"We are more than pleased," gushed Mrs Bathurst. "It is a most beautiful treat to see these lovely things and hear you talk about them. What is this cup, dear Mr Pratt?"

"Ah!" said Pratt, taking it up. "This is the property of the vicar."

"Mine!" said Mr Tempest in mild surprise. "Dear me, Mr Pratt, what do you mean? It would take half my year's stipend to buy this!"

"It is the cup of which I spoke to you, vicar." Pratt handed it to Tempest and then turned to the group. "I wish to present this cup to the chapel, Mr Raston," he said, "and I hope that you and Mr Tempest will accept it on behalf of the town. It is an old Roman goblet, and has been used for centuries as a communion chalice in an Italian city. I bought it many years ago. Is it not beautiful?"

The cup was indeed an exquisite object of art. Of considerable size, it was of pure gold. The rim and the stem were set round with gems of great value, and the outside was embossed with faces peering from out a tangle of flowers. It had two handles formed of twisted snakes with ruby eyes and round its broadest part ran an inscription in Latin. The vicar held the goblet to the light and translated the inscription. "'To the great G.o.d, who maketh the heart joyful,'" he said, then added dubiously, "Does that refer to a pagan G.o.d, or to the Maker of all things?"

"If the cup is Roman, probably it is an inscription to Bacchus," said the curate, a shadow on his face. "If so, we cannot use it as a communion cup." Pratt laughed and raised his eyebrows at this scrupulous regard. "You can set your mind at rest," he said. "The priest who sold it to me on account of the poverty of his parish church said that the inscription was inscribed during the Middle Ages. It refers to the G.o.d of Christendom."

"In that case," said the vicar beaming, "I accept the cup with pleasure and with many thanks. It shall be consecrated and placed on the altar by the end of this week."

While the others were thanking and congratulating Mr Pratt, an expression of relief might have been noticed on his face. Mrs Gabriel, who knew his every look, wondered to herself why he appeared to be so pleased. Evidently he was thankful to be rid of the cup. However, she said nothing, as she was a wise woman, but added her congratulations to those of the others.

"Everyone will be delighted," she said coldly. "Such generosity is unusual in Colester." But her glance hinted unusual as regarded Pratt.

He received the hint smilingly.

"I hope it will make me popular," said he. "I am weak enough to wish to be liked, and hitherto I have not secured the goodwill of the people."

"You will have it now," said Raston, "and particularly that of Pearl Darry. She loves beautiful things for the altar, and as she attends to the decorating of the chapel, it will be a constant pleasure to her to keep this cup bright and spotless."

"I hope it will be safe with her!" cried Mrs Bathurst. "These insane people are like magpies, and steal anything glittering that attracts their weak fancies. Are you _sure_ she will not take it away, Mr Raston?"

The curate was indignant. "Pearl would no more do such a thing than take her own life, poor soul," he said. "She is devoted to the church.

Religion, so far as her own poor brain understands it, is her one consolation."

"She ought to be shut up," said Mrs Gabriel.

"There I differ from you," said the vicar, mildly. "She is not harmful enough to be placed in durance. Let her enjoy liberty and sunshine, Mrs Gabriel. It is little pleasure she has."

"She seems to me harmless enough," said Pratt, "and if this cup will be an additional pleasure to her, I am the more glad that Mr Tempest has accepted it. I shall have it wrapped up, vicar."

"Thank you. Be very careful, Mr Pratt. So beautiful an object must not be carelessly dealt with." From which remark it will be seen that now the Roman goblet was the property of the Church it a.s.sumed quite a new value in the eyes of the priest. Formerly it was merely a beautiful example of the goldsmith's art; now it was sacred.

After this the company repaired to the drawing-room, where Mr Pratt told stories until quite a late hour for Colester. Never had there been so agreeable a host in the dull little provincial town, and one and all confessed themselves charmed with their evening. "Quite an acquisition,"

repeated Mrs Bathurst as she departed. "Mind you come and see me, Mr Pratt. Peggy will never forgive you if you do not." A foolish speech which sent poor Peggy away covered with blushes. But then Mrs Bathurst's zeal always outran her discretion.

As Mr Pratt stood at his door waving a hearty good-bye to his guests, he saw that Hale was beside Leo and overheard a remark. "Come and see me in three days, Leo," the baronet was saying. "I want to speak to you most particularly."

"Most particularly," echoed Pratt, thoughtfully. "Humph! What's up now?"

CHAPTER V

LOVE'S YOUNG DREAM

The Colester folk were certainly pleased that Mr Pratt had adorned their beloved chapel with so magnificent a gift. They unbent so far as to smile when they curtsied or touched their hats, but did not take him to their bosoms. However, Pratt saw that he had made a step forward in their affections, and professed himself well pleased. "Rome was not built in a day," said he, philosophically.

Mr Tempest installed the cup on the altar, where it glittered in front of the crucifix. It was an object of wonder and reverence to the simple villagers, and the vicar himself was no less pleased. Its weight, the beauty of the workmanship, and the splendour of the jewels, filled him with joy, and he came to regard the pagan vessel--as it undoubtedly was--as a kind of Holy Grail. Having made some such reference to it, the s.e.xton Baker, an inquisitive octogenarian, wanted to know what the Holy Grail was. Forthwith Mr Tempest prepared a lecture, compounded of Mallory's prose work and Tennyson's poetical interpretation. This he delivered in the village schoolroom, and had the sacred cup placed on the table before him, so that his hearers might have the significance of the gift borne home to them. Pearl heard the lecture, and so much of it as her poor wits took in led her to look upon the cup as the very vessel itself mentioned in the poem. To Pearl the Pagan cup, as Frank Hale called it, was the veritable vessel from which the Master had drunk at that last sad feast. And no argument could shake this belief when she once got it into her head.

"So ridiculous," said Mrs Jeal, sniffing. "I daresay Mr Pratt bought it in London. He is clever at inventing stories," whereupon Pearl flew into such a rage that the elder woman never ventured to hint a doubt of the cup. In her own queer way, and that was none of the most righteous, Mrs Jeal was fond of Pearl. It is true that she regarded her as a half-baked natural, but she would never let anyone but herself say so. Mrs Jeal was superst.i.tious, and kept Pearl in her humble cottage as a kind of talisman against evil. Probably she felt it necessary for her to have some pure and innocent thing beside her. The Colester people never thought of this. They regarded Mrs Jeal as a hard-working, honest woman.

She was certainly all that, and more. What the "more" was Mrs Jeal never explained. She was well able to hold her tongue.

Meanwhile the cup stood on the altar, and Pearl frequently stared at it on her knees, dreaming Heaven knows what dreams, as its beauty flashed in the sunlight. She attended to her duties as usual, and the vicar had no reason to complain that the decking of the altar suffered. But the insane girl pa.s.sed hours before the cup, drinking in its lovely colour and beauty of form. It was to her a kind of fetish, and she resented it being touched even when Mr Tempest used it for the purpose for which it had been presented. Pratt, hearing this, laughed, and was a little touched. He was sorry for the girl, and pleased that he had been the means of introducing a new element of beauty into her life.

One day while Pearl was on her knees with clasped hands, Sybil entered the chapel. She had come here to meet Leo, for owing to the vigilance of Mrs Gabriel, a meeting was not easily arranged. Whenever Leo and Sybil were together, they would be joined by Mrs Gabriel, by Frank Hale or by Edith. It was no use resenting this addition to the company, for the inconvenient third would never take the hint. Consequently Leo met Sybil by stealth, and as those who interfered rarely came to the chapel save on Sunday, it was the chapel they chose for their meeting-place.

Certainly Pearl was always haunting the shrine, but she gave them no trouble.

Although the day was warm, Pearl had draped a shawl of white Chinese c.r.a.pe over her shoulders. This was a present from Mrs Jeal, who had many such beautiful things, although she would never say how she came by them. The girl still wore her favourite green dress and the straw hat, which had a fresh wreath of oak leaves round it. Every day the wreath was renewed, and some significance was attached to it by the wearer which was not understood by her friends. With her eyes fixed on the cup, and her hands clasped on her knee, she knelt on the lower step of the altar with a wrapt expression and moving lips.

"And the foundations of the wall of the city were garnished with all manner of precious stones," she murmured, and went on with the verse enumerating the gems. Pearl knew much of the Bible by heart, and frequently recited long pa.s.sages to herself. But, like a parrot, she could never be got to speak when she was wanted, and few knew the extent of her knowledge. Sybil overheard the words, and guessed that the poor creature applied them to the cup.

A strong ray of sunlight streamed in through a small plain gla.s.s window in the chancel. It struck with a golden glory on the altar, and in its burning light the cup flashed with many hues. The gems with which it was adorned shot sparks of rainbow fire--the green or the emerald, the fiery red of the ruby, the amethyst, purple in colour as a ripe grape, and above all the fierce flash of a diamond that was in front of the vessel immediately above the Latin inscription. Sybil did not wonder that Pearl had a pa.s.sion for the cup. It looked a singularly beautiful object glowing in the splendour of the sunlight, and might well have been the Holy Grail, as Pearl thought it was.

"What is it, Pearl?" she asked, drawing near, but speaking low so as not to disturb the girl. For Pearl was like a wild animal, and shrank away even at the slightest sound. And even as she spoke the sunlight pa.s.sed away.

"It is gone, gone!" cried Pearl, rising with a wild look. "The Master has withdrawn His presence. I would that I could take it out where His sun would ever shine. Did you see the angels, Miss Sybil?"

"What angels, Pearl?"

"In the beam of the Master's glory. They ascended and descended like the angels of Jacob's dream. From the holy cup a shining pathway went up to heaven, and now it is gone."

"The shining pathway will be there again at this same hour to-morrow,"

said Sybil, comforting the girl.

"But it endures only for a little while," sighed Pearl. "Oh, why doesn't the Master take His cup into the bright sunshine where it could grow warm and rejoice in the glory of day? And the sun would make it glitter like a thousand fires, nor would the moon withhold her light."

"It is better here in this sacred place, Pearl."

"The roof shuts out the light, Miss Sybil." And the girl looked at the great cup, now dull and colourless like a dead thing. "Only in the sunshines does the Master put out His hand to grasp His cup."

"It is not the real cup, Pearl," said Sybil, incautiously.

"How dare you say so?" shrieked the girl, tearing herself away from Sybil's grasp. "The vicar said it was the cup of the Master. I doubt you are one of the evil things its presence makes to fear," and with an indignant look Pearl moved swiftly down the aisle, murmuring as she went. At the door she broke into a jubilant chant, and Sybil gathered that she was recalling some lines of Tennyson which the vicar had repeated in his lecture:--

"Oh, yet methought I saw the Holy Grail, All palled in crimson samite, and around Great angels, awful shapes, and wings and eyes."

Half singing, half reciting, she pa.s.sed out of the door and brushed by Leo, who entered at the moment. Like a shadow she faded out of the church, and left him staring after her. But high and sweet in the distance rose her voice, singing like a lark.

"What's the matter with her now?" asked Leo as Sybil met him.

"Nothing much. She has a belief that yonder cup is the veritable Holy Grail, and when I suggested that it was not she grew angry. But what a memory she has!" added Sybil, linking her arm within that of Leo. "Did you hear her recite Tennyson's lines? Well, she only heard them once before."

"I daresay. But she cannot read, and those who can't read have always a marvelous memory. But the wonder to me is that her poor, cracked brain can hold anything. I know she's mad about the Grail, as she called that cup. Mrs Jeal told me that Pearl expects the cup will some day be s.n.a.t.c.hed up to heaven to be used there. Poor soul!"