Provence: every one seemed in the last decay of age. They were twisted and dwarfish; the branches grew in queer angles and elbows, as if they were crouching down out of reach of the north wind; the trunks were bent, and, which completed their resemblance to the olive, all alike were covered and clothed with a thick grey lichen, clinging to every bough like a glove, and hanging like a fringe. If you tear it off, the tree begins to shiver and shake, though on Samson it is never cold.
'Let us sit down,' said Roland, 'in this secluded spot and talk. Have I your leave, Armorel, to—— Thank you.' He filled and lit his briar-root, and lay back on the warm bank, gazing upwards at the blue sky through the leaves and the twisted branches of an aged apple-tree.
'It is good to be here. Do you know how very, very good it was of you to ask me, Armorel? And do you know how very, very rash it was?'
The girl, who showed her youth and inexperience in many little ways, regarded him with admiration unconcealed. Certainly, he was a personable young man, even picturesque; when his beard should be a little longer, when his moustache should be a little stronger, he might be able to pass for Charles I. idealised, and in early manhood, when as yet he had not begun to dissimulate.
'I was so glad when you promised to stay,' she replied, truthfully.
'Again, it is most good of you to say so. But, Armorel, a dreadful misgiving has possessed me. Does your—does the Ancestress approve of the invitation?'
Armorel laughed. 'Why,' she said, 'we never consult her about anything. She is too old, you know.'
'Was nobody consulted at all? Did you ask me here all out of your own head, as the children say?'
'Why not? There is nobody to consult. Why should I not ask you?'
'It was very good of you—only—well—you are younger than most ladies who invite people to their house.'
'Well—but I asked you,' she replied, with a little irritation, 'and you said you would come. You asked if anybody could stay on the island.'
'Yes, of course.' He did not explain that at first he thought the place was a lodging-house. The mistake was not unnatural; but he could not explain. 'I ought to have known,' he said. 'You are the Queen of Samson, as well as a Princess in Lyonesse. I beg your Majesty to forgive the ignorance of a traveller from foreign parts.'
'Justinian and Peter manage the farm. Dorcas and Chessun manage the house. There is no one to ask,' she added, simply, 'what I am doing.'
She said this with a touch of sadness.
'Have you no relations—cousins—nobody?'
'I have some far-off cousins. They live in London, I believe. One of them went away—a long, long time ago, in the Great War—and became a purser in the Navy. After that he was purveyor for the Fleet, and was made a knight. He was my grandfather's cousin, so I suppose he is dead by this time, but I dare say he has left children.'
'You are very lonely, Armorel.'
'I had three brothers; but they were all drowned—father, mother, three brothers, all drowned together coming from St. Agnes. That was ten years ago, when I was only a little girl and did not know what it meant. All our misfortunes, my great-great-grandmother says, are due to the wickedness of her husband's father, who took a bag of treasure from the neck of a passenger rescued from a wreck. You heard her last night. Do you think that God would drown my innocent brothers and my innocent father and mother all on the same day, because, eighty years ago, that wicked thing was done?'
'No, Armorel. I can believe a great deal, but that I cannot believe.'
'And so, you see, I am quite alone. Why should I not invite you to stay here?'
'There is not, in reality, Armorel, any reason, except that you did not know anything about me.'
'Oh! but I saw you and talked with you.'
'Yes; but that was not enough. We do not ask people into our houses unless we know something about them.'
'I could see that you were a gentleman.'
'You are very good to think so. Let me try to justify that belief. But, Armorel, seriously, there are thieves and rogues and wicked men in the world. Some of these may come to Scilly. Do not ask another stranger. Believe me, it is dangerous. As for me, you have shown me your flower-farm and have entertained me hospitably: let me thank you and take my departure.'
'Go away? Take your departure? Why?' Armorel looked ready to cry. 'You have only just come. You have seen nothing.'
'Do you wish me to stay another night?'
'Of course I do. What is it, Roland Lee? You have got something on your mind. Why should you not stay?'
'I should like somebody,' he replied, weakly, 'to approve. If the Ancestress, or even Dorcas, or Chessun herself, would approve——'
'Why, of course Dorcas approves. She says it is the best thing in the world for me to have someone here to talk to. She said so yesterday evening, and again this morning.'
'In that case, Armorel, and since it is so delightful here—and so new—and since you are so kind, I will stay one more day.'
He remembered his friend's warning, and the grumpiness which he showed on the way back. His conscience smote him, but not severely. He would be very careful. And, after all, she was but a child. He would just stay the one day and make a sketch or two. Then he would go away.
'That is settled, then. One more day—or, perhaps, one more week, or a month, or a year,' she said, laughing. 'And now, before Peter is ready, I must leave you for ten minutes, because I have to make a cake for your tea this evening. As for dinner, we shall have that in the boat, or on one of the islands. It is my business, you know, to make the puddings and the cakes.'
'Armorel—you shall not. I would rather go without.'
'You shall certainly not go without a cake. Why, I like to make things. It would be dull here indeed if I had not got things to do all day long.'
'Do you not find it dull sometimes, even with things to do?'
'Perhaps. Sometimes. I suppose we are all of us tempted to be discontented at times, even when we have so many blessings as I enjoy.' Armorel was young enough, you see, to talk the language of her nurses and serving-women.
'How do you get through the day?'
'I get up at six o'clock, except in winter, when it is too dark. I have a run with Jack after breakfast; we run up the hill and down the other side—round Porth Bay, just to see the waves beating on White Island Ledge, where you very nearly——'
'Very nearly,' Roland echoed, 'but for you.'
'Then we run up Bryher Hill and stand on the carn just for Jack to bark at the north wind.'
'Sometimes it rains.'
'Oh, yes—and sometimes it blows such a gale of wind that I could not stand on the carn for a moment. Then I stay at home and make or mend something. There are always things to be made or mended. Then we are always wanting stores of some kind or other, and I have to go over to Hugh Town and buy them.
