Marjorie Dale only remained at Blackthorn Farm after her father's return from London long enough to nurse him back to health. When he had completely recovered from the effects of his accident she left home, Devonshire, and all she knew and loved. She went away as much in deference to her lover's wishes as to her father's, though so far as her own feelings were concerned she would have preferred to remain at Post Bridge and face public opinion—scandal, cruelty, and calumny. She knew that both she and her father would be social outcasts.
She had connections on her mother's side living at Calais. They were in the lace trade, and had spent the best part of their lives out of England. To them Marjorie was sent—not altogether as a guest. In return for a home and protection she was expected to play the part of nursery governess to their children and help in the housework.
No one was more delighted at this arrangement than Sir Reginald Crichton. Marjorie would be away for at least six months, and during that time much might happen.
Jim would learn to forget; work would help him.
He was so grateful that he made the mistake of thanking Marjorie for the step she was taking. But she read his thoughts as she had done before: she knew what he hoped would come from this parting between Jim and her.
"I'm going away, not for my father's sake, nor for yours, nor my own, but for Jim's sake," she explained. "I know that the parting will only strengthen our love, and his determination to marry me. With him I believe that love is the greatest thing in the world." She smiled when Sir Reginald shrugged his shoulders. "I know it's an unfashionable belief, yet everything in the world depends on love. The greatest men have always been the greatest lovers; even soldiers, sailors, and Empire builders. When I return from abroad Jim is going to announce our engagement. I'm not entirely selfish in agreeing to this; for I know that his happiness and his future lie in my hand."
Sir Reginald had nothing to say. He had proved that argument was useless. His son's attitude was a severe blow to him. For the moment love was stronger than reason or ambition, but he still believed that by waiting, love would weaken and even Jim would listen to wiser and more worldly counsels.
So Marjorie bade her lover farewell one grey autumn morning and left for France—but not before she had had an unpleasant interview with Robert Despard and taken a very unhappy farewell of her father.
For when Despard brought the old man back from London, he had stayed on at Blackthorn Farm, and he had seized every opportunity of making love to Marjorie—even after she had told him his case was hopeless, that her heart was already given.
Despard had merely laughed and said he intended to win her in spite of all opposition. At first his attitude puzzled her, for she could not conceive why a man of his type should wish to marry into a family whose name was now a byword in the county. Her father encouraged him, moreover, and did everything in his power to make her look kindly on Despard's suit.