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Updated: June 15, 2025
"I don't know what there is to see in Bannisdale," he said hotly. "It's a damp, dark, beastly hole of a place." "I prefer Bannisdale to this, thank you," said Laura, making a little face at the very ample bronze gentleman in a frock coat who was standing in the centre of a great new-built empty square, haranguing a phantom crowd. "Oh! how ugly it is to succeed to have money!"
She is in the hall at Bannisdale on the Marsland platform in the woodland roads through which Mr. Helbeck has driven home. No! by now he is in his study. She sees the crucifix, the books, the little altar.
She would be glad of course she would be glad to see him as soon as she discovered her dilemma. After all he was her cousin her blood relation. And Mr. Helbeck? The lad's hand clenched. A clock-face came slowly into view at a wayside station. 8.45. He was now waiting for her at Marsland. For the Squire himself would bring the trap; there was no coachman at Bannisdale.
The priest, a southern-eyed kindly man, with an astonishing flow of soft pietistic talk, sat beside her, speaking soothingly of the many marvels of cure or conversion that had been wrought by the treasure she held. He was going on to hold a retreat at a convent of the order near Froswick, and would return, he said, by Bannisdale in a week's time, to reclaim his charge.
He gave a rough laugh. "I don't see what for, then. It's bad enough in summer. In winter it's fit to make you cut your throat. I say, where are you staying?" "Why, at Bannisdale!" said Laura in surprise. "You knew my stepmother was still living, didn't you?"
"But mother's never yan to talk aboot letters. And you haven't dropped us a line since, have you?" he added, almost with timidity. "No. I thought I'd surprise you. We've been a fortnight at Bannisdale." His face flushed and darkened. "Then you've been a fortnight in a queer place!" he said with a sudden, almost a violent change of tone. "I wonder you can bide so long under that man's roof!"
Laura, however, felt none of the physical exhilaration that as a rule overflowed in her so readily. Was it because the Bannisdale Woods were still visible? What made the significance of that dark patch to the girl's restless eye? She came back to it again and again. It was like a flag, round which a hundred warring thoughts had come to gather. Why? Were not she and Mr.
Polly, with her clutch of Brahma eggs in her hand, that she was taking to the Bannisdale Bridge Farm, leant against the stile and cried. "Alan! is it to-night you expect Father Leadham?" "Yes," said Helbeck. "Have you told Laura?" "I will remind her that we expect him. It is annoying that I must leave you to entertain him to-morrow." "Oh! we shall do very well," said Augustina rather eagerly.
So this little, shabby old maid was a Helbeck of Bannisdale! As he looked at her, Fountain could not help thinking with a hidden amusement of all the awesome prestige the name had once carried with it for his boyish ear. Thirty years back, what a gulf had seemed to yawn between the yeoman's grandson and the lofty owners of that stern and ancient house upon the Greet!
Ward very aptly quotes from Virgil on her title page this was the purpose for which Helbeck of Bannisdale conceived he had been placed here by a beneficent God. And on the supposition that "Acheron" is a reality, Helbeck was absolutely right.
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