The Bars of Iron

by Ethel M. Dell

  CHAPTER I

  DEAD SEA FRUIT

  "I doubt if the County will call," said Miss Whalley, "unless the factthat Sir Piers is to stand for the division weighs with them. And ColonelRose's patronage may prove an added inducement. He probably knows thatthe young man has simply married this Mrs. Denys out of pique, since hisown charming daughter would have none of him. I must say that personallyI am not surprised that Miss Rose should prefer marriage with a man ofsuch sterling worth as Mr. Guyes. Sir Piers may be extremely handsome andfascinating; but no man with those eyes could possibly make a goodhusband. I hear it is to be a very grand affair indeed, dear Mrs.Lorimer,--far preferable in my opinion to the hole-in-a-corner sort ofceremony that took place this morning."

  "They both of them wished it to be as quiet as possible," murmured Mrs.Lorimer. "She being a widow and he--poor lad!--in such deep mourning."

  "Indecent haste, I call it," pronounced Miss Whalley severely, "with theearth still fresh on his poor dear grandfather's grave! A May weddingtoo! Most unsuitable!"

  "He said he was so lonely," pleaded Mrs. Lorimer gently. "And after allit was what his grandfather wished,--so he told me."

  Miss Whalley gave a high-bred species of snort. "My dear Mrs. Lorimer,that young man would tell you anything. Why, his grandfather was aninveterate woman-hater, as all the world knows."

  "I know," agreed Mrs. Lorimer. "That was really what made it soremarkable. I assure you, Miss Whalley,--Piers came to me only last nightand told me with tears in his eyes--that just at the last poor SirBeverley said to him: 'I believe you've pitched on the right woman afterall, lad. Anyway, she cares for you--more than ordinary. Marry her asquick as you can--and my blessing on you both!' They were almost the lastwords he spoke," said Mrs. Lorimer, wiping her own eyes. "I thought itwas so dear of Piers to tell me."

  "No doubt," sniffed Miss Whalley. "He is naturally anxious to secureyour goodwill. But I wonder very much what point of view the dear Vicartakes of the matter. If I mistake not, he took Mrs. Denys's measure sometime ago."

  "Did he?" said Mrs. Lorimer vaguely.

  Miss Whalley looked annoyed. The Vicar's wife obviously lacked sufficientbackbone to quarrel on the subject. She was wont to say that she detestedinvertebrate women.

  "I think the Vicar was not altogether surprised," Mrs. Lorimer went on,in her gentle, conversational way. "You see, Piers had been somewhatassiduous for some time. I myself, however, did not fancy that dear Averywished to encourage him."

  "Pooh!" said Miss Whalley. "It was the chance of her life."

  A faint flush rose in Mrs. Lorimer's face. "She is a dear girl," shesaid. "I don't know what I shall do without her."

  "The children are getting older now," said Miss Whalley. "Jeanie ought tobe able to take her place to a very great extent."

  "My little Jeanie is not strong," murmured Mrs. Lorimer. "She does whatshe can, but her lessons tire her so. She never has much energy left,poor child. She has not managed to finish her holiday-task yet, and itoccupies all her spare time. I told the Vicar that I really did not thinkshe was equal to it. But--" the sentence went into a heavy sigh, andfurther words failed.

  "The Vicar is always very judicious with his children," observedMiss Whalley.

  "He does not err on the side of mercy," said his wife pathetically. "Andhe does not seem to realize that Jeanie lacks the vitality of theothers,--though how they ever got through their tasks I can't imagine. Itmust have been dear Avery's doing. She is a genius with children. Theyall managed it but poor Jeanie. How ever we shall get on without her Icannot think."

  "But she was under notice to go, I am told," observed Miss Whalley.

  "Yes,--yes, I know. But I had hoped that the Vicar might relent. You see,she has been invaluable to us in so many ways. However, I hope when shecomes back that we shall see a great deal of her. She is so good to thechildren and they adore her."

  "I doubt if she will have much time to bestow upon them if the Countyreally do decide to accept her," remarked Miss Whalley. "You forget thatshe is now Lady Evesham, my dear Mrs. Lorimer, and little likely toremember old friends now that she has attained the summit of herambition."

  "I don't think Avery would forget us if she became a royal princess,"said Mrs. Lorimer, with a confidence that Miss Whalley found peculiarlyirritating.

  "Ah well, we shall see, we shall see!" she said. "I for one shall beextremely surprised if she elects to remain on the same intimate footing.From mother's help at the Vicarage to Lady Evesham of Rodding Abbey is aconsiderable leap, and she will be scarcely human if it does not turnher head."

  But Mrs. Lorimer merely smiled and said no more. She knew how littleAvery was drawn by pomp and circumstance, but she would not vaunt herknowledge before one so obviously incapable of understanding. In silenceshe let the subject pass.

  "And where is the honeymoon to be spent?" enquired Miss Whalley, who wasthere to glean information and did not mean to go empty away.

  But Mrs. Lorimer shook her head. "Even I don't know that. Piers had awhim to go just where they fancied. They will call for letters at certainpost-offices on certain days; but he did not want to feel bound to stayat any particular place. Where they are at the present moment or wherethey will spend to-night, I have not the faintest idea. Nobody knows!"

  "How extremely odd!" sniffed Miss Whalley. "But young Evesham always wasso ill-balanced and eccentric. Is it true that Dr. Tudor went to thewedding this morning?"

  "Quite true," said Mrs. Lorimer. "I thought it was so kind of him. Hearrived a little late. Avery did not know he was there until it was over.But he came forward then and shook hands with them both and wished themhappiness. He and young Mr. Guyes, who supported Piers, were the only twopresent besides the Eveshams' family solicitor from Wardenhurst andourselves. I gave the dear girl away," said Mrs. Lorimer with gentlepride. "And my dear husband conducted the service so impressively."

  "I am sure he would," said Miss Whalley. "But I think it was unfortunatethat so much secrecy was observed. People are so apt to talkuncharitably. It was really most indiscreet."

  Could she have heard the remark which Piers was making at that identicalmoment to his bride, she would have understood one of the main reasonsfor his indiscretion.

  They were sitting in the deep, deep heart of a wood--an enchanted woodthat was heavy with the spring fragrance of the mountain-ash,--and Piers,the while he peeled a stick with the deftness of boyhood, observed withmuch complacence: "Well, we've done that old Whalley chatterbox out of atreat anyway. Of all the old parish gossips, that woman is the worst. Inever pass her house without seeing her peer over her blind. She alwayslooks at me with a suspicious, disapproving eye. It's rather a shame, youknow," he wound up pathetically, "for she has only once in her life foundme out, and that was a dozen years ago."

  Avery laughed a little. "I don't think she approves of any men exceptthe clergy."

  "Oh yes, she clings like a leech to the skirts of the Church," said Piersirreverently. "There are plenty of her sort about--wherever there areparsons, in fact. Of course it's the parsons' fault. If they didn'tencourage 'em they wouldn't be there."

  "I don't know that," said Avery, with a smile. "I think you're a littlehard on parsons."

  "Do you? Well, I don't know many. The Reverend Stephen is enough for me.I fight shy of all the rest."

  "My dear, how very narrow of you!" said Avery.

  He turned to her boyishly. "Don't tell me you want to be a female curatelike the Whalley! I couldn't bear it!"

  "I haven't the smallest leaning in that direction," Avery assured him."But at the same time, one of my greatest friends is about to enter theChurch, and I do want you to meet and like him."

  A sudden silence followed her words. Piers resumed the peeling of hisstick with minute attention. "I am sure to like him if you do," heremarked, after a moment.

  She touched his arm lightly. "Thank you, dear. He is an Australian, andthe very greatest-hearted man I ever met. He stood by me in a time ofgreat trouble
. I don't know what I should have done without him. I hopehe won't feel hurt, but I haven't even told him of my marriage yet."

  "We have been married just ten hours," observed Piers, still intentupon his task.

  She laughed again. "Yes, but it is ten days since we became engaged, andI owe him a letter into the bargain. He wanted to arrange to meet me intown one day; but he is still too busy to fix a date. He is studyingvery hard."

  "What's his name?" said Piers.

  "Crowther--Edmund Crowther. He has been a farmer for years inQueensland." Avery, paused a moment. "It was he who broke the news to meof my husband's death," she said, in a low voice. "I told you aboutthat, Piers."

  "You did," said Piers.

  His tone was deliberately repressive, and a little quiver ofdisappointment went through Avery. She became silent, and the magicof the woods closed softly in upon them. Evening was drawing on, andthe long, golden rays of sunshine lay like a benediction over thequiet earth.

  The silence between them grew and expanded into something of a barrier.From her seat on a fallen tree Avery gazed out before her. She could notsee Piers' face which was bent above the stick which he had begun towhittle with his knife. He was sitting on the ground at her feet, andonly his black head was visible to her.

  Suddenly, almost fiercely, he spoke. "I know Edmund Crowther."

  Avery's eyes came down to him in astonishment. "You know him!"

  "Yes, I know him." He worked furiously at his stick without looking up.His words came in quick jerks, as if for some reason he wanted to getthem spoken without delay. "I met him years ago. He did me a goodturn--helped me out of a tight corner. A few weeks ago--when I was atMonte Carlo with my grandfather--I met him again. He told me then thathe knew you. Of course it was a rum coincidence. Heaven only knows whatmakes these things happen. You needn't write to him, I will."

  He ceased to speak, and suddenly Avery saw that his hands weretrembling--trembling violently as the hands of a man with an ague. Shewatched them silently, wondering at his agitation, till Piers, becomingaware of her scrutiny, abruptly flung aside the stick upon which he hadbeen expending so much care and leaped to his feet with a laugh thatsounded oddly strained to her ears.

  "Come along!" he said. "If we sit here talking like Darby and Joan muchlonger, we shall forget that it's actually our wedding-day."

  Avery looked up at him without rising, a queer sense of foreboding ather heart. "Then Edmund Crowther is a friend of yours," she said. "Aclose friend?"

  He stood above her, and she saw a very strange look in his eyes--almost adesperate look.

  "Quite a close friend," he said in answer. "But he won't be if you wasteany more thought on him for many days to come. I want your thoughts allfor myself."

  Again he laughed, holding out his hands to her with a gesture thatcompelled rather than invited. She yielded to his insistence, but witha curious, hurt feeling as of one repulsed. It was as if he had closeda door in her face, not violently or in any sense rudely, yet withsuch evident intention that she had almost heard the click of the keyin the lock.

  Hand in hand they went through the enchanted wood; and for ever after,the scent of mountain-ash blossom was to Avery a bitter-sweet memory ofthat which should have been wholly sweet.

  As for Piers, she did not know what was in his mind, though she wasaware for a time of a lack of spontaneity behind his tenderness whichdisquieted her vaguely. She felt as if a shadow had fallen upon him,veiling his inner soul from her sight.

  Yet when they sat together in the magic quiet of the spring night in agarden that had surely been planted for lovers the cloud lifted, and shesaw him again in all the ardour of his love for her. For he poured itout to her there in the silence, eagerly, burningly,--the worship thathad opened to her the gate of that paradise which she had never morehoped to tread.

  She put her doubts and fears away from her, she answered to his call. Hehad awaked the woman's heart in her, and she gave freely, impulsively,not measuring her gift. If she could not offer him a girl's firstrapture, she could bestow that which was infinitely greater--the deep,strong love of a woman who had suffered and knew how to endure.

  They sat in the dewy garden till in the distant woods the nightingalesbegan their passion-steeped music, and then--because the ecstasy of thenight was almost more than she could bear--Avery softly freed herselffrom her husband's arm and rose.

  "Going?" he asked quickly.

  He remained seated holding her hand fast locked in his. She looked downinto his upraised face, conscious that her own was in shadow and that sheneed not try to hide the tears that had risen inexplicably to her eyes.

  "Yes, dear," she answered, with an effort at lightness. "You haven't hada smoke since dinner. I am going to leave you to have one now."

  But he still held her, as if he could not let her go.

  She bent to him after a moment with that sweet impulsiveness of hers thatso greatly charmed all who loved her. "What is it, Piers? Don't you wantme to go?"

  He caught her other hand in his and held them both against his lips.

  "Want you to go!" he muttered almost inarticulately; and then suddenly heraised his face again to hers. "Avery--Avery, promise me--swear tome--that, whatever happens, you will never leave me!"

  "But, my dearest, haven't I already sworn--only today?" she said,surprised by his vehemence and his request. "Of course I shall neverleave you. My place is by your side."

  "I know! I know!" he said. "But it isn't enough. I want you to promise mepersonally, so that--I shall always feel--quite sure of you. You see,Avery," his words came with difficulty, his upturned face seemed tobeseech her, "I'm not--the sort of impossible, chivalrous knight thatJeanie thinks me. I'm horribly bad. I sometimes think I've got a devilinside me. And I've done things--I've done things--" His voice shooksuddenly; he ended abruptly, with heaving breath. "Before I ever met you,I--wronged you."

  He would have let her go then, but it was her hands that held. Shestooped lower to him, divinely tender, her love seeming to spread allabout him like wings, folding him in.

  "My dear," she said softly, "whatever there is of bad in you,--remember,the best is mine!"

  He caught at the words. "The best--the best! You shall always have that,Avery. But, my darling,--you understand--you do understand--how utterlyunworthy that best is of you? You must understand that before--before--"

  Again his voice went into silence; but she saw his eyes glow suddenly,hotly, in the gloom, and her heart gave a quick hard throb that caughther breath and held it for the moment suspended, waiting.

  He went on after a second, mastering himself with obvious effort. "WhatI am trying to say is this. It's easier--or at least not impossible--toforfeit what you've never had. But afterwards--afterwards--" His handsclosed tightly upon hers again; his voice sounded half-choked. "Avery,I--couldn't let you go--afterwards," he said.

  "But, my own Piers," she whispered, "haven't you said that there is noreason--no earthly reason--"

  He broke in upon her almost fiercely. "There is no reason--nonewhatever--I swear it! You said yourself that the past was nothing to you.You meant it, Avery. Say you meant it!"

  "But of course I meant it!" she told him. "Only, Piers, there is nosecret chamber in my life that you may not enter. Perhaps some day, dear,when you come to realize that I am older than Jeanie, you will open allyour doors to me!"

  There was pleading in her voice, notwithstanding its note of banter; butshe did not stay to plead. With the whispered words she stooped andsoftly kissed him. Then ere he could detain her longer she gentlyreleased herself and was gone.

  He saw her light figure flit ghost-like across the dim stretch of grassand vanish into the shadows. And he started to his feet as if he wouldfollow or call her back. But he did neither. Be only stood swaying on hisfeet with a face of straining impotence--as of a prisoner wrestlingvainly with his iron bars--until she had gone wholly from his sight. Andthen with a stifled groan he dropped down again into his chair andcovered his fac
e.

  He had paid a heavy price to enter the garden of his desire; butalready he had begun to realize that the fruit he gathered there wasDead Sea Fruit.