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'Separated? What does the child mean! Pierston read the letter. 'Ridiculous nonsense! he continued. 'She doesn't know what she wants. I say she sha'n't be separated! Tell her so, and there's an end of it. Why how long have they been married? Not twelve months. What will she say when they have been married twenty years! Marcia remained reflecting.
Pierston followed the pathway, and soon beheld a girl in light clothing the same he had seen through the window standing upon one of the rocks, apparently unable to move. Pierston hastened across to her. 'O, thank you for coming! she murmured with some timidity. 'I have met with an awkward mishap. I live near here, and am not frightened really.
You said you wouldn't not long ago. 'I like you better now! I like you more and more! Pierston sighed, for emotionally he was not much older than she. That hitch in his development, rendering him the most lopsided of God's creatures, was his standing misfortune.
I can make her comparatively rich, as you know, and I would indulge her every whim. There is the idea, bluntly put. It would set right something in my mind that has been wrong for forty years. After my death she would have plenty of freedom and plenty of means to enjoy it. Mrs. Isaac Pierston seemed only a little surprised; certainly not shocked.
Pierston suggested that they should walk together in the direction whence Avice would come, if she came at all. He welcomed the idea, and in a few minutes they started, strolling along under the now strong moonlight, and when they reached the gates of Sylvania Castle turning back again towards the house.
Pierston bade her good-bye, kissing her hand; turned from her and the incipient being whom he was to meet again under very altered conditions, and left the bed-chamber with a tear in his eye. 'Here endeth that dream! said he. Hymen, in secret or overt guise, seemed to haunt Pierston just at this time with undignified mockery which savoured rather of Harlequin than of the torch-bearer.
'But you wouldn't really marry her, Pierston? 'I would to-morrow. Why shouldn't I? What are fame and name and society to me a descendant of wreckers and smugglers, like her. Besides, I know what she's made of, my boy, to her innermost fibre; I know the perfect and pure quarry she was dug from: and that gives a man confidence. 'Then you'll win.
Thus matters went on, if they did not rather stand still, for several days before Pierston redeemed his vague promise to seek Avice out. And in the meantime he was surprised by the arrival of another letter from her by a roundabout route. She had heard, she said, that he had been on the island, and imagined him therefore to be staying somewhere near.
A charwoman came every two or three days, effecting an extraordinary consumption of food and alcoholic liquids: yet it was not for this that Pierston dreaded her presence, but lest, in conversing with Avice, she should open the girl's eyes to the oddity of her situation.
The box contained a variety of odds and ends, which Pierston had thrown into it from time to time in past years for future sorting an intention that he had never carried out.
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