Silverbeach Manor by Margaret S. Haycraft Page B

has any voluntary communication with "Miss Temperance Piper,
her former guardian." So run the terms of Mrs. Adair's last will,
made some time ago, and perhaps repented of in that last hour when
selfishness and earthly distinctions fade away for ever. But the
will was made at a time when Mrs. Adair was resolute that her
adopted child should belong to herself and to Silverbeach, and
never disgrace her wealth and education by a return to her former
sphere of life or recognition of common friends.
    "Do you agree
to this sole condition, Miss Adair?" asks Mr. Traylon, quietly. "In
the event of your refusal to do so, Silverbeach passes to the
family of Mr. Adair's cousin who emigrated. I do not think Mrs.
Adair knew them at all, though doubtless the family could be
traced. Perhaps you would desire a certain time for
consideration?"
    But Pansy
looks through the plate glass windows at the grounds, the lake, the
hot-houses, and shudders at the notion of surrendering luxuries
that have become to her as necessities.
    "No
consideration is needed, Mr. Traylon," she says, hastily. "I accept
the condition. I will keep to the terms of the will."
    And, as far as
the fact of mourning will permit, a great deal of homage,
adulation, and sympathy is henceforth offered to the fair young
mistress of Silverbeach Manor.
    Miss
Ashburne, the highly recommended chaperone, is engaged as Pansy's companion. She proves to be exceedingly
elegant and impressive, with extreme horror of anything common and
unfashionable, and devoted worship of all things on which society
has set its stamp of approval.
    She is
eloquent in condemnation of work in the ragged school, as savouring
of the habits of the lower middle classes. She has, however, no
real authority over Pansy, and the teaching at Masden continues.
Pansy in her heart accepts her class as Marlow Holme's legacy,
though having fairly started the mission he is seldom seen at
Masden, being engaged in launching a very difficult enterprise
elsewhere.
    Nearly a year
after Mrs. Adair's death, Pansy and her companion are staying at
Rooksdale House, a mansion-like boarding house at a fashionable
seaport. Conscience or undefined longings may have something to do
with the fact that Pansy has to take tonics, and is advised sea
air. She has come to Rockcombe rather reluctantly, finding great
sameness in fashionable resorts and boarding-houses, but Miss
Ashburne reminds her reproachfully that the Duchess of Balways
stays at Rockcombe, and Rooksdale House was once the property of a
distinguished Marquis.
    "This is a
pleasant surprise," says a never-forgotten voice beside her in the
drawing room before dinner. "I am so glad you have come to
Rockcombe, Miss Adair. The air is so bracing, and the views are
glorious. May I present my friend, Major Grenville?"
    Pansy smiles a
warmer welcome than she speaks. She can scarcely believe it
possible that Marlow Holme and she are side by side, brought into
contact with one another, perhaps for many a day -- that he of whom
she has lately seen so little is looking at her now with the glance
so well remembered. How can he, whose home is in the shabby
lodgings she so often pictures, afford to pay the terms required by
the proprietress of Rooksdale House? But she decides that as he and
Major Grenville are evidently together, the Major is probably
paying the expenses of both, and in her heart she feels intensely
grateful to him for his kindness to her poet-friend.
    "We are down
here helping the local friends to start a YMCA Institute," Holme
tells her next day, while Miss Ashburne is in reverential converse
with an aged earl on the terrace, and the two have drawn apart to
look at the vessels on the blue waters of the bay. "The place has
some important shops, and the young men are responding with
interest to the movement. We shall remain here till after the
approaching public meeting. Then Grenville and I are asked to
Firlands, to try and revive public interest in the work of the