The Well-Beloved | Page 7

into that of a boy, who, advancing to Jocelyn, inquired if he were
Mr. Pierston, and handed him a note.

1. IV. A LONELY PEDESTRIAN
When the boy had gone Jocelyn retraced his steps to the last lamp, and
read, in Avice's hand:
'MY DEAREST,--I shall be sorry if I grieve you at all in what I am
going to say about our arrangement to meet to-night in the Sandsfoot
ruin. But I have fancied that my seeing you again and again lately is
inclining your father to insist, and you as his heir to feel, that we ought
to carry out Island Custom in our courting--your people being such old
inhabitants in an unbroken line. Truth to say, mother supposes that your
father, for natural reasons, may have hinted to you that we ought. Now,
the thing is contrary to my feelings: it is nearly left off; and I do not
think it good, even where there is property, as in your case, to justify it,
in a measure. I would rather trust in Providence.

'On the whole, therefore, it is best that I should not come--if only for
appearances--and meet you at a time and place suggesting the custom,
to others than ourselves, at least, if known.
'I am sure that this decision will not disturb you much; that you will
understand my modern feelings, and think no worse of me for them.
And dear, if it were to be done, and we were unfortunate in it, we might
both have enough old family feeling to think, like our forefathers, and
possibly your father, that we could not marry honourably; and hence
we might be made unhappy.
'However, you will come again shortly, will you not, dear
Jocelyn?--and then the time will soon draw on when no more
good-byes will be required.--Always and ever yours, 'AVICE.'
Jocelyn, having read the letter, was surprised at the naivete it showed,
and at Avice and her mother's antiquated simplicity in supposing that to
be still a grave and operating principle which was a bygone barbarism
to himself and other absentees from the island. His father, as a
money-maker, might have practical wishes on the matter of
descendants which lent plausibility to the conjecture of Avice and her
mother; but to Jocelyn he had never expressed himself in favour of the
ancient ways, old-fashioned as he was.
Amused therefore at her regard of herself as modern, Jocelyn was
disappointed, and a little vexed, that such an unforeseen reason should
have deprived him of her company. How the old ideas survived under
the new education!
The reader is asked to remember that the date, though recent in the
history of the Isle of Slingers, was more than forty years ago.
* * *
Finding that the evening seemed louring, yet indisposed to go back and
hire a vehicle, he went on quickly alone. In such an exposed spot the
night wind was gusty, and the sea behind the pebble barrier kicked and
flounced in complex rhythms, which could be translated equally well as

shocks of battle or shouts of thanksgiving.
Presently on the pale road before him he discerned a figure, the figure
of a woman. He remembered that a woman passed him while he was
reading Avice's letter by the last lamp, and now he was overtaking her.
He did hope for a moment that it might be Avice, with a changed mind.
But it was not she, nor anybody like her. It was a taller, squarer form
than that of his betrothed, and although the season was only autumn she
was wrapped in furs, or in thick and heavy clothing of some kind.
He soon advanced abreast of her, and could get glimpses of her profile
against the roadstead lights. It was dignified, arresting, that of a very
Juno. Nothing more classical had he ever seen. She walked at a
swinging pace, yet with such ease and power that there was but little
difference in their rate of speed for several minutes; and during this
time he regarded and conjectured. However, he was about to pass her
by when she suddenly turned and addressed him.
'Mr Pierston, I think, of East Quarriers?'
He assented, and could just discern what a handsome, commanding,
imperious face it was--quite of a piece with the proud tones of her voice.
She was a new type altogether in his experience; and her accent was not
so local as Avice's.
'Can you tell me the time, please?'
He looked at his watch by the aid of a light, and in telling her that it
was a quarter past seven observed, by the momentary gleam of his
match, that her eyes looked a little red and chafed, as if with weeping.
'Mr. Pierston, will you forgive what will appear