pursuit clattered by than she had wrenched herself from Robert's grasp, and with crimson cheeks and haughtily tilted head, taken shelter by Miggles's side. Vanna, still trembling, leant back against the hedge, gazing from side to side.

Robert Gloucester turned and walked down the lane, following the line of pursuit. She caught a glimpse of his face as he went--radiant, aglow! At the other man she would not look. Sympathy for his discomfiture and pain withheld her gaze. She knew exactly how Piers Rendall would look at this moment: his eyes brilliantly hard, his lips a-twitch. For her own sake she would not look. She hated to see that twitch.

Miggles leant against the hedge, and burst into unrestrained tears.

Blessed Miggles, who could always be trusted to come to the rescue! Her sobs, her tears, her simple oblivion to the subject which was engrossing the minds of her companions were the saving of the situation.

"Oh, my dear Jean--a bull! A runaway bull! Never in all my life--and to think that to-day, of all others. This narrow lane! Oh dear! Oh dear! Your poor dear father! If you had worn your red dress! It might so easily have happened! Thank G.o.d! thank G.o.d! Your arm, dear, your arm. I do so tremble! My poor old heart feels as if it would burst.

What a Providence! What a Providence!"

"What a wicked, wretched man to leave the gate unlocked! I'll ask father to have him discharged at once," cried Jean hotly. "It's wicked, criminal carelessness. We might all have been killed."

From the bottom of the hedge crawled the scratched and blackened figures of the two schoolboys.

"I say!" gasped Jack, breathless. "What a lark! What a blooming lark!"

CHAPTER NINE.

TREASURE TROVE!

Miggles did not easily recover from her fright. The good body was in precarious health: it was only the power of mind over body which kept her going, and when the motive power was temporarily eclipsed it was startling, even alarming, to behold the corresponding physical change.

The light faded from the eyes; the chin dropped; a dozen unsuspected lines furrowed the face; beaming middle-age was transformed in a moment into suffering age.

"I think, my dears," she announced apologetically, "so sorry to spoil your walk, but I _think_ I'll go home! Bulls, you know, bulls! They _are_ disconcerting. When you've lived all your life in towns you are not accustomed... I've got a little," she gasped painfully, "st.i.tch in my side! It will soon be gone."

The grey hue of her face showed only too plainly the explanation of that st.i.tch. Miggles knew it herself, but, as ever, preferred to make light of her ailments. She leant on Piers's arm, glancing affectionately in his face, and made no objections when Vanna came forward to support her on the other side.

"I _am_ honoured! Quite a triumphal procession!" she gasped, with blue lips.

The two schoolboys had scampered off to join in the chase. Jean was preparing to follow Miggles and her supporters, when a hand was laid on her arm, and Robert Gloucester's voice spoke in her ear:

"You and I are going on to the wood."

Jean jerked herself free with a haughty air.

"Excuse me, I am going home. I must look after Miss Miggs."

"Miss Miggs has plenty of helpers. She doesn't need you. I do. Be kind to me, Jean. I've waited so long."

So long! It was not yet a fortnight since he had arrived in England; but time has different values, as Jean had discovered for herself.

These last days had counted for more in life than all the years which had gone before. She looked for one moment into the brown eyes bent upon her, then hastily lowered her lids. But she turned down hill in the direction of the wood. There was nothing in the world so mad or impossible that she could have refused Robert Gloucester when he looked at her with his clear eyes lighted by that flame.

They walked in silence along the quiet lane, golden with b.u.t.tercups, into the cool shadow of the wood. "Now!" said Jean's heart, beating painfully against her side. "Now!" She was not unversed in occasions of the kind, and as a rule had no difficulty in "heading off" her suitor by a baffling flow of conversation, but to-day no words would come. She looked at the soft carpet of moss beneath her feet; she looked at the branches overhead; she looked down the gladelike vista, and saw ahead a green s.p.a.ce encircled by trees--a sunlit, sun-kissed s.p.a.ce, doubly bright from contrast with the surrounding shade. "There!" said the voice in her heart. "It will be there." It seemed fitting that Robert Gloucester should tell his love in the light and the sun.

Right into the centre of the sunny s.p.a.ce they walked, and as by a mutual impulse halted, face to face. For once Robert's radiant calm was eclipsed. Before the tremendous purport of the moment, confidence, tranquillity, all the varied qualities which combined to sustain the equilibrium of his character, were swept aside as though they had never been. The world held but one person, and that was Jean; if Jean failed him, nothing was left.

At that moment the physical strain of long sojourn abroad showed itself painfully in sunken cheek and pallid hue. In the light grey clothes, which hung so loosely on his thin form, he looked like the ghost of a man, a ghost with living eyes--glowing, burning eyes, aflame with love and dread. He stood with hands clasped at his back, not daring a touch.

"Jean!" he said breathlessly, "I am a beggar at your gate, I am starving, Jean, and I have nothing to offer you--nothing but myself and my love!"

Afterwards Jean had many criticisms to make concerning the fashion of Robert's avowal--criticisms at which she would make him blush when his hair was grey; but at the moment she was conscious of one thing only-- that Robert was in torture and that she could ease him. With a smile which was divine in its abandon she held out her hands towards him.