Joan Haste | Page 8

she knew well that it was
expected of her that she should marry Samuel Rock, who was
considered to have honoured her greatly by his attentions. This, in view
of their relative social positions in the small society of Bradmouth, was
not wonderful; but Joan's pride revolted at the thought.
"After all this," she said aloud, "how is he so much higher than I am?
and why should my aunt always speak of him as though he were a king
and I a beggar girl? My blood is as good as his, and better," and she
glanced at a row of ancient tombstones, whereof the tops were visible
above the herbage of rank grass, yellow crowsfoot, and sheep's-parsley
still white with bloom, that marked the resting-places of the Lacons.

These Lacons had been yeoman farmers for many generations, until the
last of them, Joan's grandfather, took to evil courses and dissipated his
ancestral patrimony, the greater part of which was now in the
possession of Samuel Rock.
Yes, that side of her pedigree was well enough, and were it not for the
mystery about her father she could have held her head up with the best
of them. Oh, it was a bitter thing that, through no fault of her own,
Samuel Rock should be able to reproach her with her lack of an "honest
name"! So it was, however--she was an outcast, a waif and a stray, and
it was useless to cloak this fact. But, outcast or no, she was mistress of
herself, and would not be driven into marriage, however advantageous,
with Samuel Rock or any other man who was repellent to her.
Having come to this conclusion, Joan's spirits rose. After all, she was
young and healthy, and, she believed, beautiful, with the wide world
before her. There were even advantages in lacking an "honest name,"
since it freed her from responsibilities and rendered it impossible for
her to disgrace that which she had not got. As it was, she had only
herself to please in the world, and within reasonable and decent limits
Joan meant to please herself. Most of all did she mean to do so in
connection with these matters of the heart. Nobody had ever loved her,
and she had never found anybody to love; and yet, as in all true women,
love of one sort or another was the great desire and necessity of her life.
Therefore on this point she was determined: she would never marry
where she could not love.
Thus thought Joan; then, weary of the subject, she dismissed it from her
mind for a while, and, lying back upon the grass in idle contentment,
watched the little clouds float across the sky till, far out to sea, they
melted into the blue of the horizon. It was a perfect afternoon, and she
would enjoy what was left of it before she returned to Bradmouth to
face Samuel Rock and all her other worries. Grasshoppers chirped in
the flowers at her feet, a beautiful butterfly flitted from tombstone to
grey tombstone, sunning itself on each, and high over her head flew the
jackdaws, taking food to their young in the crumbling tower above.
For a while Joan watched these jackdaws through her half-shut eyes,

till suddenly she remembered that her late employer Mr. Biggen's little
boy had confided to her his ardent desire for a young bird of that
species, and she began to wonder if she could reach the nest and rob it
as a farewell gift to him.
Speculation led to desire, and desire to endeavour. The ruined belfry
stairway still ran up the interior of the tower for twenty feet or more--to
a spot, indeed, in the stonework where a huge fragment of masonry had
fallen bodily, leaving a V-shaped opening that reached to the
battlements. Ivy grew upon this gap in the flint rubble, and the nest of
the two jackdaws that Joan had been watching particularly, did not
appear to be more than a dozen feet above the top of the broken stair.
This stair she proceeded to climb without further hesitation. It was not
at all safe, but she was active, and her head being good, she reached the
point where it was broken away without accident, and, taking her stand
on the thickness of the wall, supported herself by the ivy and looked up.
There, twice her own height above her, was the window slit with the
nest in it, but the mortar and stone upon which she must cling to reach
it looked so crumbling and insecure that she did not dare to trust herself
to them. So, having finished her inspection, Joan decided to leave those
young jackdaws in peace and descend to earth again.
CHAPTER III
THE BEGINNINGS OF FATE