JILL OF THE FIELDS

Evening Star, Issue 21628, 25 January 1934, Page 3

JILL OF THE FIELDS

A ROMANCE

[By KEXNAWAY JAMES.] (Author of “ Hers to Command,” “ What Hargreaves Knew.” etc.)

CHAPTER, 111. Old George Tumbled with the net which was in his hands. He knew it was no use to pretend, for Mark could not fail to know the purpose of the long net which he was about to stretch across a gap in ,the hedge. That was how you caught hares. They would make for the gap when disturbed and would be caught in the net. ■ “ Very sorry, Mr Mark,” he said, ”>but I ain’t really poaching. Too old to poach, by far. But it’s my granddarter’s birthday to-morrer, and I couldn’t afford a present. 1 thought an ’are would be a little surprise tor her. I hope you'll let it pass this time. Be kind to an old man and I’H go straight back home, I will.” Mark laughed to himself in the darkness. Ho was well aware of old George's occasional activities by night. “ Grand-daughter be blowed,” he said. “ I’ll bet there would have been a nice smell of cooking ' coming from your cottage if I hadn’t come along. I’ve a good mind to tell Miss Merridew about you.” “ Ob, don’t do that,” pleaded the old man. Then ho added, “ though I don’t think she could say very much to me. She was asking mo this afternoon who was the gentleman a-watch-ing the cider-making, but of course I didn’t tell her. Not me.” Mark took a quick step forward. “ Do you mean to say you know? ” ho asked with some eagerness. “ I won’t go as far ns that, Mr Mark,” answered George, “ but it’s funny how ideas come into old heads like mine at times. Don’t you think 1 might go on trying to catch an 'arc for my grand-darter? I won’t do it again. Mark shone the light on the old man's eyes and saw there a look of 'cunning. “ All right,” he said. “ but don’t let me catch you again. I’ll see you again to-morrow. Good-night.” So saying, Mark continued his way to the farm, and was just in time to see Mr Phillip do L. Barbour admitted through' that familiar doorway. It was an hour after this that, leaning over a gate, he heard the three barks of a fox in Magpie Spinney. THE MYSTERIOUS VISITOR. Although she was a girl of quick decisions, Jill Merridew had a mind which .on the matter of clothes was as changeable as that of any other woman. She had no special wish to please her strange caller. It was more to please herself that she sat pensively on her bed making a rapid survey of her wardrobe. Her bedroom was a happy combination of the old and the new. Its effect .was mainly black and white, for the ceiling was supported by great rough beams which dearly proclaimed that Elizabethan origin of the farm. It was a setting with which no colour could clash, and the . orange coverlet on her bed seemed strangely, if not daringly, suitable. All the furniture was of the same period as the farm, though an inspection of the four-poster bed would have shown that it had been fitted -with a modern spring mattress. Jill had no objection to interfering with antiquity in order to ensure comfort. Jill wpuld often let her mind roam back through the ages and imagine the previous occupants of that room, every one of them a Merridew. The apartment was known in various old documents as the Ladyes’ Room, and Jill never associated it with men. Her visions were those of ruffles and crinolines. It pleased her to be really feminine when the day’s work on the farm was done. On this occasion, however, she left femininity behind Iver, and, when she appeared before Phillip Barbour, she was back in her fan clothes —whipcord breeches and leggings of a buff tmie surmounted by a claret coloured shirt, slightly open at the neck. Barbour rose to meet her as she entered the room. “ I must apologise for calling on you in this manner,” he said in a modulated voice which instantly betrayed culture. Jill surveyed him quickly, and saw a man in the early ’thirties, tall and erect; indeed, almost soldierly. His face was keenly aquiline and a little swarthy in colour, though beneath his black, slightly ruffled hair, it appeared pale. His dark brown eyes were slightly larger than the average, and gave a hint of romanticism. Jill accepted his apology with chilly dignity, and bade him be seated opposite her. “ You have, I presume, come to see me on business,” she said. “ Yes, Miss Merridew,” Barbour replied. .“I suppose one would call it business, though not of a prosaic kind. I am making certain investigations in connection with some work I am doing, and 1 think wo may be mutually helpful.” Jill pushed a cigarette box across the smooth refectory table towards him. “I shall be pleased to give you what Help I can,” she said, “ but please enlighten me a little.” “ You have, of course, heard of the College of Heralds?” continued Barbour. “ Naturally,” replied Jill superciliously, for she did not quite like the way in which ho put the question “ My grandfather was something-or-other pursuivant.” “Pardon,’”’ he said awkwardly, “I am aware that your family is both old and distinguished. I. should have put it another way. Pray let me continue. I am connected unofficially with _ the College of Heralds and am compiling certain data concerning the lords of certain manors. I believe your forbears owned the manorial rights of Morley Village?” “ That is true,” replied Jill, “ hut we only have the farm now. As in the case of other old families there came along a member of it who turned rents into revelry. He was followed by a son who was worse. I needn’t fe 1 ! you the rest of the story. It’s not sufficiently original.” “ Ah, those ancestors,” muttered Barbour. ‘ ‘How long ago was that, Miss Merridew? ” “ Late Gcorginnq,” said Jill. “ Your family has survived better than my own. Aline is Norman, as its name suggests. Unfortunately, when my ancestors strayed from the narrow uath they did it thoroughly, with the result that everything went. Ah, well, as the poet said; Princess and lord may flourish or may fade, A breath can make them as a breath hath made.

Jill’s eyes lighted at this quotation from her favourite Goldsmith, and almost without realising it. she gave him the next two lines: But a bold peasantry, their country's pride. When once destroyed can never be supplied. “ Ab! ” exclaimed Barbour. “ 1 see we have a mutual friend in Goldsmith A great poet of the countryside, indeed.” Whatever had been her disposition towards Barbour up to now, his reference to Goldsmith gave Jill infinite pleasure It was rare in these da.fs that she met anyone who had any claim to being well-read, and her mind responded even to this slight solatium. ~ “ You ai - e quite right. 1 love him, Jill replied, then, as though she felt the conversation was becoming too friendly, she added: “But you haven’t yet told the reason for this rather extraordinary visit. In what way can 1 help you?” “ The reason for the lateness of my call is that I knew you had had a busy day with your cider-making on to]) of the general work, and I decided to give vou time to recover trora it. 1 had beard that vonr father lived in this part of the country, and being in the neighbourhood in search of information I decided to find Stone Town, which 1 knew to have a history. T trust I have not done wrong?” “ Not af all,” replied Jill. “ But T heard you mention my father’s name to Hanson—that’s my head man—and 1 wondered how you came to know of it.” Barbour hesitated a little before be replied, as though not quite sure of his answer. If he thought his hesitation was unobserved by the girl opposite him he was mistaken. “ I—well. 1 heard of him through a friend of mine in London. He had met your father there and had learnt of the antiquity of this place and of your faultlessly-recorded family tree.” “ How strange,” replied Jill. “Why?” “ Well, my father was about the most taciturn man alive. It was not like him to talk of his family history to anyone in London. He talked little enough lo us here, still less to others. You surprise me. Mr Barbour.” “Be that as it may,” replied Barbour. “ I am telling you how 1 came to know of him. I also learnt that bo made a special study of certain branches of farming, and was known as an authority—at least so my friend said.” “ You seem to know more about my father than I do myself,” said Jill. She had maintained a frigid attitude somewhat against her instinct. She had begun to like Barbour, and felt that they had something in common. “ But toll me now just what it is that you want.” “ Well, I really wanted your permission to look through some of the papers and documents concerning this place and your bequest, but T assure you, Miss Merridew, that I am only asking a permission which I have generally found readily granted elsewhere. These old histories should never bo suppressed. .Don’t you agree?” “ To a certain extent,” agreed Jill. “ Quito,” said Barbour, “ and 1 am sure you would be pleased to have what information I might discover. I take it that you have been through everything yourself?” “ Everything?” laughed Jilt. “ Why, it would take me ages; you have no idea what jumbles of papers there arc in this old place.” “Ah,” exclaimed Barbour, “then there is all the more possibility of my discovering gems of family history for the benefit of yourself and all interested in these things. It is too late now for me to expect to be shown anything tonight?” Jill,glanced at one of the two grandfather clocks in the room. It was not late, but she replied; “ I’m afraid it is. And, anyhow, I don’t think I have yet said that I am going to let you see any papers.” Something in her mind, a kind of native caution, told her that there was more in Barbour’s request than appeared on the surface. Barbour, however, was inwardly pleased at the progress he had made. There was one paper which he wished to see, and he had every reason to think it was among old Jasper Merridcw’s documents. He must not, he told himself, be precipitate. “ Very well, Miss Merridrcw,” he said quietly, “ I will not trouble you further.” “ Thank you,” answered Jill, not too pleased with his sudden relinquishment of his request. She felt that, having got to know Barbour bettor, she might enjoy further conversation on other topics. Her rural loneliness appeared vividly to her in the presence of another intellect. Barbour’s eyes had strayed to an old painting on the wall, depicting coat-of-arms. “ Your family coat-of-arms?” he asked. “ Yes, one of theni,” replied Jill. “ Why, have you two?” “ We may have ten for all I know,” said Jill, “ but that is the one we have always regarded as our family’s. I unearthed another one shortly after ray

father’s death, tooled on a piece of leather, evidently the back of a book.” “ And what makes yon think it is connected with your family?” Barbour asked “ Because there are two spearheads in the corner, tike those on that painting on the wall.” This mention of another eoat-of-anns Barbour regarded as providential. He was not actually interested in heraldry, but had acquired a superficial knowledge of it for a purpose of his own. “ That’s very interesting,” he said. “ No doubt you would like to know more about it. If so, my services are at your disposal. If you will permit me to take a few details of it I will look it up at the College of and see what I can make of it.” Barbour was fortunate in knowing a dissolute antique dealer in London who had once made a study of heraldry. For a few shillings he could get a more or less expert opinion, so that his offer to Jill was not entirely an empty one. Jill was only mildly curious about the coat-of-arms, but she felt willing to let him make inquiries. Subconsciously she wished to see Barbour again. 11 That is very kind of you.” she said. “ I shall be very interested.” “ The kindness is all on your side,” responded Barbour, “ but I must not trouble you more to-night. ; Perhaps you will allow me to call again during the next few days?” Jill was in truth tired, for the day had provided her with unaccustomed excitement. She was, but she did not know it, suffering some reaction after her quarrel with Mark; therefore she was glad for Barbour to go now that she was tolerably certain of seeing him again. After she had bade her visitor goodnight Jill returned to the room in which the conversation had taken place. A sudden feeling of weariness came over her. liaising her arms high above her head, she stretched her young body as though awaiting a yawn which did not come. A sculptor, had he seen her at that moment, would have found inspiration. (To bo continued.)