CHAPTER II

THE SEA GARDEN

Bride river still flowed her old way to her work and came, by goldilocks and grasses, by reedmace and angelica, to the mill-race and water-wheel.  But now, where the old wheel thundered, there yawned a gap, for the river’s power was about to be conserved to better purpose than of old, and as the new machines now demanded greater forces to drive them, so human skill found a way to increase the applied strength of a streamlet.  Against the outer wall of the Mill now hung a turbine and Raymond, Estelle and others had assembled to see it in operation for the first time.  Bride was bottled here, and instead of flashing and foaming over the water wheel as of yore, now vanished into the turbine and presently appeared again below it.

Raymond explained the machine with gusto, and Estelle mourned the wheel, yet as one who knew its departure was inevitable.

It was summer time, and after John Best had displayed the significance of the turbine and the increased powers generated thereby, Raymond strolled down the valley beside the river at Estelle’s invitation.

She had something to show him at the mouth of the stream—­a sea garden, now in all its beauty and precious to her.  For though her mind had winged far beyond the joys of childhood and was occupied with greater matters than field botany, still she loved the wild flowers and welcomed them again in their seasons.

Their speech drifted to the people, and he told how some welcomed the new appliance and some doubted.  Then Raymond spoke of Sabina Dinnett in sympathetic ears.

For now Estelle understood the past; but she had never wavered in her friendship with Sabina, any more than had diminished her sister-like attachment to Raymond.  Now, as often, he regretted the attitude his child preserved towards him and expressed sorrow that he could not break down Abel’s distrust.

“More than distrust, in fact, for the kid dislikes me,” he said.  “You know he does, Chicky.  But I never can understand why, because he’s always with his mother and Uncle Ernest, and Sabina doesn’t bear me any malice now, to my knowledge.  Surely the child must come round sooner or later?”

“When he’s old enough to understand, I expect he will,” she said.  “But you’ll have to be patient, Ray.”

“Oh, yes—­that’s my strong suit nowadays.”

“He’s a clever little chap, so Sabina says; but he’s difficult and wayward.  He won’t be friends with me.”

Raymond changed the subject and praised the valley as it opened to the sea.

“What a jolly place!  I believe there are scores of delightful spots at Bridetown within a walk, and I’m always too busy to see them.”

“That’s certain.  I could show you scores.”

“I ought to know the place I live in, better.  I don’t even know the soil I walk on—­awful ignorance.”