Set in Silver
in, and face the sea once more--a wide water-horizon whose line was
broken with great ships steaming from all parts of the world to
Liverpool.
Apollo had seemed a little faint before luncheon, because of some inner
disturbance, but he was flying fast as a saint on his way to Paradise as
we crossed the Dee, into England out of Wales, and sprang into Gladstone
country.
When people are obliged to reach a town by rail, there must be
disappointments to lovers of the picturesque, as you and I know by
experience. It's like arriving at a house by the tradesmen's entrance;
but with a motor one sails up to the front door through the park.
Of all the towns to which Apollo has brought us, the entrance to Chester
to-day was the best. The first effect of colour left on my eyes the
impression of sunset-red, warm as copper beeches. The place seemed to be
lit with fading firelight, and I wondered at the soft glow everywhere,
until I realized that the big buildings--the Cathedral, the great houses
and the old city wall--were all made of rosy sandstone.
You can't imagine how a large town which has lived as long as Chester
has, and gone on growing, could have contrived to remain so satisfyingly
beautiful, or keep such an air of old-time completeness. But the secret
is, I suppose, that Chester is "canny" as well as "bonny," and, being
wise, she refused to throw away her precious antique garments for
glaring new ones. When she had to add houses, or even shops, wherever
possible she reproduced the charm and quaintness of the black and white
Tudor or Stuart buildings which are Chester's intimate treasures.
Of course, I've seen little of the place yet; but after I had been to
the post-office, I strolled about before coming back to the hotel,
partly to recover from my disappointment in not hearing from you, partly
because I was so bewitched with my first glimpse that I couldn't bear to
come indoors still a stranger to the town. Hovering in front of the
Cathedral (a curious building, black in its oldest parts, bright pink
where it has been renovated) I saw Sir Lionel and Mrs. Norton coming.
That was awkward, because I had said I wanted to "settle in" before
sight-seeing, but I explained vaguely that I'd changed my mind, and was
invited to go into the Cathedral with them. Perhaps it was because Emily
was with us that nothing seemed very wonderful in the interior--unless
the carved oak in the choir--but the cloisters are beautiful, and I
liked the chapter house.
After "doing" the Cathedral, Mrs. Norton was tired, so Sir Lionel and I
had a walk alone, an adventure Mrs. Senter would never have allowed if
she'd guessed I was out of my room. She is a dog in the manger about
walks. She hates them herself, but she won't let other people take them
without her if she can help it.
We dropped Emily at the hotel, and had a delicious ramble (speaking for
myself!) through the four extraordinary streets which stand for much in
Chester's peculiar fame. Wandering there, it was easy to believe what
the guide-books say: that nowhere in Great Britain does a town exist
which so preserves the ancient character of all its architecture. I
don't know if there are British relics; but the city wall and gates are
Roman, part of the castle, too; and since mediaeval days nothing seems to
have lost in picturesqueness. People come from all over the world to see
the Rows: streets dug out below the rock-surface on which the town was
originally built, having shops and even warehouses on their level, with
galleries above, open fronted, stone-paved, balustraded with black oak,
so that these "Rows" all look as if the houses were wide open,
communicating with one another. The carved oak fronts of the houses and
shops, done ingeniously with strange pargetting, and adorned with
wondrous windows, are so adorably queer, with their stagey effects, that
I don't wonder Chester has become a kind of Mecca for travellers from my
native land, where most things are new.
When we had thus skimmed a little of the cream from the town itself, we
had a walk on the old wall, while church bells, near and distant,
chimed; but still I don't feel I've more than glanced at the place.
To-morrow we plan to run out to Knutsford, which is Mrs. Gaskell's
Cranford really, and I have begged to start early, because if we do
(though naturally I don't allege this reason) we can get off before Dick
arrives. Then, when we come back, we can do more sight-seeing, and maybe
be out when he turns up at the hotel. After that event, unless you save
me to-night with some miraculous suggestion, all pleasure will be over.
And at best, I'm not looking forward with undiluted joy to to-morrow,
because I must not only decide what to do for Ellaline, but do it.
While I was walking on the wall with Sir Lionel just now, gazing up at
watch-towers, or down over the town, and dodging seedy amateur guides
whom we nicknamed "Wallers," I kept thinking, thinking, about what to
sell. The only thing Sir Lionel has given me of really great value,
which could be easily disposed of, is the ruby and diamond ring. But how
it would hurt me to give it up in such a sordid way! It was my birthday
present from him, and it's associated in my mind with that night of
moonlight in the New Forest when I first knew I _cared_. But I'm sorely
afraid it must be the thing to go. There are several important-looking
antique shops here, and I noticed, when casting my eye about, one where
they make a speciality of curious and rare jewellery. I shall look at it
again more carefully when I run out to the post-office, in a few
minutes, and perhaps I may have courage to try and strike a bargain, so
as to send the money off in the morning before Knutsford--if I get it----
_An hour later._
Dearest, I've got your wire, now, having retrieved it from the Poste
Restante, and I'm thankful for it--thankful that you're well, thankful
that you don't blame me for anything I've done, faults committed or
mistakes made. But--alas, I don't think the advice, good as it is, will
be of any use to me. You see, you don't know Mrs. Senter. It would be
hopeless for me to try and force her to exert authority over Dick
Burden.
In the first place, she has no real authority, as apparently he has no
expectations from her; and in the second place, though I'm almost sure
she doesn't know the truth about me and Ellaline, she suspects that Dick
has a hold over me; and after all I've submitted to from him already it
would be impossible to "bluff" her into the belief that I'd dare ask Sir
Lionel to send them both away. No, my dear one, there's little hope for
me in that scheme. I allowed Ellaline to make my bed for me, and I must
lie in it, although it has proved to be one of those nasty folding ones
that will shut and swallow me up in a trap.
No, it's cowardly to whine like that. It won't be pleasant to keep my
promise to Dick; but there have been worse things; and I shall probably
be able to escape before long. Anyhow it will all be the same a hundred
years hence. As soon as I am with you again it will be as if nothing had
happened; and meanwhile I am going to keep a "stiff upper lip." It
mayn't be becoming, but that won't matter, as Sir Lionel will never look
at me; and you will see by my letters in future how well I am getting on.
Best love to my best loved,
From
Audrie.
XXXIII
SIR LIONEL PENDRAGON TO COLONEL PATRICK O'HAGAN
_Keswick Hotel_,
_September 3rd_
My Dear Pat: Here we are, you see, in the "happy hunting
ground" where you and I used to hunt such shy game as chimneys, needles,
crevices, etc., etc.; and if I'm not as happy in it now as I ought to
be, that isn't the fault of the country, which is as fair as it ever
was--the fairest in England, perhaps.
It just happens, unfortunately, that I've been rubbed up the wrong way
before coming to the places I'd looked forward to revisiting more than
any other, except Cornwall; and if I hadn't invited dear old Penrhyn
from Pen-y-gwrd to meet me here, and have a climb, I'm not sure I should
have stopped. However, I have enjoyed the beauty of the run. I must have
been as blind as a mole, and as earthy, if I hadn't.
Fine road from Chester to Liverpool, which city had an air of opulent
magnificence seen from the ferry, as we neared her--rather like a huge,
modern Venice. Lunched there, at the Adelphi, on the fat of the land,
and had some trouble finding the way out of town. Liverpool welcomes the
coming, but doesn't speed the parting guest; not a sign-post in sight
anywhere. Bad pave till Ormskirk, when things improved, growing better
and better; but no scenery to speak of until near Preston. Villages all
along the line, stone-paved; struck me as being characteristic of that
stern North Country which we approached. "Road too good not to mean
police-traps," said I to myself; and an A. A. scout warned me that they
swarmed; but luckily we were not held up. I wasn't in a temper to have
taken any nonsense lying down, I'm afraid.
Ran straight through Lancaster, which was almost a pity, as John o'
Gaunt's Castle is a brave old fortress, whether or no he really built
the famous tower; and at the King's Arms we might have got some genuine
oat-cakes, which would have given a taste of Cumberland to the
strangers. As it was, the first truly characteristic things we came upon
were the stout stone walls, on which we happened a little short of
Kendal. Down to Windermere, a steep but beautiful run; Mrs. Senter by my
side, and very enthusiastic. She seems to take an unaffected interest in
scenery, with which you would hardly have credited her in old times. She
was entranced by her first sight of the lake, which is not surprising,
for to one who has never seen them the lakes must be a revelation.
Dick Burden, by the way, was not with us on this run, nor was he at
Chester. He had business in London, which kept him longer than he
expected when he left our party at Tintern. I can't say I regret him,
though others may. I understand that there has been some telegraphing
between him and his aunt, and that his present intention is to rejoin us
at Newcastle. Rather wish he would put off his return a little longer,
as it is arranged that we go out to Cragside and Bamborough Castle; and
one doesn't like to abuse such delightful hospitality as we have been
offered there. Dick's presence does not add to the gaiety of nations, it
seems to me, and I am not keen on taking him.
I found Penrhyn waiting for me here, the good fellow, delighted at the
prospect of his short visit, and to-morrow he and I will have some small
climb. I shall send the car, with Young Nick to drive all who care to
go, to a few of the beauty spots, while I am otherwise occupied. They
must penetrate the cloistered charms of exquisite Borrodaile, and of
course see Lodore, which ought to be at its best now, as there have been
heavy rains. Jove! How the Cumberland names ring on the ear, like the
"horns of elfland"! Helvelyn; Rydal; Ennerdale; Derwent Water;
Glaramara! Aren't they all as crystal as the depths of mountain tarns,
or that amethystine colour of the sky behind the clear profiles of high
peaks?
I'm sorry we're too late for the Grasmere Sports; but the fact is we
have lingered by the way longer than I planned for this trip; and now,
as things are turning out I'm inclined to cut the end of the tour short.
Graylees is practically ready for occupation, and I feel as if I ought
to be there.
No! That isn't good enough for you, old chap. It's true, as far as it
goes; but you have begun to read between the lines by this time, I know,
and I may as well speak out. I should be an ostrich if I weren't sure
that you've been saying to yourself: "Why doesn't this fellow refer to