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Updated: June 28, 2025
Indeed, to a casual observer, it might have seemed as if all that craze about Lovelock had completely departed, or never existed. About five o'clock, as I was strolling among the red-brick round-gabled outhouses each with its armorial oak and the old-fashioned spalliered kitchen and fruit garden, I saw Mrs.
"Do you mean on account of Miss Evers? Well, I admire Miss Evers I don't mind admitting that; but I ain't dangerous," said Captain Lovelock, with a lustreless eye. "How can a fellow be dangerous when he has n't ten shillings in his pocket? Desperation, do you call it? But Miss Evers has n't money, so far as I have heard.
With this suggestion her mother immediately complied, and the two ladies appealed to the indulgence of little Miss Evers, who was obliged to renounce the society of Captain Lovelock. She enjoyed this luxury, however, on the way to Mrs. Vivian's lodgings, toward which they all slowly strolled, in the sociable Baden fashion.
I got up and made a sort of bow, with a scrape of my foot and a pull at a lovelock I wore in those days, for it was not for me, I felt, to sit in the presence of one like her; when Jane, laughing, said "Why, Ben, don't you know Susan Willis?"
"Lovelock was riding home one summer evening from Appledore, when, as he had got half-way across Cotes Common, somewhere about here for I have always heard them mention the pond in the old gravel-pits as about the place he saw two men riding towards him, in whom he presently recognised Nicholas Oke of Okehurst accompanied by a groom. Oke of Okehurst hailed him; and Lovelock rode up to meet him.
Very soon she got into the way of never talking to me at all, save about Alice and Nicholas Oke and Christopher Lovelock; and then, when the fit seized her, she would go on by the hour, never asking herself whether I was or was not equally interested in the strange craze that fascinated her. It so happened that I was.
I only wanted to take a turn, and now we will go back." On the others coming up she announced this resolution, and though Captain Lovelock and his companion made a great outcry, she carried her point. Bernard offered no opposition. He contented himself with walking back to her mother's lodging with her almost in silence.
What a transformation it was from the meek little silent persionnaire without a word to say for herself, into a gay butterfly, with a lovelock on her shoulder, a coquettish twist of her neck, and all the language of the fan, as well as of tongue, ready learned!
Oke that I had learnt from her husband the outline of the tragedy, or mystery, whichever it was, of Alice Oke, daughter of Virgil Pomfret, and the poet Christopher Lovelock. That look of vague contempt, of a desire to shock, which I had noticed before, came into her beautiful, pale, diaphanous face.
Oke took the miniature religiously off its stand, and showed me, written in faded characters upon the back, the name "Christopher Lovelock," and the date 1626. "I found this in the secret drawer of that cabinet, together with the heap of poems," she said, taking the miniature out of my hand. I was silent for a minute. "Does does Mr. Oke know that you have got it here?"
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