Chapter 47

Meanwhile, during four days in late September, Berenice was being entertained by the picturesque and historic phases of Tregasal. Stane had arranged that his guests should include a jolly and interesting couple who lived on an adjoining estate, a Mr. and Mrs. Robert Waler; also Warren Sharpless, the prosperous master of one of the very considerable fishing industries of the region, who had long since passed from the tradesman to the gentleman class. These three were to help entertain Mrs. Carter.

And true to his explanation of himself, Stane impressed Berenice as being markedly inclined to place diversion on an equal footing with his considerable financial interests. In other words, he knew how to play. At Tregasal, an immense plateau of moorland which at different points led to woods or the slaty promontories and beaches of this westerly coast, Stane was full of enthusiasm for what his estate and county had to show. To Berenice, with whom he sought to be alone as much as possible, he pointed out the circles and lines of stone, possibly of Druidic or other early religious origin, which at certain spots lent a mysterious and plainly prehistoric atmosphere to his property. Also he talked to her of the copper and tin mines of pre-Roman days, and the great fishing fleets plying out of Mounts Bay, St. Ives, and Penzance; and of the aged and primitive folk of some of the inland villages, some of whom, on his own estate, spoke a now almost forgotten language. In Mounts Bay lay his yacht, roomy enough, as she discovered, for the entertainment of a dozen guests. And from the topmost mount of Tregasal plateau could be seen both the English and St. George’s channels.

Berenice noted, in due course, that Stane was proud of this strange country, almost as much so as of his possessions in it. Here he felt himself the lord that he was, recognized and respected by all. She wondered if presently a sobering process would not set in, which would bring him back to this region permanently. For her, however, it was not so enticing. A little too bleak and primitive, although she admired it as a spectacle. Tregasal Hall, long and gray and somber, was only saved in her esteem by its highly decorative interior. There were bright curtains and rugs, old French furniture, French and English paintings, and modern lighting and plumbing. Also she was impressed and even a little overawed by the library, collected by previous earls over a period of a hundred and fifty years and constituting an imposing bibliophilic treasure.

Throughout this visit, which included a day of yachting and one of bathing and picnicking under the cliffs, Berenice was still further impressed by a certain rugged simplicity which contrasted oddly with Stane’s love of comfort and material perfection. He was strong, as he demonstrated by chinning himself more than half a dozen times on the limb of a tree. Also an excellent swimmer. He ventured far into the waves and breakers which Berenice could only contemplate with doubt and wonder. He questioned her constantly as to her reactions in regard to all that pleased him, and enthusiastically welcomed every suggestion of concordance, and was forever busying himself throughout her visit with suggestions of things they might possibly do at some future time.

Yet charming as he was, and interesting at this time as a foil to Cowperwood and his unfaithfulness, still, as she decided, and after not a little meditation, he lacked the blazing force of Cowperwood. There was not about him that nimbus of great affairs and powers. He was more the quiet aspirant for position without the fascinating fanfare and uproar that seemed ever to accompany the great in the rush and flare of creation. And in this sense it was that Berenice was still, and always would be, dominated by Cowperwood. Although he was absent and interested in another woman, and his personality dimmed by distance, still he filled her thoughts even at the very time that she found herself moved by the charm of the less strident and more soothing personality of Stane. For was it not possible that after all she might have to forego the fascination of Cowperwood and devote herself to the matter of bringing about an ultimate social rectification for herself by capturing Stane, or someone like him? She could not deny her desire for at least some measure of security. She meditated on what Aileen might do to her once she found out she was in England, and with Cowperwood. Perhaps she did know. She was almost certain that Aileen had sent the Town Topics article. And her mother’s past life, how could that ever be hushed up? And yet, there was no doubt of Stane’s affection for her. Perhaps if certain matters could be covered up, he would marry her. Perhaps, even if he knew all, he might still seek to aid her in concealing what was most inimical to their mutual happiness.

Riding back with him early one morning toward Tregasal, after a gallop over his bleak acres, she wondered how stoutly based and centered in the customs of his class he really was, how much he might be brought to sacrifice to retain one for whom he really cared.