Chapter 14

Margery returned home, as she had decided, and resumed her old life
at Silverthorn. And seeing her father's animosity towards Jim, she
told him not a word of the marriage.

Her inner life, however, was not what it once had been. She had
suffered a mental and emotional displacement--a shock, which had set
a shade of astonishment on her face as a permanent thing.

Her indignation with the Baron for collusion with Jim, at first
bitter, lessened with the lapse of a few weeks, and at length
vanished in the interest of some tidings she received one day.

The Baron was not dead, but he was no longer at the Lodge. To the
surprise of the physicians, a sufficient improvement had taken place
in his condition to permit of his removal before the cold weather
came. His desire for removal had been such, indeed, that it was
advisable to carry it out at almost any risk. The plan adopted had
been to have him borne on men's shoulders in a sort of palanquin to
the shore near Idmouth, a distance of several miles, where a yacht
lay awaiting him. By this means the noise and jolting of a carriage,
along irregular bye-roads, were avoided. The singular procession
over the fields took place at night, and was witnessed by but few
people, one being a labouring man, who described the scene to
Margery. When the seaside was reached a long, narrow gangway was
laid from the deck of the yacht to the shore, which was so steep as
to allow the yacht to lie quite near. The men, with their burden,
ascended by the light of lanterns, the sick man was laid in the
cabin, and, as soon as his bearers had returned to the shore, the
gangway was removed, a rope was heard skirring over wood in the
darkness, the yacht quivered, spread her woven wings to the air, and
moved away. Soon she was but a small, shapeless phantom upon the
wide breast of the sea.

It was said that the yacht was bound for Algiers.

When the inimical autumn and winter weather came on, Margery wondered
if he were still alive. The house being shut up, and the servants
gone, she had no means of knowing, till, on a particular Saturday,
her father drove her to Exonbury market. Here, in attending to his
business, he left her to herself for awhile. Walking in a quiet
street in the professional quarter of the town, she saw coming
towards her the solicitor who had been present at the wedding, and
who had acted for the Baron in various small local matters during his
brief residence at the Lodge.

She reddened to peony hues, averted her eyes, and would have passed
him. But he crossed over and barred the pavement, and when she met
his glance he was looking with friendly severity at her. The street
was quiet, and he said in a low voice, 'How's the husband?'