The Hermit of Far End

pt their last sleep, the blinds had been drawn up, letting in the wintry sunlight once again, and the mourners

ing black of her gown, moved listlessly across the hall to where Major Durward was standi

igarette away at her approach, b

to make things a little more natural. Uncl

inched, drawn look about her nostrils. Major Durward reg

iss him bad

urned his glance frankly. "You are very

ing the difficult days that succeeded her uncle's death Sara had unconsciously found a strange kind of comfort in the likeness. She had dreaded inexpressibly the advent of the future owner of Barrow, but, when he had arrived, his resemblance to h

yet deferring to her as though she were still just as much mistress of the Court as she had been before her uncle'

him, "that you will miss his guardianship and care of you, as well as the good pal you found in him. Will you let me try to fill in the gaps, if-if you should want ad

You mean that now that Uncle Pat has gone, you

line shyness of a difficult situat

y. "I want you to regard me as a-a sort of sh

ope there won't be storms of such magnit

ously for a moment.

u out of the Court. I wish it need not be. But the Lo

live here. I owe you no grudge for that," smiling. "When-how soon

of leasing Durward Park, if the tenant can have what practically amounts to immediate possession

rstandingly. "If you could let me have

Barrow as your headquarters-to stay on here with us until

suggestion; nevertheless, sh

tefully. "But it is quite out of the question. Why, I am not even a

. Please, Miss Tennant, don't refuse me. Don't"-persuasivel

she he

re-" she bega

ee you're the kind of person whose conscientious scruples will begin to worry you the momen

nd. "And-thank you." Her eyes, suddenly mis

etched hand in a c

purring of a motor sounded from outside. "I m

sight round a bend of the drive. Then, as she turned back into the hall, the e

the necessity of providing accommodation for the various relatives who had attended the funeral, the frequent consultations that Major Durward, to all intents and purposes a stranger to the ways of

y claims upon her time, nothing to distract her, and she had leisure to vi

own room, and drawing up a low chair to the fir

und to her by any ties other than those forged of his own friendly feelings. True, he had been Patrick

an who had so amply fulfilled his trust as guardian, and she glanced up

y solicitor had handed it to her the previous day, after the reading of the will, but the demands upon her time and attention had been so many, o

swift mist of tears to her eyes, and she hesit

he envelope might contain, she would be able to give back no answer, make no reply. The knowledge seemed to

e. Inside was a half-sheet of notepaper wrapped about a small old-fashioned key, an

bedroom. It had not occurred to her at the time that its contents might have any interest for her; in fact, she had supposed it to be empty. But now she realized that there was ev

thoughts, she decided to investigate the bureau at o

span aspect of the room, its ordered absence of any trace of occupation, remin

hat had been with what was-the wheeled chair, standing vacant in one of the lobbies, the tobacco jar perched up

arnished like any one of the score o

a writing-table. She was conscious of a fleeting sense of admiration for the fine-grained wood and for the smooth "feel" of the old brass handles, worn by long usage, then her whole attention was riveted by the three things which were all th

and carried them to her own sitting-room. She felt she could not stay to examine them in that strangely empty, li

's small, characteristic writing. Impulsively she brushed it with her lips, then, leaning back in her chair, began to read, her expression growing curiously intent

rudge me my 'long leave.' But there are several things you ought to know, and which I want you to know, yet I have never been able to bring myself to speak of them to you. To tell you about them meant digging into the past-a

really my niece, proper respect (on your part, of course, for your aged uncle!) and the barrier of a generation would have set us the usual miles apart. But there was never anything of that with us, was t

obable. And Pauline Malincourt, your mother, had been taught to abhor the idea of living on small means-trained to regard her beauty and breeding as marketable assets, to go to the highest bidder. For, although her parents came of fine old stock-there's no better

our mother led a very unhappy life together, so unhappy that at last she left him, choosing rather to live in utter poverty than remain with him. He never forgave her for

lessing hung round your neck. The Malincourts were originally of French extraction-descendants of the haute noblesse of old France-cursed with the devil's own pride and pass

urt. She could not bend, and wh

-stricken aristocrat. She made a ghastly mistake, and paid for it afterwards every day of her life. And she was urged into it by her father, who declined to r

e you into my care, begging me to shield you f

to selling yourself, as she was driven. But there are a hundred other rocks in life against which you m

r good and perfect gift. Don't let any twopenny-halfpenny considerations of worldly advantage influence you, nor the tittle-tattle of other folks, and even if it seems that something insurmounta

o me during the few short weeks we belonged to each other. I'm a sentimental old f

like you, too, for you resemble her wonderfully in appearance. Often, to look at you has made my hear

, it is rather wonderful to reflect that in a few weeks

ine. We've had some good t

voted, P

believed that some long-dead romance lay behind Patrick's bachelorhood, but

sed into their life together. Sara recognized it as the outcome of a love and fidelity as beautiful and devoted as it is rare. Patrick's love for her mother had partaken of the endurin

trick's fingers must have knotted round them. There were only six of them-half-a-dozen memories of a lov

ogether. Where it had lain, preserving the strip of paper beneath it from contact with the dust, bands of white traversed the faint discoloration which time had worked

ead, into the fire, and watched them flare up with a sudden spurt of flame, then curl and shrivel into dead

ollection, blurred by the passage of years, was of a white-faced, rather haggard-looking woman with deep-set, haunted eyes and a bitter mouth, but whose

h a small, pointed chin and a vivid red mouth, curling up at the corners. There was little colour in the cheeks, and the black hair and extraordinarily dark eyes served to enhance the creamy pallor of the skin.

and yet no memory of hers could recall her mother as sh

he odd sense of familiarity was explained. There, looking back at her from the mirror, was the same sharply angled face, the same warm ivory pallor of complexi

et-black lashes, slanted downwards a little at the outer corners, bestowing a curiously intense expression, such as one sometimes sees i

t of her singular charm and of a pride which had accorded love but a secondary place in her scheme of life, also be re-enacted in the case of the daughter? It seemed almos

t was as though a shadow had fallen across her path, a shadow of which