Tetherstones

The lonely circle on the hill Where mist-wreaths float and rise Hither and thither, lingering still, Like smoke of sacrifice— Forgotten fires, forgotten rites, Forgotten agonies.

The heaven-blue flowers bloom below About the grim stone’s foot, The sweet hare-bells that always grow Where nought else e’er takes root. Of all that stony wilderness, The only fruit.

A presence in the moonlit night Unseen doth ever brood, As though it kept in silent sight The stones rough-hewn and rude; The shrine of which it was the god,— The moorland solitude.

And never shall that vigil tire, And never the great spell pass, Where the Druids built their altar-fire Over the dew-drenched grass, Till the last loud trump shall shatter The gates of brass.

And then forgotten priests shall wake And forgotten victims rise, And the old grey stones of the circle shake In the place of sacrifice. . . . But the heaven-blue flowers will bloom for aye As flowers of Paradise.

CONTENTS

PART I I.— THE MACHINE II.— THE BREAKDOWN III.— A BUSINESS PROPOSITION IV.— THE ACCUSER V.— THE HOLIDAY VI.— THE CAPTURE VII.— ROGER VIII.— THE ROAD TO NOWHERE IX.— THE LIONS’ DEN

PART II I.— THE STRANGERS II.— ROGER’S MASTER III.— THE BEAST IV.— REBELS V.— MR. DERMOT VI.— MAGGIE VII.— THE PATH THROUGH THE WILDERNESS VIII.— THE STONES IX.— THE LETTER X.— REVELATION XI.— FAILURE XII.— THE FIRES OF HELL XIII.— ESCAPE

PART III I.— THE VICTIM II.— THE BARGAIN III.— THE TURN OF THE TIDE IV.— RUTH V.— THE EXILE VI.— THE CHAIN VII.— THE MESSAGE VIII.— THE MIRACLE IX.— THE INVALID X.— THE WOMAN’S RIGHT XI.— THE PERFECT GIFT XII.— THE PARTING

PART IV I.— THE LAND OF EXILE II.— THE NIGHTMARE III.— THE AWAKENING IV.— THE VICTORY V.— THE VISION VI.— THE INQUISITOR VII.— FAIR PLAY VIII.— THE PLACE OF SACRIFICE IX.— WHERE THE GIANT HARE-BELLS GROW

Tetherstones

PART I

CHAPTER I THE MACHINE

Twelve deep notes sounded from the clock-tower of the Cathedral, and the Bishop’s secretary dropped her hands from her typewriter and turned her face to the open window with a quick sigh. The Bishop’s garden lay sleeping in the sunshine—the pure white of lilies and royal blue of delphiniums mingling together as the wrought silks on the fringe of an altar-cloth. The age-worn stone of the Cathedral rose beyond it, and the arch of the cloisters gave a glimpse of the quiet burial-ground within. A great cluster of purple stone-crop rioted over one corner of the arch, and the secretary’s tired eyes rested upon it with a touch of wistfulness as though the splendour of it were somewhat overwhelming. She herself was so slight, so insignificant, so altogether negligible a quality, a being wholly out of place in the midst of such glorious surroundings. But yet she loved them, and her happiest hours were those she spent with her little sketching-block in various corners of that wonderful garden. It was only that the purple flower seemed somehow to be the symbol to her of all that was out of reach. Her youth was slipping from her, and she had never lived.

The tired lines about the brown eyes were growing daily more marked. The little tender curve about the lips was becoming a droop. The brown hair that grew so softly about her forehead gleamed unexpectedly white here and there.

“Yes, I’m getting old,” said Frances Thorold. “Old and tired and dull.” She stretched up her arms with a sudden movement, and for a second her hands were clenched. Then they fell to her sides.

“I suppose we are all slaves,” she said, “of one kind or another. But only the rebels know it.”

She turned again to her work, and for a space only the sharp click of the machine disturbed the summer silence. It had an unmistakably indignant sound as though its manipulator were out of sympathy with the words so deftly printed on the white page. The secretary’s mouth became very firm as she proceeded, the brown eyes narrowed and grew hard.

Suddenly she lettered an impatient exclamation and looked up. “Oh, these platitudes!” she said. “How are they going to help men and women to live?”

For a moment she had almost a desperate look, and then abruptly she laughed.