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been happy enough here； or all a stranger like John Ford himself； but
the two strains struggling for mastery seem to give her no rest。
You'll think this a far…fetched theory； but I believe it to be the
true one。 She'll stand with lips pressed together； her arms folded
tight across her narrow chest； staring as if she could see beyond the
things round her； then something catches her attention； her eyes will
grow laughing； soft； or scornful all in a minute！ She's eighteen；
perfectly fearless in a boat； but you can't get her to mount a horse…
…a sore subject with her grandfather； who spends most of his day on a
lean； half…bred pony； that carries him like a feather； for all his
weight。
They put me up here as a favour to Dan Treffry； there's an
arrangement of L。 s。 d。 with Mrs。 Hopgood in the background。 They
aren't at all well off； this is the largest farm about； but it
doesn't bring them in much。 To look at John Ford； it seems
incredible he should be short of moneyhe's too large。
We have family prayers at eight； then； breakfastafter that freedom
for writing or anything else till supper and evening prayers。 At
midday one forages for oneself。 On Sundays； two miles to church
twice； or you get into John Ford's black books。。。。 Dan Treffry
himself is staying at Kingswear。 He says he's made his pile； it
suits him down herelike a sleep after years of being too wide…
awake； he had a rough time in New Zealand； until that mine made his
fortune。 You'd hardly remember him； he reminds me of his uncle； old
Nicholas Treffry； the same slow way of speaking； with a hesitation；
and a trick of repeating your name with everything he says； left…
handed too； and the same slow twinkle in his eyes。 He has a dark；
short beard； and red…brown cheeks； is a little bald on the temples；
and a bit grey； but hard as iron。 He rides over nearly every day；
attended by a black spaniel with a wonderful nose and a horror of
petticoats。 He has told me lots of good stories of John Ford in the
early squatter's times； his feats with horses live to this day； and
he was through the Maori wars； as Dan says； 〃a man after Uncle Nic's
own heart。〃
They are very good friends； and respect each other； Dan has a great
admiration for the old man； but the attraction is Pasiance。 He talks
very little when she's in the room； but looks at her in a sidelong；
wistful sort of way。 Pasiance's conduct to him would be cruel in any
one else； but in her； one takes it with a pinch of salt。 Dan goes
off； but turns up again as quiet and dogged as you please。
Last night； for instance； we were sitting in the loggia after supper。
Pasiance was fingering the strings of her violin； and suddenly Dan （a
bold thing for him） asked her to play。
〃What！〃 she said； 〃before men？ No； thank you！〃
〃Why not？〃
〃Because I hate them。〃
Down came John Ford's hand on the wicker table： 〃You forget yourself！
Go to bed！〃
She gave Dan a look； and went； we could hear her playing in her
bedroom； it sounded like a dance of spirits； and just when one
thought she had finished； out it would break again like a burst of
laughter。 Presently； John Ford begged our pardons ceremoniously； and
stumped off indoors。 The violin ceased； we heard his voice growling
at her； down he came again。 Just as he was settled in his chair
there was a soft swish； and something dark came falling through the
apple boughs。 The violin！ You should have seen his face！ Dan would
have picked the violin up； but the old man stopped him。 Later； from
my bedroom window； I saw John Ford come out and stand looking at the
violin。 He raised his foot as if to stamp on it。 At last he picked
it up； wiped it carefully； and took it in。。。。
My room is next to hers。 I kept hearing her laugh； a noise too as if
she were dragging things about the room。 Then I fell asleep； but
woke with a start； and went to the window for a breath of fresh air。
Such a black； breathless night！ Nothing to be seen but the twisted；
blacker branches； not the faintest stir of leaves； no sound but
muffled grunting from the cowhouse； and now and then a faint sigh。 I
had the queerest feeling of unrest and fear； the last thing to expect
on such a night。 There is something here that's disturbing； a sort
of suppressed struggle。 I've never in my life seen anything so
irresponsible as this girl； or so uncompromising as the old man； I
keep thinking of the way he wiped that violin。 It's just as if a
spark would set everything in a blaze。 There's a menace of tragedy
orperhaps it's only the heat； and too much of Mother Hopgood's
crame。。。。
II
〃Tuesday 。
。。。。。。I've made a new acquaintance。 I was lying in the orchard； and
presently； not seeing me； he came alonga man of middle height； with
a singularly good balance； and no lumberrather old blue clothes； a
flannel shirt； a dull red necktie； brown shoes； a cap with a leather
peak pushed up on the forehead。 Face long and narrow； bronzed with a
kind of pale burnt…in brownness； a good forehead。 A brown moustache；
beard rather pointed； blackening about the cheeks； his chin not
visible； but from the beard's growth must be big； mouth I should
judge sensuous。 Nose straight and blunt； eyes grey； with an upward
look； not exactly frank； because defiant； two parallel furrows down
each cheek； one from the inner corner of the eye； one from the
nostril； age perhaps thirty…five。 About the face； attitude；
movements； something immensely vital； adaptable； daring； and
unprincipled。
He stood in front of the loggia； biting his fingers； a kind of
nineteenth…century buccaneer； and I wondered what he was doing in
this galley。 They say you can tell a man of Kent or a Somersetshire
man； certainly you can tell a Yorkshire man； and this fellow could
only have been a man of Devon； one of the two main types found in
this county。 He whistled； and out came Pasiance in a geranium…
coloured dress； looking like some tall poppyyou know the slight
droop of a poppy's head； and the way the wind sways its stem。。。。 She
is a human poppy； her fuzzy dark hair is like a poppy's lustreless
black heart； she has a poppy's tantalising attraction and repulsion；
something fatal； or rather fateful。 She came walking up to my new
friend； then caught sight of me； and stopped dead。
〃That；〃 she said to me； 〃is Zachary Pearse。 This；〃 she said to him；
〃is our lodger。〃 She said it with a wonderful soft malice。 She
wanted to scratch me； and she scratched。 Half an hour later I was in
the yard； when up came this fellow Pearse。
〃Glad to know you；〃 he said； looking thoughtfully at the pigs。
〃You're a writer； aren't you？〃
〃A sort of one；〃 I said。
〃If by any chance；〃 he said suddenly； 〃you're looking for a job； I
could put something in your way。 Walk down to the beach with me； and
I'll tell you； my boat's at anchor； smartest little craft in these
parts。〃
It was very hot； and I had no desire whatever to go down to the
beachI went； all the same。 We had not gone far when John Ford and
Dan Treffry came into the lane。 Our friend seemed a little
disconcerted； but soon recovered himself。 We met in the middle of
the lane； where there was hardly room to pass。 John Ford； who looked
very haughty； put on his pince…nez and stared at Pearse。
〃Good…day！〃 said Pearse； 〃fine weather！ I've been up to ask Pasiance
to come for a sail。 Wednesday we thought； weather permitting； this
gentleman's coming。 Perhaps you'll come too； Mr。 Treffry。 You've
never seen my place。 I'll give you lunch； and show you my father。
He's worth a couple of hours' sail any day。〃 It was said in such an
odd way that one couldn't resent his impudence。 John Ford was seized
with a fit of wheezing； and seemed on the eve of an explosion； he
glanced at me； and checked himself。
〃You're very good；〃 he said icily； 〃my granddaughter has other things
to do。 You； gentlemen； will please yourselves〃； and； with a very
slight bow； he went stumping on to the house。 Dan looked at me； and
I looked at him。
〃You'll come？〃 said Pearse； rather wistfully。 Dan stammered： 〃Thank
you； Mr。 Pearse； I'm a better man on a horse than in a boat； but
thank you。〃 Cornered in this way； he's a shy； soft…hearted being。
Pearse smiled his thanks。 〃Wednesday； then； at ten o'clock； you
shan't regret it。〃
〃Pertinacious beggar！〃 I heard Dan mutter in his beard； and found
myself marching down the lane again by Pearse's side。 I asked him
what he was good enough to mean by saying I was coming； without
having asked me。 He answered； unabashed：
〃You see； I'm not friends with the old man； but I knew he'd not be
impolite to you； so I took the liberty。〃
He has certainly a knack of turning one's anger to curiosity。 We
were down in the combe now； the tide was running out； and the sand
all little； wet； shining ridges。 About a quarter of a mile out lay a