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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/15381-8.txt b/15381-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0c2e9ed --- /dev/null +++ b/15381-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4410 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Victorian Short Stories, by Various + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Victorian Short Stories + +Author: Various + +Release Date: March 16, 2005 [eBook #15381] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VICTORIAN SHORT STORIES*** + + +E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan, and the Project +Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + +VICTORIAN SHORT STORIES + +Stories of Courtship + + + + + + + +CONTENTS + + ANGELA, An Inverted Love Story, by William Schwenk Gilbert + + THE PARSON'S DAUGHTER OF OXNEY COLNE, by Anthony Trollope + + ANTHONY GARSTIN'S COURTSHIP, by Hubert Crackanthorpe + + A LITTLE GREY GLOVE, by George Egerton (Mary Chavelita [Dunne] Bright) + + THE WOMAN BEATER, by Israel Zangwill + + + + + +ANGELA + +An Inverted Love Story + +By William Schwenk Gilbert + +(_The Century Magazine_, September 1890) + + +I am a poor paralysed fellow who, for many years past, has been confined +to a bed or a sofa. For the last six years I have occupied a small room, +giving on to one of the side canals of Venice, and having no one about +me but a deaf old woman, who makes my bed and attends to my food; and +there I eke out a poor income of about thirty pounds a year by making +water-colour drawings of flowers and fruit (they are the cheapest models +in Venice), and these I send to a friend in London, who sells them to a +dealer for small sums. But, on the whole, I am happy and content. + +It is necessary that I should describe the position of my room rather +minutely. Its only window is about five feet above the water of the +canal, and above it the house projects some six feet, and overhangs the +water, the projecting portion being supported by stout piles driven into +the bed of the canal. This arrangement has the disadvantage (among +others) of so limiting my upward view that I am unable to see more than +about ten feet of the height of the house immediately opposite to me, +although, by reaching as far out of the window as my infirmity will +permit, I can see for a considerable distance up and down the canal, +which does not exceed fifteen feet in width. But, although I can see but +little of the material house opposite, I can see its reflection upside +down in the canal, and I take a good deal of inverted interest in such +of its inhabitants as show themselves from time to time (always upside +down) on its balconies and at its windows. + +When I first occupied my room, about six years ago, my attention was +directed to the reflection of a little girl of thirteen or so (as nearly +as I could judge), who passed every day on a balcony just above the +upward range of my limited field of view. She had a glass of flowers and +a crucifix on a little table by her side; and as she sat there, in fine +weather, from early morning until dark, working assiduously all the +time, I concluded that she earned her living by needle-work. She was +certainly an industrious little girl, and, as far as I could judge by +her upside-down reflection, neat in her dress and pretty. She had an old +mother, an invalid, who, on warm days, would sit on the balcony with +her, and it interested me to see the little maid wrap the old lady in +shawls, and bring pillows for her chair, and a stool for her feet, and +every now and again lay down her work and kiss and fondle the old lady +for half a minute, and then take up her work again. + +Time went by, and as the little maid grew up, her reflection grew down, +and at last she was quite a little woman of, I suppose, sixteen or +seventeen. I can only work for a couple of hours or so in the brightest +part of the day, so I had plenty of time on my hands in which to watch +her movements, and sufficient imagination to weave a little romance +about her, and to endow her with a beauty which, to a great extent, I +had to take for granted. I saw--or fancied that I could see--that she +began to take an interest in _my_ reflection (which, of course, she +could see as I could see hers); and one day, when it appeared to me that +she was looking right at it--that is to say when her reflection appeared +to be looking right at me--I tried the desperate experiment of nodding +to her, and to my intense delight her reflection nodded in reply. And so +our two reflections became known to one another. + +It did not take me very long to fall in love with her, but a long time +passed before I could make up my mind to do more than nod to her every +morning, when the old woman moved me from my bed to the sofa at the +window, and again in the evening, when the little maid left the balcony +for that day. One day, however, when I saw her reflection looking at +mine, I nodded to her, and threw a flower into the canal. She nodded +several times in return, and I saw her direct her mother's attention to +the incident. Then every morning I threw a flower into the water for +'good morning', and another in the evening for 'goodnight', and I soon +discovered that I had not altogether thrown them in vain, for one day +she threw a flower to join mine, and she laughed and clapped her hands +when she saw the two flowers join forces and float away together. And +then every morning and every evening she threw her flower when I threw +mine, and when the two flowers met she clapped her hands, and so did I; +but when they were separated, as they sometimes were, owing to one of +them having met an obstruction which did not catch the other, she threw +up her hands in a pretty affectation of despair, which I tried to +imitate but in an English and unsuccessful fashion. And when they were +rudely run down by a passing gondola (which happened not unfrequently) +she pretended to cry, and I did the same. Then, in pretty pantomime, she +would point downwards to the sky to tell me that it was Destiny that had +caused the shipwreck of our flowers, and I, in pantomime, not nearly so +pretty, would try to convey to her that Destiny would be kinder next +time, and that perhaps tomorrow our flowers would be more fortunate--and +so the innocent courtship went on. One day she showed me her crucifix +and kissed it, and thereupon I took a little silver crucifix that always +stood by me, and kissed that, and so she knew that we were one in +religion. + +One day the little maid did not appear on her balcony, and for several +days I saw nothing of her; and although I threw my flowers as usual, no +flower came to keep it company. However, after a time, she reappeared, +dressed in black, and crying often, and then I knew that the poor +child's mother was dead, and, as far as I knew, she was alone in the +world. The flowers came no more for many days, nor did she show any sign +of recognition, but kept her eyes on her work, except when she placed +her handkerchief to them. And opposite to her was the old lady's chair, +and I could see that, from time to time, she would lay down her work and +gaze at it, and then a flood of tears would come to her relief. But at +last one day she roused herself to nod to me, and then her flower came, +day by day, and my flower went forth to join it, and with varying +fortunes the two flowers sailed away as of yore. + +But the darkest day of all to me was when a good-looking young +gondolier, standing right end uppermost in his gondola (for I could see +_him_ in the flesh), worked his craft alongside the house, and stood +talking to her as she sat on the balcony. They seemed to speak as old +friends--indeed, as well as I could make out, he held her by the hand +during the whole of their interview which lasted quite half an hour. +Eventually he pushed off, and left my heart heavy within me. But I soon +took heart of grace, for as soon as he was out of sight, the little maid +threw two flowers growing on the same stem--an allegory of which I could +make nothing, until it broke upon me that she meant to convey to me +that he and she were brother and sister, and that I had no cause to be +sad. And thereupon I nodded to her cheerily, and she nodded to me, and +laughed aloud, and I laughed in return, and all went on again as before. + +Then came a dark and dreary time, for it became necessary that I should +undergo treatment that confined me absolutely to my bed for many days, +and I worried and fretted to think that the little maid and I should see +each other no longer, and worse still, that she would think that I had +gone away without even hinting to her that I was going. And I lay awake +at night wondering how I could let her know the truth, and fifty plans +flitted through my brain, all appearing to be feasible enough at night, +but absolutely wild and impracticable in the morning. One day--and it +was a bright day indeed for me--the old woman who tended me told me that +a gondolier had inquired whether the English signor had gone away or had +died; and so I learnt that the little maid had been anxious about me, +and that she had sent her brother to inquire, and the brother had no +doubt taken to her the reason of my protracted absence from the window. + +From that day, and ever after during my three weeks of bed-keeping, a +flower was found every morning on the ledge of my window, which was +within easy reach of anyone in a boat; and when at last a day came when +I could be moved, I took my accustomed place on my sofa at the window, +and the little maid saw me, and stood on her head (so to speak) and +clapped her hands upside down with a delight that was as eloquent as my +right-end-up delight could be. And so the first time the gondolier +passed my window I beckoned to him, and he pushed alongside, and told +me, with many bright smiles, that he was glad indeed to see me well +again. Then I thanked him and his sister for their many kind thoughts +about me during my retreat, and I then learnt from him that her name was +Angela, and that she was the best and purest maiden in all Venice, and +that anyone might think himself happy indeed who could call her sister, +but that he was happier even than her brother, for he was to be married +to her, and indeed they were to be married the next day. + +Thereupon my heart seemed to swell to bursting, and the blood rushed +through my veins so that I could hear it and nothing else for a while. +I managed at last to stammer forth some words of awkward congratulation, +and he left me, singing merrily, after asking permission to bring his +bride to see me on the morrow as they returned from church. + +'For', said he, 'my Angela has known you very long--ever since she was a +child, and she has often spoken to me of the poor Englishman who was a +good Catholic, and who lay all day long for years and years on a sofa at +a window, and she had said over and over again how dearly she wished she +could speak to him and comfort him; and one day, when you threw a flower +into the canal, she asked me whether she might throw another, and I told +her yes, for he would understand that it meant sympathy for one sorely +afflicted.' + +And so I learned that it was pity, and not love, except indeed such love +as is akin to pity, that prompted her to interest herself in my welfare, +and there was an end of it all. + +For the two flowers that I thought were on one stem were two flowers +tied together (but I could not tell that), and they were meant to +indicate that she and the gondolier were affianced lovers, and my +expressed pleasure at this symbol delighted her, for she took it to +mean that I rejoiced in her happiness. + +And the next day the gondolier came with a train of other gondoliers, +all decked in their holiday garb, and on his gondola sat Angela, happy, +and blushing at her happiness. Then he and she entered the house in +which I dwelt, and came into my room (and it was strange indeed, after +so many years of inversion, to see her with her head above her feet!), +and then she wished me happiness and a speedy restoration to good health +(which could never be); and I in broken words and with tears in my eyes, +gave her the little silver crucifix that had stood by my bed or my table +for so many years. And Angela took it reverently, and crossed herself, +and kissed it, and so departed with her delighted husband. + +And as I heard the song of the gondoliers as they went their way--the +song dying away in the distance as the shadows of the sundown closed +around me--I felt that they were singing the requiem of the only love +that had ever entered my heart. + + + + +THE PARSON'S DAUGHTER OF OXNEY COLNE + +By Anthony Trollope + +(_London Review_, 2 March 1861) + + +The prettiest scenery in all England--and if I am contradicted in that +assertion, I will say in all Europe--is in Devonshire, on the southern +and southeastern skirts of Dartmoor, where the rivers Dart and Avon and +Teign form themselves, and where the broken moor is half cultivated, and +the wild-looking uplands fields are half moor. In making this assertion +I am often met with much doubt, but it is by persons who do not really +know the locality. Men and women talk to me on the matter who have +travelled down the line of railway from Exeter to Plymouth, who have +spent a fortnight at Torquay, and perhaps made an excursion from +Tavistock to the convict prison on Dartmoor. But who knows the glories +of Chagford? Who has walked through the parish of Manaton? Who is +conversant with Lustleigh Cleeves and Withycombe in the moor? Who has +explored Holne Chase? Gentle reader, believe me that you will be rash in +contradicting me unless you have done these things. + +There or thereabouts--I will not say by the waters of which little river +it is washed--is the parish of Oxney Colne. And for those who would wish +to see all the beauties of this lovely country a sojourn in Oxney Colne +would be most desirable, seeing that the sojourner would then be brought +nearer to all that he would delight to visit, than at any other spot in +the country. But there is an objection to any such arrangement. There +are only two decent houses in the whole parish, and these are--or were +when I knew the locality--small and fully occupied by their possessors. +The larger and better is the parsonage in which lived the parson and his +daughter; and the smaller is the freehold residence of a certain Miss Le +Smyrger, who owned a farm of a hundred acres which was rented by one +Farmer Cloysey, and who also possessed some thirty acres round her own +house which she managed herself, regarding herself to be quite as great +in cream as Mr. Cloysey, and altogether superior to him in the article of +cider. 'But yeu has to pay no rent, Miss,' Farmer Cloysey would say, when +Miss Le Smyrger expressed this opinion of her art in a manner too +defiant. 'Yeu pays no rent, or yeu couldn't do it.' Miss Le Smyrger was +an old maid, with a pedigree and blood of her own, a hundred and thirty +acres of fee-simple land on the borders of Dartmoor, fifty years of age, +a constitution of iron, and an opinion of her own on every subject under +the sun. + +And now for the parson and his daughter. The parson's name was +Woolsworthy--or Woolathy as it was pronounced by all those who lived +around him--the Rev. Saul Woolsworthy; and his daughter was Patience +Woolsworthy, or Miss Patty, as she was known to the Devonshire world of +those parts. That name of Patience had not been well chosen for her for +she was a hot-tempered damsel, warm in her convictions, and inclined to +express them freely. She had but two closely intimate friends in the +world, and by both of them this freedom of expression had been fully +permitted to her since she was a child. Miss Le Smyrger and her father +were well accustomed to her ways, and on the whole well satisfied with +them. The former was equally free and equally warm-tempered as herself, +and as Mr. Woolsworthy was allowed by his daughter to be quite paramount +on his own subject--for he had a subject--he did not object to his +daughter being paramount on all others. A pretty girl was Patience +Woolsworthy at the time of which I am writing, and one who possessed +much that was worthy of remark and admiration had she lived where beauty +meets with admiration, or where force of character is remarked. But at +Oxney Colne, on the borders of Dartmoor, there were few to appreciate +her, and it seemed as though she herself had but little idea of carrying +her talent further afield, so that it might not remain for ever wrapped +in a blanket. + +She was a pretty girl, tall and slender, with dark eyes and black hair. +Her eyes were perhaps too round for regular beauty, and her hair was +perhaps too crisp; her mouth was large and expressive; her nose was +finely formed, though a critic in female form might have declared +it to be somewhat broad. But her countenance altogether was very +attractive--if only it might be seen without that resolution for +dominion which occasionally marred it, though sometimes it even added +to her attractions. + +It must be confessed on behalf of Patience Woolsworthy that the +circumstances of her life had peremptorily called upon her to exercise +dominion. She had lost her mother when she was sixteen, and had had +neither brother nor sister. She had no neighbours near her fit either +from education or rank to interfere in the conduct of her life, +excepting always Miss Le Smyrger. Miss Le Smyrger would have done +anything for her, including the whole management of her morals and +of the parsonage household, had Patience been content with such an +arrangement. But much as Patience had ever loved Miss Le Smyrger, she +was not content with this, and therefore she had been called on to put +forth a strong hand of her own. She had put forth this strong hand +early, and hence had come the character which I am attempting to +describe. But I must say on behalf of this girl that it was not only +over others that she thus exercised dominion. In acquiring that power +she had also acquired the much greater power of exercising rule over +herself. + +But why should her father have been ignored in these family +arrangements? Perhaps it may almost suffice to say, that of all living +men her father was the man best conversant with the antiquities of the +county in which he lived. He was the Jonathan Oldbuck of Devonshire, and +especially of Dartmoor,--but without that decision of character which +enabled Oldbuck to keep his womenkind in some kind of subjection, and +probably enabled him also to see that his weekly bill did not pass their +proper limits. Our Mr. Oldbuck, of Oxney Colne, was sadly deficient in +these respects. As a parish pastor with but a small cure he did his duty +with sufficient energy to keep him, at any rate, from reproach. He was +kind and charitable to the poor, punctual in his services, forbearing +with the farmers around him, mild with his brother clergymen, and +indifferent to aught that bishop or archdeacon might think or say of +him. I do not name this latter attribute as a virtue, but as a fact. But +all these points were as nothing in the known character of Mr. +Woolsworthy, of Oxney Colne. He was the antiquarian of Dartmoor. That +was his line of life. It was in that capacity that he was known to the +Devonshire world; it was as such that he journeyed about with his humble +carpetbag, staying away from his parsonage a night or two at a time; it +was in that character that he received now and again stray visitors in +the single spare bedroom--not friends asked to see him and his girl +because of their friendship--but men who knew something as to this +buried stone, or that old land-mark. In all these things his daughter +let him have his own way, assisting and encouraging him. That was his +line of life, and therefore she respected it. But in all other matters +she chose to be paramount at the parsonage. + +Mr. Woolsworthy was a little man, who always wore, except on Sundays, +grey clothes--clothes of so light a grey that they would hardly have +been regarded as clerical in a district less remote. He had now reached +a goodly age, being full seventy years old; but still he was wiry and +active, and shewed but few symptoms of decay. His head was bald, and the +few remaining locks that surrounded it were nearly white. But there was +a look of energy about his mouth, and a humour in his light grey eye, +which forbade those who knew him to regard him altogether as an old man. +As it was, he could walk from Oxney Colne to Priestown, fifteen long +Devonshire miles across the moor; and he who could do that could hardly +be regarded as too old for work. + +But our present story will have more to do with his daughter than with +him. A pretty girl, I have said, was Patience Woolsworthy; and one, too, +in many ways remarkable. She had taken her outlook into life, weighing +the things which she had and those which she had not, in a manner very +unusual, and, as a rule, not always desirable for a young lady. The +things which she had not were very many. She had not society; she had +not a fortune; she had not any assurance of future means of livelihood; +she had not high hope of procuring for herself a position in life by +marriage; she had not that excitement and pleasure in life which she +read of in such books as found their way down to Oxney Colne Parsonage. +It would be easy to add to the list of the things which she had not; and +this list against herself she made out with the utmost vigour. The +things which she had, or those rather which she assured herself of +having, were much more easily counted. She had the birth and education +of a lady, the strength of a healthy woman, and a will of her own. Such +was the list as she made it out for herself, and I protest that I assert +no more than the truth in saying that she never added to it either +beauty, wit, or talent. + +I began these descriptions by saying that Oxney Colne would, of all +places, be the best spot from which a tourist could visit those parts +of Devonshire, but for the fact that he could obtain there none of the +accommodation which tourists require. A brother antiquarian might, +perhaps, in those days have done so, seeing that there was, as I have +said, a spare bedroom at the parsonage. Any intimate friend of Miss Le +Smyrger's might be as fortunate, for she was also so provided at Oxney +Colne, by which name her house was known. But Miss Le Smyrger was not +given to extensive hospitality, and it was only to those who were bound +to her, either by ties of blood or of very old friendship, that she +delighted to open her doors. As her old friends were very few in number, +as those few lived at a distance, and as her nearest relations were +higher in the world than she was, and were said by herself to look down +upon her, the visits made to Oxney Colne were few and far between. + +But now, at the period of which I am writing, such a visit was about to +be made. Miss Le Smyrger had a younger sister who had inherited a +property in the parish of Oxney Colne equal to that of the lady who +lived there; but this younger sister had inherited beauty also, and she +therefore, in early life, had found sundry lovers, one of whom became +her husband. She had married a man even then well to do in the world, +but now rich and almost mighty; a Member of Parliament, a Lord of this +and that board, a man who had a house in Eaton Square, and a park in the +north of England; and in this way her course of life had been very much +divided from that of our Miss Le Smyrger. But the Lord of the Government +board had been blessed with various children, and perhaps it was now +thought expedient to look after Aunt Penelope's Devonshire acres. Aunt +Penelope was empowered to leave them to whom she pleased; and though it +was thought in Eaton Square that she must, as a matter of course, leave +them to one of the family, nevertheless a little cousinly intercourse +might make the thing more certain. I will not say that this was the sole +cause for such a visit, but in these days a visit was to be made by +Captain Broughton to his aunt. Now Captain John Broughton was the second +son of Alfonso Broughton, of Clapham Park and Eaton Square, Member of +Parliament, and Lord of the aforesaid Government Board. + +And what do you mean to do with him? Patience Woolsworthy asked of Miss +Le Smyrger when that lady walked over from the Colne to say that her +nephew John was to arrive on the following morning. + +'Do with him? Why, I shall bring him over here to talk to your father.' + +'He'll be too fashionable for that, and papa won't trouble his head +about him if he finds that he doesn't care for Dartmoor.' + +'Then he may fall in love with you, my dear.' + +'Well, yes; there's that resource at any rate, and for your sake I dare +say I should be more civil to him than papa. But he'll soon get tired of +making love to me, and what you'll do then I cannot imagine.' + +That Miss Woolsworthy felt no interest in the coming of the Captain I +will not pretend to say. The advent of any stranger with whom she would +be called on to associate must be matter of interest to her in that +secluded place; and she was not so absolutely unlike other young ladies +that the arrival of an unmarried young man would be the same to her as +the advent of some patriarchal pater-familias. In taking that outlook +into life of which I have spoken she had never said to herself that she +despised those things from which other girls received the excitement, +the joys, and the disappointment of their lives. She had simply given +herself to understand that very little of such things would come in her +way, and that it behoved her to live--to live happily if such might be +possible--without experiencing the need of them. She had heard, when +there was no thought of any such visit to Oxney Colne, that John +Broughton was a handsome clever man--one who thought much of himself and +was thought much of by others--that there had been some talk of his +marrying a great heiress, which marriage, however had not taken place +through unwillingness on his part, and that he was on the whole a man of +more mark in the world than the ordinary captains of ordinary regiments. + +Captain Broughton came to Oxney Colne, stayed there a fortnight--the +intended period for his projected visit having been fixed at three or +four days--and then went his way. He went his way back to his London +haunts, the time of the year then being the close of the Easter +holy-days; but as he did so he told his aunt that he should assuredly +return to her in the autumn. + +'And assuredly I shall be happy to see you, John--if you come with a +certain purpose. If you have no such purpose, you had better remain +away.' + +'I shall assuredly come,' the Captain had replied, and then he had gone +on his journey. + +The summer passed rapidly by, and very little was said between Miss Le +Smyrger and Miss Woolsworthy about Captain Broughton. In many +respects--nay, I may say, as to all ordinary matters,--no two women +could well be more intimate with each other than they were; and more +than that, they had the courage each to talk to the other with absolute +truth as to things concerning themselves--a courage in which dear +friends often fail. But, nevertheless, very little was said between them +about Captain John Broughton. All that was said may be here repeated. + +'John says that he shall return here in August,' Miss Le Smyrger said +as Patience was sitting with her in the parlour at Oxney Colne, on the +morning after that gentleman's departure. + +'He told me so himself,' said Patience; and as she spoke her round dark +eyes assumed a look of more than ordinary self-will. If Miss Le Smyrger +had intended to carry the conversation any further she changed her mind +as she looked at her companion. Then, as I said, the summer ran by, and +towards the close of the warm days of July, Miss Le Smyrger, sitting in +the same chair in the same room, again took up the conversation. + +'I got a letter from John this morning. He says that he shall be here on +the third.' + +'Does he?' + +'He is very punctual to the time he named.' + +'Yes; I fancy that he is a punctual man,' said Patience. + +'I hope that you will be glad to see him,' said Miss Le Smyrger. + +'Very glad to see him,' said Patience, with a bold clear voice; and then +the conversation was again dropped, and nothing further was said till +after Captain Broughton's second arrival in the parish. + +Four months had then passed since his departure, and during that time +Miss Woolsworthy had performed all her usual daily duties in their +accustomed course. No one could discover that she had been less careful +in her household matters than had been her wont, less willing to go +among her poor neighbours, or less assiduous in her attentions to her +father. But not the less was there a feeling in the minds of those +around her that some great change had come upon her. She would sit +during the long summer evenings on a certain spot outside the parsonage +orchard, at the top of a small sloping field in which their solitary cow +was always pastured, with a book on her knees before her, but rarely +reading. There she would sit, with the beautiful view down to the +winding river below her, watching the setting sun, and thinking, +thinking, thinking--thinking of something of which she had never spoken. +Often would Miss Le Smyrger come upon her there, and sometimes would +pass her even without a word; but never--never once did she dare to ask +of the matter of her thoughts. But she knew the matter well enough. No +confession was necessary to inform her that Patience Woolsworthy was in +love with John Broughton--ay, in love, to the full and entire loss of +her whole heart. + +On one evening she was so sitting till the July sun had fallen and +hidden himself for the night, when her father came upon her as he +returned from one of his rambles on the moor. 'Patty,' he said, 'you +are always sitting there now. Is it not late? Will you not be cold?' + +'No papa,' she said, 'I shall not be cold.' + +'But won't you come to the house? I miss you when you come in so late +that there's no time to say a word before we go to bed.' + +She got up and followed him into the parsonage, and when they were in +the sitting-room together, and the door was closed, she came up to him +and kissed him. 'Papa,' she said, 'would it make you very unhappy if I +were to leave you?' + +'Leave me!' he said, startled by the serious and almost solemn tone of +her voice. 'Do you mean for always?' + +'If I were to marry, papa?' + +'Oh, marry! No; that would not make me unhappy. It would make me very +happy, Patty, to see you married to a man you would love;--very, very +happy; though my days would be desolate without you.' + +'That is it, papa. What would you do if I went from you?' + +'What would it matter, Patty? I should be free, at any rate, from a +load which often presses heavy on me now. What will you do when I shall +leave you? A few more years and all will be over with me. But who is it, +love? Has anybody said anything to you?' + +'It was only an idea, papa. I don't often think of such a thing; but I +did think of it then.' And so the subject was allowed to pass by. This +had happened before the day of the second arrival had been absolutely +fixed and made known to Miss Woolsworthy. + +And then that second arrival took place. The reader may have understood +from the words with which Miss Le Smyrger authorized her nephew to make +his second visit to Oxney Colne that Miss Woolsworthy's passion was not +altogether unauthorized. Captain Broughton had been told that he was not +to come unless he came with a certain purpose; and having been so told, +he still persisted in coming. There can be no doubt but that he well +understood the purport to which his aunt alluded. 'I shall assuredly +come,' he had said. And true to his word, he was now there. + +Patience knew exactly the hour at which he must arrive at the station at +Newton Abbot, and the time also which it would take to travel over those +twelve up-hill miles from the station to Oxney. It need hardly be said +that she paid no visit to Miss Le Smyrger's house on that afternoon; but +she might have known something of Captain Broughton's approach without +going thither. His road to the Colne passed by the parsonage-gate, and +had Patience sat even at her bedroom window she must have seen him. But +on such an evening she would not sit at her bedroom window;--she would +do nothing which would force her to accuse herself of a restless longing +for her lover's coming. It was for him to seek her. If he chose to do +so, he knew the way to the parsonage. + +Miss Le Smyrger--good, dear, honest, hearty Miss Le Smyrger, was in a +fever of anxiety on behalf of her friend. It was not that she wished her +nephew to marry Patience,--or rather that she had entertained any such +wish when he first came among them. She was not given to match-making, +and moreover thought, or had thought within herself, that they of Oxney +Colne could do very well without any admixture from Eaton Square. Her +plan of life had been that when old Mr. Woolsworthy was taken away from +Dartmoor, Patience should live with her, and that when she also shuffled +off her coil, then Patience Woolsworthy should be the maiden-mistress +of Oxney Colne--of Oxney Colne and of Mr. Cloysey's farm--to the utter +detriment of all the Broughtons. Such had been her plan before nephew +John had come among them--a plan not to be spoken of till the coming of +that dark day which should make Patience an orphan. But now her nephew +had been there, and all was to be altered. Miss Le Smyrger's plan would +have provided a companion for her old age; but that had not been her +chief object. She had thought more of Patience than of herself, and now +it seemed that a prospect of a higher happiness was opening for her +friend. + +'John,' she said, as soon as the first greetings were over, 'do you +remember the last words that I said to you before you went away?' Now, +for myself, I much admire Miss Le Smyrger's heartiness, but I do not +think much of her discretion. It would have been better, perhaps, had +she allowed things to take their course. + +'I can't say that I do,' said the Captain. At the same time the Captain +did remember very well what those last words had been. + +'I am so glad to see you, so delighted to see you, if--if--if--,' and +then she paused, for with all her courage she hardly dared to ask her +nephew whether he had come there with the express purport of asking Miss +Woolsworthy to marry him. + +To tell the truth--for there is no room for mystery within the limits of +this short story,--to tell, I say, at a word the plain and simple truth, +Captain Broughton had already asked that question. On the day before he +left Oxney Colne he had in set terms proposed to the parson's daughter, +and indeed the words, the hot and frequent words, which previously to +that had fallen like sweetest honey into the ears of Patience +Woolsworthy, had made it imperative on him to do so. When a man in such +a place as that has talked to a girl of love day after day, must not he +talk of it to some definite purpose on the day on which he leaves her? +Or if he do not, must he not submit to be regarded as false, selfish, +and almost fraudulent? Captain Broughton, however, had asked the +question honestly and truly. He had done so honestly and truly, but in +words, or, perhaps, simply with a tone, that had hardly sufficed to +satisfy the proud spirit of the girl he loved. She by that time had +confessed to herself that she loved him with all her heart; but she had +made no such confession to him. To him she had spoken no word, granted +no favour, that any lover might rightfully regard as a token of love +returned. She had listened to him as he spoke, and bade him keep such +sayings for the drawing-rooms of his fashionable friends. Then he had +spoken out and had asked for that hand,--not, perhaps, as a suitor +tremulous with hope,--but as a rich man who knows that he can command +that which he desires to purchase. + +'You should think more of this,' she had said to him at last. 'If you +would really have me for your wife, it will not be much to you to return +here again when time for thinking of it shall have passed by.' With +these words she had dismissed him, and now he had again come back to +Oxney Colne. But still she would not place herself at the window to look +for him, nor dress herself in other than her simple morning country +dress, nor omit one item of her daily work. If he wished to take her at +all, he should wish to take her as she really was, in her plain country +life, but he should take her also with full observance of all those +privileges which maidens are allowed to claim from their lovers. He +should curtail no ceremonious observance because she was the daughter of +a poor country parson who would come to him without a shilling, whereas +he stood high in the world's books. He had asked her to give him all +that she had, and that all she was ready to give, without stint. But the +gift must be valued before it could be given or received. He also was to +give her as much, and she would accept it as being beyond all price. But +she would not allow that that which was offered to her was in any degree +the more precious because of his outward worldly standing. + +She would not pretend to herself that she thought he would come to her +that afternoon, and therefore she busied herself in the kitchen and +about the house, giving directions to her two maids as though the day +would pass as all other days did pass in that household. They usually +dined at four, and she rarely, in these summer months, went far from the +house before that hour. At four precisely she sat down with her father, +and then said that she was going up as far as Helpholme after dinner. +Helpholme was a solitary farmhouse in another parish, on the border of +the moor, and Mr. Woolsworthy asked her whether he should accompany her. + +'Do, papa,' she said, 'if you are not too tired.' And yet she had +thought how probable it might be that she should meet John Broughton on +her walk. And so it was arranged; but, just as dinner was over, Mr. +Woolsworthy remembered himself. + +'Gracious me,' he said, 'how my memory is going! Gribbles, from +Ivybridge, and old John Poulter, from Bovey, are coming to meet here by +appointment. You can't put Helpholme off till tomorrow?' + +Patience, however, never put off anything, and therefore at six o'clock, +when her father had finished his slender modicum of toddy, she tied on +her hat and went on her walk. She started forth with a quick step, and +left no word to say by which route she would go. As she passed up along +the little lane which led towards Oxney Colne she would not even look to +see if he was coming towards her; and when she left the road, passing +over a stone stile into a little path which ran first through the upland +fields, and then across the moor ground towards Helpholme, she did not +look back once, or listen for his coming step. + +She paid her visit, remaining upwards of an hour with the old bedridden +mother of the farmer of Helpholme. 'God bless you, my darling!' said the +old lady as she left her; 'and send you someone to make your own path +bright and happy through the world.' These words were still ringing in +her ears with all their significance as she saw John Broughton waiting +for her at the first stile which she had to pass after leaving the +farmer's haggard. + +'Patty,' he said, as he took her hand, and held it close within both his +own, 'what a chase I have had after you!' + +'And who asked you, Captain Broughton?' she answered, smiling. 'If the +journey was too much for your poor London strength, could you not have +waited till tomorrow morning, when you would have found me at the +parsonage?' But she did not draw her hand away from him, or in any way +pretend that he had not a right to accost her as a lover. + +'No, I could not wait. I am more eager to see those I love than you seem +to be.' + +'How do you know whom I love, or how eager I might be to see them? There +is an old woman there whom I love, and I have thought nothing of this +walk with the object of seeing her.' And now, slowly drawing her hand +away from him, she pointed to the farmhouse which she had left. + +'Patty,' he said, after a minute's pause, during which she had looked +full into his face with all the force of her bright eyes; 'I have come +from London today, straight down here to Oxney, and from my aunt's +house close upon your footsteps after you to ask you that one question. +Do you love me?' + +'What a Hercules?' she said, again laughing. 'Do you really mean that +you left London only this morning? Why, you must have been five hours in +a railway carriage and two in a post-chaise, not to talk of the walk +afterwards. You ought to take more care of yourself, Captain Broughton!' + +He would have been angry with her,--for he did not like to be +quizzed,--had she not put her hand on his arm as she spoke, and the +softness of her touch had redeemed the offence of her words. + +'All that have I done,' said he, 'that I may hear one word from you.' + +'That any word of mine should have such potency! But, let us walk on, or +my father will take us for some of the standing stones of the moor. How +have you found your aunt? If you only knew the cares that have sat on +her dear shoulders for the last week past, in order that your high +mightyness might have a sufficiency to eat and drink in these desolate +half-starved regions.' + +'She might have saved herself such anxiety. No one can care less for +such things than I do.' + +'And yet I think I have heard you boast of the cook of your club.' And +then again there was silence for a minute or two. + +'Patty,' said he, stopping again in the path; 'answer my question. I +have a right to demand an answer. Do you love me?' + +'And what if I do? What if I have been so silly as to allow your +perfections to be too many for my weak heart? What then, Captain +Broughton?' + +'It cannot be that you love me, or you would not joke now.' + +'Perhaps not, indeed,' she said. It seemed as though she were resolved +not to yield an inch in her own humour. And then again they walked on. + +'Patty,' he said once more, 'I shall get an answer from you +tonight,--this evening; now, during this walk, or I shall return +tomorrow, and never revisit this spot again.' + +'Oh, Captain Broughton, how should we ever manage to live without you?' + +'Very well,' he said; 'up to the end of this walk I can bear it +all;--and one word spoken then will mend it all.' + +During the whole of this time she felt that she was ill-using him. She +knew that she loved him with all her heart; that it would nearly kill +her to part with him; that she had heard his renewed offer with an +ecstasy of joy. She acknowledged to herself that he was giving proof of +his devotion as strong as any which a girl could receive from her lover. +And yet she could hardly bring herself to say the word he longed to +hear. That word once said, and then she knew that she must succumb to +her love for ever! That word once said, and there would be nothing for +her but to spoil him with her idolatry! That word once said, and she +must continue to repeat it into his ears, till perhaps he might be tired +of hearing it! And now he had threatened her, and how could she speak it +after that? She certainly would not speak it unless he asked her again +without such threat. And so they walked on again in silence. + +'Patty,' he said at last. 'By the heavens above us you shall answer me. +Do you love me?' + +She now stood still, and almost trembled as she looked up into his face. +She stood opposite to him for a moment, and then placing her two hands +on his shoulders, she answered him. 'I do, I do, I do,' she said, 'with +all my heart; with all my heart--with all my heart and strength.' And +then her head fell upon his breast. + +Captain Broughton was almost as much surprised as delighted by the +warmth of the acknowledgment made by the eager-hearted passionate girl +whom he now held within his arms. She had said it now; the words had +been spoken; and there was nothing for her but to swear to him over and +over again with her sweetest oaths, that those words were true--true as +her soul. And very sweet was the walk down from thence to the parsonage +gate. He spoke no more of the distance of the ground, or the length of +his day's journey. But he stopped her at every turn that he might press +her arm the closer to his own, that he might look into the brightness of +her eyes, and prolong his hour of delight. There were no more gibes now +on her tongue, no raillery at his London finery, no laughing comments on +his coming and going. With downright honesty she told him everything: +how she had loved him before her heart was warranted in such a passion; +how, with much thinking, she had resolved that it would be unwise to +take him at his first word, and had thought it better that he should +return to London, and then think over it; how she had almost repented +of her courage when she had feared, during those long summer days, that +he would forget her; and how her heart had leapt for joy when her old +friend had told her that he was coming. + +'And yet,' said he, 'you were not glad to see me!' + +'Oh, was I not glad? You cannot understand the feelings of a girl who +has lived secluded as I have done. Glad is no word for the joy I felt. +But it was not seeing you that I cared for so much. It was the knowledge +that you were near me once again. I almost wish now that I had not seen +you till tomorrow.' But as she spoke she pressed his arm, and this +caress gave the lie to her last words. + +'No, do not come in tonight,' she said, when she reached the little +wicket that led up the parsonage. 'Indeed you shall not. I could not +behave myself properly if you did.' + +'But I don't want you to behave properly.' + +'Oh! I am to keep that for London, am I? But, nevertheless, Captain +Broughton, I will not invite you either to tea or to supper tonight.' + +'Surely I may shake hands with your father.' + +'Not tonight--not till--. John, I may tell him, may I not? I must tell +him at once.' + +'Certainly,' said he. + +'And then you shall see him tomorrow. Let me see--at what hour shall I +bid you come?' + +'To breakfast.' + +'No, indeed. What on earth would your aunt do with her broiled turkey +and the cold pie? I have got no cold pie for you.' + +'I hate cold pie.' + +'What a pity! But, John, I should be forced to leave you directly after +breakfast. Come down--come down at two, or three; and then I will go +back with you to Aunt Penelope. I must see her tomorrow.' And so at last +the matter was settled, and the happy Captain, as he left her, was +hardly resisted in his attempt to press her lips to his own. + +When she entered the parlour in which her father was sitting, there +still were Gribbles and Poulter discussing some knotty point of Devon +lore. So Patience took off her hat, and sat herself down, waiting till +they should go. For full an hour she had to wait, and then Gribbles and +Poulter did go. But it was not in such matters as this that Patience +Woolsworthy was impatient. She could wait, and wait, and wait, curbing +herself for weeks and months, while the thing waited for was in her eyes +good; but she could not curb her hot thoughts or her hot words when +things came to be discussed which she did not think to be good. + +'Papa,' she said, when Gribbles' long-drawn last word had been spoken at +the door. 'Do you remember how I asked you the other day what you would +say if I were to leave you?' + +'Yes, surely,' he replied, looking up at her in astonishment. + +'I am going to leave you now,' she said. 'Dear, dearest father, how am I +to go from you?' + +'Going to leave me,' said he, thinking of her visit to Helpholme, and +thinking of nothing else. + +Now there had been a story about Helpholme. That bedridden old lady +there had a stalwart son, who was now the owner of the Helpholme +pastures. But though owner in fee of all those wild acres and of the +cattle which they supported, he was not much above the farmers around +him, either in manners or education. He had his merits, however; for he +was honest, well to do in the world, and modest withal. How strong love +had grown up, springing from neighbourly kindness, between our Patience +and his mother, it needs not here to tell; but rising from it had come +another love--or an ambition which might have grown to love. The young +man, after much thought, had not dared to speak to Miss Woolsworthy, but +he had sent a message by Miss Le Smyrger. If there could be any hope for +him, he would present himself as a suitor--on trial. He did not owe a +shilling in the world, and had money by him--saved. He wouldn't ask the +parson for a shilling of fortune. Such had been the tenor of his +message, and Miss Le Smyrger had delivered it faithfully. 'He does not +mean it,' Patience had said with her stern voice. 'Indeed he does, my +dear. You may be sure he is in earnest,' Miss Le Smyrger had replied; +'and there is not an honester man in these parts.' + +'Tell him,' said Patience, not attending to the latter portion of her +friend's last speech, 'that it cannot be,--make him understand, you +know--and tell him also that the matter shall be thought of no more.' +The matter had, at any rate, been spoken of no more, but the young +farmer still remained a bachelor, and Helpholme still wanted a +mistress. But all this came back upon the parson's mind when his +daughter told him that she was about to leave him. + +'Yes, dearest,' she said; and as she spoke, she now knelt at his knees. +'I have been asked in marriage, and I have given myself away.' + +'Well, my love, if you will be happy--' + +'I hope I shall; I think I shall. But you, papa?' + +'You will not be far from us.' + +'Oh, yes; in London.' + +'In London.' + +'Captain Broughton lives in London generally.' + +'And has Captain Broughton asked you to marry him?' + +'Yes, papa--who else? Is he not good? Will you not love him? Oh, papa, +do not say that I am wrong to love him?' + +He never told her his mistake, or explained to her that he had not +thought it possible that the high-placed son of the London great man +shall have fallen in love with his undowered daughter; but he embraced +her, and told her, with all his enthusiasm, that he rejoiced in her joy, +and would be happy in her happiness. 'My own Patty,' he said, 'I have +ever known that you were too good for this life of ours here.' And then +the evening wore away into the night, with many tears but still with +much happiness. + +Captain Broughton, as he walked back to Oxney Colne, made up his mind +that he would say nothing on the matter to his aunt till the next +morning. He wanted to think over it all, and to think it over, if +possible, by himself. He had taken a step in life, the most important +that a man is ever called on to take, and he had to reflect whether or +no he had taken it with wisdom. + +'Have you seen her?' said Miss Le Smyrger, very anxiously, when he came +into the drawing-room. + +'Miss Woolsworthy you mean,' said he. 'Yes, I've seen her. As I found +her out I took a long walk and happened to meet her. Do you know, aunt, +I think I'll go to bed; I was up at five this morning, and have been on +the move ever since.' + +Miss Le Smyrger perceived that she was to hear nothing that evening, so +she handed him his candlestick and allowed him to go to his room. + +But Captain Broughton did not immediately retire to bed, nor when he +did so was he able to sleep at once. Had this step that he had taken +been a wise one? He was not a man who, in worldly matters, had allowed +things to arrange themselves for him, as is the case with so many men. +He had formed views for himself, and had a theory of life. Money for +money's sake he had declared to himself to be bad. Money, as a +concomitant to things which were in themselves good, he had declared to +himself to be good also. That concomitant in this affair of his +marriage, he had now missed. Well; he had made up his mind to that, and +would put up with the loss. He had means of living of his own, though +means not so extensive as might have been desirable. That it would be +well for him to become a married man, looking merely to that state of +life as opposed to his present state, he had fully resolved. On that +point, therefore, there was nothing to repent. That Patty Woolsworthy +was good, affectionate, clever, and beautiful, he was sufficiently +satisfied. It would be odd indeed if he were not so satisfied now, +seeing that for the last four months he had declared to himself daily +that she was so with many inward asseverations. And yet though he +repeated now again that he was satisfied, I do not think that he was so +fully satisfied of it as he had been throughout the whole of those four +months. It is sad to say so, but I fear--I fear that such was the case. +When you have your plaything how much of the anticipated pleasure +vanishes, especially if it have been won easily! + +He had told none of his family what were his intentions in this second +visit to Devonshire, and now he had to bethink himself whether they +would be satisfied. What would his sister say, she who had married the +Honourable Augustus Gumbleton, gold-stick-in-waiting to Her Majesty's +Privy Council? Would she receive Patience with open arms, and make much +of her about London? And then how far would London suit Patience, or +would Patience suit London? There would be much for him to do in +teaching her, and it would be well for him to set about the lesson +without loss of time. So far he got that night, but when the morning +came he went a step further, and began mentally to criticize her manner +to himself. It had been very sweet, that warm, that full, that ready +declaration of love. Yes; it had been very sweet; but--but--; when, +after her little jokes, she did confess her love, had she not been a +little too free for feminine excellence? A man likes to be told that he +is loved, but he hardly wishes that the girl he is to marry should fling +herself at his head! + +Ah me! yes; it was thus he argued to himself as on that morning he went +through the arrangements of his toilet. 'Then he was a brute,' you say, +my pretty reader. I have never said that he was not a brute. But this I +remark, that many such brutes are to be met with in the beaten paths of +the world's high highway. When Patience Woolsworthy had answered him +coldly, bidding him go back to London and think over his love; while it +seemed from her manner that at any rate as yet she did not care for him; +while he was absent from her, and, therefore, longing for her, the +possession of her charms, her talent, and bright honesty of purpose had +seemed to him a thing most desirable. Now they were his own. They had, +in fact, been his own from the first. The heart of this country-bred +girl had fallen at the first word from his mouth. Had she not so +confessed to him? She was very nice,--very nice indeed. He loved her +dearly. But had he not sold himself too cheaply? + +I by no means say that he was not a brute. But whether brute or no he +was an honest man, and had no remotest dream, either then, on that +morning, or during the following days on which such thoughts pressed +more thickly on his mind--of breaking away from his pledged word. At +breakfast on that morning he told all to Miss Le Smyrger, and that lady, +with warm and gracious intentions, confided to him her purpose regarding +her property. 'I have always regarded Patience as my heir,' she said, +'and shall do so still.' + +'Oh, indeed,' said Captain Broughton. + +'But it is a great, great pleasure to me to think that she will give +back the little property to my sister's child. You will have your +mother's, and thus it will all come together again.' + +'Ah!' said Captain Broughton. He had his own ideas about property, and +did not, even under existing circumstances, like to hear that his aunt +considered herself at liberty to leave the acres away to one who was by +blood quite a stranger to the family. + +'Does Patience know of this?' he asked. + +'Not a word,' said Miss Le Smyrger. And then nothing more was said upon +the subject. + +On that afternoon he went down and received the parson's benediction and +congratulations with a good grace. Patience said very little on the +occasion, and indeed was absent during the greater part of the +interview. The two lovers then walked up to Oxney Colne, and there were +more benedictions and more congratulations. 'All went merry as a +marriage bell', at any rate as far as Patience was concerned. Not a word +had yet fallen from that dear mouth, not a look had yet come over that +handsome face, which tended in any way to mar her bliss. Her first day +of acknowledged love was a day altogether happy, and when she prayed for +him as she knelt beside her bed there was no feeling in her mind that +any fear need disturb her joy. + +I will pass over the next three or four days very quickly, merely saying +that Patience did not find them so pleasant as that first day after her +engagement. There was something in her lover's manner--something which +at first she could not define--which by degrees seemed to grate against +her feelings. He was sufficiently affectionate, that being a matter on +which she did not require much demonstration; but joined to his +affection there seemed to be--; she hardly liked to suggest to herself a +harsh word, but could it be possible that he was beginning to think that +she was not good enough for him? And then she asked herself the +question--was she good enough for him? If there were doubt about that, +the match should be broken off, though she tore her own heart out in the +struggle. The truth, however, was this,--that he had begun that teaching +which he had already found to be so necessary. Now, had any one essayed +to teach Patience German or mathematics, with that young lady's free +consent, I believe that she would have been found a meek scholar. But it +was not probable that she would be meek when she found a self-appointed +tutor teaching her manners and conduct without her consent. + +So matters went on for four or five days, and on the evening of the +fifth day, Captain Broughton and his aunt drank tea at the parsonage. +Nothing very especial occurred; but as the parson and Miss Le Smyrger +insisted on playing backgammon with devoted perseverance during the +whole evening, Broughton had a good opportunity of saying a word or two +about those changes in his lady-love which a life in London would +require--and some word he said also--some single slight word, as to the +higher station in life to which he would exalt his bride. Patience bore +it--for her father and Miss Le Smyrger were in the room--she bore it +well, speaking no syllable of anger, and enduring, for the moment, the +implied scorn of the old parsonage. Then the evening broke up, and +Captain Broughton walked back to Oxney Colne with his aunt. 'Patty,' her +father said to her before they went to bed, 'he seems to me to be a most +excellent young man.' 'Dear papa,' she answered, kissing him. 'And +terribly deep in love,' said Mr. Woolsworthy. 'Oh, I don't know about +that,' she answered, as she left him with her sweetest smile. But though +she could thus smile at her father's joke, she had already made up her +mind that there was still something to be learned as to her promised +husband before she could place herself altogether in his hands. She +would ask him whether he thought himself liable to injury from this +proposed marriage; and though he should deny any such thought, she would +know from the manner of his denial what his true feelings were. + +And he, too, on that night, during his silent walk with Miss Le Smyrger, +had entertained some similar thoughts. 'I fear she is obstinate', he had +said to himself, and then he had half accused her of being sullen also. +'If that be her temper, what a life of misery I have before me!' + +'Have you fixed a day yet?' his aunt asked him as they came near to her +house. + +'No, not yet; I don't know whether it will suit me to fix it before I +leave.' + +'Why, it was but the other day you were in such a hurry.' + +'Ah--yes-I have thought more about it since then.' + +'I should have imagined that this would depend on what Patty thinks,' +said Miss Le Smyrger, standing up for the privileges of her sex. 'It is +presumed that the gentleman is always ready as soon as the lady will +consent.' + +'Yes, in ordinary cases it is so; but when a girl is taken out of her +own sphere--' + +'Her own sphere! Let me caution you, Master John, not to talk to Patty +about her own sphere.' + +'Aunt Penelope, as Patience is to be my wife and not yours, I must claim +permission to speak to her on such subjects as may seem suitable to me.' +And then they parted--not in the best humour with each other. + +On the following day Captain Broughton and Miss Woolsworthy did not meet +till the evening. She had said, before those few ill-omened words had +passed her lover's lips, that she would probably be at Miss Le +Smyrger's house on the following morning. Those ill-omened words did +pass her lover's lips, and then she remained at home. This did not come +from sullenness, nor even from anger, but from a conviction that it +would be well that she should think much before she met him again. Nor +was he anxious to hurry a meeting. His thought--his base thought--was +this; that she would be sure to come up to the Colne after him; but she +did not come, and therefore in the evening he went down to her, and +asked her to walk with him. + +They went away by the path that led by Helpholme, and little was said +between them till they had walked some mile together. Patience, as she +went along the path, remembered almost to the letter the sweet words +which had greeted her ears as she came down that way with him on the +night of his arrival; but he remembered nothing of that sweetness then. +Had he not made an ass of himself during these last six months? That was +the thought which very much had possession of his mind. + +'Patience,' he said at last, having hitherto spoken only an indifferent +word now and again since they had left the parsonage, 'Patience, I hope +you realize the importance of the step which you and I are about to +take?' + +'Of course I do,' she answered: 'what an odd question that is for you to +ask!' + +'Because,' said he, 'sometimes I almost doubt it. It seems to me as +though you thought you could remove yourself from here to your new home +with no more trouble than when you go from home up to the Colne.' + +'Is that meant for a reproach, John?' + +'No, not for a reproach, but for advice. Certainly not for a reproach.' + +'I am glad of that.' + +'But I should wish to make you think how great is the leap in the world +which you are about to take.' Then again they walked on for many steps +before she answered him. + +'Tell me, then, John,' she said, when she had sufficiently considered +what words she would speak;--and as she spoke a dark bright colour +suffused her face, and her eyes flashed almost with anger. 'What leap do +you mean? Do you mean a leap upwards?' + +'Well, yes; I hope it will be so.' + +'In one sense, certainly, it would be a leap upwards. To be the wife of +the man I loved; to have the privilege of holding his happiness in my +hand; to know that I was his own--the companion whom he had chosen out +of all the world--that would, indeed, be a leap upward; a leap almost to +heaven, if all that were so. But if you mean upwards in any other +sense--' + +'I was thinking of the social scale.' + +'Then, Captain Broughton, your thoughts were doing me dishonour.' + +'Doing you dishonour!' + +'Yes, doing me dishonour. That your father is, in the world's esteem, a +greater man than mine is doubtless true enough. That you, as a man, are +richer than I am as a woman is doubtless also true. But you dishonour +me, and yourself also, if these things can weigh with you now.' + +'Patience,--I think you can hardly know what words you are saying to +me.' + +'Pardon me, but I think I do. Nothing that you can give me--no gifts of +that description--can weigh aught against that which I am giving you. If +you had all the wealth and rank of the greatest lord in the land, it +would count as nothing in such a scale. If--as I have not doubted--if in +return for my heart you have given me yours, then--then--then, you have +paid me fully. But when gifts such as those are going, nothing else can +count even as a make-weight.' + +'I do not quite understand you,' he answered, after a pause. 'I fear you +are a little high-flown.' And then, while the evening was still early, +they walked back to the parsonage almost without another word. + +Captain Broughton at this time had only one more full day to remain at +Oxney Colne. On the afternoon following that he was to go as far as +Exeter, and thence return to London. Of course it was to be expected, +that the wedding day would be fixed before he went, and much had been +said about it during the first day or two of his engagement. Then he had +pressed for an early time, and Patience, with a girl's usual diffidence, +had asked for some little delay. But now nothing was said on the +subject; and how was it probable that such a matter could be settled +after such a conversation as that which I have related? That evening, +Miss Le Smyrger asked whether the day had been fixed. 'No,' said Captain +Broughton harshly; 'nothing has been fixed.' 'But it will be arranged +before you go.' 'Probably not,' he said; and then the subject was +dropped for the time. + +'John,' she said, just before she went to bed, 'if there be anything +wrong between you and Patience, I conjure you to tell me.' + +'You had better ask her,' he replied. 'I can tell you nothing.' + +On the following morning he was much surprised by seeing Patience on the +gravel path before Miss Le Smyrger's gate immediately after breakfast. +He went to the door to open it for her, and she, as she gave him her +hand, told him that she came up to speak to him. There was no hesitation +in her manner, nor any look of anger in her face. But there was in her +gait and form, in her voice and countenance, a fixedness of purpose +which he had never seen before, or at any rate had never acknowledged. + +'Certainly,' said he. 'Shall I come out with you, or will you come +upstairs?' + +'We can sit down in the summer-house,' she said; and thither they both +went. + +'Captain Broughton,' she said--and she began her task the moment that +they were both seated--'You and I have engaged ourselves as man and +wife, but perhaps we have been over rash.' + +'How so?' said he. + +'It may be--and indeed I will say more--it is the case that we have made +this engagement without knowing enough of each other's character.' + +'I have not thought so.' + +'The time will perhaps come when you will so think, but for the sake of +all that we most value, let it come before it is too late. What would be +our fate--how terrible would be our misery, if such a thought should +come to either of us after we have linked our lots together.' + +There was a solemnity about her as she thus spoke which almost repressed +him,--which for a time did prevent him from taking that tone of +authority which on such a subject he would choose to adopt. But he +recovered himself. 'I hardly think that this comes well from you,' he +said. + +'From whom else should it come? Who else can fight my battle for me; +and, John, who else can fight that same battle on your behalf? I tell +you this, that with your mind standing towards me as it does stand at +present you could not give me your hand at the altar with true words and +a happy conscience. Is it not true? You have half repented of your +bargain already. Is it not so?' + +He did not answer her; but getting up from his seat walked to the front +of the summer-house, and stood there with his back turned upon her. It +was not that he meant to be ungracious, but in truth he did not know how +to answer her. He had half repented of his bargain. + +'John,' she said, getting up and following him so that she could put her +hand upon his arm, 'I have been very angry with you.' + +'Angry with me!' he said, turning sharp upon her. + +'Yes, angry with you. You would have treated me like a child. But that +feeling has gone now. I am not angry now. There is my hand;--the hand of +a friend. Let the words that have been spoken between us be as though +they had not been spoken. Let us both be free.' + +'Do you mean it?' he asked. + +'Certainly I mean it.' As she spoke these words her eyes were filled +with tears in spite of all the efforts she could make to restrain them; +but he was not looking at her, and her efforts had sufficed to prevent +any sob from being audible. + +'With all my heart,' he said; and it was manifest from his tone that he +had no thought of her happiness as he spoke. It was true that she had +been angry with him--angry, as she had herself declared; but +nevertheless, in what she had said and what she had done, she had +thought more of his happiness than of her own. Now she was angry once +again. + +'With all your heart, Captain Broughton! Well, so be it. If with all +your heart, then is the necessity so much the greater. You go tomorrow. +Shall we say farewell now?' + +'Patience, I am not going to be lectured.' + +'Certainly not by me. Shall we say farewell now?' + +'Yes, if you are determined.' + +'I am determined. Farewell, Captain Broughton. You have all my wishes +for your happiness.' And she held out her hand to him. + +'Patience!' he said. And he looked at her with a dark frown, as though +he would strive to frighten her into submission. If so, he might have +saved himself any such attempt. + +'Farewell, Captain Broughton. Give me your hand, for I cannot stay.' He +gave her his hand, hardly knowing why he did so. She lifted it to her +lips and kissed it, and then, leaving him, passed from the summer-house +down through the wicket-gate, and straight home to the parsonage. + +During the whole of that day she said no word to anyone of what had +occurred. When she was once more at home she went about her household +affairs as she had done on that day of his arrival. When she sat down to +dinner with her father he observed nothing to make him think that she +was unhappy, nor during the evening was there any expression in her +face, or any tone in her voice, which excited his attention. On the +following morning Captain Broughton called at the parsonage, and the +servant-girl brought word to her mistress that he was in the parlour. +But she would not see him. 'Laws miss, you ain't a quarrelled with your +beau?' the poor girl said. 'No, not quarrelled,' she said; 'but give him +that.' It was a scrap of paper containing a word or two in pencil. 'It +is better that we should not meet again. God bless you.' And from that +day to this, now more than ten years, they have never met. + +'Papa,' she said to her father that afternoon, 'dear papa, do not be +angry with me. It is all over between me and John Broughton. Dearest, +you and I will not be separated.' + +It would be useless here to tell how great was the old man's surprise +and how true his sorrow. As the tale was told to him no cause was given +for anger with anyone. Not a word was spoken against the suitor who had +on that day returned to London with a full conviction that now at least +he was relieved from his engagement. 'Patty, my darling child,' he said, +'may God grant that it be for the best!' + +'It is for the best,' she answered stoutly. 'For this place I am fit; +and I much doubt whether I am fit for any other.' + +On that day she did not see Miss Le Smyrger, but on the following +morning, knowing that Captain Broughton had gone off,--having heard the +wheels of the carriage as they passed by the parsonage gate on his way +to the station,--she walked up to the Colne. + +'He has told you, I suppose?' said she. + +'Yes,' said Miss Le Smyrger. 'And I will never see him again unless he +asks your pardon on his knees. I have told him so. I would not even give +him my hand as he went.' + +'But why so, thou kindest one? The fault was mine more than his.' + +'I understand. I have eyes in my head,' said the old maid. 'I have +watched him for the last four or five days. If you could have kept the +truth to yourself and bade him keep off from you, he would have been at +your feet now, licking the dust from your shoes.' + +'But, dear friend, I do not want a man to lick dust from my shoes.' + +'Ah, you are a fool. You do not know the value of your own wealth.' + +'True; I have been a fool. I was a fool to think that one coming from +such a life as he has led could be happy with such as I am. I know the +truth now. I have bought the lesson dearly--but perhaps not too dearly, +seeing that it will never be forgotten.' + +There was but little more said about the matter between our three +friends at Oxney Colne. What, indeed, could be said? Miss Le Smyrger for +a year or two still expected that her nephew would return and claim his +bride; but he has never done so, nor has there been any correspondence +between them. Patience Woolsworthy had learned her lesson dearly. She +had given her whole heart to the man; and, though she so bore herself +that no one was aware of the violence of the struggle, nevertheless the +struggle within her bosom was very violent. She never told herself that +she had done wrong; she never regretted her loss; but yet--yet!--the +loss was very hard to bear. He also had loved her, but he was not +capable of a love which could much injure his daily peace. Her daily +peace was gone for many a day to come. + +Her father is still living; but there is a curate now in the parish. In +conjunction with him and with Miss Le Smyrger she spends her time in the +concerns of the parish. In her own eyes she is a confirmed old maid; and +such is my opinion also. The romance of her life was played out in that +summer. She never sits now lonely on the hillside thinking how much she +might do for one whom she really loved. But with a large heart she loves +many, and, with no romance, she works hard to lighten the burdens of +those she loves. + +As for Captain Broughton, all the world knows that he did marry that +great heiress with whom his name was once before connected, and that he +is now a useful member of Parliament, working on committees three or +four days a week with zeal that is indefatigable. Sometimes, not often, +as he thinks of Patience Woolsworthy a smile comes across his face. + + + + +ANTHONY GARSTIN'S COURTSHIP + +By Hubert Crackanthorpe + +(_Savoy_, July 1896) + + +I + +A stampede of huddled sheep, wildly scampering over the slaty shingle, +emerged from the leaden mist that muffled the fell-top, and a shrill +shepherd's whistle broke the damp stillness of the air. And presently a +man's figure appeared, following the sheep down the hillside. He halted +a moment to whistle curtly to his two dogs, who, laying back their ears, +chased the sheep at top speed beyond the brow; then, his hands deep in +his pockets, he strode vigorously forward. A streak of white smoke from +a toiling train was creeping silently across the distance: the great, +grey, desolate undulations of treeless country showed no other sign of +life. + +The sheep hurried in single file along a tiny track worn threadbare amid +the brown, lumpy grass: and, as the man came round the mountain's +shoulder, a narrow valley opened out beneath him--a scanty patchwork of +green fields, and, here and there, a whitewashed farm, flanked by a dark +cluster of sheltering trees. + +The man walked with a loose, swinging gait. His figure was spare and +angular: he wore a battered, black felt hat and clumsy, iron-bound +boots: his clothes were dingy from long exposure to the weather. He had +close-set, insignificant eyes, much wrinkled, and stubbly eyebrows +streaked with grey. His mouth was close-shaven, and drawn by his +abstraction into hard and taciturn lines; beneath his chin bristled an +unkempt fringe of sandy-coloured hair. + +When he reached the foot of the fell, the twilight was already blurring +the distance. The sheep scurried, with a noisy rustling, across a flat, +swampy stretch, over-grown with rushes, while the dogs headed them +towards a gap in a low, ragged wall built of loosely-heaped boulders. +The man swung the gate to after them, and waited, whistling +peremptorily, recalling the dogs. A moment later, the animals +reappeared, cringing as they crawled through the bars of the gate. He +kicked out at them contemptuously, and mounting a stone stile a few +yards further up the road, dropped into a narrow lane. + +Presently, as he passed a row of lighted windows, he heard a voice call +to him. He stopped, and perceived a crooked, white-bearded figure, +wearing clerical clothes, standing in the garden gateway. + +'Good-evening, Anthony. A raw evening this.' + +'Ay, Mr. Blencarn, it is a bit frittish,' he answered. 'I've jest bin +gittin' a few lambs off t'fell. I hope ye're keepin' fairly, an' Miss +Rosa too.' He spoke briefly, with a loud, spontaneous cordiality. + +'Thank ye, Anthony, thank ye. Rosa's down at the church, playing over +the hymns for tomorrow. How's Mrs. Garstin?' + +'Nicely, thank ye, Mr. Blencarn. She's wonderful active, is mother.' + +'Well, good night to ye, Anthony,' said the old man, clicking the gate. + +'Good night, Mr. Blencarn,' he called back. + +A few minutes later the twinkling lights of the village came in sight, +and from within the sombre form of the square-towered church, looming by +the roadside, the slow, solemn strains of the organ floated out on the +evening air. Anthony lightened his tread: then paused, listening; but, +presently, becoming aware that a man stood, listening also, on the +bridge some few yards distant, he moved forward again. Slackening his +pace, as he approached, he eyed the figure keenly; but the man paid no +heed to him, remaining, with his back turned, gazing over the parapet +into the dark, gurgling stream. + +Anthony trudged along the empty village street, past the gleaming +squares of ruddy gold, starting on either side out of the darkness. Now +and then he looked furtively backwards. The straight open road lay +behind him, glimmering wanly: the organ seemed to have ceased: the +figure on the bridge had left the parapet, and appeared to be moving +away towards the church. Anthony halted, watching it till it had +disappeared into the blackness beneath the churchyard trees. Then, after +a moment's hesitation, he left the road, and mounted an upland meadow +towards his mother's farm. + +It was a bare, oblong house. In front, a whitewashed porch, and a narrow +garden-plot, enclosed by a low iron railing, were dimly discernible: +behind, the steep fell-side loomed like a monstrous, mysterious curtain +hung across the night. He passed round the back into the twilight of a +wide yard, cobbled and partially grass-grown, vaguely flanked by the +shadowy outlines of long, low farm-buildings. All was wrapped in +darkness: somewhere overhead a bat fluttered, darting its puny scream. + +Inside, a blazing peat-fire scattered capering shadows across the +smooth, stone floor, flickered among the dim rows of hams suspended from +the ceiling and on the panelled cupboards of dark, glistening oak. A +servant-girl, spreading the cloth for supper, clattered her clogs in and +out of the kitchen: old Mrs. Garstin was stooping before the hearth, +tremulously turning some girdle-cakes that lay roasting in the embers. + +At the sound of Anthony's heavy tread in the passage, she rose, glancing +sharply at the clock above the chimney-piece. She was a heavy-built +woman, upright, stalwart almost, despite her years. Her face was gaunt +and sallow; deep wrinkles accentuated the hardness of her features. She +wore a black widow's cap above her iron-grey hair, gold-rimmed +spectacles, and a soiled, chequered apron. + +'Ye're varra late, Tony,' she remarked querulously. + +He unloosened his woollen neckerchief, and when he had hung it +methodically with his hat behind the door, answered: + +''Twas terrible thick on t' fell-top, an' them two bitches be that +senseless.' + +She caught his sleeve, and, through her spectacles, suspiciously +scrutinized his face. + +'Ye did na meet wi' Rosa Blencarn?' + +'Nay, she was in church, hymn-playin', wi' Luke Stock hangin' roond +door,' he retorted bitterly, rebuffing her with rough impatience. + +She moved away, nodding sententiously to herself. They began supper: +neither spoke: Anthony sat slowly stirring his tea, and staring moodily +into the flames: the bacon on his plate lay untouched. From time to time +his mother, laying down her knife and fork, looked across at him in +unconcealed asperity, pursing her wide, ungainly mouth. At last, +abruptly setting down her cup, she broke out: + +'I wonder ye hav'na mare pride, Tony. For hoo lang are ye goin' t' +continue settin' mopin' and broodin' like a seck sheep? Ye'll jest mak +yesself ill, an' then I reckon what ye'll prove satisfied. Ay, but I +wonder ye hav'na more pride.' + +But he made no answer, remaining unmoved, as if he had not heard. + +Presently, half to himself, without raising his eyes, he murmured: + +'Luke be goin' South, Monday.' + +'Well, ye canna tak' oop wi' his leavin's anyways. It hasna coom't that, +has it? Ye doan't intend settin' all t' parish a laughin' at ye a second +occasion?' + +He flushed dully, and bending over his plate, mechanically began his +supper. + +'Wa dang it,' he broke out a minute later, 'd'ye think I heed the +cacklin' o' fifty parishes? Na, not I,' and, with a short, grim laugh, +he brought his fist down heavily on the oak table. + +'Ye're daft, Tony,' the old woman blurted. + +'Daft or na daft, I tell ye this, mother, that I be forty-six year o' +age this back-end, and there be some things I will na listen to. Rosa +Blencarn's bonny enough for me.' + +'Ay, bonny enough--I've na patience wi' ye. Bonny enough--tricked oot +in her furbelows, gallivantin' wi' every royster fra Pe'rith. Bonny +enough--that be all ye think on. She's bin a proper parson's niece--the +giddy, feckless creature, an she'd mak' ye a proper sort o' wife, Tony +Garstin, ye great, fond booby.' + +She pushed back her chair, and, hurriedly clattering the crockery, began +to clear away the supper. + +'T' hoose be mine, t' Lord be praised,' she continued in a loud, hard +voice, 'an' as long as he spare me, Tony, I'll na see Rosa Blencarn set +foot inside it.' + +Anthony scowled, without replying, and drew his chair to the hearth. His +mother bustled about the room behind him. After a while she asked: + +'Did ye pen t' lambs in t' back field?' + +'Na, they're in Hullam bottom,' he answered curtly. + +The door closed behind her, and by and by he could hear her moving +overhead. Meditatively blinking, he filled his pipe clumsily, and +pulling a crumpled newspaper from his pocket, sat on over the +smouldering fire, reading and stolidly puffing. + + +II + +The music rolled through the dark, empty church. The last, leaden +flicker of daylight glimmered in through the pointed windows, and beyond +the level rows of dusky pews, tenanted only by a litter of prayer-books, +two guttering candles revealed the organ pipes, and the young girl's +swaying figure. + +She played vigorously. Once or twice the tune stumbled, and she +recovered it impatiently, bending over the key-board, showily +flourishing her wrists as she touched the stops. She was bare-headed +(her hat and cloak lay beside her on a stool). She had fair, fluffy +hair, cut short behind her neck; large, round eyes, heightened by a +fringe of dark lashes; rough, ruddy cheeks, and a rosy, full-lipped, +unstable mouth. She was dressed quite simply, in a black, close-fitting +bodice, a little frayed at the sleeves. Her hands and neck were coarsely +fashioned: her comeliness was brawny, literal, unfinished, as it were. + +When at last the ponderous chords of the Amen faded slowly into the +twilight, flushed, breathing a little quickly, she paused, listening to +the stillness of the church. Presently a small boy emerged from behind +the organ. + +'Good evenin', Miss Rosa', he called, trotting briskly away down the +aisle. + +'Good night, Robert', she answered, absently. + +After a while, with an impatient gesture, as if to shake some +importunate thought from her mind, she rose abruptly, pinned on her hat, +threw her cloak round her shoulders, blew out the candles, and groped +her way through the church, towards the half-open door. As she hurried +along the narrow pathway that led across the churchyard, of a sudden, a +figure started out of the blackness. + +'Who's that?' she cried, in a loud, frightened voice. + +A man's uneasy laugh answered her. + +'It's only me, Rosa. I didna' think t' scare ye. I've bin waitin' for +ye, this hoor past.' + +She made no reply, but quickened her pace. He strode on beside her. + +'I'm off, Monday, ye know,' he continued. And, as she said nothing, +'Will ye na stop jest a minnit? I'd like t' speak a few words wi' ye +before I go, an tomorrow I hev t' git over t' Scarsdale betimes,' he +persisted. + +'I don't want t' speak wi' ye: I don't want ever to see ye agin. I jest +hate the sight o' ye.' She spoke with a vehement, concentrated +hoarseness. + +'Nay, but ye must listen to me. I will na be put off wi' fratchin +speeches.' + +And gripping her arm, he forced her to stop. + +'Loose me, ye great beast,' she broke out. + +'I'll na hould ye, if ye'll jest stand quiet-like. I meant t' speak fair +t' ye, Rosa.' + +They stood at a bend in the road, face to face quite close together. +Behind his burly form stretched the dimness of a grey, ghostly field. + +'What is't ye hev to say to me? Hev done wi' it quick,' she said +sullenly. + +'It be jest this, Rosa,' he began with dogged gravity. 'I want t' tell +ye that ef any trouble comes t'ye after I'm gone--ye know t' what I +refer--I want t' tell ye that I'm prepared t' act square by ye. I've +written out on an envelope my address in London. Luke Stock, care o' +Purcell and Co., Smithfield Market, London.' + +'Ye're a bad, sinful man. I jest hate t' sight o' ye. I wish ye were +dead.' + +'Ay, but I reckon what ye'd ha best thought o' that before. Ye've +changed yer whistle considerably since Tuesday. Nay, hould on,' he +added, as she struggled to push past him. 'Here's t' envelope.' + +She snatched the paper, and tore it passionately, scattering the +fragments on to the road. When she had finished, he burst out angrily: + +'Ye cussed, unreasonable fool.' + +'Let me pass, ef ye've nought mare t'say,' she cried. + +'Nay, I'll na part wi' ye this fashion. Ye can speak soft enough when ye +choose.' And seizing her shoulders, he forced her backwards against the +wall. + +'Ye do look fine, an' na mistake, when ye're jest ablaze wi' ragin',' +he laughed bluntly, lowering his face to hers. + +'Loose me, loose me, ye great coward,' she gasped, striving to free her +arms. + +Holding her fast, he expostulated: + +'Coom, Rosa, can we na part friends?' + +'Part friends, indeed,' she retorted bitterly. 'Friends wi' the likes o' +you. What d'ye tak me for? Let me git home, I tell ye. An' please God +I'll never set eyes on ye again. I hate t' sight o' ye.' + +'Be off wi' ye, then,' he answered, pushing her roughly back into the +road. 'Be off wi' ye, ye silly. Ye canna say I hav na spak fair t' ye, +an', by goom, ye'll na see me shally-wallyin this fashion agin. Be off +wi' ye: ye can jest shift for yerself, since ye canna keep a civil +tongue in yer head.' + +The girl, catching at her breath, stood as if dazed, watching his +retreating figure; then starting forward at a run, disappeared up the +hill, into the darkness. + + +III + +Old Mr. Blencarn concluded his husky sermon. The scanty congregation, who +had been sitting, stolidly immobile in their stiff, Sunday clothes, +shuffled to their feet, and the pewful of school children, in clamorous +chorus, intoned the final hymn. Anthony stood near the organ, absently +contemplating, while the rude melody resounded through the church, +Rosa's deft manipulation of the key-board. The rugged lines of his face +were relaxed to a vacant, thoughtful limpness, that aged his expression +not a little: now and then, as if for reference, he glanced +questioningly at the girl's profile. + +A few minutes later the service was over, and the congregation sauntered +out down the aisle. A gawky group of men remained loitering by the +church door: one of them called to Anthony; but, nodding curtly, he +passed on, and strode away down the road, across the grey upland +meadows, towards home. As soon as he had breasted the hill, however, and +was no longer visible from below, he turned abruptly to the left, along +a small, swampy hollow, till he had reached the lane that led down from +the fell-side. + +He clambered over a rugged, moss-grown wall, and stood, gazing +expectantly down the dark, disused roadway; then, after a moment's +hesitation, perceiving nobody, seated himself beneath the wall, on a +projecting slab of stone. + +Overhead hung a sombre, drifting sky. A gusty wind rollicked down from +the fell--huge masses of chilly grey, stripped of the last night's mist. +A few dead leaves fluttered over the stones, and from off the fell-side +there floated the plaintive, quavering rumour of many bleating sheep. + +Before long, he caught sight of two figures coming towards him, slowly +climbing the hill. He sat awaiting their approach, fidgeting with his +sandy beard, and abstractedly grinding the ground beneath his heel. At +the brow they halted: plunging his hands deep into his pockets, he +strolled sheepishly towards them. + +'Ah! good day t' ye, Anthony,' called the old man, in a shrill, +breathless voice. ''Tis a long hill, an' my legs are not what they were. +Time was when I'd think nought o' a whole day's tramp on t' fells. Ay, +I'm gittin' feeble, Anthony, that's what 'tis. And if Rosa here wasn't +the great, strong lass she is, I don't know how her old uncle'd manage;' +and he turned to the girl with a proud, tremulous smile. + +'Will ye tak my arm a bit, Mr. Blencarn? Miss Rosa'll be tired, likely,' +Anthony asked. + +'Nay, Mr. Garstin, but I can manage nicely,' the girl interrupted +sharply. + +Anthony looked up at her as she spoke. She wore a straw hat, trimmed +with crimson velvet, and a black, fur-edged cape, that seemed to set off +mightily the fine whiteness of her neck. Her large, dark eyes were fixed +upon him. He shifted his feet uneasily, and dropped his glance. + +She linked her uncle's arm in hers, and the three moved slowly forward. +Old Mr. Blencarn walked with difficulty, pausing at intervals for breath. +Anthony, his eyes bent on the ground, sauntered beside him, clumsily +kicking at the cobbles that lay in his path. + +When they reached the vicarage gate, the old man asked him to come +inside. + +'Not jest now, thank ye, Mr. Blencarn. I've that lot o' lambs t' see to +before dinner. It's a grand marnin', this,' he added, inconsequently. + +'Uncle's bought a nice lot o' Leghorns, Tuesday,' Rosa remarked. +Anthony met her gaze; there was a grave, subdued expression on her face +this morning, that made her look more of a woman, less of a girl. + +'Ay, do ye show him the birds, Rosa. I'd be glad to have his opinion on +'em.' + +The old man turned to hobble into the house, and Rosa, as she supported +his arm, called back over her shoulder: + +'I'll not be a minute, Mr. Garstin.' + +Anthony strolled round to the yard behind the house, and waited, +watching a flock of glossy-white poultry that strutted, perkily pecking, +over the grass-grown cobbles. + +'Ay, Miss Rosa, they're a bonny lot,' he remarked, as the girl joined +him. + +'Are they not?' she rejoined, scattering a handful of corn before her. + +The birds scuttled across the yard with greedy, outstretched necks. The +two stood, side by side, gazing at them. + +'What did he give for 'em?' Anthony asked. + +'Fifty-five shillings.' + +'Ay,' he assented, nodding absently. + +'Was Dr. Sanderson na seein' o' yer father yesterday?' he asked, after a +moment. + +'He came in t' forenoon. He said he was jest na worse.' + +'Ye knaw, Miss Rosa, as I'm still thinkin' on ye,' he began abruptly, +without looking up. + +'I reckon it ain't much use,' she answered shortly, scattering another +handful of corn towards the birds. 'I reckon I'll never marry. I'm jest +weary o' bein' courted--' + +'I would na weary ye wi' courtin',' he interrupted. + +She laughed noisily. + +'Ye are a queer customer, an' na mistake.' + +'I'm a match for Luke Stock anyway,' he continued fiercely. 'Ye think +nought o' taking oop wi' him--about as ranty, wild a young feller as +ever stepped.' + +The girl reddened, and bit her lip. + +'I don't know what you mean, Mr. Garstin. It seems to me ye're might +hasty in jumpin' t' conclusions.' + +'Mabbe I kin see a thing or two,' he retorted doggedly. + +'Luke Stock's gone to London, anyway.' + +'Ay, an' a powerful good job too, in t' opinion o' some folks.' + +'Ye're jest jealous,' she exclaimed, with a forced titter. 'Ye're jest +jealous o' Luke Stock.' + +'Nay, but ye need na fill yer head wi' that nonsense. I'm too deep set +on ye t' feel jealousy,' he answered, gravely. + +The smile faded from her face, as she murmured: + +'I canna mak ye out, Mr. Garstin.' + +'Nay, that ye canna. An' I suppose it's natural, considerin' ye're +little more than a child, an' I'm a'most old enough to be yer father,' +he retorted, with blunt bitterness. + +'But ye know yer mother's took that dislike t' me. She'd never abide the +sight o' me at Hootsey.' + +He remained silent a moment, moodily reflecting. + +'She'd jest ha't' git ower it. I see nought in that objection,' he +declared. + +'Nay, Mr. Garstin, it canna be. Indeed it canna be at all. Ye'd best jest +put it right from yer mind, once and for all.' + +'I'd jest best put it off my mind, had I? Ye talk like a child!' he +burst out scornfully. 'I intend ye t' coom t' love me, an' I will na tak +ye till ye do. I'll jest go on waitin' for ye, an', mark my words, my +day 'ull coom at last.' + +He spoke loudly, in a slow, stubborn voice, and stepped suddenly towards +her. With a faint, frightened cry she shrank back into the doorway of +the hen-house. + +'Ye talk like a prophet. Ye sort o' skeer me.' + +He laughed grimly, and paused, reflectively scanning her face. He seemed +about to continue in the same strain; but, instead, turned abruptly on +his heel, and strode away through the garden gate. + + +IV + +For three hundred years there had been a Garstin at Hootsey: generation +after generation had tramped the grey stretch of upland, in the +spring-time scattering their flocks over the fell-sides, and, at the +'back-end', on dark, winter afternoons, driving them home again, down +the broad bridle-path that led over the 'raise'. They had been a race of +few words, 'keeping themselves to themselves', as the phrase goes; +beholden to no man, filled with a dogged, churlish pride--an upright, +old-fashioned race, stubborn, long-lived, rude in speech, slow of +resolve. + +Anthony had never seen his father, who had died one night, upon the +fell-top, he and his shepherd, engulfed in the great snowstorm of 1849. +Folks had said that he was the only Garstin who had failed to make old +man's bones. + +After his death, Jake Atkinson, from Ribblehead in Yorkshire, had come +to live at Hootsey. Jake was a fine farmer, a canny bargainer, and very +handy among the sheep, till he took to drink, and roystering every week +with the town wenches up at Carlisle. He was a corpulent, deep-voiced, +free-handed fellow: when his time came, though he died very hardly, he +remained festive and convivial to the last. And for years afterwards, in +the valley, his memory lingered: men spoke of him regretfully, recalling +his quips, his feats of strength, and his choice breed of Herdwicke +rams. But he left behind him a host of debts up at Carlisle, in Penrith, +and in almost every market town--debts that he had long ago pretended to +have paid with money that belonged to his sister. The widow Garstin sold +the twelve Herdwicke rams, and nine acres of land: within six weeks she +had cleared off every penny, and for thirteen months, on Sundays, wore +her mourning with a mute, forbidding grimness: the bitter thought that, +unbeknown to her, Jake had acted dishonestly in money matters, and that +he had ended his days in riotous sin, soured her pride, imbued her with +a rancorous hostility against all the world. For she was a very proud +woman, independent, holding her head high, so folks said, like a Garstin +bred and born; and Anthony, although some reckoned him quiet and of +little account, came to take after her as he grew into manhood. + +She took into her own hands the management of the Hootsey farm, and set +the boy to work for her along with the two farm servants. It was +twenty-five years now since his uncle Jake's death: there were grey +hairs in his sandy beard; but he still worked for his mother, as he had +done when a growing lad. + +And now that times were grown to be bad (of late years the price of +stock had been steadily falling; and the hay harvests had drifted from +bad to worse) the widow Garstin no longer kept any labouring men; but +lived, she and her son, year in and year out, in a close parsimonious +way. + +That had been Anthony Garstin's life--a dull, eventless sort of +business, the sluggish incrustation of monotonous years. And until Rosa +Blencarn had come to keep house for her uncle, he had never thought +twice on a woman's face. + +The Garstins had always been good church-goers, and Anthony, for years, +had acted as churchwarden. It was one summer evening, up at the +vicarage, whilst he was checking the offertory account, that he first +set eyes upon her. She was fresh back from school at Leeds: she was +dressed in a white dress: she looked, he thought, like a London lady. + +She stood by the window, tall and straight and queenly, dreamily gazing +out into the summer twilight, whilst he and her uncle sat over their +business. When he rose to go, she glanced at him with quick curiosity; +he hurried away, muttering a sheepish good night. + +The next time that he saw her was in church on Sunday. He watched her +shyly, with a hesitating, reverential discretion: her beauty seemed to +him wonderful, distant, enigmatic. In the afternoon, young Mrs. Forsyth, +from Longscale, dropped in for a cup of tea with his mother, and the two +set off gossiping of Rosa Blencarn, speaking of her freely, in tones of +acrimonious contempt. For a long while he sat silent, puffing at his +pipe; but at last, when his mother concluded with, 'She looks t' me fair +stuck-oop, full o' toonish airs an' graces,' despite himself, he burst +out: 'Ye're jest wastin' yer breath wi' that cackle. I reckon Miss +Blencarn's o' a different clay to us folks.' Young Mrs. Forsyth tittered +immoderately, and the next week it was rumoured about the valley that +'Tony Garstin was gone luny over t' parson's niece.' + +But of all this he knew nothing--keeping to himself, as was his wont, +and being, besides, very busy with the hay harvest--until one day, at +dinner-time, Henry Sisson asked if he'd started his courting; Jacob +Sowerby cried that Tony'd been too slow in getting to work, for that the +girl had been seen spooning in Crosby Shaws with Curbison the +auctioneer, and the others (there were half-a-dozen of them lounging +round the hay-waggon) burst into a boisterous guffaw. Anthony flushed +dully, looking hesitatingly from the one to the other; then slowly put +down his beer-can, and of a sudden, seizing Jacob by the neck, swung him +heavily on the grass. He fell against the waggon-wheel, and when he rose +the blood was streaming from an ugly cut in his forehead. And +henceforward Tony Garstin's courtship was the common jest of all the +parish. + +As yet, however, he had scarcely spoken to her, though twice he had +passed her in the lane that led up to the vicarage. She had given him a +frank, friendly smile; but he had not found the resolution to do more +than lift his hat. He and Henry Sisson stacked the hay in the yard +behind the house; there was no further mention made of Rosa Blencarn; +but all day long Anthony, as he knelt thatching the rick, brooded over +the strange sweetness of her face, and on the fell-top, while he tramped +after the ewes over the dry, crackling heather, and as he jogged along +the narrow, rickety road, driving his cartload of lambs into the auction +mart. + +Thus, as the weeks slipped by, he was content with blunt, wistful +ruminations upon her indistinct image. Jacob Sowerby's accusation, and +several kindred innuendoes let fall by his mother, left him coolly +incredulous; the girl still seemed to him altogether distant; but from +the first sight of her face he had evolved a stolid, unfaltering +conception of her difference from the ruck of her sex. + +But one evening, as he passed the vicarage on his way down from the +fells, she called to him, and with a childish, confiding familiarity +asked for advice concerning the feeding of the poultry. In his eagerness +to answer her as best he could, he forgot his customary embarrassment, +and grew, for the moment, almost voluble, and quite at his ease in her +presence. Directly her flow of questions ceased, however, the returning +perception of her rosy, hesitating smile, and of her large, deep eyes +looking straight into his face, perturbed him strangely, and, reddening, +he remembered the quarrel in the hay-field and the tale of Crosby Shaws. + +After this, the poultry became a link between them--a link which he +regarded in all seriousness, blindly unconscious that there was aught +else to bring them together, only feeling himself in awe of her, because +of her schooling, her townish manners, her ladylike mode of dress. And +soon, he came to take a sturdy, secret pride in her friendly familiarity +towards him. Several times a week he would meet her in the lane, and +they would loiter a moment together; she would admire his dogs, though +he assured her earnestly that they were but sorry curs; and once, +laughing at his staidness, she nick-named him 'Mr. Churchwarden'. + +That the girl was not liked in the valley he suspected, curtly +attributing her unpopularity to the women's senseless jealousy. Of +gossip concerning her he heard no further hint; but instinctively, and +partly from that rugged, natural reserve of his, shrank from mentioning +her name, even incidentally, to his mother. + +Now, on Sunday evenings, he often strolled up to the vicarage, each time +quitting his mother with the same awkward affectation of casualness; +and, on his return, becoming vaguely conscious of how she refrained from +any comment on his absence, and appeared oddly oblivious of the +existence of parson Blencarn's niece. + +She had always been a sour-tongued woman; but, as the days shortened +with the approach of the long winter months, she seemed to him to grow +more fretful than ever; at times it was almost as if she bore him some +smouldering, sullen resentment. He was of stubborn fibre, however, +toughened by long habit of a bleak, unruly climate; he revolved the +matter in his mind deliberately, and when, at last, after much plodding +thought, it dawned upon him that she resented his acquaintance with Rosa +Blencarn, he accepted the solution with an unflinching phlegm, and +merely shifted his attitude towards the girl, calculating each day the +likelihood of his meeting her, and making, in her presence, persistent +efforts to break down, once for all, the barrier of his own timidity. He +was a man not to be clumsily driven, still less, so he prided himself, a +man to be craftily led. + +It was close upon Christmas time before the crisis came. His mother was +just home from Penrith market. The spring-cart stood in the yard, the +old grey horse was steaming heavily in the still, frosty air. + +'I reckon ye've come fast. T' ould horse is over hot,' he remarked +bluntly, as he went to the animal's head. + +She clambered down hastily, and, coming to his side, began breathlessly: + +'Ye ought t' hev coom t' market, Tony. There's bin pretty goin's on in +Pe'rith today. I was helpin' Anna Forsyth t' choose six yards o' +sheetin' in Dockroy, when we sees Rosa Blencarn coom oot o' t' 'Bell and +Bullock' in company we' Curbison and young Joe Smethwick. Smethwick was +fair reelin' drunk, and Curbison and t' girl were a-houldin' on to him, +to keep him fra fallin'; and then, after a bit, he puts his arm round +the girl t' stiddy hisself, and that fashion they goes off, right oop t' +public street--' + +He continued to unload the packages, and to carry them mechanically one +by one into the house. Each time, when he reappeared, she was standing +by the steaming horse, busy with her tale. + +'An' on t' road hame we passed t' three on' em in Curbison's trap, with +Smethwick leein' in t' bottom, singin' maudlin' songs. They were passin' +Dunscale village, an't' folks coom runnin' oot o' houses t' see 'em go +past--' + +He led the cart away towards the stable, leaving her to cry the +remainder after him across the yard. + +Half-an-hour later he came in for his dinner. During the meal not a word +passed between them, and directly he had finished he strode out of the +house. About nine o'clock he returned, lit his pipe, and sat down to +smoke it over the kitchen fire. + +'Where've ye bin, Tony?' she asked. + +'Oop t' vicarage, courtin', he retorted defiantly, with his pipe in his +mouth. + +This was ten months ago; ever since he had been doggedly waiting. That +evening he had set his mind on the girl, he intended to have her; and +while his mother gibed, as she did now upon every opportunity, his +patience remained grimly unflagging. She would remind him that the farm +belonged to her, that he would have to wait till her death before he +could bring the hussy to Hootsey: he would retort that as soon as the +girl would have him, he intended taking a small holding over at +Scarsdale. Then she would give way, and for a while piteously upbraid +him with her old age, and with the memory of all the years she and he +had spent together, and he would comfort her with a display of brusque, +evasive remorse. + +But, none the less, on the morrow, his thoughts would return to dwell on +the haunting vision of the girl's face, while his own rude, credulous +chivalry, kindled by the recollection of her beauty, stifled his +misgivings concerning her conduct. + +Meanwhile she dallied with him, and amused herself with the younger men. +Her old uncle fell ill in the spring, and could scarcely leave the +house. She declared that she found life in the valley intolerably dull, +that she hated the quiet of the place, that she longed for Leeds, and +the exciting bustle of the streets; and in the evenings she wrote long +letters to the girl-friends she had left behind there, describing with +petulant vivacity her tribe of rustic admirers. At the harvest-time she +went back on a fortnight's visit to friends; the evening before her +departure she promised Anthony to give him her answer on her return. +But, instead, she avoided him, pretended to have promised in jest, and +took up with Luke Stock, a cattle-dealer from Wigton. + + +V + +It was three weeks since he had fetched his flock down from the fell. + +After dinner he and his mother sat together in the parlour: they had +done so every Sunday afternoon, year in and year out, as far back as he +could remember. + +A row of mahogany chairs, with shiny, horse-hair seats, were ranged +round the room. A great collection of agricultural prize-tickets were +pinned over the wall; and, on a heavy, highly-polished sideboard stood +several silver cups. A heap of gilt-edged shavings filled the unused +grate: there were gaudily-tinted roses along the mantelpiece, and, on a +small table by the window, beneath a glass-case, a gilt basket filled +with imitation flowers. Every object was disposed with a scrupulous +precision: the carpet and the red-patterned cloth on the centre table +were much faded. The room was spotlessly clean, and wore, in the chilly +winter sunlight, a rigid, comfortless air. + +Neither spoke, or appeared conscious of the other's presence. Old Mrs. +Garstin, wrapped in a woollen shawl, sat knitting: Anthony dozed +fitfully on a stiff-backed chair. + +Of a sudden, in the distance, a bell started tolling. Anthony rubbed his +eyes drowsily, and taking from the table his Sunday hat, strolled out +across the dusky fields. Presently, reaching a rude wooden seat, built +beside the bridle-path, he sat down and relit his pipe. The air was very +still; below him a white filmy mist hung across the valley: the +fell-sides, vaguely grouped, resembled hulking masses of sombre shadow; +and, as he looked back, three squares of glimmering gold revealed the +lighted windows of the square-towered church. + +He sat smoking; pondering, with placid and reverential contemplation, +on the Mighty Maker of the world--a world majestically and inevitably +ordered; a world where, he argued, each object--each fissure in the +fells, the winding course of each tumbling stream--possesses its +mysterious purport, its inevitable signification.... + +At the end of the field two rams were fighting; retreating, then running +together, and, leaping from the ground, butting head to head and horn to +horn. Anthony watched them absently, pursuing his rude meditations. + +... And the succession of bad seasons, the slow ruination of the farmers +throughout the country, were but punishment meted out for the +accumulated wickedness of the world. In the olden time God rained +plagues upon the land: nowadays, in His wrath, He spoiled the produce of +the earth, which, with His own hands, He had fashioned and bestowed upon +men. + +He rose and continued his walk along the bridle-path. A multitude of +rabbits scuttled up the hill at his approach; and a great cloud of +plovers, rising from the rushes, circled overhead, filling the air with +a profusion of their querulous cries. All at once he heard a rattling of +stones, and perceived a number of small pieces of shingle bounding in +front of him down the grassy slope. + +A woman's figure was moving among the rocks above him. The next moment, +by the trimming of crimson velvet on her hat, he had recognized her. He +mounted the slope with springing strides, wondering the while how it was +she came to be there, that she was not in church playing the organ at +afternoon service. + +Before she was aware of his approach, he was beside her. + +'I thought ye'd be in church--' he began. + +She started: then, gradually regaining her composure, answered, weakly +smiling: + +'Mr. Jenkinson, the new schoolmaster, wanted to try the organ.' + +He came towards her impulsively: she saw the odd flickers in his eyes as +she stepped back in dismay. + +'Nay, but I will na harm ye,' he said. 'Only I reckon what 'tis a +special turn o' Providence, meetin' wi' ye oop here. I reckon what ye'll +hev t' give me a square answer noo. Ye canna dilly-dally everlastingly.' + +He spoke almost brutally; and she stood, white and gasping, staring at +him with large, frightened eyes. The sheep-walk was but a tiny +threadlike track: the slope of the shingle on either side was very +steep: below them lay the valley; distant, lifeless, all blurred by the +evening dusk. She looked about her helplessly for a means of escape. + +'Miss Rosa,' he continued, in a husky voice, 'can ye na coom t' think on +me? Think ye, I've bin waitin' nigh upon two year for ye. I've watched +ye tak oop, first wi' this young fellar, and then wi' that, till +soomtimes my heart's fit t' burst. Many a day, oop on t' fell-top, t' +thought o' ye's nigh driven me daft, and I've left my shepherdin' jest +t' set on a cairn in t' mist, picturin' an' broodin' on yer face. Many +an evenin' I've started oop t' vicarage, wi' t' resolution t' speak +right oot t' ye; but when it coomed t' point, a sort o' timidity seemed +t' hould me back, I was that feared t' displease ye. I knaw I'm na +scholar, an' mabbe ye think I'm rough-mannered. I knaw I've spoken +sharply to ye once or twice lately. But it's jest because I'm that mad +wi' love for ye: I jest canna help myself soomtimes--' + +He waited, peering into her face. She could see the beads of sweat above +his bristling eyebrows: the damp had settled on his sandy beard: his +horny fingers were twitching at the buttons of his black Sunday coat. + +She struggled to summon a smile; but her under-lip quivered, and her +large dark eyes filled slowly with tears. + +And he went on: + +'Ye've coom t' mean jest everything to me. Ef ye will na hev me, I care +for nought else. I canna speak t' ye in phrases: I'm jest a plain, +unscholarly man: I canna wheedle ye, wi' cunnin' after t' fashion o' +toon folks. But I can love ye wi' all my might, an' watch over ye, and +work for ye better than any one o' em--' + +She was crying to herself, silently, while he spoke. He noticed nothing, +however: the twilight hid her face from him. + +'There's nought against me,' he persisted. 'I'm as good a man as any one +on 'em. Ay, as good a man as any one on 'em,' he repeated defiantly, +raising his voice. + +'It's impossible, Mr. Garstin, it's impossible. Ye've been very kind to +me--' she added, in a choking voice. + +'Wa dang it, I didna mean t' mak ye cry, lass,' he exclaimed, with a +softening of his tone. 'There's nought for ye t' cry ower.' + +She sank on to the stones, passionately sobbing in hysterical and +defenceless despair. Anthony stood a moment, gazing at her in clumsy +perplexity: then, coming close to her, put his hand on her shoulder, and +said gently: + +'Coom, lass, what's trouble? Ye can trust me.' + +She shook her head faintly. + +'Ay, but ye can though,' he asserted, firmly. 'Come, what is't?' + +Heedless of him, she continued to rock herself to and fro, crooning in +her distress: + +'Oh! I wish I were dead!... I wish I could die!' + +--'Wish ye could die?' he repeated. 'Why, whatever can't be that's +troublin' ye like this? There, there, lassie, give ower: it 'ull all +coom right, whatever it be--' + +'No, no,' she wailed. 'I wish I could die!... I wish I could die!' + +Lights were twinkling in the village below; and across the valley +darkness was draping the hills. The girl lifted her face from her hands, +and looked up at him with a scared, bewildered expression. + +'I must go home: I must be getting home,' she muttered. + +'Nay, but there's sommut mighty amiss wi' ye.' + +'No, it's nothing... I don't know--I'm not well... I mean it's +nothing... it'll pass over... you mustn't think anything of it.' + +'Nay, but I canna stand by an see ye in sich trouble.' + +'It's nothing, Mr. Garstin, indeed it's nothing,' she repeated. + +'Ay, but I canna credit that,' he objected stubbornly. + +She sent him a shifting, hunted glance. + +'Let me get home... you must let me get home.' + +She made a tremulous, pitiful attempt at firmness. Eyeing her keenly, he +barred her path: she flushed scarlet, and looked hastily away across the +valley. + +'If ye'll tell me yer distress, mabbe I can help ye.' + +'No, no, it's nothing... it's nothing.' + +'If ye'll tell me yer distress, mabbe I can help ye,' he repeated, with +a solemn, deliberate sternness. She shivered, and looked away again, +vaguely, across the valley. + +'You can do nothing: there's nought to be done,' she murmured drearily. + +'There's a man in this business,' he declared. + +'Let me go! Let me go!' she pleaded desperately. + +'Who is't that's bin puttin' ye into this distress?' His voice sounded +loud and harsh. + +'No one, no one. I canna tell ye, Mr. Garstin.... It's no one,' she +protested weakly. The white, twisted look on his face frightened her. + +'My God!' he burst out, gripping her wrist, 'an' a proper soft fool +ye've made o' me. Who is't, I tell ye? Who's t' man?' + +'Ye're hurtin' me. Let me go. I canna tell ye.' + +'And ye're fond o' him?' + +'No, no. He's a wicked, sinful man. I pray God I may never set eyes on +him again. I told him so.' + +'But ef he's got ye into trouble, he'll hev t' marry ye,' he persisted +with a brutal bitterness. + +'I will not. I hate him!' she cried fiercely. + +'But is he _willin'_ t' marry ye?' + +'I don't know ... I don't care ... he said so before he went +away ... But I'd kill myself sooner than live with him.' + +He let her hands fall and stepped back from her. She could only see his +figure, like a sombre cloud, standing before her. The whole fell-side +seemed still and dark and lonely. Presently she heard his voice again: + +'I reckon what there's one road oot o' yer distress.' + +She shook her head drearily. + +'There's none. I'm a lost woman.' + +'An' ef ye took me instead?' he said eagerly. + +'I--I don't understand--' + +'Ef ye married me instead of Luke Stock?' + +'But that's impossible--the--the--' + +'Ay, t' child. I know. But I'll tak t' child as mine.' + +She remained silent. After a moment he heard her voice answer in a +queer, distant tone: + +'You mean that--that ye're ready to marry me, and adopt the child?' + +'I do,' he answered doggedly. + +'But people--your mother--?' + +'Folks 'ull jest know nought about it. It's none o' their business. T' +child 'ull pass as mine. Ye'll accept that?' + +'Yes,' she answered, in a low, rapid voice. + +'Ye'll consent t' hev me, ef I git ye oot o' yer trouble?' + +'Yes,' she repeated, in the same tone. + +She heard him draw a long breath. + +'I said 't was a turn o' Providence, meetin' wi' ye oop here,' he +exclaimed, with half-suppressed exultation. + +Her teeth began to chatter a little: she felt that he was peering at +her, curiously, through the darkness. + +'An' noo,' he continued briskly, 'ye'd best be gettin' home. Give me +ye're hand, an' I'll stiddy ye ower t' stones.' + +He helped her down the bank of shingle, exclaiming: 'By goom, ye're +stony cauld.' Once or twice she slipped: he supported her, roughly +gripping her knuckles. The stones rolled down the steps, noisily, +disappearing into the night. + +Presently they struck the turf bridle-path, and, as they descended +silently towards the lights of the village, he said gravely: + +'I always reckoned what my day 'ud coom.' + +She made no reply; and he added grimly: + +'There'll be terrible work wi' mother over this.' + +He accompanied her down the narrow lane that led past her uncle's house. +When the lighted windows came in sight he halted. + +'Good night, lassie,' he said kindly. 'Do ye give ower distressin' +yeself.' + +'Good night, Mr. Garstin,' she answered, in the same low, rapid voice in +which she had given him her answer up on the fell. + +'We're man an' wife plighted now, are we not?' he blurted timidly. + +She held her face to his, and he kissed her on the cheek, clumsily. + + +VI + +The next morning the frost had set in. The sky was still clear and +glittering: the whitened fields sparkled in the chilly sunlight: here +and there, on high, distant peaks, gleamed dainty caps of snow. All +the week Anthony was to be busy at the fell-foot, wall-building against +the coming of the winter storms: the work was heavy, for he was +single-handed, and the stone had to be fetched from off the fell-side. +Two or three times a day he led his rickety, lumbering cart along the +lane that passed the vicarage gate, pausing on each journey to glance +furtively up at the windows. But he saw no sign of Rosa Blencarn; and, +indeed, he felt no longing to see her: he was grimly exultant over the +remembrance of his wooing of her, and over the knowledge that she was +his. There glowed within him a stolid pride in himself: he thought of +the others who had courted her, and the means by which he had won her +seemed to him a fine stroke of cleverness. + +And so he refrained from any mention of the matter; relishing, as he +worked, all alone, the days through, the consciousness of his secret +triumph, and anticipating, with inward chucklings, the discomforted +cackle of his mother's female friends. He foresaw without misgiving, her +bitter opposition: he felt himself strong; and his heart warmed towards +the girl. And when, at intervals, the brusque realization that, after +all, he was to possess her swept over him, he gripped the stones, and +swung them almost fiercely into their places. + +All around him the white, empty fields seemed slumbering breathlessly. +The stillness stiffened the leafless trees. The frosty air flicked his +blood: singing vigorously to himself he worked with a stubborn, +unflagging resolution, methodically postponing, till the length of the +wall should be completed, the announcement of his betrothal. + +After his reticent, solitary fashion, he was very happy, reviewing his +future prospects, with a plain and steady assurance, and, as the +week-end approached, coming to ignore the irregularity of the whole +business: almost to assume, in the exaltation of his pride, that he had +won her honestly; and to discard, stolidly, all thought of Luke Stock, +of his relations with her, of the coming child that was to pass for his +own. + +And there were moments too, when, as he sauntered homewards through the +dusk at the end of his day's work, his heart grew full to overflowing of +a rugged, superstitious gratitude towards God in Heaven who had granted +his desires. + +About three o'clock on the Saturday afternoon he finished the length of +wall. He went home, washed, shaved, put on his Sunday coat; and, +avoiding the kitchen, where his mother sat knitting by the fireside, +strode up to the vicarage. + +It was Rosa who opened the door to him. On recognizing him she started, +and he followed her into the dining-room. He seated himself, and began, +brusquely: + +'I've coom, Miss Rosa, t' speak t' Mr. Blencarn.' + +Then added, eyeing her closely: + +'Ye're lookin' sick, lass.' + +Her faint smile accentuated the worn, white look on her face. + +'I reckon ye've been frettin' yeself,' he continued gently, 'leein' +awake o' nights, hev'n't yee, noo?' + +She smiled vaguely. + +'Well, but ye see I've coom t' settle t' whole business for ye. Ye +thought mabbe that I was na a man o' my word.' + +'No, no, not that,' she protested, 'but--but--' + +'But what then?' + +'Ye must not do it, Mr. Garstin ... I must just bear my own trouble the +best I can--' she broke out. + +'D'ye fancy I'm takin' ye oot of charity? Ye little reckon the sort o' +stuff my love for ye's made of. Nay, Miss Rosa, but ye canna draw back +noo.' + +'But ye cannot do it, Mr. Garstin. Ye know your mother will na have me at +Hootsey.... I could na live there with your mother.... I'd sooner bear +my trouble alone, as best I can.... She's that stern is Mrs. Garstin. I +couldn't look her in the face.... I can go away somewhere.... I could +keep it all from uncle.' + +Her colour came and went: she stood before him, looking away from him, +dully, out of the window. + +'I intend ye t' coom t' Hootsey. I'm na lad: I reckon I can choose my +own wife. Mother'll hev ye at t' farm, right enough: ye need na distress +yeself on that point--' + +'Nay, Mr. Garstin, but indeed she will not, never... I know she will +not... She always set herself against me, right from the first.' + +'Ay, but that was different. T' case is all changed noo,' he objected +doggedly. + +'She'll support the sight of me all the less,' the girl faltered. + +'Mother'll hev ye at Hootsey--receive ye willin' of her own free +wish--of her own free wish, d'ye hear? I'll answer for that.' + +He struck the table with his fist heavily. His tone of determination +awed her: she glanced at him hurriedly, struggling with her +irresolution. + +'I knaw hoo t' manage mother. An' now,' he concluded, changing his tone, +'is yer uncle about t' place?' + +'He's up the paddock, I think,' she answered. + +'Well, I'll jest step oop and hev a word wi' him.' + +'Ye're ... ye will na tell him.' + +'Tut, tut, na harrowin' tales, ye need na fear, lass. I reckon ef I can +tackle mother, I can accommodate myself t' parson Blencarn.' + +He rose, and coming close to her, scanned her face. + +'Ye must git t' roses back t' yer cheeks,' he exclaimed, with a short +laugh, 'I canna be takin' a ghost t' church.' + +She smiled tremulously, and he continued, laying one hand affectionately +on her shoulder: + +'Nay, but I was but jestin'. Roses or na roses, ye'll be t' bonniest +bride in all Coomberland. I'll meet ye in Hullam lane, after church +time, tomorrow,' he added, moving towards the door. + +After he had gone, she hurried to the backdoor furtively. His retreating +figure was already mounting the grey upland field. Presently, beyond +him, she perceived her uncle, emerging through the paddock gate. She ran +across the poultry yard, and mounting a tub, stood watching the two +figures as they moved towards one another along the brow, Anthony +vigorously trudging, with his hands thrust deep in his pockets; her +uncle, his wideawake tilted over his nose, hobbling, and leaning stiffly +on his pair of sticks. They met; she saw Anthony take her uncle's arm: +the two, turning together, strolled away towards the fell. + +She went back into the house. Anthony's dog came towards her, slinking +along the passage. She caught the animal's head in her hands, and bent +over it caressingly, in an impulsive outburst of almost hysterical +affection. + + +VII + +The two men returned towards the vicarage. At the paddock gate they +halted, and the old man concluded: + +'I could not have wished a better man for her, Anthony. Mabbe the +Lord'll not be minded to spare me much longer. After I'm gone Rosa'll +hev all I possess. She was my poor brother Isaac's only child. After her +mother was taken, he, poor fellow, went altogether to the bad, and until +she came here she mostly lived among strangers. It's been a wretched +sort of childhood for her--a wretched sort of childhood. Ye'll take care +of her, Anthony, will ye not? ... Nay, but I could not hev wished for a +better man for her, and there's my hand on 't.' + +'Thank ee, Mr. Blencarn, thank ee,' Anthony answered huskily, gripping +the old man's hand. + +And he started off down the lane homewards. + +His heart was full of a strange, rugged exaltation. He felt with a +swelling pride that God had entrusted to him this great charge--to tend +her; to make up to her, tenfold, for all that loving care, which, in her +childhood, she had never known. And together with a stubborn confidence +in himself, there welled up within him a great pity for her--a tender +pity, that, chastening with his passion, made her seem to him, as he +brooded over that lonely childhood of hers, the more distinctly +beautiful, the more profoundly precious. He pictured to himself, +tremulously, almost incredulously, their married life--in the winter, +his return home at nightfall to find her awaiting him with a glad, +trustful smile; their evenings, passed together, sitting in silent +happiness over the smouldering logs; or, in summer-time, the midday rest +in the hay-fields when, wearing perhaps a large-brimmed hat fastened +with a red ribbon, beneath her chin, he would catch sight of her, +carrying his dinner, coming across the upland. + +She had not been brought up to be a farmer's wife: she was but a child +still, as the old parson had said. She should not have to work as other +men's wives worked: she should dress like a lady, and on Sundays, in +church, wear fine bonnets, and remain, as she had always been, the belle +of all the parish. + +And, meanwhile, he would farm as he had never farmed before, +watching his opportunities, driving cunning bargains, spending +nothing on himself, hoarding every penny that she might have what +she wanted.... And, as he strode through the village, he seemed to +foresee a general brightening of prospects, a sobering of the fever +of speculation in sheep, a cessation of the insensate glutting, year +after year, of the great winter marts throughout the North, a slackening +of the foreign competition followed by a steady revival of the price +of fatted stocks--a period of prosperity in store for the farmer at +last.... And the future years appeared to open out before him, spread +like a distant, glittering plain, across which, he and she, hand in +hand, were called to travel together.... + +And then, suddenly, as his iron-bound boots clattered over the cobbled +yard, he remembered, with brutal determination, his mother, and the +stormy struggle that awaited him. + +He waited till supper was over, till his mother had moved from the table +to her place by the chimney corner. For several minutes he remained +debating with himself the best method of breaking the news to her. Of a +sudden he glanced up at her: her knitting had slipped on to her lap: she +was sitting, bunched of a heap in her chair, nodding with sleep. By the +flickering light of the wood fire, she looked worn and broken: he felt a +twinge of clumsy compunction. And then he remembered the piteous, hunted +look in the girl's eyes, and the old man's words when they had parted at +the paddock gate, and he blurted out: + +'I doot but what I'll hev t' marry Rosa Blencarn after all.' + +She started, and blinking her eyes, said: + +'I was jest takin' a wink o' sleep. What was 't ye were saying, Tony?' + +He hesitated a moment, puckering his forehead into coarse rugged lines, +and fidgeting noisily with his tea-cup. Presently he repeated: + +'I doot but what I'll hev t' marry Rosa Blencarn after all.' + +She rose stiffly, and stepping down from the hearth, came towards him. + +'Mabbe I did na hear ye aright, Tony.' She spoke hurriedly, and though +she was quite close to him, steadying herself with one hand clutching +the back of his chair, her voice sounded weak, distant almost. + +'Look oop at me. Look oop into my face,' she commanded fiercely. + +He obeyed sullenly. + +'Noo oot wi 't. What's yer meanin', Tony?' + +'I mean what I say,' he retorted doggedly, averting his gaze. + +'What d'ye mean by sayin' that ye've _got_ t' marry her?' + +'I tell yer I mean what I say,' he repeated dully. + +'Ye mean ye've bin an' put t' girl in trouble?' + +He said nothing; but sat staring stupidly at the floor. + +'Look oop at me, and answer,' she commanded, gripping his shoulder and +shaking him. + +He raised his face slowly, and met her glance. + +'Ay, that's aboot it,' he answered. + +'This'll na be truth. It'll be jest a piece o' wanton trickery!' she +cried. + +'Nay, but't is truth,' he answered deliberately. + +'Ye will na swear t' it?' she persisted. + +'I see na necessity for swearin'.' + +'Then ye canna swear t' it,' she burst out triumphantly. + +He paused an instant; then said quietly: + +'Ay, but I'll swear t' it easy enough. Fetch t' Book.' + +She lifted the heavy, tattered Bible from the chimney-piece, and placed +it before him on the table. He laid his lumpish fist on it. + +'Say,' she continued with a tense tremulousness, 'say, I swear t' ye, +mother, that 't is t' truth, t' whole truth, and noat but t' truth, +s'help me God.' + +'I swear t' ye, mother, it's truth, t' whole truth, and nothin' but t' +truth, s'help me God,' he repeated after her. + +'Kiss t' Book,' she ordered. + +He lifted the Bible to his lips. As he replaced it on the table, he +burst out into a short laugh: + +'Be ye satisfied noo?' + +She went back to the chimney corner without a word. The logs on the +hearth hissed and crackled. Outside, amid the blackness the wind was +rising, hooting through the firs, and past the windows. + +After a long while he roused himself, and drawing his pipe from his +pocket almost steadily, proceeded leisurely to pare in the palm of his +hand a lump of black tobacco. + +'We'll be asked in church Sunday,' he remarked bluntly. + +She made no answer. + +He looked across at her. + +Her mouth was drawn tight at the corners: her face wore a queer, rigid +aspect. She looked, he thought, like a figure of stone. + +'Ye're not feeling poorly, are ye, mother?' he asked. + +She shook her head grimly: then, hobbling out into the room, began to +speak in a shrill, tuneless voice. + +'Ye talked at one time o' takin' a farm over Scarsdale way. But ye'd +best stop here. I'll no hinder ye. Ye can have t' large bedroom in t' +front, and I'll move ower to what used to be my brother Jake's room. Ye +knaw I've never had no opinion of t' girl, but I'll do what's right by +her, ef I break my sperrit in t' doin' on't. I'll mak' t' girl welcome +here: I'll stand by her proper-like: mebbe I'll finish by findin' soom +good in her. But from this day forward, Tony, ye're na son o' mine. Ye've +dishonoured yeself: ye've laid a trap for me--ay, laid a trap, that's t' +word. Ye've brought shame and bitterness on yer ould mother in her ould +age. Ye've made me despise t' varra sect o' ye. Ye can stop on here, but +ye shall niver touch a penny of my money; every shillin' of 't shall go +t' yer child, or to your child's children. Ay,' she went on, raising her +voice, 'ay, ye've got yer way at last, and mebbe ye reckon ye've chosen a +mighty smart way. But time 'ull coom when ye'll regret this day, when ye +eat oot yer repentance in doost an' ashes. Ay, Lord 'ull punish ye, Tony, +chastize ye properly. Ye'll learn that marriage begun in sin can end in +nought but sin. Ay,' she concluded, as she reached the door, raising her +skinny hand prophetically, 'ay, after I'm deed and gone, ye mind ye o' t' +words o' t' apostle--"For them that hev sinned without t' law, shall also +perish without t' law."' + +And she slammed the door behind her. + + + + +A LITTLE GREY GLOVE + +By George Egerton (Mary Chavelita [Dunne] Bright) + +(_Keynotes_, London: Elkin Mathews and John Lane, Vigo Street, 1893) + +Early-Spring, 1893 + + +_The book of life begins with a man and woman in a garden and ends--with +Revelations._ + +OSCAR WILDE + + +Yes, most fellows' book of life may be said to begin at the chapter +where woman comes in; mine did. She came in years ago, when I was a raw +undergraduate. With the sober thought of retrospective analysis, I may +say she was not all my fancy painted her; indeed now that I come to +think of it there was no fancy about the vermeil of her cheeks, rather +an artificial reality; she had her bower in the bar of the Golden Boar, +and I was madly in love with her, seriously intent on lawful wedlock. +Luckily for me she threw me over for a neighbouring pork butcher, but at +the time I took it hardly, and it made me sex-shy. I was a very poor man +in those days. One feels one's griefs more keenly then, one hasn't the +wherewithal to buy distraction. Besides, ladies snubbed me rather, on +the rare occasions I met them. Later I fell in for a legacy, the +forerunner of several; indeed, I may say I am beastly rich. My tastes +are simple too, and I haven't any poor relations. I believe they are of +great assistance in getting rid of superfluous capital, wish I had some! +It was after the legacy that women discovered my attractions. They found +that there was something superb in my plainness (before, they said +ugliness), something after the style of the late Victor Emanuel, +something infinitely more striking than mere ordinary beauty. At least +so Harding told me his sister said, and she had the reputation of being +a clever girl. Being an only child, I never had the opportunity other +fellows had of studying the undress side of women through familiar +intercourse, say with sisters. Their most ordinary belongings were +sacred to me. I had, I used to be told, ridiculous high-flown notions +about them (by the way I modified those considerably on closer +acquaintance). I ought to study them, nothing like a woman for +developing a fellow. So I laid in a stock of books in different +languages, mostly novels, in which women played title roles, in order to +get up some definite data before venturing amongst them. I can't say I +derived much benefit from this course. There seemed to be as great a +diversity of opinion about the female species as, let us say, about the +salmonidae. + +My friend Ponsonby Smith, who is one of the oldest fly-fishers in the +three kingdoms, said to me once: Take my word for it, there are only +four true salmo; the salar, the trutta, the fario, the ferox; all the +rest are just varieties, subgenuses of the above; stick to that. Some +writing fellow divided all the women into good-uns and bad-uns. But as a +conscientious stickler for truth, I must say that both in trout as in +women, I have found myself faced with most puzzling varieties, that were +a tantalizing blending of several qualities. I then resolved to study +them on my own account. I pursued the Eternal Feminine in a spirit of +purely scientific investigation. I knew you'd laugh sceptically at that, +but it's a fact. I was impartial in my selection of subjects for +observation--French, German, Spanish, as well as the home product. +Nothing in petticoats escaped me. I devoted myself to the freshest +_ingenue_ as well as the experienced widow of three departed; and I may +as well confess that the more I saw of her, the less I understood her. +But I think they understood me. They refused to take me _au sérieux_. +When they weren't fleecing me, they were interested in the state of my +soul (I preferred the former), but all humbugged me equally, so I gave +them up. I took to rod and gun instead, _pro salute animae_; it's +decidedly safer. I have scoured every country in the globe; indeed I can +say that I have shot and fished in woods and waters where no other white +man, perhaps ever dropped a beast or played a fish before. There is no +life like the life of a free wanderer, and no lore like the lore one +gleans in the great book of nature. But one must have freed one's spirit +from the taint of the town before one can even read the alphabet of its +mystic meaning. + +What has this to do with the glove? True, not much, and yet it has a +connection--it accounts for me. + +Well, for twelve years I have followed the impulses of the wandering +spirit that dwells in me. I have seen the sun rise in Finland and gild +the Devil's Knuckles as he sank behind the Drachensberg. I have caught +the barba and the gamer yellow fish in the Vaal river, taken muskelunge +and black-bass in Canada, thrown a fly over _guapote_ and _cavallo_ in +Central American lakes, and choked the monster eels of the Mauritius +with a cunningly faked-up duckling. But I have been shy as a chub at the +shadow of a woman. + +Well, it happened last year I came back on business--another confounded +legacy; end of June too, just as I was off to Finland. But Messrs. +Thimble and Rigg, the highly respectable firm who look after my affairs, +represented that I owed it to others, whom I kept out of their share of +the legacy, to stay near town till affairs were wound up. They told me, +with a view to reconcile me perhaps, of a trout stream with a decent inn +near it; an unknown stream in Kent. It seems a junior member of the firm +is an angler, at least he sometimes catches pike or perch in the Medway +some way from the stream where the trout rise in audacious security from +artificial lures. I stipulated for a clerk to come down with any papers +to be signed, and started at once for Victoria. I decline to tell the +name of my find, firstly because the trout are the gamest little fish +that ever rose to fly and run to a good two pounds. Secondly, I have +paid for all the rooms in the inn for the next year, and I want it to +myself. The glove is lying on the table next me as I write. If it isn't +in my breast-pocket or under my pillow, it is in some place where I can +see it. It has a delicate grey body (suède, I think they call it) with a +whipping of silver round the top, and a darker grey silk tag to fasten +it. It is marked 5-3/4 inside, and has a delicious scent about it, to +keep off moths, I suppose; naphthaline is better. It reminds me of a +'silver-sedge' tied on a ten hook. I startled the good landlady of the +little inn (there is no village fortunately) when I arrived with the +only porter of the tiny station laden with traps. She hesitated about a +private sitting-room, but eventually we compromised matters, as I was +willing to share it with the other visitor. I got into knickerbockers at +once, collared a boy to get me worms and minnow for the morrow, and as I +felt too lazy to unpack tackle, just sat in the shiny armchair (made +comfortable by the successive sitting of former occupants) at the open +window and looked out. The river, not the trout stream, winds to the +right, and the trees cast trembling shadows into its clear depths. The +red tiles of a farm roof show between the beeches, and break the +monotony of blue sky background. A dusty waggoner is slaking his thirst +with a tankard of ale. I am conscious of the strange lonely feeling that +a visit to England always gives me. Away in strange lands, even in +solitary places, one doesn't feel it somehow. One is filled with the +hunter's lust, bent on a 'kill', but at home in the quiet country, with +the smoke curling up from some fireside, the mowers busy laying the hay +in swaths, the children tumbling under the trees in the orchards, and a +girl singing as she spreads the clothes on the sweetbriar hedge, amidst +a scene quick with home sights and sounds, a strange lack creeps in and +makes itself felt in a dull, aching way. Oddly enough, too, I had a +sense of uneasiness, a 'something going to happen'. I had often +experienced it when out alone in a great forest, or on an unknown lake, +and it always meant 'ware danger' of some kind. But why should I feel it +here? Yet I did, and I couldn't shake it off. I took to examining the +room. It was a commonplace one of the usual type. But there was a +work-basket on the table, a dainty thing, lined with blue satin. There +was a bit of lace stretched over shiny blue linen, with the needle +sticking in it; such fairy work, like cobwebs seen from below, spun from +a branch against a background of sky. A gold thimble, too, with +initials, not the landlady's, I know. What pretty things, too, in the +basket! A scissors, a capital shape for fly-making; a little file, and +some floss silk and tinsel, the identical colour I want for a new fly I +have in my head, one that will be a demon to kill. The northern devil I +mean to call him. Some one looks in behind me, and a light step passes +upstairs. I drop the basket, I don't know why. There are some reviews +near it. I take up one, and am soon buried in an article on Tasmanian +fauna. It is strange, but whenever I do know anything about a subject, +I always find these writing fellows either entirely ignorant or damned +wrong. + +After supper, I took a stroll to see the river. It was a silver grey +evening, with just the last lemon and pink streaks of the sunset +staining the sky. There had been a shower, and somehow the smell of the +dust after rain mingled with the mignonette in the garden brought back +vanished scenes of small-boyhood, when I caught minnows in a bottle, and +dreamt of a shilling rod as happiness unattainable. I turned aside from +the road in accordance with directions, and walked towards the stream. +Holloa! someone before me, what a bore! The angler is hidden by an +elder-bush, but I can see the fly drop delicately, artistically on the +water. Fishing upstream, too! There is a bit of broken water there, and +the midges dance in myriads; a silver gleam, and the line spins out, and +the fly falls just in the right place. It is growing dusk, but the +fellow is an adept at quick, fine casting--I wonder what fly he has +on--why, he's going to try downstream now? I hurry forward, and as I +near him, I swerve to the left out of the way. S-s-s-s! a sudden sting +in the lobe of my ear. Hey! I cry as I find I am caught; the tail fly is +fast in it. A slight, grey-clad woman holding the rod lays it carefully +down and comes towards me through the gathering dusk. My first impulse +is to snap the gut and take to my heels, but I am held by something less +tangible but far more powerful than the grip of the Limerick hook in my +ear. + +'I am very sorry!' she says in a voice that matched the evening, it was +so quiet and soft; 'but it was exceedingly stupid of you to come behind +like that.' + +'I didn't think you threw such a long line; I thought I was safe,' I +stammered. + +'Hold this!' she says, giving me a diminutive fly-book, out of which she +has taken a scissors. I obey meekly. She snips the gut. + +'Have you a sharp knife? If I strip the hook you can push it through; it +is lucky it isn't in the cartilage.' + +I suppose I am an awful idiot, but I only handed her the knife, and she +proceeded as calmly as if stripping a hook in a man's ear were an +everyday occurrence. Her gown is of some soft grey stuff, and her grey +leather belt is silver clasped. Her hands are soft and cool and steady, +but there is a rarely disturbing thrill in their gentle touch. The +thought flashed through my mind that I had just missed that, a woman's +voluntary tender touch, not a paid caress, all my life. + +'Now you can push it through yourself. I hope it won't hurt much.' +Taking the hook, I push it through, and a drop of blood follows it. +'Oh!' she cries, but I assure her it is nothing, and stick the hook +surreptitiously in my coat sleeve. Then we both laugh, and I look at her +for the first time. She has a very white forehead, with little tendrils +of hair blowing round it under her grey cap, her eyes are grey. I didn't +see that then, I only saw they were steady, smiling eyes that matched +her mouth. Such a mouth, the most maddening mouth a man ever longed to +kiss, above a too-pointed chin, soft as a child's; indeed, the whole +face looks soft in the misty light. + +'I am sorry I spoilt your sport!' I say. + +'Oh, that don't matter, it's time to stop. I got two brace, one a +beauty.' + +She is winding in her line, and I look in her basket; they _are_ +beauties, one two-pounder, the rest running from a half to a pound. + +'What fly?' + +'Yellow dun took that one, but your assailant was a partridge spider.' I +sling her basket over my shoulder; she takes it as a matter of course, +and we retrace our steps. I feel curiously happy as we walk towards the +road; there is a novel delight in her nearness; the feel of woman works +subtly and strangely in me; the rustle of her skirt as it brushes the +black-heads in the meadow-grass, and the delicate perfume, partly +violets, partly herself, that comes to me with each of her movements is +a rare pleasure. I am hardly surprised when she turns into the garden of +the inn, I think I knew from the first that she would. + +'Better bathe that ear of yours, and put a few drops of carbolic in the +water.' She takes the basket as she says it, and goes into the kitchen. +I hurry over this, and go into the little sitting-room. There is a tray +with a glass of milk and some oaten cakes upon the table. I am too +disturbed to sit down; I stand at the window and watch the bats flitter +in the gathering moonlight, and listen with quivering nerves for her +step--perhaps she will send for the tray, and not come after all. What a +fool I am to be disturbed by a grey-clad witch with a tantalizing mouth! +That comes of loafing about doing nothing. I mentally darn the old fool +who saved her money instead of spending it. Why the devil should I be +bothered? I don't want it anyhow. She comes in as I fume, and I forget +everything at her entrance. I push the armchair towards the table, and +she sinks quietly into it, pulling the tray nearer. She has a wedding +ring on, but somehow it never strikes me to wonder if she is married or +a widow or who she may be. I am content to watch her break her biscuits. +She has the prettiest hands, and a trick of separating her last fingers +when she takes hold of anything. They remind me of white orchids I saw +somewhere. She led me to talk; about Africa, I think. I liked to watch +her eyes glow deeply in the shadow and then catch light as she bent +forward to say something in her quick responsive way. + +'Long ago when I was a girl,' she said once. + +'Long ago?' I echo incredulously, 'surely not?' + +'Ah, but yes, you haven't seen me in the daylight,' with a soft little +laugh. 'Do you know what the gipsies say? "Never judge a woman or a +ribbon by candle-light." They might have said moonlight equally well.' + +She rises as she speaks, and I feel an overpowering wish to have her put +out her hand. But she does not, she only takes the work-basket and a +book, and says good night with an inclination of her little head. + +I go over and stand next to her chair; I don't like to sit in it, but I +like to put my hand where her head leant, and fancy, if she were there, +how she would look up. + +I woke next morning with a curious sense of pleasurable excitement. I +whistled from very lightness of heart as I dressed. When I got down I +found the landlady clearing away her breakfast things. I felt +disappointed and resolved to be down earlier in future. I didn't feel +inclined to try the minnow. I put them in a tub in the yard and tried to +read and listen for her step. I dined alone. The day dragged terribly. I +did not like to ask about her, I had a notion she might not like it. I +spent the evening on the river. I might have filled a good basket, but I +let the beggars rest. After all, I had caught fish enough to stock all +the rivers in Great Britain. There are other things than trout in the +world. I sit and smoke a pipe where she caught me last night. If I half +close my eyes I can see hers, and her mouth, in the smoke. That is one +of the curious charms of baccy, it helps to reproduce brain pictures. +After a bit, I think 'perhaps she has left'. I get quite feverish at the +thought and hasten back. I must ask. I look up at the window as I pass; +there is surely a gleam of white. I throw down my traps and hasten up. +She is leaning with her arms on the window-ledge staring out into the +gloom. I could swear I caught a suppressed sob as I entered. I cough, +and she turns quickly and bows slightly. A bonnet and gloves and lace +affair and a lot of papers are lying on the table. I am awfully afraid +she is going. I say-- + +'Please don't let me drive you away, it is so early yet. I half expected +to see you on the river.' + +'Nothing so pleasant; I have been up in town (the tears have certainly +got into her voice) all day; it was so hot and dusty, I am tired out.' + +The little servant brings in the lamp and a tray with a bottle of +lemonade. + +'Mistress hasn't any lemons, 'm, will this do?' + +'Yes,' she says wearily, she is shading her eyes with her hand; +'anything; I am fearfully thirsty.' + +'Let me concoct you a drink instead. I have lemons and ice and things. +My man sent me down supplies today; I leave him in town. I am rather a +dab at drinks; I learnt it from the Yankees; about the only thing I did +learn from them I care to remember. Susan!' The little maid helps me to +get the materials, and _she_ watches me quietly. When I give it to her +she takes it with a smile (she _has_ been crying). That is an ample +thank you. She looks quite old. Something more than tiredness called up +those lines in her face. + + * * * * * + +Well, ten days passed, sometimes we met at breakfast, sometimes at +supper, sometimes we fished together or sat in the straggling orchard +and talked; she neither avoided me nor sought me. She is the most +charming mixture of child and woman I ever met. She is a dual creature. +Now I never met that in a man. When she is here without getting a letter +in the morning or going to town, she seems like a girl. She runs about +in her grey gown and little cap and laughs, and seems to throw off all +thought like an irresponsible child. She is eager to fish, or pick +gooseberries and eat them daintily, or sit under the trees and talk. But +when she goes to town--I notice she always goes when she gets a lawyer's +letter, there is no mistaking the envelope--she comes home tired and +haggard-looking, an old woman of thirty-five. I wonder why. It takes +her, even with her elasticity of temperament, nearly a day to get young +again. I hate her to go to town; it is extraordinary how I miss her; I +can't recall, when she is absent, her saying anything very wonderful, +but she converses all the time. She has a gracious way of filling the +place with herself, there is an entertaining quality in her very +presence. We had one rainy afternoon; she tied me some flies (I shan't +use any of them); I watched the lights in her hair as she moved, it is +quite golden in some places, and she has a tiny mole near her left ear +and another on her left wrist. On the eleventh day she got a letter but +she didn't go to town, she stayed up in her room all day; twenty times I +felt inclined to send her a line, but I had no excuse. I heard the +landlady say as I passed the kitchen window: 'Poor dear! I'm sorry to +lose her!' Lose her? I should think not. It has come to this with me +that I don't care to face any future without her; and yet I know nothing +about her, not even if she is a free woman. I shall find that out the +next time I see her. In the evening I catch a glimpse of her gown in the +orchard, and I follow her. We sit down near the river. Her left hand is +lying gloveless next to me in the grass. + +'Do you think from what you have seen of me, that I would ask a question +out of any mere impertinent curiosity?' + +She starts. 'No, I do not!' + +I take up her hand and touch the ring. 'Tell me, does this bind you to +any one?' + +I am conscious of a buzzing in my ears and a dancing blurr of water and +sky and trees, as I wait (it seems to me an hour) for her reply. I felt +the same sensation once before, when I got drawn into some rapids and +had an awfully narrow shave, but of that another time. + +The voice is shaking. + +'I am not legally bound to anyone, at least; but why do you ask?' she +looks me square in the face as she speaks, with a touch of haughtiness +I never saw in her before. + +Perhaps the great relief I feel, the sense of joy at knowing she is +free, speaks out of my face, for hers flushes and she drops her eyes, +her lips tremble. I don't look at her again, but I can see her all the +same. After a while she says-- + +'I half intended to tell you something about myself this evening, now I +_must_. Let us go in. I shall come down to the sitting-room after your +supper.' She takes a long look at the river and the inn, as if fixing +the place in her memory; it strikes me with a chill that there is a +goodbye in her gaze. Her eyes rest on me a moment as they come back, +there is a sad look in their grey clearness. She swings her little grey +gloves in her hand as we walk back. I can hear her walking up and down +overhead; how tired she will be, and how slowly the time goes. I am +standing at one side of the window when she enters; she stands at the +other, leaning her head against the shutter with her hands clasped +before her. I can hear my own heart beating, and, I fancy, hers through +the stillness. The suspense is fearful. At length she says-- + +'You have been a long time out of England; you don't read the papers?' + +'No.' A pause. I believe my heart is beating inside my head. + +'You asked me if I was a free woman. I don't pretend to misunderstand +why you asked me. I am not a beautiful woman, I never was. But there +must be something about me, there is in some women, "essential +femininity" perhaps, that appeals to all men. What I read in your eyes +I have seen in many men's before, but before God I never tried to rouse +it. Today (with a sob), I can say I am free, yesterday morning I could +not. Yesterday my husband gained his case and divorced me!' she closes +her eyes and draws in her under-lip to stop its quivering. I want to +take her in my arms, but I am afraid to. + +'I did not ask you any more than if you were free!' + +'No, but I am afraid you don't quite take in the meaning. I did not +divorce my husband, he divorced _me_, he got a decree _nisi_; do you +understand now? (she is speaking with difficulty), do you know what that +implies?' + +I can't stand her face any longer. I take her hands, they are icy cold, +and hold them tightly. + +'Yes, I know what it implies, that is, I know the legal and social +conclusion to be drawn from it--if that is what you mean. But I never +asked you for that information. I have nothing to do with your past. You +did not exist for me before the day we met on the river. I take you from +that day and I ask you to marry me.' + +I feel her tremble and her hands get suddenly warm. She turns her head +and looks at me long and searchingly, then she says-- + +'Sit down, I want to say something!' + +I obey, and she comes and stands next the chair. I can't help it, I +reach up my arm, but she puts it gently down. + +'No, you must listen without touching me, I shall go back to the +window. I don't want to influence you a bit by any personal magnetism +I possess. I want you to listen--I have told you he divorced me, the +co-respondent was an old friend, a friend of my childhood, of my +girlhood. He died just after the first application was made, luckily for +me. He would have considered my honour before my happiness. _I_ did not +defend the case, it wasn't likely--ah, if you knew all? He proved his +case; given clever counsel, willing witnesses to whom you make it worth +while, and no defence, divorce is always attainable even in England. But +remember: I figure as an adulteress in every English-speaking paper. If +you buy last week's evening papers--do you remember the day I was in +town?'--I nod--'you will see a sketch of me in that day's; someone, +perhaps he, must have given it; it was from an old photograph. I bought +one at Victoria as I came out; it is funny (with an hysterical laugh) to +buy a caricature of one's own poor face at a news-stall. Yet in spite of +that I have felt glad. The point for you is that I made no defence to +the world, and (with a lifting of her head) I will make no apology, no +explanation, no denial to you, now nor ever. I am very desolate and your +attention came very warm to me, but I don't love you. Perhaps I could +learn to (with a rush of colour), for what you have said tonight, and it +is because of that I tell you to weigh what this means. Later, when your +care for me will grow into habit, you may chafe at my past. It is from +that I would save you.' + +I hold out my hands and she comes and puts them aside and takes me by +the beard and turns up my face and scans it earnestly. She must have +been deceived a good deal. I let her do as she pleases, it is the wisest +way with women, and it is good to have her touch me in that way. She +seems satisfied. She stands leaning against the arm of the chair and +says-- + +'I must learn first to think of myself as a free woman again, it almost +seems wrong today to talk like this; can you understand that feeling?' + +I nod assent. + +'Next time I must be sure, and you must be sure,' she lays her fingers +on my mouth as I am about to protest, 'S-sh! You shall have a year to +think. If you repeat then what you have said today, I shall give you +your answer. You must not try to find me. I have money. If I am living, +I will come here to you. If I am dead, you will be told of it. In the +year between I shall look upon myself as belonging to you, and render an +account if you wish of every hour. You will not be influenced by me in +any way, and you will be able to reason it out calmly. If you think +better of it, don't come.' + +I feel there would be no use trying to move her, I simply kiss her hands +and say: + +'As you will, dear woman, I shall be here.' + +We don't say any more; she sits down on a footstool with her head +against my knee, and I just smooth it. When the clocks strike ten +through the house, she rises and I stand up. I see that she has been +crying quietly, poor lonely little soul. I lift her off her feet and +kiss her, and stammer out my sorrow at losing her, and she is gone. Next +morning the little maid brought me an envelope from the lady, who left +by the first train. It held a little grey glove; that is why I carry it +always, and why I haunt the inn and never leave it for longer than a +week; why I sit and dream in the old chair that has a ghost of her +presence always; dream of the spring to come with the May-fly on the +wing, and the young summer when midges dance, and the trout are growing +fastidious; when she will come to me across the meadow grass, through +the silver haze, as she did before; come with her grey eyes shining to +exchange herself for her little grey glove. + + + + +THE WOMAN BEATER + +By Israel Zangwill + +(_The Grey Wig/Stories and Novelettes_, New York: The Macmillan Company, +1903) + + +I + +She came 'to meet John Lefolle', but John Lefolle did not know he was +to meet Winifred Glamorys. He did not even know he was himself the +meeting-point of all the brilliant and beautiful persons, assembled in +the publisher's Saturday Salon, for although a youthful minor poet, he +was modest and lovable. Perhaps his Oxford tutorship was sobering. At +any rate his head remained unturned by his precocious fame, and to meet +these other young men and women--his reverend seniors on the slopes of +Parnassus--gave him more pleasure than the receipt of 'royalties'. Not +that his publisher afforded him much opportunity of contrasting the two +pleasures. The profits of the Muse went to provide this room of old +furniture and roses, this beautiful garden a-twinkle with Japanese +lanterns, like gorgeous fire-flowers blossoming under the white +crescent-moon of early June. + +Winifred Glamorys was not literary herself. She was better than a +poetess, she was a poem. The publisher always threw in a few realities, +and some beautiful brainless creature would generally be found the +nucleus of a crowd, while Clio in spectacles languished in a corner. +Winifred Glamorys, however, was reputed to have a tongue that matched +her eye; paralleling with whimsies and epigrams its freakish fires and +witcheries, and, assuredly, flitting in her white gown through the dark +balmy garden, she seemed the very spirit of moonlight, the subtle +incarnation of night and roses. + +When John Lefolle met her, Cecilia was with her, and the first +conversation was triangular. Cecilia fired most of the shots; she was +a bouncing, rattling beauty, chockful of confidence and high spirits, +except when asked to do the one thing she could do--sing! Then she +became--quite genuinely--a nervous, hesitant, pale little thing. +However, the suppliant hostess bore her off, and presently her rich +contralto notes passed through the garden, adding to its passion and +mystery, and through the open French windows, John could see her +standing against the wall near the piano, her head thrown back, her eyes +half-closed, her creamy throat swelling in the very abandonment of +artistic ecstasy. + +'What a charming creature!' he exclaimed involuntarily. + +'That is what everybody thinks, except her husband,' Winifred laughed. + +'Is he blind then?' asked John with his cloistral _naïveté_. + +'Blind? No, love is blind. Marriage is never blind.' + +The bitterness in her tone pierced John. He felt vaguely the passing of +some icy current from unknown seas of experience. Cecilia's voice soared +out enchantingly. + +'Then, marriage must be deaf,' he said, 'or such music as that would +charm it.' + +She smiled sadly. Her smile was the tricksy play of moonlight among +clouds of faëry. + +'You have never been married,' she said simply. + +'Do you mean that you, too, are neglected?' something impelled him to +exclaim. + +'Worse,' she murmured. + +'It is incredible!' he cried. 'You!' + +'Hush! My husband will hear you.' + +Her warning whisper brought him into a delicious conspiracy with her. +'Which is your husband?' he whispered back. + +'There! Near the casement, standing gazing open-mouthed at Cecilia. He +always opens his mouth when she sings. It is like two toys moved by the +same wire.' + +He looked at the tall, stalwart, ruddy-haired Anglo-Saxon. 'Do you mean +to say he--?' + +'I mean to say nothing.' + +'But you said--' + +'I said "worse".' + +'Why, what can be worse?' + +She put her hand over her face. 'I am ashamed to tell you.' How adorable +was that half-divined blush! + +'But you must tell me everything.' He scarcely knew how he had leapt +into this role of confessor. He only felt they were 'moved by the same +wire'. + +Her head drooped on her breast. 'He--beats--me.' + +'What!' John forgot to whisper. It was the greatest shock his recluse +life had known, compact as it was of horror at the revelation, shamed +confusion at her candour, and delicious pleasure in her confidence. + +This fragile, exquisite creature under the rod of a brutal bully! + +Once he had gone to a wedding reception, and among the serious presents +some grinning Philistine drew his attention to an uncouth club--'a +wife-beater' he called it. The flippancy had jarred upon John terribly: +this intrusive reminder of the customs of the slums. It grated like +Billingsgate in a boudoir. Now that savage weapon recurred to him--for a +lurid instant he saw Winifred's husband wielding it. Oh, abomination of +his sex! And did he stand there, in his immaculate evening dress, posing +as an English gentleman? Even so might some gentleman burglar bear +through a salon his imperturbable swallow-tail. + +Beat a woman! Beat that essence of charm and purity, God's best gift to +man, redeeming him from his own grossness! Could such things be? John +Lefolle would as soon have credited the French legend that English wives +are sold in Smithfield. No! it could not be real that this flower-like +figure was thrashed. + +'Do you mean to say--?' he cried. The rapidity of her confidence alone +made him feel it all of a dreamlike unreality. + +'Hush! Cecilia's singing!' she admonished him with an unexpected smile, +as her fingers fell from her face. + +'Oh, you have been making fun of me.' He was vastly relieved. 'He beats +you--at chess--or at lawn-tennis?' + +'Does one wear a high-necked dress to conceal the traces of chess, or +lawn-tennis?' + +He had not noticed her dress before, save for its spiritual whiteness. +Susceptible though he was to beautiful shoulders, Winifred's enchanting +face had been sufficiently distracting. Now the thought of physical +bruises gave him a second spasm of righteous horror. That delicate +rose-leaf flesh abraded and lacerated! + +'The ruffian! Does he use a stick or a fist?' + +'Both! But as a rule he just takes me by the arms and shakes me like a +terrier a rat. I'm all black and blue now.' + +'Poor butterfly!' he murmured poetically. + +'Why did I tell you?' she murmured back with subtler poetry. + +The poet thrilled in every vein. 'Love at first sight', of which he had +often read and often written, was then a reality! It could be as mutual, +too, as Romeo's and Juliet's. But how awkward that Juliet should be +married and her husband a Bill Sykes in broad-cloth! + + +II + +Mrs. Glamorys herself gave 'At Homes', every Sunday afternoon, and so, on +the morrow, after a sleepless night mitigated by perpended sonnets, the +love-sick young tutor presented himself by invitation at the beautiful +old house in Hampstead. He was enchanted to find his heart's mistress +set in an eighteenth-century frame of small-paned windows and of high +oak-panelling, and at once began to image her dancing minuets and +playing on virginals. Her husband was absent, but a broad band of velvet +round Winifred's neck was a painful reminder of his possibilities. +Winifred, however, said it was only a touch of sore throat caught in the +garden. Her eyes added that there was nothing in the pathological +dictionary which she would not willingly have caught for the sake of +those divine, if draughty moments; but that, alas! it was more than a +mere bodily ailment she had caught there. + +There were a great many visitors in the two delightfully quaint rooms, +among whom he wandered disconsolate and admired, jealous of her +scattered smiles, but presently he found himself seated by her side on +a 'cosy corner' near the open folding-doors, with all the other guests +huddled round a violinist in the inner room. How Winifred had managed it +he did not know but she sat plausibly in the outer room, awaiting +newcomers, and this particular niche was invisible, save to a determined +eye. He took her unresisting hand--that dear, warm hand, with its +begemmed artistic fingers, and held it in uneasy beatitude. How +wonderful! She--the beautiful and adored hostess, of whose sweetness and +charm he heard even her own guests murmur to one another--it was her +actual flesh-and-blood hand that lay in his--thrillingly tangible. Oh, +adventure beyond all merit, beyond all hoping! + +But every now and then, the outer door facing them would open on some +newcomer, and John had hastily to release her soft magnetic fingers and +sit demure, and jealously overhear her effusive welcome to those +innocent intruders, nor did his brow clear till she had shepherded them +within the inner fold. Fortunately, the refreshments were in this +section, so that once therein, few of the sheep strayed back, and the +jiggling wail of the violin was succeeded by a shrill babble of tongues +and the clatter of cups and spoons. 'Get me an ice, please--strawberry,' +she ordered John during one of these forced intervals in manual +flirtation; and when he had steered laboriously to and fro, he found a +young actor beside her in his cosy corner, and his jealous fancy almost +saw _their_ hands dispart. He stood over them with a sickly smile, while +Winifred ate her ice. When he returned from depositing the empty saucer, +the player-fellow was gone, and in remorse for his mad suspicion he +stooped and reverently lifted her fragrant finger-tips to his lips. The +door behind his back opened abruptly. + +'Goodbye,' she said, rising in a flash. The words had the calm +conventional cadence, and instantly extorted from him--amid all his +dazedness--the corresponding 'Goodbye'. When he turned and saw it was Mr. +Glamorys who had come in, his heart leapt wildly at the nearness of his +escape. As he passed this masked ruffian, he nodded perfunctorily and +received a cordial smile. Yes, he was handsome and fascinating enough +externally, this blonde savage. + +'A man may smile and smile and be a villain,' John thought. 'I wonder +how he'd feel, if he knew I knew he beats women.' + +Already John had generalized the charge. 'I hope Cecilia will keep him +at arm's length,' he had said to Winifred, 'if only that she may not +smart for it some day.' + +He lingered purposely in the hall to get an impression of the brute, who +had begun talking loudly to a friend with irritating bursts of laughter, +speciously frank-ringing. Golf, fishing, comic operas--ah, the Boeotian! +These were the men who monopolized the ethereal divinities. + +But this brusque separation from his particular divinity was +disconcerting. How to see her again? He must go up to Oxford in the +morning, he wrote her that night, but if she could possibly let him +call during the week he would manage to run down again. + + * * * * * + +'Oh, my dear, dreaming poet,' she wrote to Oxford, 'how could you +possibly send me a letter to be laid on the breakfast-table beside _The +Times_! With a poem in it, too. Fortunately my husband was in a hurry to +get down to the City, and he neglected to read my correspondence. (The +unchivalrous blackguard,' John commented. 'But what can be expected of a +woman beater?') Never, never write to me again at the house. A letter, +care of Mrs. Best, 8A Foley Street, W.C., will always find me. She is my +maid's mother. And you must not come here either, my dear handsome +head-in-the-clouds, except to my 'At Homes', and then only at judicious +intervals. I shall be walking round the pond in Kensington Gardens at +four next Wednesday, unless Mrs. Best brings me a letter to the contrary. +And now thank you for your delicious poem; I do not recognize my humble +self in the dainty lines, but I shall always be proud to think I +inspired them. Will it be in the new volume? I have never been in print +before; it will be a novel sensation. I cannot pay you song for song, +only feeling for feeling. Oh, John Lefolle, why did we not meet when I +had still my girlish dreams? Now, I have grown to distrust all men--to +fear the brute beneath the cavalier....' + + * * * * * + +Mrs. Best did bring her a letter, but it was not to cancel the +appointment, only to say he was not surprised at her horror of the male +sex, but that she must beware of false generalizations. Life was still a +wonderful and beautiful thing--_vide_ poem enclosed. He was counting the +minutes till Wednesday afternoon. It was surely a popular mistake that +only sixty went to the hour. + +This chronometrical reflection recurred to him even more poignantly in +the hour that he circumambulated the pond in Kensington Gardens. Had she +forgotten--had her husband locked her up? What could have happened? It +seemed six hundred minutes, ere, at ten past five she came tripping +daintily towards him. His brain had been reduced to insanely devising +problems for his pupils--if a man walks two strides of one and a half +feet a second round a lake fifty acres in area, in how many turns will +he overtake a lady who walks half as fast and isn't there?--but the +moment her pink parasol loomed on the horizon, all his long misery +vanished in an ineffable peace and uplifting. He hurried, bare-headed, +to clasp her little gloved hand. He had forgotten her unpunctuality, nor +did she remind him of it. + +'How sweet of you to come all that way,' was all she said, and it was a +sufficient reward for the hours in the train and the six hundred minutes +among the nursemaids and perambulators. The elms were in their glory, +the birds were singing briskly, the water sparkled, the sunlit sward +stretched fresh and green--it was the loveliest, coolest moment of the +afternoon. John instinctively turned down a leafy avenue. Nature and +Love! What more could poet ask? + +'No, we can't have tea by the Kiosk,' Mrs. Glamorys protested. 'Of course +I love anything that savours of Paris, but it's become so fashionable. +There will be heaps of people who know me. I suppose you've forgotten +it's the height of the season. I know a quiet little place in the High +Street.' She led him, unresisting but bemused, towards the gate, and +into a confectioner's. Conversation languished on the way. + +'Tea,' he was about to instruct the pretty attendant. + +'Strawberry ices,' Mrs. Glamorys remarked gently. 'And some of those nice +French cakes.' + +The ice restored his spirits, it was really delicious, and he had got so +hot and tired, pacing round the pond. Decidedly Winifred was a practical +person and he was a dreamer. The pastry he dared not touch--being a +genius--but he was charmed at the gaiety with which Winifred crammed +cake after cake into her rosebud of a mouth. What an enchanting +creature! how bravely she covered up her life's tragedy! + +The thought made him glance at her velvet band--it was broader than +ever. + +'He has beaten you again!' he murmured furiously. Her joyous eyes +saddened, she hung her head, and her fingers crumbled the cake. 'What is +his pretext?' he asked, his blood burning. + +'Jealousy,' she whispered. + +His blood lost its glow, ran cold. He felt the bully's blows on his own +skin, his romance turning suddenly sordid. But he recovered his +courage. He, too, had muscles. 'But I thought he just missed seeing me +kiss your hand.' + +She opened her eyes wide. 'It wasn't you, you darling old dreamer.' + +He was relieved and disturbed in one. + +'Somebody else?' he murmured. Somehow the vision of the player-fellow +came up. + +She nodded. 'Isn't it lucky he has himself drawn a red-herring across +the track? I didn't mind his blows--_you_ were safe!' Then, with one of +her adorable transitions, 'I am dreaming of another ice,' she cried with +roguish wistfulness. + +'I was afraid to confess my own greediness,' he said, laughing. He +beckoned the waitress. 'Two more.' + +'We haven't got any more strawberries,' was her unexpected reply. +'There's been such a run on them today.' + +Winifred's face grew overcast. 'Oh, nonsense!' she pouted. To John the +moment seemed tragic. + +'Won't you have another kind?' he queried. He himself liked any kind, +but he could scarcely eat a second ice without her. + +Winifred meditated. 'Coffee?' she queried. + +The waitress went away and returned with a face as gloomy as Winifred's. +'It's been such a hot day,' she said deprecatingly. 'There is only one +ice in the place and that's Neapolitan.' + +'Well, bring two Neapolitans,' John ventured. + +'I mean there is only one Neapolitan ice left.' + +'Well, bring that. I don't really want one.' + +He watched Mrs. Glamorys daintily devouring the solitary ice, and felt a +certain pathos about the parti-coloured oblong, a something of the +haunting sadness of 'The Last Rose of Summer'. It would make a graceful, +serio-comic triolet, he was thinking. But at the last spoonful, his +beautiful companion dislocated his rhymes by her sudden upspringing. + +'Goodness gracious,' she cried, 'how late it is!' + +'Oh, you're not leaving me yet!' he said. A world of things sprang to +his brain, things that he was going to say--to arrange. They had said +nothing--not a word of their love even; nothing but cakes and ices. + +'Poet!' she laughed. 'Have you forgotten I live at Hampstead?' She +picked up her parasol. + +'Put me into a hansom, or my husband will be raving at his lonely +dinner-table.' + +He was so dazed as to be surprised when the waitress blocked his +departure with a bill. When Winifred was spirited away, he remembered +she might, without much risk, have given him a lift to Paddington. He +hailed another hansom and caught the next train to Oxford. But he was +too late for his own dinner in Hall. + + +III + +He was kept very busy for the next few days, and could only exchange a +passionate letter or two with her. For some time the examination fever +had been raging, and in every college poor patients sat with wet towels +round their heads. Some, who had neglected their tutor all the term, now +strove to absorb his omniscience in a sitting. + +On the Monday, John Lefolle was good-naturedly giving a special audience +to a muscular dunce, trying to explain to him the political effects of +the Crusades, when there was a knock at the sitting-room door, and the +scout ushered in Mrs. Glamorys. She was bewitchingly dressed in white, +and stood in the open doorway, smiling--an embodiment of the summer he +was neglecting. He rose, but his tongue was paralysed. The dunce became +suddenly important--a symbol of the decorum he had been outraging. His +soul, torn so abruptly from history to romance, could not get up the +right emotion. Why this imprudence of Winifred's? She had been so +careful heretofore. + +'What a lot of boots there are on your staircase!' she said gaily. + +He laughed. The spell was broken. 'Yes, the heap to be cleaned is rather +obtrusive,' he said, 'but I suppose it is a sort of tradition.' + +'I think I've got hold of the thing pretty well now, sir.' The dunce +rose and smiled, and his tutor realized how little the dunce had to +learn in some things. He felt quite grateful to him. + +'Oh, well, you'll come and see me again after lunch, won't you, if one +or two points occur to you for elucidation,' he said, feeling vaguely a +liar, and generally guilty. But when, on the departure of the dunce, +Winifred held out her arms, everything fell from him but the sense of +the exquisite moment. Their lips met for the first time, but only for an +instant. He had scarcely time to realize that this wonderful thing had +happened before the mobile creature had darted to his book-shelves and +was examining a Thucydides upside down. + +'How clever to know Greek!' she exclaimed. 'And do you really talk it +with the other dons?' + +'No, we never talk shop,' he laughed. 'But, Winifred, what made you come +here?' + +'I had never seen Oxford. Isn't it beautiful?' + +'There's nothing beautiful _here_,' he said, looking round his sober +study. + +'No,' she admitted; 'there's nothing I care for here,' and had left +another celestial kiss on his lips before he knew it. 'And now you must +take me to lunch and on the river.' + +He stammered, 'I have--work.' + +She pouted. 'But I can't stay beyond tomorrow morning, and I want so +much to see all your celebrated oarsmen practising.' + +'You are not staying over the night?' he gasped. + +'Yes, I am,' and she threw him a dazzling glance. + +His heart went pit-a-pat. 'Where?' he murmured. + +'Oh, some poky little hotel near the station. The swell hotels are +full.' + +He was glad to hear she was not conspicuously quartered. + +'So many people have come down already for Commem,' he said. 'I suppose +they are anxious to see the Generals get their degrees. But hadn't we +better go somewhere and lunch?' + +They went down the stone staircase, past the battalion of boots, and +across the quad. He felt that all the windows were alive with eyes, but +she insisted on standing still and admiring their ivied picturesqueness. +After lunch he shamefacedly borrowed the dunce's punt. The necessities +of punting, which kept him far from her, and demanded much adroit +labour, gradually restored his self-respect, and he was able to look the +uncelebrated oarsmen they met in the eyes, except when they were +accompanied by their parents and sisters, which subtly made him feel +uncomfortable again. But Winifred, piquant under her pink parasol, was +singularly at ease, enraptured with the changing beauty of the river, +applauding with childish glee the wild flowers on the banks, or the +rippling reflections in the water. + +'Look, look!' she cried once, pointing skyward. He stared upwards, +expecting a balloon at least. But it was only 'Keats' little rosy +cloud', she explained. It was not her fault if he did not find the +excursion unreservedly idyllic. + +'How stupid,' she reflected, 'to keep all those nice boys cooped up +reading dead languages in a spot made for life and love.' + +'I'm afraid they don't disturb the dead languages so much as you think,' +he reassured her, smiling. 'And there will be plenty of love-making +during Commem.' + +'I am so glad. I suppose there are lots of engagements that week.' + +'Oh, yes--but not one per cent come to anything.' + +'Really? Oh, how fickle men are!' + +That seemed rather question-begging, but he was so thrilled by the +implicit revelation that she could not even imagine feminine +inconstancy, that he forebore to draw her attention to her inadequate +logic. + +So childish and thoughtless indeed was she that day that nothing would +content her but attending a 'Viva', which he had incautiously informed +her was public. + +'Nobody will notice us,' she urged with strange unconsciousness of her +loveliness. 'Besides, they don't know I'm not your sister.' + +'The Oxford intellect is sceptical,' he said, laughing. 'It cultivates +philosophical doubt.' + +But, putting a bold face on the matter, and assuming a fraternal air, he +took her to the torture-chamber, in which candidates sat dolefully on a +row of chairs against the wall, waiting their turn to come before the +three grand inquisitors at the table. Fortunately, Winifred and he were +the only spectators; but unfortunately they blundered in at the very +moment when the poor owner of the punt was on the rack. The central +inquisitor was trying to extract from him information about Becket, +almost prompting him with the very words, but without penetrating +through the duncical denseness. John Lefolle breathed more freely when +the Crusades were broached; but, alas, it very soon became evident that +the dunce had by no means 'got hold of the thing'. As the dunce passed +out sadly, obviously ploughed, John Lefolle suffered more than he. So +conscience-stricken was he that, when he had accompanied Winifred as +far as her hotel, he refused her invitation to come in, pleading the +compulsoriness of duty and dinner in Hall. But he could not get away +without promising to call in during the evening. + +The prospect of this visit was with him all through dinner, at once +tempting and terrifying. Assuredly there was a skeleton at his feast, as +he sat at the high table, facing the Master. The venerable portraits +round the Hall seemed to rebuke his romantic waywardness. In the +common-room, he sipped his port uneasily, listening as in a daze to the +discussion on Free Will, which an eminent stranger had stirred up. How +academic it seemed, compared with the passionate realities of life. But +somehow he found himself lingering on at the academic discussion, +postponing the realities of life. Every now and again, he was impelled +to glance at his watch; but suddenly murmuring, 'It is very late,' he +pulled himself together, and took leave of his learned brethren. But in +the street the sight of a telegraph office drew his steps to it, and +almost mechanically he wrote out the message: 'Regret detained. Will +call early in morning.' + +When he did call in the morning, he was told she had gone back to London +the night before on receipt of a telegram. He turned away with a bitter +pang of disappointment and regret. + + +IV + +Their subsequent correspondence was only the more amorous. The reason +she had fled from the hotel, she explained, was that she could not +endure the night in those stuffy quarters. He consoled himself with the +hope of seeing much of her during the Long Vacation. He did see her once +at her own reception, but this time her husband wandered about the two +rooms. The cosy corner was impossible, and they could only manage to +gasp out a few mutual endearments amid the buzz and movement, and to +arrange a _rendezvous_ for the end of July. When the day came, he +received a heart-broken letter, stating that her husband had borne her +away to Goodwood. In a postscript she informed him that 'Quicksilver was +a sure thing'. Much correspondence passed without another meeting being +effected, and he lent her five pounds to pay a debt of honour incurred +through her husband's 'absurd confidence in Quicksilver'. A week later +this horsey husband of hers brought her on to Brighton for the races +there, and hither John Lefolle flew. But her husband shadowed her, and +he could only lift his hat to her as they passed each other on the +Lawns. Sometimes he saw her sitting pensively on a chair while her lord +and thrasher perused a pink sporting-paper. Such tantalizing proximity +raised their correspondence through the Hove Post Office to fever heat. +Life apart, they felt, was impossible, and, removed from the sobering +influences of his cap and gown, John Lefolle dreamed of throwing +everything to the winds. His literary reputation had opened out a new +career. The Winifred lyrics alone had brought in a tidy sum, and though +he had expended that and more on despatches of flowers and trifles to +her, yet he felt this extravagance would become extinguished under daily +companionship, and the poems provoked by her charms would go far towards +their daily maintenance. Yes, he could throw up the University. He would +rescue her from this bully, this gentleman bruiser. They would live +openly and nobly in the world's eye. A poet was not even expected to be +conventional. + +She, on her side, was no less ardent for the great step. She raged +against the world's law, the injustice by which a husband's cruelty was +not sufficient ground for divorce. 'But we finer souls must take the law +into our own hands,' she wrote. 'We must teach society that the ethics +of a barbarous age are unfitted for our century of enlightenment.' But +somehow the actual time and place of the elopement could never get +itself fixed. In September her husband dragged her to Scotland, in +October after the pheasants. When the dramatic day was actually fixed, +Winifred wrote by the next post deferring it for a week. Even the few +actual preliminary meetings they planned for Kensington Gardens or +Hampstead Heath rarely came off. He lived in a whirling atmosphere of +express letters of excuse, and telegrams that transformed the situation +from hour to hour. Not that her passion in any way abated, or her +romantic resolution really altered: it was only that her conception of +time and place and ways and means was dizzily mutable. + +But after nigh six months of palpitating negotiations with the adorable +Mrs. Glamorys, the poet, in a moment of dejection, penned the prose +apophthegm, 'It is of no use trying to change a changeable person.' + + +V + +But at last she astonished him by a sketch plan of the elopement, so +detailed, even to band-boxes and the Paris night route _via_ Dieppe, +that no further room for doubt was left in his intoxicated soul, and he +was actually further astonished when, just as he was putting his +hand-bag into the hansom, a telegram was handed to him saying: 'Gone to +Homburg. Letter follows.' + +He stood still for a moment on the pavement in utter distraction. What +did it mean? Had she failed him again? Or was it simply that she had +changed the city of refuge from Paris to Homburg? He was about to name +the new station to the cabman, but then, 'letter follows'. Surely that +meant that he was to wait for it. Perplexed and miserable, he stood with +the telegram crumpled up in his fist. What a ridiculous situation! He +had wrought himself up to the point of breaking with the world and his +past, and now--it only remained to satisfy the cabman! + +He tossed feverishly all night, seeking to soothe himself, but really +exciting himself the more by a hundred plausible explanations. He was +now strung up to such a pitch of uncertainty that he was astonished for +the third time when the 'letter' did duly 'follow'. + + * * * * * + +'Dearest,' it ran, 'as I explained in my telegram, my husband became +suddenly ill'--('if she _had_ only put that in the telegram,' he +groaned)--'and was ordered to Homburg. Of course it was impossible to +leave him in this crisis, both for practical and sentimental reasons. +You yourself, darling, would not like me to have aggravated his illness +by my flight just at this moment, and thus possibly have his death on my +conscience.' ('Darling, you are always right,' he said, kissing the +letter.) 'Let us possess our souls in patience a little longer. I need +not tell you how vexatious it will be to find myself nursing him in +Homburg--out of the season even--instead of the prospect to which I had +looked forward with my whole heart and soul. But what can one do? How +true is the French proverb, 'Nothing happens but the unexpected'! Write +to me immediately _Poste Restante_, that I may at least console myself +with your dear words.' + +The unexpected did indeed happen. Despite draughts of Elizabeth-brunnen +and promenades on the Kurhaus terrace, the stalwart woman beater +succumbed to his malady. The curt telegram from Winifred gave no +indication of her emotions. He sent a reply-telegram of sympathy with +her trouble. Although he could not pretend to grieve at this sudden +providential solution of their life-problem, still he did sincerely +sympathize with the distress inevitable in connection with a death, +especially on foreign soil. + +He was not able to see her till her husband's body had been brought +across the North Sea and committed to the green repose of the old +Hampstead churchyard. He found her pathetically altered--her face wan +and spiritualized, and all in subtle harmony with the exquisite black +gown. In the first interview, he did not dare speak of their love at +all. They discussed the immortality of the soul, and she quoted George +Herbert. But with the weeks the question of their future began to force +its way back to his lips. + +'We could not decently marry before six months,' she said, when +definitely confronted with the problem. + +'Six months!' he gasped. + +'Well, surely you don't want to outrage everybody,' she said, pouting. + +At first he was outraged himself. What! She who had been ready to +flutter the world with a fantastic dance was now measuring her +footsteps. But on reflection he saw that Mrs. Glamorys was right once +more. Since Providence had been good enough to rescue them, why should +they fly in its face? A little patience, and a blameless happiness lay +before them. Let him not blind himself to the immense relief he really +felt at being spared social obloquy. After all, a poet could be +unconventional in his _work_--he had no need of the practical outlet +demanded for the less gifted. + + +VI + +They scarcely met at all during the next six months--it had, naturally, +in this grateful reaction against their recklessness, become a sacred +period, even more charged with tremulous emotion than the engagement +periods of those who have not so nearly scorched themselves. Even in her +presence he found a certain pleasure in combining distant adoration with +the confident expectation of proximity, and thus she was restored to +the sanctity which she had risked by her former easiness. And so all was +for the best in the best of all possible worlds. + +When the six months had gone by, he came to claim her hand. She was +quite astonished. 'You promised to marry me at the end of six months,' +he reminded her. + +'Surely it isn't six months already,' she said. + +He referred her to the calendar, recalled the date of her husband's +death. + +'You are strangely literal for a poet,' she said. 'Of course I _said_ +six months, but six months doesn't mean twenty-six weeks by the clock. +All I meant was that a decent period must intervene. But even to myself +it seems only yesterday that poor Harold was walking beside me in the +Kurhaus Park.' She burst into tears, and in the face of them he could +not pursue the argument. + +Gradually, after several interviews and letters, it was agreed that they +should wait another six months. + +'She _is_ right,' he reflected again. 'We have waited so long, we may as +well wait a little longer and leave malice no handle.' + +The second six months seemed to him much longer than the first. The +charm of respectful adoration had lost its novelty, and once again his +breast was racked by fitful fevers which could scarcely calm themselves +even by conversion into sonnets. The one point of repose was that +shining fixed star of marriage. Still smarting under Winifred's reproach +of his unpoetic literality, he did not intend to force her to marry him +exactly at the end of the twelve-month. But he was determined that she +should have no later than this exact date for at least 'naming the day'. +Not the most punctilious stickler for convention, he felt, could deny +that Mrs. Grundy's claim had been paid to the last minute. + +The publication of his new volume--containing the Winifred lyrics--had +served to colour these months of intolerable delay. Even the reaction of +the critics against his poetry, that conventional revolt against every +second volume, that parrot cry of over-praise from the very throats that +had praised him, though it pained and perplexed him, was perhaps really +helpful. At any rate, the long waiting was over at last. He felt like +Jacob after his years of service for Rachel. + +The fateful morning dawned bright and blue, and, as the towers of +Oxford were left behind him he recalled that distant Saturday when he +had first gone down to meet the literary lights of London in his +publisher's salon. How much older he was now than then--and yet how much +younger! The nebulous melancholy of youth, the clouds of philosophy, had +vanished before this beautiful creature of sunshine whose radiance cut +out a clear line for his future through the confusion of life. + +At a florist's in the High Street of Hampstead he bought a costly +bouquet of white flowers, and walked airily to the house and rang the +bell jubilantly. He could scarcely believe his ears when the maid told +him her mistress was not at home. How dared the girl stare at him so +impassively? Did she not know by what appointment--on what errand--he +had come? Had he not written to her mistress a week ago that he would +present himself that afternoon? + +'Not at home!' he gasped. 'But when will she be home?' + +'I fancy she won't be long. She went out an hour ago, and she has an +appointment with her dressmaker at five.' + +'Do you know in what direction she'd have gone?' + +'Oh, she generally walks on the Heath before tea.' + +The world suddenly grew rosy again. 'I will come back again,' he said. +Yes, a walk in this glorious air--heathward--would do him good. + +As the door shut he remembered he might have left the flowers, but he +would not ring again, and besides, it was, perhaps, better he should +present them with his own hand, than let her find them on the hall +table. Still, it seemed rather awkward to walk about the streets with a +bouquet, and he was glad, accidentally to strike the old Hampstead +Church, and to seek a momentary seclusion in passing through its avenue +of quiet gravestones on his heathward way. + +Mounting the few steps, he paused idly a moment on the verge of this +green 'God's-acre' to read a perpendicular slab on a wall, and his face +broadened into a smile as he followed the absurdly elaborate biography +of a rich, self-made merchant who had taught himself to read, 'Reader, +go thou and do likewise,' was the delicious bull at the end. As he +turned away, the smile still lingering about his lips, he saw a dainty +figure tripping down the stony graveyard path, and though he was somehow +startled to find her still in black, there was no mistaking Mrs. +Glamorys. She ran to meet him with a glad cry, which filled his eyes +with happy tears. + +'How good of you to remember!' she said, as she took the bouquet from +his unresisting hand, and turned again on her footsteps. He followed her +wonderingly across the uneven road towards a narrow aisle of graves on +the left. In another instant she has stooped before a shining white +stone, and laid his bouquet reverently upon it. As he reached her side, +he saw that his flowers were almost lost in the vast mass of floral +offerings with which the grave of the woman beater was bestrewn. + +'How good of you to remember the anniversary,' she murmured again. + +'How could I forget it?' he stammered, astonished. 'Is not this the end +of the terrible twelve-month?' + +The soft gratitude died out of her face. 'Oh, is _that_ what you were +thinking of?' + +'What else?' he murmured, pale with conflicting emotions. + +'What else! I think decency demanded that this day, at least, should be +sacred to his memory. Oh, what brutes men are!' And she burst into +tears. + +His patient breast revolted at last. 'You said _he_ was the brute!' he +retorted, outraged. + +'Is that your chivalry to the dead? Oh, my poor Harold, my poor Harold!' + +For once her tears could not extinguish the flame of his anger. 'But you +told me he beat you,' he cried. + +'And if he did, I dare say I deserved it. Oh, my darling, my darling!' +She laid her face on the stone and sobbed. + +John Lefolle stood by in silent torture. As he helplessly watched her +white throat swell and fall with the sobs, he was suddenly struck by the +absence of the black velvet band--the truer mourning she had worn in the +lifetime of the so lamented. A faint scar, only perceptible to his +conscious eye, added to his painful bewilderment. + +At last she rose and walked unsteadily forward. He followed her in mute +misery. In a moment or two they found themselves on the outskirts of the +deserted heath. How beautiful stretched the gorsy rolling country! The +sun was setting in great burning furrows of gold and green--a panorama +to take one's breath away. The beauty and peace of Nature passed into +the poet's soul. + +'Forgive me, dearest,' he begged, taking her hand. + +She drew it away sharply. 'I cannot forgive you. You have shown yourself +in your true colours.' + +Her unreasonableness angered him again. 'What do you mean? I only came +in accordance with our long-standing arrangement. You have put me off +long enough.' + +'It is fortunate I did put you off long enough to discover what you +are.' + +He gasped. He thought of all the weary months of waiting, all the long +comedy of telegrams and express letters, the far-off flirtations of the +cosy corner, the baffled elopement to Paris. 'Then you won't marry me?' + +'I cannot marry a man I neither love nor respect.' + +'You don't love me!' Her spontaneous kiss in his sober Oxford study +seemed to burn on his angry lips. + +'No, I never loved you.' + +He took her by the arms and turned her round roughly. 'Look me in the +face and dare to say you have never loved me.' + +His memory was buzzing with passionate phrases from her endless letters. +They stung like a swarm of bees. The sunset was like blood-red mist +before his eyes. + +'I have never loved you,' she said obstinately. + +'You--!' His grasp on her arms tightened. He shook her. + +'You are bruising me,' she cried. + +His grasp fell from her arms as though they were red-hot. He had become +a woman beater. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VICTORIAN SHORT STORIES*** + + +******* This file should be named 15381-8.txt or 15381-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/3/8/15381 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Victorian Short Stories + +Author: Various + +Release Date: March 16, 2005 [eBook #15381] +Last Updated: October 13, 2018 + + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VICTORIAN SHORT STORIES*** + + +E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan, and the Project +Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + VICTORIAN SHORT STORIES + </h1> + <h3> + Stories of Courtship + </h3> + <h2> + By Various Authors + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> ANGELA, by William Schwenk Gilbert </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> THE PARSON'S DAUGHTER OF OXNEY COLNE, by Anthony Trollope </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> ANTHONY GARSTIN'S COURTSHIP, by Hubert Crackanthorpe </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> A LITTLE GREY GLOVE, by George Egerton (Mary Chavelita [Dunne] Bright) </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005">THE WOMAN BEATER, by Israel Zangwill </a> + </p> + + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ANGELA + </h2> + <h3> + An Inverted Love Story + </h3> + <p> + By William Schwenk Gilbert + </p> + <p> + (<i>The Century Magazine</i>, September 1890) + </p> + <p> + I am a poor paralysed fellow who, for many years past, has been confined + to a bed or a sofa. For the last six years I have occupied a small room, + giving on to one of the side canals of Venice, and having no one about me + but a deaf old woman, who makes my bed and attends to my food; and there I + eke out a poor income of about thirty pounds a year by making water-colour + drawings of flowers and fruit (they are the cheapest models in Venice), + and these I send to a friend in London, who sells them to a dealer for + small sums. But, on the whole, I am happy and content. + </p> + <p> + It is necessary that I should describe the position of my room rather + minutely. Its only window is about five feet above the water of the canal, + and above it the house projects some six feet, and overhangs the water, + the projecting portion being supported by stout piles driven into the bed + of the canal. This arrangement has the disadvantage (among others) of so + limiting my upward view that I am unable to see more than about ten feet + of the height of the house immediately opposite to me, although, by + reaching as far out of the window as my infirmity will permit, I can see + for a considerable distance up and down the canal, which does not exceed + fifteen feet in width. But, although I can see but little of the material + house opposite, I can see its reflection upside down in the canal, and I + take a good deal of inverted interest in such of its inhabitants as show + themselves from time to time (always upside down) on its balconies and at + its windows. + </p> + <p> + When I first occupied my room, about six years ago, my attention was + directed to the reflection of a little girl of thirteen or so (as nearly + as I could judge), who passed every day on a balcony just above the upward + range of my limited field of view. She had a glass of flowers and a + crucifix on a little table by her side; and as she sat there, in fine + weather, from early morning until dark, working assiduously all the time, + I concluded that she earned her living by needle-work. She was certainly + an industrious little girl, and, as far as I could judge by her + upside-down reflection, neat in her dress and pretty. She had an old + mother, an invalid, who, on warm days, would sit on the balcony with her, + and it interested me to see the little maid wrap the old lady in shawls, + and bring pillows for her chair, and a stool for her feet, and every now + and again lay down her work and kiss and fondle the old lady for half a + minute, and then take up her work again. + </p> + <p> + Time went by, and as the little maid grew up, her reflection grew down, + and at last she was quite a little woman of, I suppose, sixteen or + seventeen. I can only work for a couple of hours or so in the brightest + part of the day, so I had plenty of time on my hands in which to watch her + movements, and sufficient imagination to weave a little romance about her, + and to endow her with a beauty which, to a great extent, I had to take for + granted. I saw—or fancied that I could see—that she began to + take an interest in <i>my</i> reflection (which, of course, she could see + as I could see hers); and one day, when it appeared to me that she was + looking right at it—that is to say when her reflection appeared to + be looking right at me—I tried the desperate experiment of nodding + to her, and to my intense delight her reflection nodded in reply. And so + our two reflections became known to one another. + </p> + <p> + It did not take me very long to fall in love with her, but a long time + passed before I could make up my mind to do more than nod to her every + morning, when the old woman moved me from my bed to the sofa at the + window, and again in the evening, when the little maid left the balcony + for that day. One day, however, when I saw her reflection looking at mine, + I nodded to her, and threw a flower into the canal. She nodded several + times in return, and I saw her direct her mother's attention to the + incident. Then every morning I threw a flower into the water for 'good + morning', and another in the evening for 'goodnight', and I soon + discovered that I had not altogether thrown them in vain, for one day she + threw a flower to join mine, and she laughed and clapped her hands when + she saw the two flowers join forces and float away together. And then + every morning and every evening she threw her flower when I threw mine, + and when the two flowers met she clapped her hands, and so did I; but when + they were separated, as they sometimes were, owing to one of them having + met an obstruction which did not catch the other, she threw up her hands + in a pretty affectation of despair, which I tried to imitate but in an + English and unsuccessful fashion. And when they were rudely run down by a + passing gondola (which happened not unfrequently) she pretended to cry, + and I did the same. Then, in pretty pantomime, she would point downwards + to the sky to tell me that it was Destiny that had caused the shipwreck of + our flowers, and I, in pantomime, not nearly so pretty, would try to + convey to her that Destiny would be kinder next time, and that perhaps + tomorrow our flowers would be more fortunate—and so the innocent + courtship went on. One day she showed me her crucifix and kissed it, and + thereupon I took a little silver crucifix that always stood by me, and + kissed that, and so she knew that we were one in religion. + </p> + <p> + One day the little maid did not appear on her balcony, and for several + days I saw nothing of her; and although I threw my flowers as usual, no + flower came to keep it company. However, after a time, she reappeared, + dressed in black, and crying often, and then I knew that the poor child's + mother was dead, and, as far as I knew, she was alone in the world. The + flowers came no more for many days, nor did she show any sign of + recognition, but kept her eyes on her work, except when she placed her + handkerchief to them. And opposite to her was the old lady's chair, and I + could see that, from time to time, she would lay down her work and gaze at + it, and then a flood of tears would come to her relief. But at last one + day she roused herself to nod to me, and then her flower came, day by day, + and my flower went forth to join it, and with varying fortunes the two + flowers sailed away as of yore. + </p> + <p> + But the darkest day of all to me was when a good-looking young gondolier, + standing right end uppermost in his gondola (for I could see <i>him</i> in + the flesh), worked his craft alongside the house, and stood talking to her + as she sat on the balcony. They seemed to speak as old friends—indeed, + as well as I could make out, he held her by the hand during the whole of + their interview which lasted quite half an hour. Eventually he pushed off, + and left my heart heavy within me. But I soon took heart of grace, for as + soon as he was out of sight, the little maid threw two flowers growing on + the same stem—an allegory of which I could make nothing, until it + broke upon me that she meant to convey to me that he and she were brother + and sister, and that I had no cause to be sad. And thereupon I nodded to + her cheerily, and she nodded to me, and laughed aloud, and I laughed in + return, and all went on again as before. + </p> + <p> + Then came a dark and dreary time, for it became necessary that I should + undergo treatment that confined me absolutely to my bed for many days, and + I worried and fretted to think that the little maid and I should see each + other no longer, and worse still, that she would think that I had gone + away without even hinting to her that I was going. And I lay awake at + night wondering how I could let her know the truth, and fifty plans + flitted through my brain, all appearing to be feasible enough at night, + but absolutely wild and impracticable in the morning. One day—and it + was a bright day indeed for me—the old woman who tended me told me + that a gondolier had inquired whether the English signor had gone away or + had died; and so I learnt that the little maid had been anxious about me, + and that she had sent her brother to inquire, and the brother had no doubt + taken to her the reason of my protracted absence from the window. + </p> + <p> + From that day, and ever after during my three weeks of bed-keeping, a + flower was found every morning on the ledge of my window, which was within + easy reach of anyone in a boat; and when at last a day came when I could + be moved, I took my accustomed place on my sofa at the window, and the + little maid saw me, and stood on her head (so to speak) and clapped her + hands upside down with a delight that was as eloquent as my right-end-up + delight could be. And so the first time the gondolier passed my window I + beckoned to him, and he pushed alongside, and told me, with many bright + smiles, that he was glad indeed to see me well again. Then I thanked him + and his sister for their many kind thoughts about me during my retreat, + and I then learnt from him that her name was Angela, and that she was the + best and purest maiden in all Venice, and that anyone might think himself + happy indeed who could call her sister, but that he was happier even than + her brother, for he was to be married to her, and indeed they were to be + married the next day. + </p> + <p> + Thereupon my heart seemed to swell to bursting, and the blood rushed + through my veins so that I could hear it and nothing else for a while. I + managed at last to stammer forth some words of awkward congratulation, and + he left me, singing merrily, after asking permission to bring his bride to + see me on the morrow as they returned from church. + </p> + <p> + 'For', said he, 'my Angela has known you very long—ever since she + was a child, and she has often spoken to me of the poor Englishman who was + a good Catholic, and who lay all day long for years and years on a sofa at + a window, and she had said over and over again how dearly she wished she + could speak to him and comfort him; and one day, when you threw a flower + into the canal, she asked me whether she might throw another, and I told + her yes, for he would understand that it meant sympathy for one sorely + afflicted.' + </p> + <p> + And so I learned that it was pity, and not love, except indeed such love + as is akin to pity, that prompted her to interest herself in my welfare, + and there was an end of it all. + </p> + <p> + For the two flowers that I thought were on one stem were two flowers tied + together (but I could not tell that), and they were meant to indicate that + she and the gondolier were affianced lovers, and my expressed pleasure at + this symbol delighted her, for she took it to mean that I rejoiced in her + happiness. + </p> + <p> + And the next day the gondolier came with a train of other gondoliers, all + decked in their holiday garb, and on his gondola sat Angela, happy, and + blushing at her happiness. Then he and she entered the house in which I + dwelt, and came into my room (and it was strange indeed, after so many + years of inversion, to see her with her head above her feet!), and then + she wished me happiness and a speedy restoration to good health (which + could never be); and I in broken words and with tears in my eyes, gave her + the little silver crucifix that had stood by my bed or my table for so + many years. And Angela took it reverently, and crossed herself, and kissed + it, and so departed with her delighted husband. + </p> + <p> + And as I heard the song of the gondoliers as they went their way—the + song dying away in the distance as the shadows of the sundown closed + around me—I felt that they were singing the requiem of the only love + that had ever entered my heart. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE PARSON'S DAUGHTER OF OXNEY COLNE + </h2> + <h3> + By Anthony Trollope + </h3> + <p> + (<i>London Review</i>, 2 March 1861) + </p> + <p> + The prettiest scenery in all England—and if I am contradicted in + that assertion, I will say in all Europe—is in Devonshire, on the + southern and southeastern skirts of Dartmoor, where the rivers Dart and + Avon and Teign form themselves, and where the broken moor is half + cultivated, and the wild-looking uplands fields are half moor. In making + this assertion I am often met with much doubt, but it is by persons who do + not really know the locality. Men and women talk to me on the matter who + have travelled down the line of railway from Exeter to Plymouth, who have + spent a fortnight at Torquay, and perhaps made an excursion from Tavistock + to the convict prison on Dartmoor. But who knows the glories of Chagford? + Who has walked through the parish of Manaton? Who is conversant with + Lustleigh Cleeves and Withycombe in the moor? Who has explored Holne + Chase? Gentle reader, believe me that you will be rash in contradicting me + unless you have done these things. + </p> + <p> + There or thereabouts—I will not say by the waters of which little + river it is washed—is the parish of Oxney Colne. And for those who + would wish to see all the beauties of this lovely country a sojourn in + Oxney Colne would be most desirable, seeing that the sojourner would then + be brought nearer to all that he would delight to visit, than at any other + spot in the country. But there is an objection to any such arrangement. + There are only two decent houses in the whole parish, and these are—or + were when I knew the locality—small and fully occupied by their + possessors. The larger and better is the parsonage in which lived the + parson and his daughter; and the smaller is the freehold residence of a + certain Miss Le Smyrger, who owned a farm of a hundred acres which was + rented by one Farmer Cloysey, and who also possessed some thirty acres + round her own house which she managed herself, regarding herself to be + quite as great in cream as Mr. Cloysey, and altogether superior to him in + the article of cider. 'But yeu has to pay no rent, Miss,' Farmer Cloysey + would say, when Miss Le Smyrger expressed this opinion of her art in a + manner too defiant. 'Yeu pays no rent, or yeu couldn't do it.' Miss Le + Smyrger was an old maid, with a pedigree and blood of her own, a hundred + and thirty acres of fee-simple land on the borders of Dartmoor, fifty + years of age, a constitution of iron, and an opinion of her own on every + subject under the sun. + </p> + <p> + And now for the parson and his daughter. The parson's name was Woolsworthy—or + Woolathy as it was pronounced by all those who lived around him—the + Rev. Saul Woolsworthy; and his daughter was Patience Woolsworthy, or Miss + Patty, as she was known to the Devonshire world of those parts. That name + of Patience had not been well chosen for her for she was a hot-tempered + damsel, warm in her convictions, and inclined to express them freely. She + had but two closely intimate friends in the world, and by both of them + this freedom of expression had been fully permitted to her since she was a + child. Miss Le Smyrger and her father were well accustomed to her ways, + and on the whole well satisfied with them. The former was equally free and + equally warm-tempered as herself, and as Mr. Woolsworthy was allowed by + his daughter to be quite paramount on his own subject—for he had a + subject—he did not object to his daughter being paramount on all + others. A pretty girl was Patience Woolsworthy at the time of which I am + writing, and one who possessed much that was worthy of remark and + admiration had she lived where beauty meets with admiration, or where + force of character is remarked. But at Oxney Colne, on the borders of + Dartmoor, there were few to appreciate her, and it seemed as though she + herself had but little idea of carrying her talent further afield, so that + it might not remain for ever wrapped in a blanket. + </p> + <p> + She was a pretty girl, tall and slender, with dark eyes and black hair. + Her eyes were perhaps too round for regular beauty, and her hair was + perhaps too crisp; her mouth was large and expressive; her nose was finely + formed, though a critic in female form might have declared it to be + somewhat broad. But her countenance altogether was very attractive—if + only it might be seen without that resolution for dominion which + occasionally marred it, though sometimes it even added to her attractions. + </p> + <p> + It must be confessed on behalf of Patience Woolsworthy that the + circumstances of her life had peremptorily called upon her to exercise + dominion. She had lost her mother when she was sixteen, and had had + neither brother nor sister. She had no neighbours near her fit either from + education or rank to interfere in the conduct of her life, excepting + always Miss Le Smyrger. Miss Le Smyrger would have done anything for her, + including the whole management of her morals and of the parsonage + household, had Patience been content with such an arrangement. But much as + Patience had ever loved Miss Le Smyrger, she was not content with this, + and therefore she had been called on to put forth a strong hand of her + own. She had put forth this strong hand early, and hence had come the + character which I am attempting to describe. But I must say on behalf of + this girl that it was not only over others that she thus exercised + dominion. In acquiring that power she had also acquired the much greater + power of exercising rule over herself. + </p> + <p> + But why should her father have been ignored in these family arrangements? + Perhaps it may almost suffice to say, that of all living men her father + was the man best conversant with the antiquities of the county in which he + lived. He was the Jonathan Oldbuck of Devonshire, and especially of + Dartmoor,—but without that decision of character which enabled + Oldbuck to keep his womenkind in some kind of subjection, and probably + enabled him also to see that his weekly bill did not pass their proper + limits. Our Mr. Oldbuck, of Oxney Colne, was sadly deficient in these + respects. As a parish pastor with but a small cure he did his duty with + sufficient energy to keep him, at any rate, from reproach. He was kind and + charitable to the poor, punctual in his services, forbearing with the + farmers around him, mild with his brother clergymen, and indifferent to + aught that bishop or archdeacon might think or say of him. I do not name + this latter attribute as a virtue, but as a fact. But all these points + were as nothing in the known character of Mr. Woolsworthy, of Oxney Colne. + He was the antiquarian of Dartmoor. That was his line of life. It was in + that capacity that he was known to the Devonshire world; it was as such + that he journeyed about with his humble carpetbag, staying away from his + parsonage a night or two at a time; it was in that character that he + received now and again stray visitors in the single spare bedroom—not + friends asked to see him and his girl because of their friendship—but + men who knew something as to this buried stone, or that old land-mark. In + all these things his daughter let him have his own way, assisting and + encouraging him. That was his line of life, and therefore she respected + it. But in all other matters she chose to be paramount at the parsonage. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Woolsworthy was a little man, who always wore, except on Sundays, grey + clothes—clothes of so light a grey that they would hardly have been + regarded as clerical in a district less remote. He had now reached a + goodly age, being full seventy years old; but still he was wiry and + active, and shewed but few symptoms of decay. His head was bald, and the + few remaining locks that surrounded it were nearly white. But there was a + look of energy about his mouth, and a humour in his light grey eye, which + forbade those who knew him to regard him altogether as an old man. As it + was, he could walk from Oxney Colne to Priestown, fifteen long Devonshire + miles across the moor; and he who could do that could hardly be regarded + as too old for work. + </p> + <p> + But our present story will have more to do with his daughter than with + him. A pretty girl, I have said, was Patience Woolsworthy; and one, too, + in many ways remarkable. She had taken her outlook into life, weighing the + things which she had and those which she had not, in a manner very + unusual, and, as a rule, not always desirable for a young lady. The things + which she had not were very many. She had not society; she had not a + fortune; she had not any assurance of future means of livelihood; she had + not high hope of procuring for herself a position in life by marriage; she + had not that excitement and pleasure in life which she read of in such + books as found their way down to Oxney Colne Parsonage. It would be easy + to add to the list of the things which she had not; and this list against + herself she made out with the utmost vigour. The things which she had, or + those rather which she assured herself of having, were much more easily + counted. She had the birth and education of a lady, the strength of a + healthy woman, and a will of her own. Such was the list as she made it out + for herself, and I protest that I assert no more than the truth in saying + that she never added to it either beauty, wit, or talent. + </p> + <p> + I began these descriptions by saying that Oxney Colne would, of all + places, be the best spot from which a tourist could visit those parts of + Devonshire, but for the fact that he could obtain there none of the + accommodation which tourists require. A brother antiquarian might, + perhaps, in those days have done so, seeing that there was, as I have + said, a spare bedroom at the parsonage. Any intimate friend of Miss Le + Smyrger's might be as fortunate, for she was also so provided at Oxney + Colne, by which name her house was known. But Miss Le Smyrger was not + given to extensive hospitality, and it was only to those who were bound to + her, either by ties of blood or of very old friendship, that she delighted + to open her doors. As her old friends were very few in number, as those + few lived at a distance, and as her nearest relations were higher in the + world than she was, and were said by herself to look down upon her, the + visits made to Oxney Colne were few and far between. + </p> + <p> + But now, at the period of which I am writing, such a visit was about to be + made. Miss Le Smyrger had a younger sister who had inherited a property in + the parish of Oxney Colne equal to that of the lady who lived there; but + this younger sister had inherited beauty also, and she therefore, in early + life, had found sundry lovers, one of whom became her husband. She had + married a man even then well to do in the world, but now rich and almost + mighty; a Member of Parliament, a Lord of this and that board, a man who + had a house in Eaton Square, and a park in the north of England; and in + this way her course of life had been very much divided from that of our + Miss Le Smyrger. But the Lord of the Government board had been blessed + with various children, and perhaps it was now thought expedient to look + after Aunt Penelope's Devonshire acres. Aunt Penelope was empowered to + leave them to whom she pleased; and though it was thought in Eaton Square + that she must, as a matter of course, leave them to one of the family, + nevertheless a little cousinly intercourse might make the thing more + certain. I will not say that this was the sole cause for such a visit, but + in these days a visit was to be made by Captain Broughton to his aunt. Now + Captain John Broughton was the second son of Alfonso Broughton, of Clapham + Park and Eaton Square, Member of Parliament, and Lord of the aforesaid + Government Board. + </p> + <p> + And what do you mean to do with him? Patience Woolsworthy asked of Miss Le + Smyrger when that lady walked over from the Colne to say that her nephew + John was to arrive on the following morning. + </p> + <p> + 'Do with him? Why, I shall bring him over here to talk to your father.' + </p> + <p> + 'He'll be too fashionable for that, and papa won't trouble his head about + him if he finds that he doesn't care for Dartmoor.' + </p> + <p> + 'Then he may fall in love with you, my dear.' + </p> + <p> + 'Well, yes; there's that resource at any rate, and for your sake I dare + say I should be more civil to him than papa. But he'll soon get tired of + making love to me, and what you'll do then I cannot imagine.' + </p> + <p> + That Miss Woolsworthy felt no interest in the coming of the Captain I will + not pretend to say. The advent of any stranger with whom she would be + called on to associate must be matter of interest to her in that secluded + place; and she was not so absolutely unlike other young ladies that the + arrival of an unmarried young man would be the same to her as the advent + of some patriarchal pater-familias. In taking that outlook into life of + which I have spoken she had never said to herself that she despised those + things from which other girls received the excitement, the joys, and the + disappointment of their lives. She had simply given herself to understand + that very little of such things would come in her way, and that it behoved + her to live—to live happily if such might be possible—without + experiencing the need of them. She had heard, when there was no thought of + any such visit to Oxney Colne, that John Broughton was a handsome clever + man—one who thought much of himself and was thought much of by + others—that there had been some talk of his marrying a great + heiress, which marriage, however had not taken place through unwillingness + on his part, and that he was on the whole a man of more mark in the world + than the ordinary captains of ordinary regiments. + </p> + <p> + Captain Broughton came to Oxney Colne, stayed there a fortnight—the + intended period for his projected visit having been fixed at three or four + days—and then went his way. He went his way back to his London + haunts, the time of the year then being the close of the Easter holy-days; + but as he did so he told his aunt that he should assuredly return to her + in the autumn. + </p> + <p> + 'And assuredly I shall be happy to see you, John—if you come with a + certain purpose. If you have no such purpose, you had better remain away.' + </p> + <p> + 'I shall assuredly come,' the Captain had replied, and then he had gone on + his journey. + </p> + <p> + The summer passed rapidly by, and very little was said between Miss Le + Smyrger and Miss Woolsworthy about Captain Broughton. In many respects—nay, + I may say, as to all ordinary matters,—no two women could well be + more intimate with each other than they were; and more than that, they had + the courage each to talk to the other with absolute truth as to things + concerning themselves—a courage in which dear friends often fail. + But, nevertheless, very little was said between them about Captain John + Broughton. All that was said may be here repeated. + </p> + <p> + 'John says that he shall return here in August,' Miss Le Smyrger said as + Patience was sitting with her in the parlour at Oxney Colne, on the + morning after that gentleman's departure. + </p> + <p> + 'He told me so himself,' said Patience; and as she spoke her round dark + eyes assumed a look of more than ordinary self-will. If Miss Le Smyrger + had intended to carry the conversation any further she changed her mind as + she looked at her companion. Then, as I said, the summer ran by, and + towards the close of the warm days of July, Miss Le Smyrger, sitting in + the same chair in the same room, again took up the conversation. + </p> + <p> + 'I got a letter from John this morning. He says that he shall be here on + the third.' + </p> + <p> + 'Does he?' + </p> + <p> + 'He is very punctual to the time he named.' + </p> + <p> + 'Yes; I fancy that he is a punctual man,' said Patience. + </p> + <p> + 'I hope that you will be glad to see him,' said Miss Le Smyrger. + </p> + <p> + 'Very glad to see him,' said Patience, with a bold clear voice; and then + the conversation was again dropped, and nothing further was said till + after Captain Broughton's second arrival in the parish. + </p> + <p> + Four months had then passed since his departure, and during that time Miss + Woolsworthy had performed all her usual daily duties in their accustomed + course. No one could discover that she had been less careful in her + household matters than had been her wont, less willing to go among her + poor neighbours, or less assiduous in her attentions to her father. But + not the less was there a feeling in the minds of those around her that + some great change had come upon her. She would sit during the long summer + evenings on a certain spot outside the parsonage orchard, at the top of a + small sloping field in which their solitary cow was always pastured, with + a book on her knees before her, but rarely reading. There she would sit, + with the beautiful view down to the winding river below her, watching the + setting sun, and thinking, thinking, thinking—thinking of something + of which she had never spoken. Often would Miss Le Smyrger come upon her + there, and sometimes would pass her even without a word; but never—never + once did she dare to ask of the matter of her thoughts. But she knew the + matter well enough. No confession was necessary to inform her that + Patience Woolsworthy was in love with John Broughton—ay, in love, to + the full and entire loss of her whole heart. + </p> + <p> + On one evening she was so sitting till the July sun had fallen and hidden + himself for the night, when her father came upon her as he returned from + one of his rambles on the moor. 'Patty,' he said, 'you are always sitting + there now. Is it not late? Will you not be cold?' + </p> + <p> + 'No papa,' she said, 'I shall not be cold.' + </p> + <p> + 'But won't you come to the house? I miss you when you come in so late that + there's no time to say a word before we go to bed.' + </p> + <p> + She got up and followed him into the parsonage, and when they were in the + sitting-room together, and the door was closed, she came up to him and + kissed him. 'Papa,' she said, 'would it make you very unhappy if I were to + leave you?' + </p> + <p> + 'Leave me!' he said, startled by the serious and almost solemn tone of her + voice. 'Do you mean for always?' + </p> + <p> + 'If I were to marry, papa?' + </p> + <p> + 'Oh, marry! No; that would not make me unhappy. It would make me very + happy, Patty, to see you married to a man you would love;—very, very + happy; though my days would be desolate without you.' + </p> + <p> + 'That is it, papa. What would you do if I went from you?' + </p> + <p> + 'What would it matter, Patty? I should be free, at any rate, from a load + which often presses heavy on me now. What will you do when I shall leave + you? A few more years and all will be over with me. But who is it, love? + Has anybody said anything to you?' + </p> + <p> + 'It was only an idea, papa. I don't often think of such a thing; but I did + think of it then.' And so the subject was allowed to pass by. This had + happened before the day of the second arrival had been absolutely fixed + and made known to Miss Woolsworthy. + </p> + <p> + And then that second arrival took place. The reader may have understood + from the words with which Miss Le Smyrger authorized her nephew to make + his second visit to Oxney Colne that Miss Woolsworthy's passion was not + altogether unauthorized. Captain Broughton had been told that he was not + to come unless he came with a certain purpose; and having been so told, he + still persisted in coming. There can be no doubt but that he well + understood the purport to which his aunt alluded. 'I shall assuredly + come,' he had said. And true to his word, he was now there. + </p> + <p> + Patience knew exactly the hour at which he must arrive at the station at + Newton Abbot, and the time also which it would take to travel over those + twelve up-hill miles from the station to Oxney. It need hardly be said + that she paid no visit to Miss Le Smyrger's house on that afternoon; but + she might have known something of Captain Broughton's approach without + going thither. His road to the Colne passed by the parsonage-gate, and had + Patience sat even at her bedroom window she must have seen him. But on + such an evening she would not sit at her bedroom window;—she would + do nothing which would force her to accuse herself of a restless longing + for her lover's coming. It was for him to seek her. If he chose to do so, + he knew the way to the parsonage. + </p> + <p> + Miss Le Smyrger—good, dear, honest, hearty Miss Le Smyrger, was in a + fever of anxiety on behalf of her friend. It was not that she wished her + nephew to marry Patience,—or rather that she had entertained any + such wish when he first came among them. She was not given to + match-making, and moreover thought, or had thought within herself, that + they of Oxney Colne could do very well without any admixture from Eaton + Square. Her plan of life had been that when old Mr. Woolsworthy was taken + away from Dartmoor, Patience should live with her, and that when she also + shuffled off her coil, then Patience Woolsworthy should be the + maiden-mistress of Oxney Colne—of Oxney Colne and of Mr. Cloysey's + farm—to the utter detriment of all the Broughtons. Such had been her + plan before nephew John had come among them—a plan not to be spoken + of till the coming of that dark day which should make Patience an orphan. + But now her nephew had been there, and all was to be altered. Miss Le + Smyrger's plan would have provided a companion for her old age; but that + had not been her chief object. She had thought more of Patience than of + herself, and now it seemed that a prospect of a higher happiness was + opening for her friend. + </p> + <p> + 'John,' she said, as soon as the first greetings were over, 'do you + remember the last words that I said to you before you went away?' Now, for + myself, I much admire Miss Le Smyrger's heartiness, but I do not think + much of her discretion. It would have been better, perhaps, had she + allowed things to take their course. + </p> + <p> + 'I can't say that I do,' said the Captain. At the same time the Captain + did remember very well what those last words had been. + </p> + <p> + 'I am so glad to see you, so delighted to see you, if—if—if—,' + and then she paused, for with all her courage she hardly dared to ask her + nephew whether he had come there with the express purport of asking Miss + Woolsworthy to marry him. + </p> + <p> + To tell the truth—for there is no room for mystery within the limits + of this short story,—to tell, I say, at a word the plain and simple + truth, Captain Broughton had already asked that question. On the day + before he left Oxney Colne he had in set terms proposed to the parson's + daughter, and indeed the words, the hot and frequent words, which + previously to that had fallen like sweetest honey into the ears of + Patience Woolsworthy, had made it imperative on him to do so. When a man + in such a place as that has talked to a girl of love day after day, must + not he talk of it to some definite purpose on the day on which he leaves + her? Or if he do not, must he not submit to be regarded as false, selfish, + and almost fraudulent? Captain Broughton, however, had asked the question + honestly and truly. He had done so honestly and truly, but in words, or, + perhaps, simply with a tone, that had hardly sufficed to satisfy the proud + spirit of the girl he loved. She by that time had confessed to herself + that she loved him with all her heart; but she had made no such confession + to him. To him she had spoken no word, granted no favour, that any lover + might rightfully regard as a token of love returned. She had listened to + him as he spoke, and bade him keep such sayings for the drawing-rooms of + his fashionable friends. Then he had spoken out and had asked for that + hand,—not, perhaps, as a suitor tremulous with hope,—but as a + rich man who knows that he can command that which he desires to purchase. + </p> + <p> + 'You should think more of this,' she had said to him at last. 'If you + would really have me for your wife, it will not be much to you to return + here again when time for thinking of it shall have passed by.' With these + words she had dismissed him, and now he had again come back to Oxney + Colne. But still she would not place herself at the window to look for + him, nor dress herself in other than her simple morning country dress, nor + omit one item of her daily work. If he wished to take her at all, he + should wish to take her as she really was, in her plain country life, but + he should take her also with full observance of all those privileges which + maidens are allowed to claim from their lovers. He should curtail no + ceremonious observance because she was the daughter of a poor country + parson who would come to him without a shilling, whereas he stood high in + the world's books. He had asked her to give him all that she had, and that + all she was ready to give, without stint. But the gift must be valued + before it could be given or received. He also was to give her as much, and + she would accept it as being beyond all price. But she would not allow + that that which was offered to her was in any degree the more precious + because of his outward worldly standing. + </p> + <p> + She would not pretend to herself that she thought he would come to her + that afternoon, and therefore she busied herself in the kitchen and about + the house, giving directions to her two maids as though the day would pass + as all other days did pass in that household. They usually dined at four, + and she rarely, in these summer months, went far from the house before + that hour. At four precisely she sat down with her father, and then said + that she was going up as far as Helpholme after dinner. Helpholme was a + solitary farmhouse in another parish, on the border of the moor, and Mr. + Woolsworthy asked her whether he should accompany her. + </p> + <p> + 'Do, papa,' she said, 'if you are not too tired.' And yet she had thought + how probable it might be that she should meet John Broughton on her walk. + And so it was arranged; but, just as dinner was over, Mr. Woolsworthy + remembered himself. + </p> + <p> + 'Gracious me,' he said, 'how my memory is going! Gribbles, from Ivybridge, + and old John Poulter, from Bovey, are coming to meet here by appointment. + You can't put Helpholme off till tomorrow?' + </p> + <p> + Patience, however, never put off anything, and therefore at six o'clock, + when her father had finished his slender modicum of toddy, she tied on her + hat and went on her walk. She started forth with a quick step, and left no + word to say by which route she would go. As she passed up along the little + lane which led towards Oxney Colne she would not even look to see if he + was coming towards her; and when she left the road, passing over a stone + stile into a little path which ran first through the upland fields, and + then across the moor ground towards Helpholme, she did not look back once, + or listen for his coming step. + </p> + <p> + She paid her visit, remaining upwards of an hour with the old bedridden + mother of the farmer of Helpholme. 'God bless you, my darling!' said the + old lady as she left her; 'and send you someone to make your own path + bright and happy through the world.' These words were still ringing in her + ears with all their significance as she saw John Broughton waiting for her + at the first stile which she had to pass after leaving the farmer's + haggard. + </p> + <p> + 'Patty,' he said, as he took her hand, and held it close within both his + own, 'what a chase I have had after you!' + </p> + <p> + 'And who asked you, Captain Broughton?' she answered, smiling. 'If the + journey was too much for your poor London strength, could you not have + waited till tomorrow morning, when you would have found me at the + parsonage?' But she did not draw her hand away from him, or in any way + pretend that he had not a right to accost her as a lover. + </p> + <p> + 'No, I could not wait. I am more eager to see those I love than you seem + to be.' + </p> + <p> + 'How do you know whom I love, or how eager I might be to see them? There + is an old woman there whom I love, and I have thought nothing of this walk + with the object of seeing her.' And now, slowly drawing her hand away from + him, she pointed to the farmhouse which she had left. + </p> + <p> + 'Patty,' he said, after a minute's pause, during which she had looked full + into his face with all the force of her bright eyes; 'I have come from + London today, straight down here to Oxney, and from my aunt's house close + upon your footsteps after you to ask you that one question. Do you love + me?' + </p> + <p> + 'What a Hercules?' she said, again laughing. 'Do you really mean that you + left London only this morning? Why, you must have been five hours in a + railway carriage and two in a post-chaise, not to talk of the walk + afterwards. You ought to take more care of yourself, Captain Broughton!' + </p> + <p> + He would have been angry with her,—for he did not like to be + quizzed,—had she not put her hand on his arm as she spoke, and the + softness of her touch had redeemed the offence of her words. + </p> + <p> + 'All that have I done,' said he, 'that I may hear one word from you.' + </p> + <p> + 'That any word of mine should have such potency! But, let us walk on, or + my father will take us for some of the standing stones of the moor. How + have you found your aunt? If you only knew the cares that have sat on her + dear shoulders for the last week past, in order that your high mightyness + might have a sufficiency to eat and drink in these desolate half-starved + regions.' + </p> + <p> + 'She might have saved herself such anxiety. No one can care less for such + things than I do.' + </p> + <p> + 'And yet I think I have heard you boast of the cook of your club.' And + then again there was silence for a minute or two. + </p> + <p> + 'Patty,' said he, stopping again in the path; 'answer my question. I have + a right to demand an answer. Do you love me?' + </p> + <p> + 'And what if I do? What if I have been so silly as to allow your + perfections to be too many for my weak heart? What then, Captain + Broughton?' + </p> + <p> + 'It cannot be that you love me, or you would not joke now.' + </p> + <p> + 'Perhaps not, indeed,' she said. It seemed as though she were resolved not + to yield an inch in her own humour. And then again they walked on. + </p> + <p> + 'Patty,' he said once more, 'I shall get an answer from you tonight,—this + evening; now, during this walk, or I shall return tomorrow, and never + revisit this spot again.' + </p> + <p> + 'Oh, Captain Broughton, how should we ever manage to live without you?' + </p> + <p> + 'Very well,' he said; 'up to the end of this walk I can bear it all;—and + one word spoken then will mend it all.' + </p> + <p> + During the whole of this time she felt that she was ill-using him. She + knew that she loved him with all her heart; that it would nearly kill her + to part with him; that she had heard his renewed offer with an ecstasy of + joy. She acknowledged to herself that he was giving proof of his devotion + as strong as any which a girl could receive from her lover. And yet she + could hardly bring herself to say the word he longed to hear. That word + once said, and then she knew that she must succumb to her love for ever! + That word once said, and there would be nothing for her but to spoil him + with her idolatry! That word once said, and she must continue to repeat it + into his ears, till perhaps he might be tired of hearing it! And now he + had threatened her, and how could she speak it after that? She certainly + would not speak it unless he asked her again without such threat. And so + they walked on again in silence. + </p> + <p> + 'Patty,' he said at last. 'By the heavens above us you shall answer me. Do + you love me?' + </p> + <p> + She now stood still, and almost trembled as she looked up into his face. + She stood opposite to him for a moment, and then placing her two hands on + his shoulders, she answered him. 'I do, I do, I do,' she said, 'with all + my heart; with all my heart—with all my heart and strength.' And + then her head fell upon his breast. + </p> + <p> + Captain Broughton was almost as much surprised as delighted by the warmth + of the acknowledgment made by the eager-hearted passionate girl whom he + now held within his arms. She had said it now; the words had been spoken; + and there was nothing for her but to swear to him over and over again with + her sweetest oaths, that those words were true—true as her soul. And + very sweet was the walk down from thence to the parsonage gate. He spoke + no more of the distance of the ground, or the length of his day's journey. + But he stopped her at every turn that he might press her arm the closer to + his own, that he might look into the brightness of her eyes, and prolong + his hour of delight. There were no more gibes now on her tongue, no + raillery at his London finery, no laughing comments on his coming and + going. With downright honesty she told him everything: how she had loved + him before her heart was warranted in such a passion; how, with much + thinking, she had resolved that it would be unwise to take him at his + first word, and had thought it better that he should return to London, and + then think over it; how she had almost repented of her courage when she + had feared, during those long summer days, that he would forget her; and + how her heart had leapt for joy when her old friend had told her that he + was coming. + </p> + <p> + 'And yet,' said he, 'you were not glad to see me!' + </p> + <p> + 'Oh, was I not glad? You cannot understand the feelings of a girl who has + lived secluded as I have done. Glad is no word for the joy I felt. But it + was not seeing you that I cared for so much. It was the knowledge that you + were near me once again. I almost wish now that I had not seen you till + tomorrow.' But as she spoke she pressed his arm, and this caress gave the + lie to her last words. + </p> + <p> + 'No, do not come in tonight,' she said, when she reached the little wicket + that led up the parsonage. 'Indeed you shall not. I could not behave + myself properly if you did.' + </p> + <p> + 'But I don't want you to behave properly.' + </p> + <p> + 'Oh! I am to keep that for London, am I? But, nevertheless, Captain + Broughton, I will not invite you either to tea or to supper tonight.' + </p> + <p> + 'Surely I may shake hands with your father.' + </p> + <p> + 'Not tonight—not till—. John, I may tell him, may I not? I + must tell him at once.' + </p> + <p> + 'Certainly,' said he. + </p> + <p> + 'And then you shall see him tomorrow. Let me see—at what hour shall + I bid you come?' + </p> + <p> + 'To breakfast.' + </p> + <p> + 'No, indeed. What on earth would your aunt do with her broiled turkey and + the cold pie? I have got no cold pie for you.' + </p> + <p> + 'I hate cold pie.' + </p> + <p> + 'What a pity! But, John, I should be forced to leave you directly after + breakfast. Come down—come down at two, or three; and then I will go + back with you to Aunt Penelope. I must see her tomorrow.' And so at last + the matter was settled, and the happy Captain, as he left her, was hardly + resisted in his attempt to press her lips to his own. + </p> + <p> + When she entered the parlour in which her father was sitting, there still + were Gribbles and Poulter discussing some knotty point of Devon lore. So + Patience took off her hat, and sat herself down, waiting till they should + go. For full an hour she had to wait, and then Gribbles and Poulter did + go. But it was not in such matters as this that Patience Woolsworthy was + impatient. She could wait, and wait, and wait, curbing herself for weeks + and months, while the thing waited for was in her eyes good; but she could + not curb her hot thoughts or her hot words when things came to be + discussed which she did not think to be good. + </p> + <p> + 'Papa,' she said, when Gribbles' long-drawn last word had been spoken at + the door. 'Do you remember how I asked you the other day what you would + say if I were to leave you?' + </p> + <p> + 'Yes, surely,' he replied, looking up at her in astonishment. + </p> + <p> + 'I am going to leave you now,' she said. 'Dear, dearest father, how am I + to go from you?' + </p> + <p> + 'Going to leave me,' said he, thinking of her visit to Helpholme, and + thinking of nothing else. + </p> + <p> + Now there had been a story about Helpholme. That bedridden old lady there + had a stalwart son, who was now the owner of the Helpholme pastures. But + though owner in fee of all those wild acres and of the cattle which they + supported, he was not much above the farmers around him, either in manners + or education. He had his merits, however; for he was honest, well to do in + the world, and modest withal. How strong love had grown up, springing from + neighbourly kindness, between our Patience and his mother, it needs not + here to tell; but rising from it had come another love—or an + ambition which might have grown to love. The young man, after much + thought, had not dared to speak to Miss Woolsworthy, but he had sent a + message by Miss Le Smyrger. If there could be any hope for him, he would + present himself as a suitor—on trial. He did not owe a shilling in + the world, and had money by him—saved. He wouldn't ask the parson + for a shilling of fortune. Such had been the tenor of his message, and + Miss Le Smyrger had delivered it faithfully. 'He does not mean it,' + Patience had said with her stern voice. 'Indeed he does, my dear. You may + be sure he is in earnest,' Miss Le Smyrger had replied; 'and there is not + an honester man in these parts.' + </p> + <p> + 'Tell him,' said Patience, not attending to the latter portion of her + friend's last speech, 'that it cannot be,—make him understand, you + know—and tell him also that the matter shall be thought of no more.' + The matter had, at any rate, been spoken of no more, but the young farmer + still remained a bachelor, and Helpholme still wanted a mistress. But all + this came back upon the parson's mind when his daughter told him that she + was about to leave him. + </p> + <p> + 'Yes, dearest,' she said; and as she spoke, she now knelt at his knees. 'I + have been asked in marriage, and I have given myself away.' + </p> + <p> + 'Well, my love, if you will be happy—' + </p> + <p> + 'I hope I shall; I think I shall. But you, papa?' + </p> + <p> + 'You will not be far from us.' + </p> + <p> + 'Oh, yes; in London.' + </p> + <p> + 'In London.' + </p> + <p> + 'Captain Broughton lives in London generally.' + </p> + <p> + 'And has Captain Broughton asked you to marry him?' + </p> + <p> + 'Yes, papa—who else? Is he not good? Will you not love him? Oh, + papa, do not say that I am wrong to love him?' + </p> + <p> + He never told her his mistake, or explained to her that he had not thought + it possible that the high-placed son of the London great man shall have + fallen in love with his undowered daughter; but he embraced her, and told + her, with all his enthusiasm, that he rejoiced in her joy, and would be + happy in her happiness. 'My own Patty,' he said, 'I have ever known that + you were too good for this life of ours here.' And then the evening wore + away into the night, with many tears but still with much happiness. + </p> + <p> + Captain Broughton, as he walked back to Oxney Colne, made up his mind that + he would say nothing on the matter to his aunt till the next morning. He + wanted to think over it all, and to think it over, if possible, by + himself. He had taken a step in life, the most important that a man is + ever called on to take, and he had to reflect whether or no he had taken + it with wisdom. + </p> + <p> + 'Have you seen her?' said Miss Le Smyrger, very anxiously, when he came + into the drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + 'Miss Woolsworthy you mean,' said he. 'Yes, I've seen her. As I found her + out I took a long walk and happened to meet her. Do you know, aunt, I + think I'll go to bed; I was up at five this morning, and have been on the + move ever since.' + </p> + <p> + Miss Le Smyrger perceived that she was to hear nothing that evening, so + she handed him his candlestick and allowed him to go to his room. + </p> + <p> + But Captain Broughton did not immediately retire to bed, nor when he did + so was he able to sleep at once. Had this step that he had taken been a + wise one? He was not a man who, in worldly matters, had allowed things to + arrange themselves for him, as is the case with so many men. He had formed + views for himself, and had a theory of life. Money for money's sake he had + declared to himself to be bad. Money, as a concomitant to things which + were in themselves good, he had declared to himself to be good also. That + concomitant in this affair of his marriage, he had now missed. Well; he + had made up his mind to that, and would put up with the loss. He had means + of living of his own, though means not so extensive as might have been + desirable. That it would be well for him to become a married man, looking + merely to that state of life as opposed to his present state, he had fully + resolved. On that point, therefore, there was nothing to repent. That + Patty Woolsworthy was good, affectionate, clever, and beautiful, he was + sufficiently satisfied. It would be odd indeed if he were not so satisfied + now, seeing that for the last four months he had declared to himself daily + that she was so with many inward asseverations. And yet though he repeated + now again that he was satisfied, I do not think that he was so fully + satisfied of it as he had been throughout the whole of those four months. + It is sad to say so, but I fear—I fear that such was the case. When + you have your plaything how much of the anticipated pleasure vanishes, + especially if it have been won easily! + </p> + <p> + He had told none of his family what were his intentions in this second + visit to Devonshire, and now he had to bethink himself whether they would + be satisfied. What would his sister say, she who had married the + Honourable Augustus Gumbleton, gold-stick-in-waiting to Her Majesty's + Privy Council? Would she receive Patience with open arms, and make much of + her about London? And then how far would London suit Patience, or would + Patience suit London? There would be much for him to do in teaching her, + and it would be well for him to set about the lesson without loss of time. + So far he got that night, but when the morning came he went a step + further, and began mentally to criticize her manner to himself. It had + been very sweet, that warm, that full, that ready declaration of love. + Yes; it had been very sweet; but—but—; when, after her little + jokes, she did confess her love, had she not been a little too free for + feminine excellence? A man likes to be told that he is loved, but he + hardly wishes that the girl he is to marry should fling herself at his + head! + </p> + <p> + Ah me! yes; it was thus he argued to himself as on that morning he went + through the arrangements of his toilet. 'Then he was a brute,' you say, my + pretty reader. I have never said that he was not a brute. But this I + remark, that many such brutes are to be met with in the beaten paths of + the world's high highway. When Patience Woolsworthy had answered him + coldly, bidding him go back to London and think over his love; while it + seemed from her manner that at any rate as yet she did not care for him; + while he was absent from her, and, therefore, longing for her, the + possession of her charms, her talent, and bright honesty of purpose had + seemed to him a thing most desirable. Now they were his own. They had, in + fact, been his own from the first. The heart of this country-bred girl had + fallen at the first word from his mouth. Had she not so confessed to him? + She was very nice,—very nice indeed. He loved her dearly. But had he + not sold himself too cheaply? + </p> + <p> + I by no means say that he was not a brute. But whether brute or no he was + an honest man, and had no remotest dream, either then, on that morning, or + during the following days on which such thoughts pressed more thickly on + his mind—of breaking away from his pledged word. At breakfast on + that morning he told all to Miss Le Smyrger, and that lady, with warm and + gracious intentions, confided to him her purpose regarding her property. + 'I have always regarded Patience as my heir,' she said, 'and shall do so + still.' + </p> + <p> + 'Oh, indeed,' said Captain Broughton. + </p> + <p> + 'But it is a great, great pleasure to me to think that she will give back + the little property to my sister's child. You will have your mother's, and + thus it will all come together again.' + </p> + <p> + 'Ah!' said Captain Broughton. He had his own ideas about property, and did + not, even under existing circumstances, like to hear that his aunt + considered herself at liberty to leave the acres away to one who was by + blood quite a stranger to the family. + </p> + <p> + 'Does Patience know of this?' he asked. + </p> + <p> + 'Not a word,' said Miss Le Smyrger. And then nothing more was said upon + the subject. + </p> + <p> + On that afternoon he went down and received the parson's benediction and + congratulations with a good grace. Patience said very little on the + occasion, and indeed was absent during the greater part of the interview. + The two lovers then walked up to Oxney Colne, and there were more + benedictions and more congratulations. 'All went merry as a marriage + bell', at any rate as far as Patience was concerned. Not a word had yet + fallen from that dear mouth, not a look had yet come over that handsome + face, which tended in any way to mar her bliss. Her first day of + acknowledged love was a day altogether happy, and when she prayed for him + as she knelt beside her bed there was no feeling in her mind that any fear + need disturb her joy. + </p> + <p> + I will pass over the next three or four days very quickly, merely saying + that Patience did not find them so pleasant as that first day after her + engagement. There was something in her lover's manner—something + which at first she could not define—which by degrees seemed to grate + against her feelings. He was sufficiently affectionate, that being a + matter on which she did not require much demonstration; but joined to his + affection there seemed to be—; she hardly liked to suggest to + herself a harsh word, but could it be possible that he was beginning to + think that she was not good enough for him? And then she asked herself the + question—was she good enough for him? If there were doubt about + that, the match should be broken off, though she tore her own heart out in + the struggle. The truth, however, was this,—that he had begun that + teaching which he had already found to be so necessary. Now, had any one + essayed to teach Patience German or mathematics, with that young lady's + free consent, I believe that she would have been found a meek scholar. But + it was not probable that she would be meek when she found a self-appointed + tutor teaching her manners and conduct without her consent. + </p> + <p> + So matters went on for four or five days, and on the evening of the fifth + day, Captain Broughton and his aunt drank tea at the parsonage. Nothing + very especial occurred; but as the parson and Miss Le Smyrger insisted on + playing backgammon with devoted perseverance during the whole evening, + Broughton had a good opportunity of saying a word or two about those + changes in his lady-love which a life in London would require—and + some word he said also—some single slight word, as to the higher + station in life to which he would exalt his bride. Patience bore it—for + her father and Miss Le Smyrger were in the room—she bore it well, + speaking no syllable of anger, and enduring, for the moment, the implied + scorn of the old parsonage. Then the evening broke up, and Captain + Broughton walked back to Oxney Colne with his aunt. 'Patty,' her father + said to her before they went to bed, 'he seems to me to be a most + excellent young man.' 'Dear papa,' she answered, kissing him. 'And + terribly deep in love,' said Mr. Woolsworthy. 'Oh, I don't know about + that,' she answered, as she left him with her sweetest smile. But though + she could thus smile at her father's joke, she had already made up her + mind that there was still something to be learned as to her promised + husband before she could place herself altogether in his hands. She would + ask him whether he thought himself liable to injury from this proposed + marriage; and though he should deny any such thought, she would know from + the manner of his denial what his true feelings were. + </p> + <p> + And he, too, on that night, during his silent walk with Miss Le Smyrger, + had entertained some similar thoughts. 'I fear she is obstinate', he had + said to himself, and then he had half accused her of being sullen also. + 'If that be her temper, what a life of misery I have before me!' + </p> + <p> + 'Have you fixed a day yet?' his aunt asked him as they came near to her + house. + </p> + <p> + 'No, not yet; I don't know whether it will suit me to fix it before I + leave.' + </p> + <p> + 'Why, it was but the other day you were in such a hurry.' + </p> + <p> + 'Ah—yes-I have thought more about it since then.' + </p> + <p> + 'I should have imagined that this would depend on what Patty thinks,' said + Miss Le Smyrger, standing up for the privileges of her sex. 'It is + presumed that the gentleman is always ready as soon as the lady will + consent.' + </p> + <p> + 'Yes, in ordinary cases it is so; but when a girl is taken out of her own + sphere—' + </p> + <p> + 'Her own sphere! Let me caution you, Master John, not to talk to Patty + about her own sphere.' + </p> + <p> + 'Aunt Penelope, as Patience is to be my wife and not yours, I must claim + permission to speak to her on such subjects as may seem suitable to me.' + And then they parted—not in the best humour with each other. + </p> + <p> + On the following day Captain Broughton and Miss Woolsworthy did not meet + till the evening. She had said, before those few ill-omened words had + passed her lover's lips, that she would probably be at Miss Le Smyrger's + house on the following morning. Those ill-omened words did pass her + lover's lips, and then she remained at home. This did not come from + sullenness, nor even from anger, but from a conviction that it would be + well that she should think much before she met him again. Nor was he + anxious to hurry a meeting. His thought—his base thought—was + this; that she would be sure to come up to the Colne after him; but she + did not come, and therefore in the evening he went down to her, and asked + her to walk with him. + </p> + <p> + They went away by the path that led by Helpholme, and little was said + between them till they had walked some mile together. Patience, as she + went along the path, remembered almost to the letter the sweet words which + had greeted her ears as she came down that way with him on the night of + his arrival; but he remembered nothing of that sweetness then. Had he not + made an ass of himself during these last six months? That was the thought + which very much had possession of his mind. + </p> + <p> + 'Patience,' he said at last, having hitherto spoken only an indifferent + word now and again since they had left the parsonage, 'Patience, I hope + you realize the importance of the step which you and I are about to take?' + </p> + <p> + 'Of course I do,' she answered: 'what an odd question that is for you to + ask!' + </p> + <p> + 'Because,' said he, 'sometimes I almost doubt it. It seems to me as though + you thought you could remove yourself from here to your new home with no + more trouble than when you go from home up to the Colne.' + </p> + <p> + 'Is that meant for a reproach, John?' + </p> + <p> + 'No, not for a reproach, but for advice. Certainly not for a reproach.' + </p> + <p> + 'I am glad of that.' + </p> + <p> + 'But I should wish to make you think how great is the leap in the world + which you are about to take.' Then again they walked on for many steps + before she answered him. + </p> + <p> + 'Tell me, then, John,' she said, when she had sufficiently considered what + words she would speak;—and as she spoke a dark bright colour + suffused her face, and her eyes flashed almost with anger. 'What leap do + you mean? Do you mean a leap upwards?' + </p> + <p> + 'Well, yes; I hope it will be so.' + </p> + <p> + 'In one sense, certainly, it would be a leap upwards. To be the wife of + the man I loved; to have the privilege of holding his happiness in my + hand; to know that I was his own—the companion whom he had chosen + out of all the world—that would, indeed, be a leap upward; a leap + almost to heaven, if all that were so. But if you mean upwards in any + other sense—' + </p> + <p> + 'I was thinking of the social scale.' + </p> + <p> + 'Then, Captain Broughton, your thoughts were doing me dishonour.' + </p> + <p> + 'Doing you dishonour!' + </p> + <p> + 'Yes, doing me dishonour. That your father is, in the world's esteem, a + greater man than mine is doubtless true enough. That you, as a man, are + richer than I am as a woman is doubtless also true. But you dishonour me, + and yourself also, if these things can weigh with you now.' + </p> + <p> + 'Patience,—I think you can hardly know what words you are saying to + me.' + </p> + <p> + 'Pardon me, but I think I do. Nothing that you can give me—no gifts + of that description—can weigh aught against that which I am giving + you. If you had all the wealth and rank of the greatest lord in the land, + it would count as nothing in such a scale. If—as I have not doubted—if + in return for my heart you have given me yours, then—then—then, + you have paid me fully. But when gifts such as those are going, nothing + else can count even as a make-weight.' + </p> + <p> + 'I do not quite understand you,' he answered, after a pause. 'I fear you + are a little high-flown.' And then, while the evening was still early, + they walked back to the parsonage almost without another word. + </p> + <p> + Captain Broughton at this time had only one more full day to remain at + Oxney Colne. On the afternoon following that he was to go as far as + Exeter, and thence return to London. Of course it was to be expected, that + the wedding day would be fixed before he went, and much had been said + about it during the first day or two of his engagement. Then he had + pressed for an early time, and Patience, with a girl's usual diffidence, + had asked for some little delay. But now nothing was said on the subject; + and how was it probable that such a matter could be settled after such a + conversation as that which I have related? That evening, Miss Le Smyrger + asked whether the day had been fixed. 'No,' said Captain Broughton + harshly; 'nothing has been fixed.' 'But it will be arranged before you + go.' 'Probably not,' he said; and then the subject was dropped for the + time. + </p> + <p> + 'John,' she said, just before she went to bed, 'if there be anything wrong + between you and Patience, I conjure you to tell me.' + </p> + <p> + 'You had better ask her,' he replied. 'I can tell you nothing.' + </p> + <p> + On the following morning he was much surprised by seeing Patience on the + gravel path before Miss Le Smyrger's gate immediately after breakfast. He + went to the door to open it for her, and she, as she gave him her hand, + told him that she came up to speak to him. There was no hesitation in her + manner, nor any look of anger in her face. But there was in her gait and + form, in her voice and countenance, a fixedness of purpose which he had + never seen before, or at any rate had never acknowledged. + </p> + <p> + 'Certainly,' said he. 'Shall I come out with you, or will you come + upstairs?' + </p> + <p> + 'We can sit down in the summer-house,' she said; and thither they both + went. + </p> + <p> + 'Captain Broughton,' she said—and she began her task the moment that + they were both seated—'You and I have engaged ourselves as man and + wife, but perhaps we have been over rash.' + </p> + <p> + 'How so?' said he. + </p> + <p> + 'It may be—and indeed I will say more—it is the case that we + have made this engagement without knowing enough of each other's + character.' + </p> + <p> + 'I have not thought so.' + </p> + <p> + 'The time will perhaps come when you will so think, but for the sake of + all that we most value, let it come before it is too late. What would be + our fate—how terrible would be our misery, if such a thought should + come to either of us after we have linked our lots together.' + </p> + <p> + There was a solemnity about her as she thus spoke which almost repressed + him,—which for a time did prevent him from taking that tone of + authority which on such a subject he would choose to adopt. But he + recovered himself. 'I hardly think that this comes well from you,' he + said. + </p> + <p> + 'From whom else should it come? Who else can fight my battle for me; and, + John, who else can fight that same battle on your behalf? I tell you this, + that with your mind standing towards me as it does stand at present you + could not give me your hand at the altar with true words and a happy + conscience. Is it not true? You have half repented of your bargain + already. Is it not so?' + </p> + <p> + He did not answer her; but getting up from his seat walked to the front of + the summer-house, and stood there with his back turned upon her. It was + not that he meant to be ungracious, but in truth he did not know how to + answer her. He had half repented of his bargain. + </p> + <p> + 'John,' she said, getting up and following him so that she could put her + hand upon his arm, 'I have been very angry with you.' + </p> + <p> + 'Angry with me!' he said, turning sharp upon her. + </p> + <p> + 'Yes, angry with you. You would have treated me like a child. But that + feeling has gone now. I am not angry now. There is my hand;—the hand + of a friend. Let the words that have been spoken between us be as though + they had not been spoken. Let us both be free.' + </p> + <p> + 'Do you mean it?' he asked. + </p> + <p> + 'Certainly I mean it.' As she spoke these words her eyes were filled with + tears in spite of all the efforts she could make to restrain them; but he + was not looking at her, and her efforts had sufficed to prevent any sob + from being audible. + </p> + <p> + 'With all my heart,' he said; and it was manifest from his tone that he + had no thought of her happiness as he spoke. It was true that she had been + angry with him—angry, as she had herself declared; but nevertheless, + in what she had said and what she had done, she had thought more of his + happiness than of her own. Now she was angry once again. + </p> + <p> + 'With all your heart, Captain Broughton! Well, so be it. If with all your + heart, then is the necessity so much the greater. You go tomorrow. Shall + we say farewell now?' + </p> + <p> + 'Patience, I am not going to be lectured.' + </p> + <p> + 'Certainly not by me. Shall we say farewell now?' + </p> + <p> + 'Yes, if you are determined.' + </p> + <p> + 'I am determined. Farewell, Captain Broughton. You have all my wishes for + your happiness.' And she held out her hand to him. + </p> + <p> + 'Patience!' he said. And he looked at her with a dark frown, as though he + would strive to frighten her into submission. If so, he might have saved + himself any such attempt. + </p> + <p> + 'Farewell, Captain Broughton. Give me your hand, for I cannot stay.' He + gave her his hand, hardly knowing why he did so. She lifted it to her lips + and kissed it, and then, leaving him, passed from the summer-house down + through the wicket-gate, and straight home to the parsonage. + </p> + <p> + During the whole of that day she said no word to anyone of what had + occurred. When she was once more at home she went about her household + affairs as she had done on that day of his arrival. When she sat down to + dinner with her father he observed nothing to make him think that she was + unhappy, nor during the evening was there any expression in her face, or + any tone in her voice, which excited his attention. On the following + morning Captain Broughton called at the parsonage, and the servant-girl + brought word to her mistress that he was in the parlour. But she would not + see him. 'Laws miss, you ain't a quarrelled with your beau?' the poor girl + said. 'No, not quarrelled,' she said; 'but give him that.' It was a scrap + of paper containing a word or two in pencil. 'It is better that we should + not meet again. God bless you.' And from that day to this, now more than + ten years, they have never met. + </p> + <p> + 'Papa,' she said to her father that afternoon, 'dear papa, do not be angry + with me. It is all over between me and John Broughton. Dearest, you and I + will not be separated.' + </p> + <p> + It would be useless here to tell how great was the old man's surprise and + how true his sorrow. As the tale was told to him no cause was given for + anger with anyone. Not a word was spoken against the suitor who had on + that day returned to London with a full conviction that now at least he + was relieved from his engagement. 'Patty, my darling child,' he said, 'may + God grant that it be for the best!' + </p> + <p> + 'It is for the best,' she answered stoutly. 'For this place I am fit; and + I much doubt whether I am fit for any other.' + </p> + <p> + On that day she did not see Miss Le Smyrger, but on the following morning, + knowing that Captain Broughton had gone off,—having heard the wheels + of the carriage as they passed by the parsonage gate on his way to the + station,—she walked up to the Colne. + </p> + <p> + 'He has told you, I suppose?' said she. + </p> + <p> + 'Yes,' said Miss Le Smyrger. 'And I will never see him again unless he + asks your pardon on his knees. I have told him so. I would not even give + him my hand as he went.' + </p> + <p> + 'But why so, thou kindest one? The fault was mine more than his.' + </p> + <p> + 'I understand. I have eyes in my head,' said the old maid. 'I have watched + him for the last four or five days. If you could have kept the truth to + yourself and bade him keep off from you, he would have been at your feet + now, licking the dust from your shoes.' + </p> + <p> + 'But, dear friend, I do not want a man to lick dust from my shoes.' + </p> + <p> + 'Ah, you are a fool. You do not know the value of your own wealth.' + </p> + <p> + 'True; I have been a fool. I was a fool to think that one coming from such + a life as he has led could be happy with such as I am. I know the truth + now. I have bought the lesson dearly—but perhaps not too dearly, + seeing that it will never be forgotten.' + </p> + <p> + There was but little more said about the matter between our three friends + at Oxney Colne. What, indeed, could be said? Miss Le Smyrger for a year or + two still expected that her nephew would return and claim his bride; but + he has never done so, nor has there been any correspondence between them. + Patience Woolsworthy had learned her lesson dearly. She had given her + whole heart to the man; and, though she so bore herself that no one was + aware of the violence of the struggle, nevertheless the struggle within + her bosom was very violent. She never told herself that she had done + wrong; she never regretted her loss; but yet—yet!—the loss was + very hard to bear. He also had loved her, but he was not capable of a love + which could much injure his daily peace. Her daily peace was gone for many + a day to come. + </p> + <p> + Her father is still living; but there is a curate now in the parish. In + conjunction with him and with Miss Le Smyrger she spends her time in the + concerns of the parish. In her own eyes she is a confirmed old maid; and + such is my opinion also. The romance of her life was played out in that + summer. She never sits now lonely on the hillside thinking how much she + might do for one whom she really loved. But with a large heart she loves + many, and, with no romance, she works hard to lighten the burdens of those + she loves. + </p> + <p> + As for Captain Broughton, all the world knows that he did marry that great + heiress with whom his name was once before connected, and that he is now a + useful member of Parliament, working on committees three or four days a + week with zeal that is indefatigable. Sometimes, not often, as he thinks + of Patience Woolsworthy a smile comes across his face. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ANTHONY GARSTIN'S COURTSHIP + </h2> + <h3> + By Hubert Crackanthorpe + </h3> + <p> + (<i>Savoy</i>, July 1896) + </p> + <h3> + I + </h3> + <p> + A stampede of huddled sheep, wildly scampering over the slaty shingle, + emerged from the leaden mist that muffled the fell-top, and a shrill + shepherd's whistle broke the damp stillness of the air. And presently a + man's figure appeared, following the sheep down the hillside. He halted a + moment to whistle curtly to his two dogs, who, laying back their ears, + chased the sheep at top speed beyond the brow; then, his hands deep in his + pockets, he strode vigorously forward. A streak of white smoke from a + toiling train was creeping silently across the distance: the great, grey, + desolate undulations of treeless country showed no other sign of life. + </p> + <p> + The sheep hurried in single file along a tiny track worn threadbare amid + the brown, lumpy grass: and, as the man came round the mountain's + shoulder, a narrow valley opened out beneath him—a scanty patchwork + of green fields, and, here and there, a whitewashed farm, flanked by a + dark cluster of sheltering trees. + </p> + <p> + The man walked with a loose, swinging gait. His figure was spare and + angular: he wore a battered, black felt hat and clumsy, iron-bound boots: + his clothes were dingy from long exposure to the weather. He had + close-set, insignificant eyes, much wrinkled, and stubbly eyebrows + streaked with grey. His mouth was close-shaven, and drawn by his + abstraction into hard and taciturn lines; beneath his chin bristled an + unkempt fringe of sandy-coloured hair. + </p> + <p> + When he reached the foot of the fell, the twilight was already blurring + the distance. The sheep scurried, with a noisy rustling, across a flat, + swampy stretch, over-grown with rushes, while the dogs headed them towards + a gap in a low, ragged wall built of loosely-heaped boulders. The man + swung the gate to after them, and waited, whistling peremptorily, + recalling the dogs. A moment later, the animals reappeared, cringing as + they crawled through the bars of the gate. He kicked out at them + contemptuously, and mounting a stone stile a few yards further up the + road, dropped into a narrow lane. + </p> + <p> + Presently, as he passed a row of lighted windows, he heard a voice call to + him. He stopped, and perceived a crooked, white-bearded figure, wearing + clerical clothes, standing in the garden gateway. + </p> + <p> + 'Good-evening, Anthony. A raw evening this.' + </p> + <p> + 'Ay, Mr. Blencarn, it is a bit frittish,' he answered. 'I've jest bin + gittin' a few lambs off t'fell. I hope ye're keepin' fairly, an' Miss Rosa + too.' He spoke briefly, with a loud, spontaneous cordiality. + </p> + <p> + 'Thank ye, Anthony, thank ye. Rosa's down at the church, playing over the + hymns for tomorrow. How's Mrs. Garstin?' + </p> + <p> + 'Nicely, thank ye, Mr. Blencarn. She's wonderful active, is mother.' + </p> + <p> + 'Well, good night to ye, Anthony,' said the old man, clicking the gate. + </p> + <p> + 'Good night, Mr. Blencarn,' he called back. + </p> + <p> + A few minutes later the twinkling lights of the village came in sight, and + from within the sombre form of the square-towered church, looming by the + roadside, the slow, solemn strains of the organ floated out on the evening + air. Anthony lightened his tread: then paused, listening; but, presently, + becoming aware that a man stood, listening also, on the bridge some few + yards distant, he moved forward again. Slackening his pace, as he + approached, he eyed the figure keenly; but the man paid no heed to him, + remaining, with his back turned, gazing over the parapet into the dark, + gurgling stream. + </p> + <p> + Anthony trudged along the empty village street, past the gleaming squares + of ruddy gold, starting on either side out of the darkness. Now and then + he looked furtively backwards. The straight open road lay behind him, + glimmering wanly: the organ seemed to have ceased: the figure on the + bridge had left the parapet, and appeared to be moving away towards the + church. Anthony halted, watching it till it had disappeared into the + blackness beneath the churchyard trees. Then, after a moment's hesitation, + he left the road, and mounted an upland meadow towards his mother's farm. + </p> + <p> + It was a bare, oblong house. In front, a whitewashed porch, and a narrow + garden-plot, enclosed by a low iron railing, were dimly discernible: + behind, the steep fell-side loomed like a monstrous, mysterious curtain + hung across the night. He passed round the back into the twilight of a + wide yard, cobbled and partially grass-grown, vaguely flanked by the + shadowy outlines of long, low farm-buildings. All was wrapped in darkness: + somewhere overhead a bat fluttered, darting its puny scream. + </p> + <p> + Inside, a blazing peat-fire scattered capering shadows across the smooth, + stone floor, flickered among the dim rows of hams suspended from the + ceiling and on the panelled cupboards of dark, glistening oak. A + servant-girl, spreading the cloth for supper, clattered her clogs in and + out of the kitchen: old Mrs. Garstin was stooping before the hearth, + tremulously turning some girdle-cakes that lay roasting in the embers. + </p> + <p> + At the sound of Anthony's heavy tread in the passage, she rose, glancing + sharply at the clock above the chimney-piece. She was a heavy-built woman, + upright, stalwart almost, despite her years. Her face was gaunt and + sallow; deep wrinkles accentuated the hardness of her features. She wore a + black widow's cap above her iron-grey hair, gold-rimmed spectacles, and a + soiled, chequered apron. + </p> + <p> + 'Ye're varra late, Tony,' she remarked querulously. + </p> + <p> + He unloosened his woollen neckerchief, and when he had hung it + methodically with his hat behind the door, answered: + </p> + <p> + ''Twas terrible thick on t' fell-top, an' them two bitches be that + senseless.' + </p> + <p> + She caught his sleeve, and, through her spectacles, suspiciously + scrutinized his face. + </p> + <p> + 'Ye did na meet wi' Rosa Blencarn?' + </p> + <p> + 'Nay, she was in church, hymn-playin', wi' Luke Stock hangin' roond door,' + he retorted bitterly, rebuffing her with rough impatience. + </p> + <p> + She moved away, nodding sententiously to herself. They began supper: + neither spoke: Anthony sat slowly stirring his tea, and staring moodily + into the flames: the bacon on his plate lay untouched. From time to time + his mother, laying down her knife and fork, looked across at him in + unconcealed asperity, pursing her wide, ungainly mouth. At last, abruptly + setting down her cup, she broke out: + </p> + <p> + 'I wonder ye hav'na mare pride, Tony. For hoo lang are ye goin' t' + continue settin' mopin' and broodin' like a seck sheep? Ye'll jest mak + yesself ill, an' then I reckon what ye'll prove satisfied. Ay, but I + wonder ye hav'na more pride.' + </p> + <p> + But he made no answer, remaining unmoved, as if he had not heard. + </p> + <p> + Presently, half to himself, without raising his eyes, he murmured: + </p> + <p> + 'Luke be goin' South, Monday.' + </p> + <p> + 'Well, ye canna tak' oop wi' his leavin's anyways. It hasna coom't that, + has it? Ye doan't intend settin' all t' parish a laughin' at ye a second + occasion?' + </p> + <p> + He flushed dully, and bending over his plate, mechanically began his + supper. + </p> + <p> + 'Wa dang it,' he broke out a minute later, 'd'ye think I heed the cacklin' + o' fifty parishes? Na, not I,' and, with a short, grim laugh, he brought + his fist down heavily on the oak table. + </p> + <p> + 'Ye're daft, Tony,' the old woman blurted. + </p> + <p> + 'Daft or na daft, I tell ye this, mother, that I be forty-six year o' age + this back-end, and there be some things I will na listen to. Rosa + Blencarn's bonny enough for me.' + </p> + <p> + 'Ay, bonny enough—I've na patience wi' ye. Bonny enough—tricked + oot in her furbelows, gallivantin' wi' every royster fra Pe'rith. Bonny + enough—that be all ye think on. She's bin a proper parson's niece—the + giddy, feckless creature, an she'd mak' ye a proper sort o' wife, Tony + Garstin, ye great, fond booby.' + </p> + <p> + She pushed back her chair, and, hurriedly clattering the crockery, began + to clear away the supper. + </p> + <p> + 'T' hoose be mine, t' Lord be praised,' she continued in a loud, hard + voice, 'an' as long as he spare me, Tony, I'll na see Rosa Blencarn set + foot inside it.' + </p> + <p> + Anthony scowled, without replying, and drew his chair to the hearth. His + mother bustled about the room behind him. After a while she asked: + </p> + <p> + 'Did ye pen t' lambs in t' back field?' + </p> + <p> + 'Na, they're in Hullam bottom,' he answered curtly. + </p> + <p> + The door closed behind her, and by and by he could hear her moving + overhead. Meditatively blinking, he filled his pipe clumsily, and pulling + a crumpled newspaper from his pocket, sat on over the smouldering fire, + reading and stolidly puffing. + </p> + <h3> + II + </h3> + <p> + The music rolled through the dark, empty church. The last, leaden flicker + of daylight glimmered in through the pointed windows, and beyond the level + rows of dusky pews, tenanted only by a litter of prayer-books, two + guttering candles revealed the organ pipes, and the young girl's swaying + figure. + </p> + <p> + She played vigorously. Once or twice the tune stumbled, and she recovered + it impatiently, bending over the key-board, showily flourishing her wrists + as she touched the stops. She was bare-headed (her hat and cloak lay + beside her on a stool). She had fair, fluffy hair, cut short behind her + neck; large, round eyes, heightened by a fringe of dark lashes; rough, + ruddy cheeks, and a rosy, full-lipped, unstable mouth. She was dressed + quite simply, in a black, close-fitting bodice, a little frayed at the + sleeves. Her hands and neck were coarsely fashioned: her comeliness was + brawny, literal, unfinished, as it were. + </p> + <p> + When at last the ponderous chords of the Amen faded slowly into the + twilight, flushed, breathing a little quickly, she paused, listening to + the stillness of the church. Presently a small boy emerged from behind the + organ. + </p> + <p> + 'Good evenin', Miss Rosa', he called, trotting briskly away down the + aisle. + </p> + <p> + 'Good night, Robert', she answered, absently. + </p> + <p> + After a while, with an impatient gesture, as if to shake some importunate + thought from her mind, she rose abruptly, pinned on her hat, threw her + cloak round her shoulders, blew out the candles, and groped her way + through the church, towards the half-open door. As she hurried along the + narrow pathway that led across the churchyard, of a sudden, a figure + started out of the blackness. + </p> + <p> + 'Who's that?' she cried, in a loud, frightened voice. + </p> + <p> + A man's uneasy laugh answered her. + </p> + <p> + 'It's only me, Rosa. I didna' think t' scare ye. I've bin waitin' for ye, + this hoor past.' + </p> + <p> + She made no reply, but quickened her pace. He strode on beside her. + </p> + <p> + 'I'm off, Monday, ye know,' he continued. And, as she said nothing, 'Will + ye na stop jest a minnit? I'd like t' speak a few words wi' ye before I + go, an tomorrow I hev t' git over t' Scarsdale betimes,' he persisted. + </p> + <p> + 'I don't want t' speak wi' ye: I don't want ever to see ye agin. I jest + hate the sight o' ye.' She spoke with a vehement, concentrated hoarseness. + </p> + <p> + 'Nay, but ye must listen to me. I will na be put off wi' fratchin + speeches.' + </p> + <p> + And gripping her arm, he forced her to stop. + </p> + <p> + 'Loose me, ye great beast,' she broke out. + </p> + <p> + 'I'll na hould ye, if ye'll jest stand quiet-like. I meant t' speak fair + t' ye, Rosa.' + </p> + <p> + They stood at a bend in the road, face to face quite close together. + Behind his burly form stretched the dimness of a grey, ghostly field. + </p> + <p> + 'What is't ye hev to say to me? Hev done wi' it quick,' she said sullenly. + </p> + <p> + 'It be jest this, Rosa,' he began with dogged gravity. 'I want t' tell ye + that ef any trouble comes t'ye after I'm gone—ye know t' what I + refer—I want t' tell ye that I'm prepared t' act square by ye. I've + written out on an envelope my address in London. Luke Stock, care o' + Purcell and Co., Smithfield Market, London.' + </p> + <p> + 'Ye're a bad, sinful man. I jest hate t' sight o' ye. I wish ye were + dead.' + </p> + <p> + 'Ay, but I reckon what ye'd ha best thought o' that before. Ye've changed + yer whistle considerably since Tuesday. Nay, hould on,' he added, as she + struggled to push past him. 'Here's t' envelope.' + </p> + <p> + She snatched the paper, and tore it passionately, scattering the fragments + on to the road. When she had finished, he burst out angrily: + </p> + <p> + 'Ye cussed, unreasonable fool.' + </p> + <p> + 'Let me pass, ef ye've nought mare t'say,' she cried. + </p> + <p> + 'Nay, I'll na part wi' ye this fashion. Ye can speak soft enough when ye + choose.' And seizing her shoulders, he forced her backwards against the + wall. + </p> + <p> + 'Ye do look fine, an' na mistake, when ye're jest ablaze wi' ragin',' he + laughed bluntly, lowering his face to hers. + </p> + <p> + 'Loose me, loose me, ye great coward,' she gasped, striving to free her + arms. + </p> + <p> + Holding her fast, he expostulated: + </p> + <p> + 'Coom, Rosa, can we na part friends?' + </p> + <p> + 'Part friends, indeed,' she retorted bitterly. 'Friends wi' the likes o' + you. What d'ye tak me for? Let me git home, I tell ye. An' please God I'll + never set eyes on ye again. I hate t' sight o' ye.' + </p> + <p> + 'Be off wi' ye, then,' he answered, pushing her roughly back into the + road. 'Be off wi' ye, ye silly. Ye canna say I hav na spak fair t' ye, + an', by goom, ye'll na see me shally-wallyin this fashion agin. Be off wi' + ye: ye can jest shift for yerself, since ye canna keep a civil tongue in + yer head.' + </p> + <p> + The girl, catching at her breath, stood as if dazed, watching his + retreating figure; then starting forward at a run, disappeared up the + hill, into the darkness. + </p> + <h3> + III + </h3> + <p> + Old Mr. Blencarn concluded his husky sermon. The scanty congregation, who + had been sitting, stolidly immobile in their stiff, Sunday clothes, + shuffled to their feet, and the pewful of school children, in clamorous + chorus, intoned the final hymn. Anthony stood near the organ, absently + contemplating, while the rude melody resounded through the church, Rosa's + deft manipulation of the key-board. The rugged lines of his face were + relaxed to a vacant, thoughtful limpness, that aged his expression not a + little: now and then, as if for reference, he glanced questioningly at the + girl's profile. + </p> + <p> + A few minutes later the service was over, and the congregation sauntered + out down the aisle. A gawky group of men remained loitering by the church + door: one of them called to Anthony; but, nodding curtly, he passed on, + and strode away down the road, across the grey upland meadows, towards + home. As soon as he had breasted the hill, however, and was no longer + visible from below, he turned abruptly to the left, along a small, swampy + hollow, till he had reached the lane that led down from the fell-side. + </p> + <p> + He clambered over a rugged, moss-grown wall, and stood, gazing expectantly + down the dark, disused roadway; then, after a moment's hesitation, + perceiving nobody, seated himself beneath the wall, on a projecting slab + of stone. + </p> + <p> + Overhead hung a sombre, drifting sky. A gusty wind rollicked down from the + fell—huge masses of chilly grey, stripped of the last night's mist. + A few dead leaves fluttered over the stones, and from off the fell-side + there floated the plaintive, quavering rumour of many bleating sheep. + </p> + <p> + Before long, he caught sight of two figures coming towards him, slowly + climbing the hill. He sat awaiting their approach, fidgeting with his + sandy beard, and abstractedly grinding the ground beneath his heel. At the + brow they halted: plunging his hands deep into his pockets, he strolled + sheepishly towards them. + </p> + <p> + 'Ah! good day t' ye, Anthony,' called the old man, in a shrill, breathless + voice. ''Tis a long hill, an' my legs are not what they were. Time was + when I'd think nought o' a whole day's tramp on t' fells. Ay, I'm gittin' + feeble, Anthony, that's what 'tis. And if Rosa here wasn't the great, + strong lass she is, I don't know how her old uncle'd manage;' and he + turned to the girl with a proud, tremulous smile. + </p> + <p> + 'Will ye tak my arm a bit, Mr. Blencarn? Miss Rosa'll be tired, likely,' + Anthony asked. + </p> + <p> + 'Nay, Mr. Garstin, but I can manage nicely,' the girl interrupted sharply. + </p> + <p> + Anthony looked up at her as she spoke. She wore a straw hat, trimmed with + crimson velvet, and a black, fur-edged cape, that seemed to set off + mightily the fine whiteness of her neck. Her large, dark eyes were fixed + upon him. He shifted his feet uneasily, and dropped his glance. + </p> + <p> + She linked her uncle's arm in hers, and the three moved slowly forward. + Old Mr. Blencarn walked with difficulty, pausing at intervals for breath. + Anthony, his eyes bent on the ground, sauntered beside him, clumsily + kicking at the cobbles that lay in his path. + </p> + <p> + When they reached the vicarage gate, the old man asked him to come inside. + </p> + <p> + 'Not jest now, thank ye, Mr. Blencarn. I've that lot o' lambs t' see to + before dinner. It's a grand marnin', this,' he added, inconsequently. + </p> + <p> + 'Uncle's bought a nice lot o' Leghorns, Tuesday,' Rosa remarked. Anthony + met her gaze; there was a grave, subdued expression on her face this + morning, that made her look more of a woman, less of a girl. + </p> + <p> + 'Ay, do ye show him the birds, Rosa. I'd be glad to have his opinion on + 'em.' + </p> + <p> + The old man turned to hobble into the house, and Rosa, as she supported + his arm, called back over her shoulder: + </p> + <p> + 'I'll not be a minute, Mr. Garstin.' + </p> + <p> + Anthony strolled round to the yard behind the house, and waited, watching + a flock of glossy-white poultry that strutted, perkily pecking, over the + grass-grown cobbles. + </p> + <p> + 'Ay, Miss Rosa, they're a bonny lot,' he remarked, as the girl joined him. + </p> + <p> + 'Are they not?' she rejoined, scattering a handful of corn before her. + </p> + <p> + The birds scuttled across the yard with greedy, outstretched necks. The + two stood, side by side, gazing at them. + </p> + <p> + 'What did he give for 'em?' Anthony asked. + </p> + <p> + 'Fifty-five shillings.' + </p> + <p> + 'Ay,' he assented, nodding absently. + </p> + <p> + 'Was Dr. Sanderson na seein' o' yer father yesterday?' he asked, after a + moment. + </p> + <p> + 'He came in t' forenoon. He said he was jest na worse.' + </p> + <p> + 'Ye knaw, Miss Rosa, as I'm still thinkin' on ye,' he began abruptly, + without looking up. + </p> + <p> + 'I reckon it ain't much use,' she answered shortly, scattering another + handful of corn towards the birds. 'I reckon I'll never marry. I'm jest + weary o' bein' courted—' + </p> + <p> + 'I would na weary ye wi' courtin',' he interrupted. + </p> + <p> + She laughed noisily. + </p> + <p> + 'Ye are a queer customer, an' na mistake.' + </p> + <p> + 'I'm a match for Luke Stock anyway,' he continued fiercely. 'Ye think + nought o' taking oop wi' him—about as ranty, wild a young feller as + ever stepped.' + </p> + <p> + The girl reddened, and bit her lip. + </p> + <p> + 'I don't know what you mean, Mr. Garstin. It seems to me ye're might hasty + in jumpin' t' conclusions.' + </p> + <p> + 'Mabbe I kin see a thing or two,' he retorted doggedly. + </p> + <p> + 'Luke Stock's gone to London, anyway.' + </p> + <p> + 'Ay, an' a powerful good job too, in t' opinion o' some folks.' + </p> + <p> + 'Ye're jest jealous,' she exclaimed, with a forced titter. 'Ye're jest + jealous o' Luke Stock.' + </p> + <p> + 'Nay, but ye need na fill yer head wi' that nonsense. I'm too deep set on + ye t' feel jealousy,' he answered, gravely. + </p> + <p> + The smile faded from her face, as she murmured: + </p> + <p> + 'I canna mak ye out, Mr. Garstin.' + </p> + <p> + 'Nay, that ye canna. An' I suppose it's natural, considerin' ye're little + more than a child, an' I'm a'most old enough to be yer father,' he + retorted, with blunt bitterness. + </p> + <p> + 'But ye know yer mother's took that dislike t' me. She'd never abide the + sight o' me at Hootsey.' + </p> + <p> + He remained silent a moment, moodily reflecting. + </p> + <p> + 'She'd jest ha't' git ower it. I see nought in that objection,' he + declared. + </p> + <p> + 'Nay, Mr. Garstin, it canna be. Indeed it canna be at all. Ye'd best jest + put it right from yer mind, once and for all.' + </p> + <p> + 'I'd jest best put it off my mind, had I? Ye talk like a child!' he burst + out scornfully. 'I intend ye t' coom t' love me, an' I will na tak ye till + ye do. I'll jest go on waitin' for ye, an', mark my words, my day 'ull + coom at last.' + </p> + <p> + He spoke loudly, in a slow, stubborn voice, and stepped suddenly towards + her. With a faint, frightened cry she shrank back into the doorway of the + hen-house. + </p> + <p> + 'Ye talk like a prophet. Ye sort o' skeer me.' + </p> + <p> + He laughed grimly, and paused, reflectively scanning her face. He seemed + about to continue in the same strain; but, instead, turned abruptly on his + heel, and strode away through the garden gate. + </p> + <h3> + IV + </h3> + <p> + For three hundred years there had been a Garstin at Hootsey: generation + after generation had tramped the grey stretch of upland, in the + spring-time scattering their flocks over the fell-sides, and, at the + 'back-end', on dark, winter afternoons, driving them home again, down the + broad bridle-path that led over the 'raise'. They had been a race of few + words, 'keeping themselves to themselves', as the phrase goes; beholden to + no man, filled with a dogged, churlish pride—an upright, + old-fashioned race, stubborn, long-lived, rude in speech, slow of resolve. + </p> + <p> + Anthony had never seen his father, who had died one night, upon the + fell-top, he and his shepherd, engulfed in the great snowstorm of 1849. + Folks had said that he was the only Garstin who had failed to make old + man's bones. + </p> + <p> + After his death, Jake Atkinson, from Ribblehead in Yorkshire, had come to + live at Hootsey. Jake was a fine farmer, a canny bargainer, and very handy + among the sheep, till he took to drink, and roystering every week with the + town wenches up at Carlisle. He was a corpulent, deep-voiced, free-handed + fellow: when his time came, though he died very hardly, he remained + festive and convivial to the last. And for years afterwards, in the + valley, his memory lingered: men spoke of him regretfully, recalling his + quips, his feats of strength, and his choice breed of Herdwicke rams. But + he left behind him a host of debts up at Carlisle, in Penrith, and in + almost every market town—debts that he had long ago pretended to + have paid with money that belonged to his sister. The widow Garstin sold + the twelve Herdwicke rams, and nine acres of land: within six weeks she + had cleared off every penny, and for thirteen months, on Sundays, wore her + mourning with a mute, forbidding grimness: the bitter thought that, + unbeknown to her, Jake had acted dishonestly in money matters, and that he + had ended his days in riotous sin, soured her pride, imbued her with a + rancorous hostility against all the world. For she was a very proud woman, + independent, holding her head high, so folks said, like a Garstin bred and + born; and Anthony, although some reckoned him quiet and of little account, + came to take after her as he grew into manhood. + </p> + <p> + She took into her own hands the management of the Hootsey farm, and set + the boy to work for her along with the two farm servants. It was + twenty-five years now since his uncle Jake's death: there were grey hairs + in his sandy beard; but he still worked for his mother, as he had done + when a growing lad. + </p> + <p> + And now that times were grown to be bad (of late years the price of stock + had been steadily falling; and the hay harvests had drifted from bad to + worse) the widow Garstin no longer kept any labouring men; but lived, she + and her son, year in and year out, in a close parsimonious way. + </p> + <p> + That had been Anthony Garstin's life—a dull, eventless sort of + business, the sluggish incrustation of monotonous years. And until Rosa + Blencarn had come to keep house for her uncle, he had never thought twice + on a woman's face. + </p> + <p> + The Garstins had always been good church-goers, and Anthony, for years, + had acted as churchwarden. It was one summer evening, up at the vicarage, + whilst he was checking the offertory account, that he first set eyes upon + her. She was fresh back from school at Leeds: she was dressed in a white + dress: she looked, he thought, like a London lady. + </p> + <p> + She stood by the window, tall and straight and queenly, dreamily gazing + out into the summer twilight, whilst he and her uncle sat over their + business. When he rose to go, she glanced at him with quick curiosity; he + hurried away, muttering a sheepish good night. + </p> + <p> + The next time that he saw her was in church on Sunday. He watched her + shyly, with a hesitating, reverential discretion: her beauty seemed to him + wonderful, distant, enigmatic. In the afternoon, young Mrs. Forsyth, from + Longscale, dropped in for a cup of tea with his mother, and the two set + off gossiping of Rosa Blencarn, speaking of her freely, in tones of + acrimonious contempt. For a long while he sat silent, puffing at his pipe; + but at last, when his mother concluded with, 'She looks t' me fair + stuck-oop, full o' toonish airs an' graces,' despite himself, he burst out: + 'Ye're jest wastin' yer breath wi' that cackle. I reckon Miss Blencarn's + o' a different clay to us folks.' Young Mrs. Forsyth tittered + immoderately, and the next week it was rumoured about the valley that + 'Tony Garstin was gone luny over t' parson's niece.' + </p> + <p> + But of all this he knew nothing—keeping to himself, as was his wont, + and being, besides, very busy with the hay harvest—until one day, at + dinner-time, Henry Sisson asked if he'd started his courting; Jacob + Sowerby cried that Tony'd been too slow in getting to work, for that the + girl had been seen spooning in Crosby Shaws with Curbison the auctioneer, + and the others (there were half-a-dozen of them lounging round the + hay-waggon) burst into a boisterous guffaw. Anthony flushed dully, looking + hesitatingly from the one to the other; then slowly put down his beer-can, + and of a sudden, seizing Jacob by the neck, swung him heavily on the + grass. He fell against the waggon-wheel, and when he rose the blood was + streaming from an ugly cut in his forehead. And henceforward Tony + Garstin's courtship was the common jest of all the parish. + </p> + <p> + As yet, however, he had scarcely spoken to her, though twice he had passed + her in the lane that led up to the vicarage. She had given him a frank, + friendly smile; but he had not found the resolution to do more than lift + his hat. He and Henry Sisson stacked the hay in the yard behind the house; + there was no further mention made of Rosa Blencarn; but all day long + Anthony, as he knelt thatching the rick, brooded over the strange + sweetness of her face, and on the fell-top, while he tramped after the + ewes over the dry, crackling heather, and as he jogged along the narrow, + rickety road, driving his cartload of lambs into the auction mart. + </p> + <p> + Thus, as the weeks slipped by, he was content with blunt, wistful + ruminations upon her indistinct image. Jacob Sowerby's accusation, and + several kindred innuendoes let fall by his mother, left him coolly + incredulous; the girl still seemed to him altogether distant; but from the + first sight of her face he had evolved a stolid, unfaltering conception of + her difference from the ruck of her sex. + </p> + <p> + But one evening, as he passed the vicarage on his way down from the fells, + she called to him, and with a childish, confiding familiarity asked for + advice concerning the feeding of the poultry. In his eagerness to answer + her as best he could, he forgot his customary embarrassment, and grew, for + the moment, almost voluble, and quite at his ease in her presence. + Directly her flow of questions ceased, however, the returning perception + of her rosy, hesitating smile, and of her large, deep eyes looking + straight into his face, perturbed him strangely, and, reddening, he + remembered the quarrel in the hay-field and the tale of Crosby Shaws. + </p> + <p> + After this, the poultry became a link between them—a link which he + regarded in all seriousness, blindly unconscious that there was aught else + to bring them together, only feeling himself in awe of her, because of her + schooling, her townish manners, her ladylike mode of dress. And soon, he + came to take a sturdy, secret pride in her friendly familiarity towards + him. Several times a week he would meet her in the lane, and they would + loiter a moment together; she would admire his dogs, though he assured her + earnestly that they were but sorry curs; and once, laughing at his + staidness, she nick-named him 'Mr. Churchwarden'. + </p> + <p> + That the girl was not liked in the valley he suspected, curtly attributing + her unpopularity to the women's senseless jealousy. Of gossip concerning + her he heard no further hint; but instinctively, and partly from that + rugged, natural reserve of his, shrank from mentioning her name, even + incidentally, to his mother. + </p> + <p> + Now, on Sunday evenings, he often strolled up to the vicarage, each time + quitting his mother with the same awkward affectation of casualness; and, + on his return, becoming vaguely conscious of how she refrained from any + comment on his absence, and appeared oddly oblivious of the existence of + parson Blencarn's niece. + </p> + <p> + She had always been a sour-tongued woman; but, as the days shortened with + the approach of the long winter months, she seemed to him to grow more + fretful than ever; at times it was almost as if she bore him some + smouldering, sullen resentment. He was of stubborn fibre, however, + toughened by long habit of a bleak, unruly climate; he revolved the matter + in his mind deliberately, and when, at last, after much plodding thought, + it dawned upon him that she resented his acquaintance with Rosa Blencarn, + he accepted the solution with an unflinching phlegm, and merely shifted + his attitude towards the girl, calculating each day the likelihood of his + meeting her, and making, in her presence, persistent efforts to break + down, once for all, the barrier of his own timidity. He was a man not to + be clumsily driven, still less, so he prided himself, a man to be craftily + led. + </p> + <p> + It was close upon Christmas time before the crisis came. His mother was + just home from Penrith market. The spring-cart stood in the yard, the old + grey horse was steaming heavily in the still, frosty air. + </p> + <p> + 'I reckon ye've come fast. T' ould horse is over hot,' he remarked + bluntly, as he went to the animal's head. + </p> + <p> + She clambered down hastily, and, coming to his side, began breathlessly: + </p> + <p> + 'Ye ought t' hev coom t' market, Tony. There's bin pretty goin's on in + Pe'rith today. I was helpin' Anna Forsyth t' choose six yards o' sheetin' + in Dockroy, when we sees Rosa Blencarn coom oot o' t' 'Bell and Bullock' + in company we' Curbison and young Joe Smethwick. Smethwick was fair + reelin' drunk, and Curbison and t' girl were a-houldin' on to him, to keep + him fra fallin'; and then, after a bit, he puts his arm round the girl t' + stiddy hisself, and that fashion they goes off, right oop t' public street—' + </p> + <p> + He continued to unload the packages, and to carry them mechanically one by + one into the house. Each time, when he reappeared, she was standing by the + steaming horse, busy with her tale. + </p> + <p> + 'An' on t' road hame we passed t' three on' em in Curbison's trap, with + Smethwick leein' in t' bottom, singin' maudlin' songs. They were passin' + Dunscale village, an't' folks coom runnin' oot o' houses t' see 'em go + past—' + </p> + <p> + He led the cart away towards the stable, leaving her to cry the remainder + after him across the yard. + </p> + <p> + Half-an-hour later he came in for his dinner. During the meal not a word + passed between them, and directly he had finished he strode out of the + house. About nine o'clock he returned, lit his pipe, and sat down to smoke + it over the kitchen fire. + </p> + <p> + 'Where've ye bin, Tony?' she asked. + </p> + <p> + 'Oop t' vicarage, courtin', he retorted defiantly, with his pipe in his + mouth. + </p> + <p> + This was ten months ago; ever since he had been doggedly waiting. That + evening he had set his mind on the girl, he intended to have her; and + while his mother gibed, as she did now upon every opportunity, his + patience remained grimly unflagging. She would remind him that the farm + belonged to her, that he would have to wait till her death before he could + bring the hussy to Hootsey: he would retort that as soon as the girl would + have him, he intended taking a small holding over at Scarsdale. Then she + would give way, and for a while piteously upbraid him with her old age, + and with the memory of all the years she and he had spent together, and he + would comfort her with a display of brusque, evasive remorse. + </p> + <p> + But, none the less, on the morrow, his thoughts would return to dwell on + the haunting vision of the girl's face, while his own rude, credulous + chivalry, kindled by the recollection of her beauty, stifled his + misgivings concerning her conduct. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile she dallied with him, and amused herself with the younger men. + Her old uncle fell ill in the spring, and could scarcely leave the house. + She declared that she found life in the valley intolerably dull, that she + hated the quiet of the place, that she longed for Leeds, and the exciting + bustle of the streets; and in the evenings she wrote long letters to the + girl-friends she had left behind there, describing with petulant vivacity + her tribe of rustic admirers. At the harvest-time she went back on a + fortnight's visit to friends; the evening before her departure she + promised Anthony to give him her answer on her return. But, instead, she + avoided him, pretended to have promised in jest, and took up with Luke + Stock, a cattle-dealer from Wigton. + </p> + <h3> + V + </h3> + <p> + It was three weeks since he had fetched his flock down from the fell. + </p> + <p> + After dinner he and his mother sat together in the parlour: they had done + so every Sunday afternoon, year in and year out, as far back as he could + remember. + </p> + <p> + A row of mahogany chairs, with shiny, horse-hair seats, were ranged round + the room. A great collection of agricultural prize-tickets were pinned + over the wall; and, on a heavy, highly-polished sideboard stood several + silver cups. A heap of gilt-edged shavings filled the unused grate: there + were gaudily-tinted roses along the mantelpiece, and, on a small table by + the window, beneath a glass-case, a gilt basket filled with imitation + flowers. Every object was disposed with a scrupulous precision: the carpet + and the red-patterned cloth on the centre table were much faded. The room + was spotlessly clean, and wore, in the chilly winter sunlight, a rigid, + comfortless air. + </p> + <p> + Neither spoke, or appeared conscious of the other's presence. Old Mrs. + Garstin, wrapped in a woollen shawl, sat knitting: Anthony dozed fitfully + on a stiff-backed chair. + </p> + <p> + Of a sudden, in the distance, a bell started tolling. Anthony rubbed his + eyes drowsily, and taking from the table his Sunday hat, strolled out + across the dusky fields. Presently, reaching a rude wooden seat, built + beside the bridle-path, he sat down and relit his pipe. The air was very + still; below him a white filmy mist hung across the valley: the + fell-sides, vaguely grouped, resembled hulking masses of sombre shadow; + and, as he looked back, three squares of glimmering gold revealed the + lighted windows of the square-towered church. + </p> + <p> + He sat smoking; pondering, with placid and reverential contemplation, on + the Mighty Maker of the world—a world majestically and inevitably + ordered; a world where, he argued, each object—each fissure in the + fells, the winding course of each tumbling stream—possesses its + mysterious purport, its inevitable signification.... + </p> + <p> + At the end of the field two rams were fighting; retreating, then running + together, and, leaping from the ground, butting head to head and horn to + horn. Anthony watched them absently, pursuing his rude meditations. + </p> + <p> + ... And the succession of bad seasons, the slow ruination of the farmers + throughout the country, were but punishment meted out for the accumulated + wickedness of the world. In the olden time God rained plagues upon the + land: nowadays, in His wrath, He spoiled the produce of the earth, which, + with His own hands, He had fashioned and bestowed upon men. + </p> + <p> + He rose and continued his walk along the bridle-path. A multitude of + rabbits scuttled up the hill at his approach; and a great cloud of + plovers, rising from the rushes, circled overhead, filling the air with a + profusion of their querulous cries. All at once he heard a rattling of + stones, and perceived a number of small pieces of shingle bounding in + front of him down the grassy slope. + </p> + <p> + A woman's figure was moving among the rocks above him. The next moment, by + the trimming of crimson velvet on her hat, he had recognized her. He + mounted the slope with springing strides, wondering the while how it was + she came to be there, that she was not in church playing the organ at + afternoon service. + </p> + <p> + Before she was aware of his approach, he was beside her. + </p> + <p> + 'I thought ye'd be in church—' he began. + </p> + <p> + She started: then, gradually regaining her composure, answered, weakly + smiling: + </p> + <p> + 'Mr. Jenkinson, the new schoolmaster, wanted to try the organ.' + </p> + <p> + He came towards her impulsively: she saw the odd flickers in his eyes as + she stepped back in dismay. + </p> + <p> + 'Nay, but I will na harm ye,' he said. 'Only I reckon what 'tis a special + turn o' Providence, meetin' wi' ye oop here. I reckon what ye'll hev t' + give me a square answer noo. Ye canna dilly-dally everlastingly.' + </p> + <p> + He spoke almost brutally; and she stood, white and gasping, staring at him + with large, frightened eyes. The sheep-walk was but a tiny threadlike + track: the slope of the shingle on either side was very steep: below them + lay the valley; distant, lifeless, all blurred by the evening dusk. She + looked about her helplessly for a means of escape. + </p> + <p> + 'Miss Rosa,' he continued, in a husky voice, 'can ye na coom t' think on + me? Think ye, I've bin waitin' nigh upon two year for ye. I've watched ye + tak oop, first wi' this young fellar, and then wi' that, till soomtimes my + heart's fit t' burst. Many a day, oop on t' fell-top, t' thought o' ye's + nigh driven me daft, and I've left my shepherdin' jest t' set on a cairn + in t' mist, picturin' an' broodin' on yer face. Many an evenin' I've + started oop t' vicarage, wi' t' resolution t' speak right oot t' ye; but + when it coomed t' point, a sort o' timidity seemed t' hould me back, I was + that feared t' displease ye. I knaw I'm na scholar, an' mabbe ye think I'm + rough-mannered. I knaw I've spoken sharply to ye once or twice lately. But + it's jest because I'm that mad wi' love for ye: I jest canna help myself + soomtimes—' + </p> + <p> + He waited, peering into her face. She could see the beads of sweat above + his bristling eyebrows: the damp had settled on his sandy beard: his horny + fingers were twitching at the buttons of his black Sunday coat. + </p> + <p> + She struggled to summon a smile; but her under-lip quivered, and her large + dark eyes filled slowly with tears. + </p> + <p> + And he went on: + </p> + <p> + 'Ye've coom t' mean jest everything to me. Ef ye will na hev me, I care + for nought else. I canna speak t' ye in phrases: I'm jest a plain, + unscholarly man: I canna wheedle ye, wi' cunnin' after t' fashion o' toon + folks. But I can love ye wi' all my might, an' watch over ye, and work for + ye better than any one o' em—' + </p> + <p> + She was crying to herself, silently, while he spoke. He noticed nothing, + however: the twilight hid her face from him. + </p> + <p> + 'There's nought against me,' he persisted. 'I'm as good a man as any one + on 'em. Ay, as good a man as any one on 'em,' he repeated defiantly, + raising his voice. + </p> + <p> + 'It's impossible, Mr. Garstin, it's impossible. Ye've been very kind to me—' + she added, in a choking voice. + </p> + <p> + 'Wa dang it, I didna mean t' mak ye cry, lass,' he exclaimed, with a + softening of his tone. 'There's nought for ye t' cry ower.' + </p> + <p> + She sank on to the stones, passionately sobbing in hysterical and + defenceless despair. Anthony stood a moment, gazing at her in clumsy + perplexity: then, coming close to her, put his hand on her shoulder, and + said gently: + </p> + <p> + 'Coom, lass, what's trouble? Ye can trust me.' + </p> + <p> + She shook her head faintly. + </p> + <p> + 'Ay, but ye can though,' he asserted, firmly. 'Come, what is't?' + </p> + <p> + Heedless of him, she continued to rock herself to and fro, crooning in her + distress: + </p> + <p> + 'Oh! I wish I were dead!... I wish I could die!' + </p> + <p> + —'Wish ye could die?' he repeated. 'Why, whatever can't be that's + troublin' ye like this? There, there, lassie, give ower: it 'ull all coom + right, whatever it be—' + </p> + <p> + 'No, no,' she wailed. 'I wish I could die!... I wish I could die!' + </p> + <p> + Lights were twinkling in the village below; and across the valley darkness + was draping the hills. The girl lifted her face from her hands, and looked + up at him with a scared, bewildered expression. + </p> + <p> + 'I must go home: I must be getting home,' she muttered. + </p> + <p> + 'Nay, but there's sommut mighty amiss wi' ye.' + </p> + <p> + 'No, it's nothing... I don't know—I'm not well... I mean it's + nothing... it'll pass over... you mustn't think anything of it.' + </p> + <p> + 'Nay, but I canna stand by an see ye in sich trouble.' + </p> + <p> + 'It's nothing, Mr. Garstin, indeed it's nothing,' she repeated. + </p> + <p> + 'Ay, but I canna credit that,' he objected stubbornly. + </p> + <p> + She sent him a shifting, hunted glance. + </p> + <p> + 'Let me get home... you must let me get home.' + </p> + <p> + She made a tremulous, pitiful attempt at firmness. Eyeing her keenly, he + barred her path: she flushed scarlet, and looked hastily away across the + valley. + </p> + <p> + 'If ye'll tell me yer distress, mabbe I can help ye.' + </p> + <p> + 'No, no, it's nothing... it's nothing.' + </p> + <p> + 'If ye'll tell me yer distress, mabbe I can help ye,' he repeated, with a + solemn, deliberate sternness. She shivered, and looked away again, + vaguely, across the valley. + </p> + <p> + 'You can do nothing: there's nought to be done,' she murmured drearily. + </p> + <p> + 'There's a man in this business,' he declared. + </p> + <p> + 'Let me go! Let me go!' she pleaded desperately. + </p> + <p> + 'Who is't that's bin puttin' ye into this distress?' His voice sounded + loud and harsh. + </p> + <p> + 'No one, no one. I canna tell ye, Mr. Garstin.... It's no one,' she + protested weakly. The white, twisted look on his face frightened her. + </p> + <p> + 'My God!' he burst out, gripping her wrist, 'an' a proper soft fool ye've + made o' me. Who is't, I tell ye? Who's t' man?' + </p> + <p> + 'Ye're hurtin' me. Let me go. I canna tell ye.' + </p> + <p> + 'And ye're fond o' him?' + </p> + <p> + 'No, no. He's a wicked, sinful man. I pray God I may never set eyes on him + again. I told him so.' + </p> + <p> + 'But ef he's got ye into trouble, he'll hev t' marry ye,' he persisted + with a brutal bitterness. + </p> + <p> + 'I will not. I hate him!' she cried fiercely. + </p> + <p> + 'But is he <i>willin'</i> t' marry ye?' + </p> + <p> + 'I don't know ... I don't care ... he said so before he went away ... But + I'd kill myself sooner than live with him.' + </p> + <p> + He let her hands fall and stepped back from her. She could only see his + figure, like a sombre cloud, standing before her. The whole fell-side + seemed still and dark and lonely. Presently she heard his voice again: + </p> + <p> + 'I reckon what there's one road oot o' yer distress.' + </p> + <p> + She shook her head drearily. + </p> + <p> + 'There's none. I'm a lost woman.' + </p> + <p> + 'An' ef ye took me instead?' he said eagerly. + </p> + <p> + 'I—I don't understand—' + </p> + <p> + 'Ef ye married me instead of Luke Stock?' + </p> + <p> + 'But that's impossible—the—the—' + </p> + <p> + 'Ay, t' child. I know. But I'll tak t' child as mine.' + </p> + <p> + She remained silent. After a moment he heard her voice answer in a queer, + distant tone: + </p> + <p> + 'You mean that—that ye're ready to marry me, and adopt the child?' + </p> + <p> + 'I do,' he answered doggedly. + </p> + <p> + 'But people—your mother—?' + </p> + <p> + 'Folks 'ull jest know nought about it. It's none o' their business. T' + child 'ull pass as mine. Ye'll accept that?' + </p> + <p> + 'Yes,' she answered, in a low, rapid voice. + </p> + <p> + 'Ye'll consent t' hev me, ef I git ye oot o' yer trouble?' + </p> + <p> + 'Yes,' she repeated, in the same tone. + </p> + <p> + She heard him draw a long breath. + </p> + <p> + 'I said 't was a turn o' Providence, meetin' wi' ye oop here,' he + exclaimed, with half-suppressed exultation. + </p> + <p> + Her teeth began to chatter a little: she felt that he was peering at her, + curiously, through the darkness. + </p> + <p> + 'An' noo,' he continued briskly, 'ye'd best be gettin' home. Give me ye're + hand, an' I'll stiddy ye ower t' stones.' + </p> + <p> + He helped her down the bank of shingle, exclaiming: 'By goom, ye're stony + cauld.' Once or twice she slipped: he supported her, roughly gripping her + knuckles. The stones rolled down the steps, noisily, disappearing into the + night. + </p> + <p> + Presently they struck the turf bridle-path, and, as they descended + silently towards the lights of the village, he said gravely: + </p> + <p> + 'I always reckoned what my day 'ud coom.' + </p> + <p> + She made no reply; and he added grimly: + </p> + <p> + 'There'll be terrible work wi' mother over this.' + </p> + <p> + He accompanied her down the narrow lane that led past her uncle's house. + When the lighted windows came in sight he halted. + </p> + <p> + 'Good night, lassie,' he said kindly. 'Do ye give ower distressin' + yeself.' + </p> + <p> + 'Good night, Mr. Garstin,' she answered, in the same low, rapid voice in + which she had given him her answer up on the fell. + </p> + <p> + 'We're man an' wife plighted now, are we not?' he blurted timidly. + </p> + <p> + She held her face to his, and he kissed her on the cheek, clumsily. + </p> + <h3> + VI + </h3> + <p> + The next morning the frost had set in. The sky was still clear and + glittering: the whitened fields sparkled in the chilly sunlight: here and + there, on high, distant peaks, gleamed dainty caps of snow. All the week + Anthony was to be busy at the fell-foot, wall-building against the coming + of the winter storms: the work was heavy, for he was single-handed, and + the stone had to be fetched from off the fell-side. Two or three times a + day he led his rickety, lumbering cart along the lane that passed the + vicarage gate, pausing on each journey to glance furtively up at the + windows. But he saw no sign of Rosa Blencarn; and, indeed, he felt no + longing to see her: he was grimly exultant over the remembrance of his + wooing of her, and over the knowledge that she was his. There glowed + within him a stolid pride in himself: he thought of the others who had + courted her, and the means by which he had won her seemed to him a fine + stroke of cleverness. + </p> + <p> + And so he refrained from any mention of the matter; relishing, as he + worked, all alone, the days through, the consciousness of his secret + triumph, and anticipating, with inward chucklings, the discomforted cackle + of his mother's female friends. He foresaw without misgiving, her bitter + opposition: he felt himself strong; and his heart warmed towards the girl. + And when, at intervals, the brusque realization that, after all, he was to + possess her swept over him, he gripped the stones, and swung them almost + fiercely into their places. + </p> + <p> + All around him the white, empty fields seemed slumbering breathlessly. The + stillness stiffened the leafless trees. The frosty air flicked his blood: + singing vigorously to himself he worked with a stubborn, unflagging + resolution, methodically postponing, till the length of the wall should be + completed, the announcement of his betrothal. + </p> + <p> + After his reticent, solitary fashion, he was very happy, reviewing his + future prospects, with a plain and steady assurance, and, as the week-end + approached, coming to ignore the irregularity of the whole business: + almost to assume, in the exaltation of his pride, that he had won her + honestly; and to discard, stolidly, all thought of Luke Stock, of his + relations with her, of the coming child that was to pass for his own. + </p> + <p> + And there were moments too, when, as he sauntered homewards through the + dusk at the end of his day's work, his heart grew full to overflowing of a + rugged, superstitious gratitude towards God in Heaven who had granted his + desires. + </p> + <p> + About three o'clock on the Saturday afternoon he finished the length of + wall. He went home, washed, shaved, put on his Sunday coat; and, avoiding + the kitchen, where his mother sat knitting by the fireside, strode up to + the vicarage. + </p> + <p> + It was Rosa who opened the door to him. On recognizing him she started, + and he followed her into the dining-room. He seated himself, and began, + brusquely: + </p> + <p> + 'I've coom, Miss Rosa, t' speak t' Mr. Blencarn.' + </p> + <p> + Then added, eyeing her closely: + </p> + <p> + 'Ye're lookin' sick, lass.' + </p> + <p> + Her faint smile accentuated the worn, white look on her face. + </p> + <p> + 'I reckon ye've been frettin' yeself,' he continued gently, 'leein' awake + o' nights, hev'n't yee, noo?' + </p> + <p> + She smiled vaguely. + </p> + <p> + 'Well, but ye see I've coom t' settle t' whole business for ye. Ye thought + mabbe that I was na a man o' my word.' + </p> + <p> + 'No, no, not that,' she protested, 'but—but—' + </p> + <p> + 'But what then?' + </p> + <p> + 'Ye must not do it, Mr. Garstin ... I must just bear my own trouble the + best I can—' she broke out. + </p> + <p> + 'D'ye fancy I'm takin' ye oot of charity? Ye little reckon the sort o' + stuff my love for ye's made of. Nay, Miss Rosa, but ye canna draw back + noo.' + </p> + <p> + 'But ye cannot do it, Mr. Garstin. Ye know your mother will na have me at + Hootsey.... I could na live there with your mother.... I'd sooner bear my + trouble alone, as best I can.... She's that stern is Mrs. Garstin. I + couldn't look her in the face.... I can go away somewhere.... I could keep + it all from uncle.' + </p> + <p> + Her colour came and went: she stood before him, looking away from him, + dully, out of the window. + </p> + <p> + 'I intend ye t' coom t' Hootsey. I'm na lad: I reckon I can choose my own + wife. Mother'll hev ye at t' farm, right enough: ye need na distress + yeself on that point—' + </p> + <p> + 'Nay, Mr. Garstin, but indeed she will not, never... I know she will + not... She always set herself against me, right from the first.' + </p> + <p> + 'Ay, but that was different. T' case is all changed noo,' he objected + doggedly. + </p> + <p> + 'She'll support the sight of me all the less,' the girl faltered. + </p> + <p> + 'Mother'll hev ye at Hootsey—receive ye willin' of her own free wish—of + her own free wish, d'ye hear? I'll answer for that.' + </p> + <p> + He struck the table with his fist heavily. His tone of determination awed + her: she glanced at him hurriedly, struggling with her irresolution. + </p> + <p> + 'I knaw hoo t' manage mother. An' now,' he concluded, changing his tone, + 'is yer uncle about t' place?' + </p> + <p> + 'He's up the paddock, I think,' she answered. + </p> + <p> + 'Well, I'll jest step oop and hev a word wi' him.' + </p> + <p> + 'Ye're ... ye will na tell him.' + </p> + <p> + 'Tut, tut, na harrowin' tales, ye need na fear, lass. I reckon ef I can + tackle mother, I can accommodate myself t' parson Blencarn.' + </p> + <p> + He rose, and coming close to her, scanned her face. + </p> + <p> + 'Ye must git t' roses back t' yer cheeks,' he exclaimed, with a short + laugh, 'I canna be takin' a ghost t' church.' + </p> + <p> + She smiled tremulously, and he continued, laying one hand affectionately + on her shoulder: + </p> + <p> + 'Nay, but I was but jestin'. Roses or na roses, ye'll be t' bonniest bride + in all Coomberland. I'll meet ye in Hullam lane, after church time, + tomorrow,' he added, moving towards the door. + </p> + <p> + After he had gone, she hurried to the backdoor furtively. His retreating + figure was already mounting the grey upland field. Presently, beyond him, + she perceived her uncle, emerging through the paddock gate. She ran across + the poultry yard, and mounting a tub, stood watching the two figures as + they moved towards one another along the brow, Anthony vigorously + trudging, with his hands thrust deep in his pockets; her uncle, his + wideawake tilted over his nose, hobbling, and leaning stiffly on his pair + of sticks. They met; she saw Anthony take her uncle's arm: the two, + turning together, strolled away towards the fell. + </p> + <p> + She went back into the house. Anthony's dog came towards her, slinking + along the passage. She caught the animal's head in her hands, and bent + over it caressingly, in an impulsive outburst of almost hysterical + affection. + </p> + <h3> + VII + </h3> + <p> + The two men returned towards the vicarage. At the paddock gate they + halted, and the old man concluded: + </p> + <p> + 'I could not have wished a better man for her, Anthony. Mabbe the Lord'll + not be minded to spare me much longer. After I'm gone Rosa'll hev all I + possess. She was my poor brother Isaac's only child. After her mother was + taken, he, poor fellow, went altogether to the bad, and until she came + here she mostly lived among strangers. It's been a wretched sort of + childhood for her—a wretched sort of childhood. Ye'll take care of + her, Anthony, will ye not? ... Nay, but I could not hev wished for a + better man for her, and there's my hand on 't.' + </p> + <p> + 'Thank ee, Mr. Blencarn, thank ee,' Anthony answered huskily, gripping the + old man's hand. + </p> + <p> + And he started off down the lane homewards. + </p> + <p> + His heart was full of a strange, rugged exaltation. He felt with a + swelling pride that God had entrusted to him this great charge—to + tend her; to make up to her, tenfold, for all that loving care, which, in + her childhood, she had never known. And together with a stubborn + confidence in himself, there welled up within him a great pity for her—a + tender pity, that, chastening with his passion, made her seem to him, as + he brooded over that lonely childhood of hers, the more distinctly + beautiful, the more profoundly precious. He pictured to himself, + tremulously, almost incredulously, their married life—in the winter, + his return home at nightfall to find her awaiting him with a glad, + trustful smile; their evenings, passed together, sitting in silent + happiness over the smouldering logs; or, in summer-time, the midday rest + in the hay-fields when, wearing perhaps a large-brimmed hat fastened with + a red ribbon, beneath her chin, he would catch sight of her, carrying his + dinner, coming across the upland. + </p> + <p> + She had not been brought up to be a farmer's wife: she was but a child + still, as the old parson had said. She should not have to work as other + men's wives worked: she should dress like a lady, and on Sundays, in + church, wear fine bonnets, and remain, as she had always been, the belle + of all the parish. + </p> + <p> + And, meanwhile, he would farm as he had never farmed before, watching his + opportunities, driving cunning bargains, spending nothing on himself, + hoarding every penny that she might have what she wanted.... And, as he + strode through the village, he seemed to foresee a general brightening of + prospects, a sobering of the fever of speculation in sheep, a cessation of + the insensate glutting, year after year, of the great winter marts + throughout the North, a slackening of the foreign competition followed by + a steady revival of the price of fatted stocks—a period of + prosperity in store for the farmer at last.... And the future years + appeared to open out before him, spread like a distant, glittering plain, + across which, he and she, hand in hand, were called to travel together.... + </p> + <p> + And then, suddenly, as his iron-bound boots clattered over the cobbled + yard, he remembered, with brutal determination, his mother, and the stormy + struggle that awaited him. + </p> + <p> + He waited till supper was over, till his mother had moved from the table + to her place by the chimney corner. For several minutes he remained + debating with himself the best method of breaking the news to her. Of a + sudden he glanced up at her: her knitting had slipped on to her lap: she + was sitting, bunched of a heap in her chair, nodding with sleep. By the + flickering light of the wood fire, she looked worn and broken: he felt a + twinge of clumsy compunction. And then he remembered the piteous, hunted + look in the girl's eyes, and the old man's words when they had parted at + the paddock gate, and he blurted out: + </p> + <p> + 'I doot but what I'll hev t' marry Rosa Blencarn after all.' + </p> + <p> + She started, and blinking her eyes, said: + </p> + <p> + 'I was jest takin' a wink o' sleep. What was 't ye were saying, Tony?' + </p> + <p> + He hesitated a moment, puckering his forehead into coarse rugged lines, + and fidgeting noisily with his tea-cup. Presently he repeated: + </p> + <p> + 'I doot but what I'll hev t' marry Rosa Blencarn after all.' + </p> + <p> + She rose stiffly, and stepping down from the hearth, came towards him. + </p> + <p> + 'Mabbe I did na hear ye aright, Tony.' She spoke hurriedly, and though she + was quite close to him, steadying herself with one hand clutching the back + of his chair, her voice sounded weak, distant almost. + </p> + <p> + 'Look oop at me. Look oop into my face,' she commanded fiercely. + </p> + <p> + He obeyed sullenly. + </p> + <p> + 'Noo oot wi 't. What's yer meanin', Tony?' + </p> + <p> + 'I mean what I say,' he retorted doggedly, averting his gaze. + </p> + <p> + 'What d'ye mean by sayin' that ye've <i>got</i> t' marry her?' + </p> + <p> + 'I tell yer I mean what I say,' he repeated dully. + </p> + <p> + 'Ye mean ye've bin an' put t' girl in trouble?' + </p> + <p> + He said nothing; but sat staring stupidly at the floor. + </p> + <p> + 'Look oop at me, and answer,' she commanded, gripping his shoulder and + shaking him. + </p> + <p> + He raised his face slowly, and met her glance. + </p> + <p> + 'Ay, that's aboot it,' he answered. + </p> + <p> + 'This'll na be truth. It'll be jest a piece o' wanton trickery!' she + cried. + </p> + <p> + 'Nay, but't is truth,' he answered deliberately. + </p> + <p> + 'Ye will na swear t' it?' she persisted. + </p> + <p> + 'I see na necessity for swearin'.' + </p> + <p> + 'Then ye canna swear t' it,' she burst out triumphantly. + </p> + <p> + He paused an instant; then said quietly: + </p> + <p> + 'Ay, but I'll swear t' it easy enough. Fetch t' Book.' + </p> + <p> + She lifted the heavy, tattered Bible from the chimney-piece, and placed it + before him on the table. He laid his lumpish fist on it. + </p> + <p> + 'Say,' she continued with a tense tremulousness, 'say, I swear t' ye, + mother, that 't is t' truth, t' whole truth, and noat but t' truth, s'help + me God.' + </p> + <p> + 'I swear t' ye, mother, it's truth, t' whole truth, and nothin' but t' + truth, s'help me God,' he repeated after her. + </p> + <p> + 'Kiss t' Book,' she ordered. + </p> + <p> + He lifted the Bible to his lips. As he replaced it on the table, he burst + out into a short laugh: + </p> + <p> + 'Be ye satisfied noo?' + </p> + <p> + She went back to the chimney corner without a word. The logs on the hearth + hissed and crackled. Outside, amid the blackness the wind was rising, + hooting through the firs, and past the windows. + </p> + <p> + After a long while he roused himself, and drawing his pipe from his pocket + almost steadily, proceeded leisurely to pare in the palm of his hand a + lump of black tobacco. + </p> + <p> + 'We'll be asked in church Sunday,' he remarked bluntly. + </p> + <p> + She made no answer. + </p> + <p> + He looked across at her. + </p> + <p> + Her mouth was drawn tight at the corners: her face wore a queer, rigid + aspect. She looked, he thought, like a figure of stone. + </p> + <p> + 'Ye're not feeling poorly, are ye, mother?' he asked. + </p> + <p> + She shook her head grimly: then, hobbling out into the room, began to + speak in a shrill, tuneless voice. + </p> + <p> + 'Ye talked at one time o' takin' a farm over Scarsdale way. But ye'd best + stop here. I'll no hinder ye. Ye can have t' large bedroom in t' front, + and I'll move ower to what used to be my brother Jake's room. Ye knaw I've + never had no opinion of t' girl, but I'll do what's right by her, ef I + break my sperrit in t' doin' on't. I'll mak' t' girl welcome here: I'll + stand by her proper-like: mebbe I'll finish by findin' soom good in her. + But from this day forward, Tony, ye're na son o' mine. Ye've dishonoured + yeself: ye've laid a trap for me—ay, laid a trap, that's t' word. + Ye've brought shame and bitterness on yer ould mother in her ould age. + Ye've made me despise t' varra sect o' ye. Ye can stop on here, but ye + shall niver touch a penny of my money; every shillin' of 't shall go t' + yer child, or to your child's children. Ay,' she went on, raising her + voice, 'ay, ye've got yer way at last, and mebbe ye reckon ye've chosen a + mighty smart way. But time 'ull coom when ye'll regret this day, when ye + eat oot yer repentance in doost an' ashes. Ay, Lord 'ull punish ye, Tony, + chastize ye properly. Ye'll learn that marriage begun in sin can end in + nought but sin. Ay,' she concluded, as she reached the door, raising her + skinny hand prophetically, 'ay, after I'm deed and gone, ye mind ye o' t' + words o' t' apostle—"For them that hev sinned without t' law, shall + also perish without t' law."' + </p> + <p> + And she slammed the door behind her. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + A LITTLE GREY GLOVE + </h2> + <h3> + By George Egerton (Mary Chavelita [Dunne] Bright) + </h3> + <p> + (<i>Keynotes</i>, London: Elkin Mathews and John Lane, Vigo Street, 1893) + </p> + <p> + Early-Spring, 1893 + </p> + <p> + <i>The book of life begins with a man and woman in a garden and ends—with + Revelations.</i> + </p> + <h3> + OSCAR WILDE + </h3> + <p> + Yes, most fellows' book of life may be said to begin at the chapter where + woman comes in; mine did. She came in years ago, when I was a raw + undergraduate. With the sober thought of retrospective analysis, I may say + she was not all my fancy painted her; indeed now that I come to think of + it there was no fancy about the vermeil of her cheeks, rather an + artificial reality; she had her bower in the bar of the Golden Boar, and I + was madly in love with her, seriously intent on lawful wedlock. Luckily + for me she threw me over for a neighbouring pork butcher, but at the time + I took it hardly, and it made me sex-shy. I was a very poor man in those + days. One feels one's griefs more keenly then, one hasn't the wherewithal + to buy distraction. Besides, ladies snubbed me rather, on the rare + occasions I met them. Later I fell in for a legacy, the forerunner of + several; indeed, I may say I am beastly rich. My tastes are simple too, + and I haven't any poor relations. I believe they are of great assistance + in getting rid of superfluous capital, wish I had some! It was after the + legacy that women discovered my attractions. They found that there was + something superb in my plainness (before, they said ugliness), something + after the style of the late Victor Emanuel, something infinitely more + striking than mere ordinary beauty. At least so Harding told me his sister + said, and she had the reputation of being a clever girl. Being an only + child, I never had the opportunity other fellows had of studying the + undress side of women through familiar intercourse, say with sisters. + Their most ordinary belongings were sacred to me. I had, I used to be + told, ridiculous high-flown notions about them (by the way I modified + those considerably on closer acquaintance). I ought to study them, nothing + like a woman for developing a fellow. So I laid in a stock of books in + different languages, mostly novels, in which women played title roles, in + order to get up some definite data before venturing amongst them. I can't + say I derived much benefit from this course. There seemed to be as great a + diversity of opinion about the female species as, let us say, about the + salmonidae. + </p> + <p> + My friend Ponsonby Smith, who is one of the oldest fly-fishers in the + three kingdoms, said to me once: Take my word for it, there are only four + true salmo; the salar, the trutta, the fario, the ferox; all the rest are + just varieties, subgenuses of the above; stick to that. Some writing + fellow divided all the women into good-uns and bad-uns. But as a + conscientious stickler for truth, I must say that both in trout as in + women, I have found myself faced with most puzzling varieties, that were a + tantalizing blending of several qualities. I then resolved to study them + on my own account. I pursued the Eternal Feminine in a spirit of purely + scientific investigation. I knew you'd laugh sceptically at that, but it's + a fact. I was impartial in my selection of subjects for observation—French, + German, Spanish, as well as the home product. Nothing in petticoats + escaped me. I devoted myself to the freshest <i>ingenue</i> as well as the + experienced widow of three departed; and I may as well confess that the + more I saw of her, the less I understood her. But I think they understood + me. They refused to take me <i>au sérieux</i>. When they weren't fleecing + me, they were interested in the state of my soul (I preferred the former), + but all humbugged me equally, so I gave them up. I took to rod and gun + instead, <i>pro salute animae</i>; it's decidedly safer. I have scoured + every country in the globe; indeed I can say that I have shot and fished + in woods and waters where no other white man, perhaps ever dropped a beast + or played a fish before. There is no life like the life of a free + wanderer, and no lore like the lore one gleans in the great book of + nature. But one must have freed one's spirit from the taint of the town + before one can even read the alphabet of its mystic meaning. + </p> + <p> + What has this to do with the glove? True, not much, and yet it has a + connection—it accounts for me. + </p> + <p> + Well, for twelve years I have followed the impulses of the wandering + spirit that dwells in me. I have seen the sun rise in Finland and gild the + Devil's Knuckles as he sank behind the Drachensberg. I have caught the + barba and the gamer yellow fish in the Vaal river, taken muskelunge and + black-bass in Canada, thrown a fly over <i>guapote</i> and <i>cavallo</i> + in Central American lakes, and choked the monster eels of the Mauritius + with a cunningly faked-up duckling. But I have been shy as a chub at the + shadow of a woman. + </p> + <p> + Well, it happened last year I came back on business—another + confounded legacy; end of June too, just as I was off to Finland. But + Messrs. Thimble and Rigg, the highly respectable firm who look after my + affairs, represented that I owed it to others, whom I kept out of their + share of the legacy, to stay near town till affairs were wound up. They + told me, with a view to reconcile me perhaps, of a trout stream with a + decent inn near it; an unknown stream in Kent. It seems a junior member of + the firm is an angler, at least he sometimes catches pike or perch in the + Medway some way from the stream where the trout rise in audacious security + from artificial lures. I stipulated for a clerk to come down with any + papers to be signed, and started at once for Victoria. I decline to tell + the name of my find, firstly because the trout are the gamest little fish + that ever rose to fly and run to a good two pounds. Secondly, I have paid + for all the rooms in the inn for the next year, and I want it to myself. + The glove is lying on the table next me as I write. If it isn't in my + breast-pocket or under my pillow, it is in some place where I can see it. + It has a delicate grey body (suède, I think they call it) with a whipping + of silver round the top, and a darker grey silk tag to fasten it. It is + marked 5-3/4 inside, and has a delicious scent about it, to keep off + moths, I suppose; naphthaline is better. It reminds me of a 'silver-sedge' + tied on a ten hook. I startled the good landlady of the little inn (there + is no village fortunately) when I arrived with the only porter of the tiny + station laden with traps. She hesitated about a private sitting-room, but + eventually we compromised matters, as I was willing to share it with the + other visitor. I got into knickerbockers at once, collared a boy to get me + worms and minnow for the morrow, and as I felt too lazy to unpack tackle, + just sat in the shiny armchair (made comfortable by the successive sitting + of former occupants) at the open window and looked out. The river, not the + trout stream, winds to the right, and the trees cast trembling shadows + into its clear depths. The red tiles of a farm roof show between the + beeches, and break the monotony of blue sky background. A dusty waggoner + is slaking his thirst with a tankard of ale. I am conscious of the strange + lonely feeling that a visit to England always gives me. Away in strange + lands, even in solitary places, one doesn't feel it somehow. One is filled + with the hunter's lust, bent on a 'kill', but at home in the quiet + country, with the smoke curling up from some fireside, the mowers busy + laying the hay in swaths, the children tumbling under the trees in the + orchards, and a girl singing as she spreads the clothes on the sweetbriar + hedge, amidst a scene quick with home sights and sounds, a strange lack + creeps in and makes itself felt in a dull, aching way. Oddly enough, too, + I had a sense of uneasiness, a 'something going to happen'. I had often + experienced it when out alone in a great forest, or on an unknown lake, + and it always meant 'ware danger' of some kind. But why should I feel it + here? Yet I did, and I couldn't shake it off. I took to examining the + room. It was a commonplace one of the usual type. But there was a + work-basket on the table, a dainty thing, lined with blue satin. There was + a bit of lace stretched over shiny blue linen, with the needle sticking in + it; such fairy work, like cobwebs seen from below, spun from a branch + against a background of sky. A gold thimble, too, with initials, not the + landlady's, I know. What pretty things, too, in the basket! A scissors, a + capital shape for fly-making; a little file, and some floss silk and + tinsel, the identical colour I want for a new fly I have in my head, one + that will be a demon to kill. The northern devil I mean to call him. Some + one looks in behind me, and a light step passes upstairs. I drop the + basket, I don't know why. There are some reviews near it. I take up one, + and am soon buried in an article on Tasmanian fauna. It is strange, but + whenever I do know anything about a subject, I always find these writing + fellows either entirely ignorant or damned wrong. + </p> + <p> + After supper, I took a stroll to see the river. It was a silver grey + evening, with just the last lemon and pink streaks of the sunset staining + the sky. There had been a shower, and somehow the smell of the dust after + rain mingled with the mignonette in the garden brought back vanished + scenes of small-boyhood, when I caught minnows in a bottle, and dreamt of + a shilling rod as happiness unattainable. I turned aside from the road in + accordance with directions, and walked towards the stream. Holloa! someone + before me, what a bore! The angler is hidden by an elder-bush, but I can + see the fly drop delicately, artistically on the water. Fishing upstream, + too! There is a bit of broken water there, and the midges dance in + myriads; a silver gleam, and the line spins out, and the fly falls just in + the right place. It is growing dusk, but the fellow is an adept at quick, + fine casting—I wonder what fly he has on—why, he's going to + try downstream now? I hurry forward, and as I near him, I swerve to the + left out of the way. S-s-s-s! a sudden sting in the lobe of my ear. Hey! I + cry as I find I am caught; the tail fly is fast in it. A slight, grey-clad + woman holding the rod lays it carefully down and comes towards me through + the gathering dusk. My first impulse is to snap the gut and take to my + heels, but I am held by something less tangible but far more powerful than + the grip of the Limerick hook in my ear. + </p> + <p> + 'I am very sorry!' she says in a voice that matched the evening, it was so + quiet and soft; 'but it was exceedingly stupid of you to come behind like + that.' + </p> + <p> + 'I didn't think you threw such a long line; I thought I was safe,' I + stammered. + </p> + <p> + 'Hold this!' she says, giving me a diminutive fly-book, out of which she + has taken a scissors. I obey meekly. She snips the gut. + </p> + <p> + 'Have you a sharp knife? If I strip the hook you can push it through; it + is lucky it isn't in the cartilage.' + </p> + <p> + I suppose I am an awful idiot, but I only handed her the knife, and she + proceeded as calmly as if stripping a hook in a man's ear were an everyday + occurrence. Her gown is of some soft grey stuff, and her grey leather belt + is silver clasped. Her hands are soft and cool and steady, but there is a + rarely disturbing thrill in their gentle touch. The thought flashed + through my mind that I had just missed that, a woman's voluntary tender + touch, not a paid caress, all my life. + </p> + <p> + 'Now you can push it through yourself. I hope it won't hurt much.' Taking + the hook, I push it through, and a drop of blood follows it. 'Oh!' she + cries, but I assure her it is nothing, and stick the hook surreptitiously + in my coat sleeve. Then we both laugh, and I look at her for the first + time. She has a very white forehead, with little tendrils of hair blowing + round it under her grey cap, her eyes are grey. I didn't see that then, I + only saw they were steady, smiling eyes that matched her mouth. Such a + mouth, the most maddening mouth a man ever longed to kiss, above a + too-pointed chin, soft as a child's; indeed, the whole face looks soft in + the misty light. + </p> + <p> + 'I am sorry I spoilt your sport!' I say. + </p> + <p> + 'Oh, that don't matter, it's time to stop. I got two brace, one a beauty.' + </p> + <p> + She is winding in her line, and I look in her basket; they <i>are</i> + beauties, one two-pounder, the rest running from a half to a pound. + </p> + <p> + 'What fly?' + </p> + <p> + 'Yellow dun took that one, but your assailant was a partridge spider.' I + sling her basket over my shoulder; she takes it as a matter of course, and + we retrace our steps. I feel curiously happy as we walk towards the road; + there is a novel delight in her nearness; the feel of woman works subtly + and strangely in me; the rustle of her skirt as it brushes the black-heads + in the meadow-grass, and the delicate perfume, partly violets, partly + herself, that comes to me with each of her movements is a rare pleasure. I + am hardly surprised when she turns into the garden of the inn, I think I + knew from the first that she would. + </p> + <p> + 'Better bathe that ear of yours, and put a few drops of carbolic in the + water.' She takes the basket as she says it, and goes into the kitchen. I + hurry over this, and go into the little sitting-room. There is a tray with + a glass of milk and some oaten cakes upon the table. I am too disturbed to + sit down; I stand at the window and watch the bats flitter in the + gathering moonlight, and listen with quivering nerves for her step—perhaps + she will send for the tray, and not come after all. What a fool I am to be + disturbed by a grey-clad witch with a tantalizing mouth! That comes of + loafing about doing nothing. I mentally darn the old fool who saved her + money instead of spending it. Why the devil should I be bothered? I don't + want it anyhow. She comes in as I fume, and I forget everything at her + entrance. I push the armchair towards the table, and she sinks quietly + into it, pulling the tray nearer. She has a wedding ring on, but somehow + it never strikes me to wonder if she is married or a widow or who she may + be. I am content to watch her break her biscuits. She has the prettiest + hands, and a trick of separating her last fingers when she takes hold of + anything. They remind me of white orchids I saw somewhere. She led me to + talk; about Africa, I think. I liked to watch her eyes glow deeply in the + shadow and then catch light as she bent forward to say something in her + quick responsive way. + </p> + <p> + 'Long ago when I was a girl,' she said once. + </p> + <p> + 'Long ago?' I echo incredulously, 'surely not?' + </p> + <p> + 'Ah, but yes, you haven't seen me in the daylight,' with a soft little + laugh. 'Do you know what the gipsies say? "Never judge a woman or a ribbon + by candle-light." They might have said moonlight equally well.' + </p> + <p> + She rises as she speaks, and I feel an overpowering wish to have her put + out her hand. But she does not, she only takes the work-basket and a book, + and says good night with an inclination of her little head. + </p> + <p> + I go over and stand next to her chair; I don't like to sit in it, but I + like to put my hand where her head leant, and fancy, if she were there, + how she would look up. + </p> + <p> + I woke next morning with a curious sense of pleasurable excitement. I + whistled from very lightness of heart as I dressed. When I got down I + found the landlady clearing away her breakfast things. I felt disappointed + and resolved to be down earlier in future. I didn't feel inclined to try + the minnow. I put them in a tub in the yard and tried to read and listen + for her step. I dined alone. The day dragged terribly. I did not like to + ask about her, I had a notion she might not like it. I spent the evening + on the river. I might have filled a good basket, but I let the beggars + rest. After all, I had caught fish enough to stock all the rivers in Great + Britain. There are other things than trout in the world. I sit and smoke a + pipe where she caught me last night. If I half close my eyes I can see + hers, and her mouth, in the smoke. That is one of the curious charms of + baccy, it helps to reproduce brain pictures. After a bit, I think 'perhaps + she has left'. I get quite feverish at the thought and hasten back. I must + ask. I look up at the window as I pass; there is surely a gleam of white. + I throw down my traps and hasten up. She is leaning with her arms on the + window-ledge staring out into the gloom. I could swear I caught a + suppressed sob as I entered. I cough, and she turns quickly and bows + slightly. A bonnet and gloves and lace affair and a lot of papers are + lying on the table. I am awfully afraid she is going. I say— + </p> + <p> + 'Please don't let me drive you away, it is so early yet. I half expected + to see you on the river.' + </p> + <p> + 'Nothing so pleasant; I have been up in town (the tears have certainly got + into her voice) all day; it was so hot and dusty, I am tired out.' + </p> + <p> + The little servant brings in the lamp and a tray with a bottle of + lemonade. + </p> + <p> + 'Mistress hasn't any lemons, 'm, will this do?' + </p> + <p> + 'Yes,' she says wearily, she is shading her eyes with her hand; 'anything; + I am fearfully thirsty.' + </p> + <p> + 'Let me concoct you a drink instead. I have lemons and ice and things. My + man sent me down supplies today; I leave him in town. I am rather a dab at + drinks; I learnt it from the Yankees; about the only thing I did learn + from them I care to remember. Susan!' The little maid helps me to get the + materials, and <i>she</i> watches me quietly. When I give it to her she + takes it with a smile (she <i>has</i> been crying). That is an ample thank + you. She looks quite old. Something more than tiredness called up those + lines in her face. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Well, ten days passed, sometimes we met at breakfast, sometimes at supper, + sometimes we fished together or sat in the straggling orchard and talked; + she neither avoided me nor sought me. She is the most charming mixture of + child and woman I ever met. She is a dual creature. Now I never met that + in a man. When she is here without getting a letter in the morning or + going to town, she seems like a girl. She runs about in her grey gown and + little cap and laughs, and seems to throw off all thought like an + irresponsible child. She is eager to fish, or pick gooseberries and eat + them daintily, or sit under the trees and talk. But when she goes to town—I + notice she always goes when she gets a lawyer's letter, there is no + mistaking the envelope—she comes home tired and haggard-looking, an + old woman of thirty-five. I wonder why. It takes her, even with her + elasticity of temperament, nearly a day to get young again. I hate her to + go to town; it is extraordinary how I miss her; I can't recall, when she + is absent, her saying anything very wonderful, but she converses all the + time. She has a gracious way of filling the place with herself, there is + an entertaining quality in her very presence. We had one rainy afternoon; + she tied me some flies (I shan't use any of them); I watched the lights in + her hair as she moved, it is quite golden in some places, and she has a + tiny mole near her left ear and another on her left wrist. On the eleventh + day she got a letter but she didn't go to town, she stayed up in her room + all day; twenty times I felt inclined to send her a line, but I had no + excuse. I heard the landlady say as I passed the kitchen window: 'Poor + dear! I'm sorry to lose her!' Lose her? I should think not. It has come to + this with me that I don't care to face any future without her; and yet I + know nothing about her, not even if she is a free woman. I shall find that + out the next time I see her. In the evening I catch a glimpse of her gown + in the orchard, and I follow her. We sit down near the river. Her left + hand is lying gloveless next to me in the grass. + </p> + <p> + 'Do you think from what you have seen of me, that I would ask a question + out of any mere impertinent curiosity?' + </p> + <p> + She starts. 'No, I do not!' + </p> + <p> + I take up her hand and touch the ring. 'Tell me, does this bind you to any + one?' + </p> + <p> + I am conscious of a buzzing in my ears and a dancing blurr of water and + sky and trees, as I wait (it seems to me an hour) for her reply. I felt + the same sensation once before, when I got drawn into some rapids and had + an awfully narrow shave, but of that another time. + </p> + <p> + The voice is shaking. + </p> + <p> + 'I am not legally bound to anyone, at least; but why do you ask?' she + looks me square in the face as she speaks, with a touch of haughtiness I + never saw in her before. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps the great relief I feel, the sense of joy at knowing she is free, + speaks out of my face, for hers flushes and she drops her eyes, her lips + tremble. I don't look at her again, but I can see her all the same. After + a while she says— + </p> + <p> + 'I half intended to tell you something about myself this evening, now I <i>must</i>. + Let us go in. I shall come down to the sitting-room after your supper.' + She takes a long look at the river and the inn, as if fixing the place in + her memory; it strikes me with a chill that there is a goodbye in her + gaze. Her eyes rest on me a moment as they come back, there is a sad look + in their grey clearness. She swings her little grey gloves in her hand as + we walk back. I can hear her walking up and down overhead; how tired she + will be, and how slowly the time goes. I am standing at one side of the + window when she enters; she stands at the other, leaning her head against + the shutter with her hands clasped before her. I can hear my own heart + beating, and, I fancy, hers through the stillness. The suspense is + fearful. At length she says— + </p> + <p> + 'You have been a long time out of England; you don't read the papers?' + </p> + <p> + 'No.' A pause. I believe my heart is beating inside my head. + </p> + <p> + 'You asked me if I was a free woman. I don't pretend to misunderstand why + you asked me. I am not a beautiful woman, I never was. But there must be + something about me, there is in some women, "essential femininity" + perhaps, that appeals to all men. What I read in your eyes I have seen in + many men's before, but before God I never tried to rouse it. Today (with a + sob), I can say I am free, yesterday morning I could not. Yesterday my + husband gained his case and divorced me!' she closes her eyes and draws in + her under-lip to stop its quivering. I want to take her in my arms, but I + am afraid to. + </p> + <p> + 'I did not ask you any more than if you were free!' + </p> + <p> + 'No, but I am afraid you don't quite take in the meaning. I did not + divorce my husband, he divorced <i>me</i>, he got a decree <i>nisi</i>; do + you understand now? (she is speaking with difficulty), do you know what + that implies?' + </p> + <p> + I can't stand her face any longer. I take her hands, they are icy cold, + and hold them tightly. + </p> + <p> + 'Yes, I know what it implies, that is, I know the legal and social + conclusion to be drawn from it—if that is what you mean. But I never + asked you for that information. I have nothing to do with your past. You + did not exist for me before the day we met on the river. I take you from + that day and I ask you to marry me.' + </p> + <p> + I feel her tremble and her hands get suddenly warm. She turns her head and + looks at me long and searchingly, then she says— + </p> + <p> + 'Sit down, I want to say something!' + </p> + <p> + I obey, and she comes and stands next the chair. I can't help it, I reach + up my arm, but she puts it gently down. + </p> + <p> + 'No, you must listen without touching me, I shall go back to the window. I + don't want to influence you a bit by any personal magnetism I possess. I + want you to listen—I have told you he divorced me, the co-respondent + was an old friend, a friend of my childhood, of my girlhood. He died just + after the first application was made, luckily for me. He would have + considered my honour before my happiness. <i>I</i> did not defend the + case, it wasn't likely—ah, if you knew all? He proved his case; + given clever counsel, willing witnesses to whom you make it worth while, + and no defence, divorce is always attainable even in England. But + remember: I figure as an adulteress in every English-speaking paper. If + you buy last week's evening papers—do you remember the day I was in + town?'—I nod—'you will see a sketch of me in that day's; + someone, perhaps he, must have given it; it was from an old photograph. I + bought one at Victoria as I came out; it is funny (with an hysterical + laugh) to buy a caricature of one's own poor face at a news-stall. Yet in + spite of that I have felt glad. The point for you is that I made no + defence to the world, and (with a lifting of her head) I will make no + apology, no explanation, no denial to you, now nor ever. I am very + desolate and your attention came very warm to me, but I don't love you. + Perhaps I could learn to (with a rush of colour), for what you have said + tonight, and it is because of that I tell you to weigh what this means. + Later, when your care for me will grow into habit, you may chafe at my + past. It is from that I would save you.' + </p> + <p> + I hold out my hands and she comes and puts them aside and takes me by the + beard and turns up my face and scans it earnestly. She must have been + deceived a good deal. I let her do as she pleases, it is the wisest way + with women, and it is good to have her touch me in that way. She seems + satisfied. She stands leaning against the arm of the chair and says— + </p> + <p> + 'I must learn first to think of myself as a free woman again, it almost + seems wrong today to talk like this; can you understand that feeling?' + </p> + <p> + I nod assent. + </p> + <p> + 'Next time I must be sure, and you must be sure,' she lays her fingers on + my mouth as I am about to protest, 'S-sh! You shall have a year to think. + If you repeat then what you have said today, I shall give you your answer. + You must not try to find me. I have money. If I am living, I will come + here to you. If I am dead, you will be told of it. In the year between I + shall look upon myself as belonging to you, and render an account if you + wish of every hour. You will not be influenced by me in any way, and you + will be able to reason it out calmly. If you think better of it, don't + come.' + </p> + <p> + I feel there would be no use trying to move her, I simply kiss her hands + and say: + </p> + <p> + 'As you will, dear woman, I shall be here.' + </p> + <p> + We don't say any more; she sits down on a footstool with her head against + my knee, and I just smooth it. When the clocks strike ten through the + house, she rises and I stand up. I see that she has been crying quietly, + poor lonely little soul. I lift her off her feet and kiss her, and stammer + out my sorrow at losing her, and she is gone. Next morning the little maid + brought me an envelope from the lady, who left by the first train. It held + a little grey glove; that is why I carry it always, and why I haunt the + inn and never leave it for longer than a week; why I sit and dream in the + old chair that has a ghost of her presence always; dream of the spring to + come with the May-fly on the wing, and the young summer when midges dance, + and the trout are growing fastidious; when she will come to me across the + meadow grass, through the silver haze, as she did before; come with her + grey eyes shining to exchange herself for her little grey glove. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE WOMAN BEATER + </h2> + <h3> + By Israel Zangwill + </h3> + <p> + (<i>The Grey Wig/Stories and Novelettes</i>, New York: The Macmillan + Company, 1903) + </p> + <h3> + I + </h3> + <p> + She came 'to meet John Lefolle', but John Lefolle did not know he was to + meet Winifred Glamorys. He did not even know he was himself the + meeting-point of all the brilliant and beautiful persons, assembled in the + publisher's Saturday Salon, for although a youthful minor poet, he was + modest and lovable. Perhaps his Oxford tutorship was sobering. At any rate + his head remained unturned by his precocious fame, and to meet these other + young men and women—his reverend seniors on the slopes of Parnassus—gave + him more pleasure than the receipt of 'royalties'. Not that his publisher + afforded him much opportunity of contrasting the two pleasures. The + profits of the Muse went to provide this room of old furniture and roses, + this beautiful garden a-twinkle with Japanese lanterns, like gorgeous + fire-flowers blossoming under the white crescent-moon of early June. + </p> + <p> + Winifred Glamorys was not literary herself. She was better than a poetess, + she was a poem. The publisher always threw in a few realities, and some + beautiful brainless creature would generally be found the nucleus of a + crowd, while Clio in spectacles languished in a corner. Winifred Glamorys, + however, was reputed to have a tongue that matched her eye; paralleling + with whimsies and epigrams its freakish fires and witcheries, and, + assuredly, flitting in her white gown through the dark balmy garden, she + seemed the very spirit of moonlight, the subtle incarnation of night and + roses. + </p> + <p> + When John Lefolle met her, Cecilia was with her, and the first + conversation was triangular. Cecilia fired most of the shots; she was a + bouncing, rattling beauty, chockful of confidence and high spirits, except + when asked to do the one thing she could do—sing! Then she became—quite + genuinely—a nervous, hesitant, pale little thing. However, the + suppliant hostess bore her off, and presently her rich contralto notes + passed through the garden, adding to its passion and mystery, and through + the open French windows, John could see her standing against the wall near + the piano, her head thrown back, her eyes half-closed, her creamy throat + swelling in the very abandonment of artistic ecstasy. + </p> + <p> + 'What a charming creature!' he exclaimed involuntarily. + </p> + <p> + 'That is what everybody thinks, except her husband,' Winifred laughed. + </p> + <p> + 'Is he blind then?' asked John with his cloistral <i>naïveté</i>. + </p> + <p> + 'Blind? No, love is blind. Marriage is never blind.' + </p> + <p> + The bitterness in her tone pierced John. He felt vaguely the passing of + some icy current from unknown seas of experience. Cecilia's voice soared + out enchantingly. + </p> + <p> + 'Then, marriage must be deaf,' he said, 'or such music as that would charm + it.' + </p> + <p> + She smiled sadly. Her smile was the tricksy play of moonlight among clouds + of faëry. + </p> + <p> + 'You have never been married,' she said simply. + </p> + <p> + 'Do you mean that you, too, are neglected?' something impelled him to + exclaim. + </p> + <p> + 'Worse,' she murmured. + </p> + <p> + 'It is incredible!' he cried. 'You!' + </p> + <p> + 'Hush! My husband will hear you.' + </p> + <p> + Her warning whisper brought him into a delicious conspiracy with her. + 'Which is your husband?' he whispered back. + </p> + <p> + 'There! Near the casement, standing gazing open-mouthed at Cecilia. He + always opens his mouth when she sings. It is like two toys moved by the + same wire.' + </p> + <p> + He looked at the tall, stalwart, ruddy-haired Anglo-Saxon. 'Do you mean to + say he—?' + </p> + <p> + 'I mean to say nothing.' + </p> + <p> + 'But you said—' + </p> + <p> + 'I said "worse".' + </p> + <p> + 'Why, what can be worse?' + </p> + <p> + She put her hand over her face. 'I am ashamed to tell you.' How adorable + was that half-divined blush! + </p> + <p> + 'But you must tell me everything.' He scarcely knew how he had leapt into + this role of confessor. He only felt they were 'moved by the same wire'. + </p> + <p> + Her head drooped on her breast. 'He—beats—me.' + </p> + <p> + 'What!' John forgot to whisper. It was the greatest shock his recluse life + had known, compact as it was of horror at the revelation, shamed confusion + at her candour, and delicious pleasure in her confidence. + </p> + <p> + This fragile, exquisite creature under the rod of a brutal bully! + </p> + <p> + Once he had gone to a wedding reception, and among the serious presents + some grinning Philistine drew his attention to an uncouth club—'a + wife-beater' he called it. The flippancy had jarred upon John terribly: + this intrusive reminder of the customs of the slums. It grated like + Billingsgate in a boudoir. Now that savage weapon recurred to him—for + a lurid instant he saw Winifred's husband wielding it. Oh, abomination of + his sex! And did he stand there, in his immaculate evening dress, posing + as an English gentleman? Even so might some gentleman burglar bear through + a salon his imperturbable swallow-tail. + </p> + <p> + Beat a woman! Beat that essence of charm and purity, God's best gift to + man, redeeming him from his own grossness! Could such things be? John + Lefolle would as soon have credited the French legend that English wives + are sold in Smithfield. No! it could not be real that this flower-like + figure was thrashed. + </p> + <p> + 'Do you mean to say—?' he cried. The rapidity of her confidence + alone made him feel it all of a dreamlike unreality. + </p> + <p> + 'Hush! Cecilia's singing!' she admonished him with an unexpected smile, as + her fingers fell from her face. + </p> + <p> + 'Oh, you have been making fun of me.' He was vastly relieved. 'He beats + you—at chess—or at lawn-tennis?' + </p> + <p> + 'Does one wear a high-necked dress to conceal the traces of chess, or + lawn-tennis?' + </p> + <p> + He had not noticed her dress before, save for its spiritual whiteness. + Susceptible though he was to beautiful shoulders, Winifred's enchanting + face had been sufficiently distracting. Now the thought of physical + bruises gave him a second spasm of righteous horror. That delicate + rose-leaf flesh abraded and lacerated! + </p> + <p> + 'The ruffian! Does he use a stick or a fist?' + </p> + <p> + 'Both! But as a rule he just takes me by the arms and shakes me like a + terrier a rat. I'm all black and blue now.' + </p> + <p> + 'Poor butterfly!' he murmured poetically. + </p> + <p> + 'Why did I tell you?' she murmured back with subtler poetry. + </p> + <p> + The poet thrilled in every vein. 'Love at first sight', of which he had + often read and often written, was then a reality! It could be as mutual, + too, as Romeo's and Juliet's. But how awkward that Juliet should be + married and her husband a Bill Sykes in broad-cloth! + </p> + <h3> + II + </h3> + <p> + Mrs. Glamorys herself gave 'At Homes', every Sunday afternoon, and so, on + the morrow, after a sleepless night mitigated by perpended sonnets, the + love-sick young tutor presented himself by invitation at the beautiful old + house in Hampstead. He was enchanted to find his heart's mistress set in + an eighteenth-century frame of small-paned windows and of high + oak-panelling, and at once began to image her dancing minuets and playing + on virginals. Her husband was absent, but a broad band of velvet round + Winifred's neck was a painful reminder of his possibilities. Winifred, + however, said it was only a touch of sore throat caught in the garden. Her + eyes added that there was nothing in the pathological dictionary which she + would not willingly have caught for the sake of those divine, if draughty + moments; but that, alas! it was more than a mere bodily ailment she had + caught there. + </p> + <p> + There were a great many visitors in the two delightfully quaint rooms, + among whom he wandered disconsolate and admired, jealous of her scattered + smiles, but presently he found himself seated by her side on a 'cosy + corner' near the open folding-doors, with all the other guests huddled + round a violinist in the inner room. How Winifred had managed it he did + not know but she sat plausibly in the outer room, awaiting newcomers, and + this particular niche was invisible, save to a determined eye. He took her + unresisting hand—that dear, warm hand, with its begemmed artistic + fingers, and held it in uneasy beatitude. How wonderful! She—the + beautiful and adored hostess, of whose sweetness and charm he heard even + her own guests murmur to one another—it was her actual + flesh-and-blood hand that lay in his—thrillingly tangible. Oh, + adventure beyond all merit, beyond all hoping! + </p> + <p> + But every now and then, the outer door facing them would open on some + newcomer, and John had hastily to release her soft magnetic fingers and + sit demure, and jealously overhear her effusive welcome to those innocent + intruders, nor did his brow clear till she had shepherded them within the + inner fold. Fortunately, the refreshments were in this section, so that + once therein, few of the sheep strayed back, and the jiggling wail of the + violin was succeeded by a shrill babble of tongues and the clatter of cups + and spoons. 'Get me an ice, please—strawberry,' she ordered John + during one of these forced intervals in manual flirtation; and when he had + steered laboriously to and fro, he found a young actor beside her in his + cosy corner, and his jealous fancy almost saw <i>their</i> hands dispart. + He stood over them with a sickly smile, while Winifred ate her ice. When + he returned from depositing the empty saucer, the player-fellow was gone, + and in remorse for his mad suspicion he stooped and reverently lifted her + fragrant finger-tips to his lips. The door behind his back opened + abruptly. + </p> + <p> + 'Goodbye,' she said, rising in a flash. The words had the calm + conventional cadence, and instantly extorted from him—amid all his + dazedness—the corresponding 'Goodbye'. When he turned and saw it was + Mr. Glamorys who had come in, his heart leapt wildly at the nearness of + his escape. As he passed this masked ruffian, he nodded perfunctorily and + received a cordial smile. Yes, he was handsome and fascinating enough + externally, this blonde savage. + </p> + <p> + 'A man may smile and smile and be a villain,' John thought. 'I wonder how + he'd feel, if he knew I knew he beats women.' + </p> + <p> + Already John had generalized the charge. 'I hope Cecilia will keep him at + arm's length,' he had said to Winifred, 'if only that she may not smart + for it some day.' + </p> + <p> + He lingered purposely in the hall to get an impression of the brute, who + had begun talking loudly to a friend with irritating bursts of laughter, + speciously frank-ringing. Golf, fishing, comic operas—ah, the + Boeotian! These were the men who monopolized the ethereal divinities. + </p> + <p> + But this brusque separation from his particular divinity was + disconcerting. How to see her again? He must go up to Oxford in the + morning, he wrote her that night, but if she could possibly let him call + during the week he would manage to run down again. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + 'Oh, my dear, dreaming poet,' she wrote to Oxford, 'how could you possibly + send me a letter to be laid on the breakfast-table beside <i>The Times</i>! + With a poem in it, too. Fortunately my husband was in a hurry to get down + to the City, and he neglected to read my correspondence. (The unchivalrous + blackguard,' John commented. 'But what can be expected of a woman + beater?') Never, never write to me again at the house. A letter, care of + Mrs. Best, 8A Foley Street, W.C., will always find me. She is my maid's + mother. And you must not come here either, my dear handsome + head-in-the-clouds, except to my 'At Homes', and then only at judicious + intervals. I shall be walking round the pond in Kensington Gardens at four + next Wednesday, unless Mrs. Best brings me a letter to the contrary. And + now thank you for your delicious poem; I do not recognize my humble self + in the dainty lines, but I shall always be proud to think I inspired them. + Will it be in the new volume? I have never been in print before; it will + be a novel sensation. I cannot pay you song for song, only feeling for + feeling. Oh, John Lefolle, why did we not meet when I had still my girlish + dreams? Now, I have grown to distrust all men—to fear the brute + beneath the cavalier....' + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Mrs. Best did bring her a letter, but it was not to cancel the + appointment, only to say he was not surprised at her horror of the male + sex, but that she must beware of false generalizations. Life was still a + wonderful and beautiful thing—<i>vide</i> poem enclosed. He was + counting the minutes till Wednesday afternoon. It was surely a popular + mistake that only sixty went to the hour. + </p> + <p> + This chronometrical reflection recurred to him even more poignantly in the + hour that he circumambulated the pond in Kensington Gardens. Had she + forgotten—had her husband locked her up? What could have happened? + It seemed six hundred minutes, ere, at ten past five she came tripping + daintily towards him. His brain had been reduced to insanely devising + problems for his pupils—if a man walks two strides of one and a half + feet a second round a lake fifty acres in area, in how many turns will he + overtake a lady who walks half as fast and isn't there?—but the + moment her pink parasol loomed on the horizon, all his long misery + vanished in an ineffable peace and uplifting. He hurried, bare-headed, to + clasp her little gloved hand. He had forgotten her unpunctuality, nor did + she remind him of it. + </p> + <p> + 'How sweet of you to come all that way,' was all she said, and it was a + sufficient reward for the hours in the train and the six hundred minutes + among the nursemaids and perambulators. The elms were in their glory, the + birds were singing briskly, the water sparkled, the sunlit sward stretched + fresh and green—it was the loveliest, coolest moment of the + afternoon. John instinctively turned down a leafy avenue. Nature and Love! + What more could poet ask? + </p> + <p> + 'No, we can't have tea by the Kiosk,' Mrs. Glamorys protested. 'Of course + I love anything that savours of Paris, but it's become so fashionable. + There will be heaps of people who know me. I suppose you've forgotten it's + the height of the season. I know a quiet little place in the High Street.' + She led him, unresisting but bemused, towards the gate, and into a + confectioner's. Conversation languished on the way. + </p> + <p> + 'Tea,' he was about to instruct the pretty attendant. + </p> + <p> + 'Strawberry ices,' Mrs. Glamorys remarked gently. 'And some of those nice + French cakes.' + </p> + <p> + The ice restored his spirits, it was really delicious, and he had got so + hot and tired, pacing round the pond. Decidedly Winifred was a practical + person and he was a dreamer. The pastry he dared not touch—being a + genius—but he was charmed at the gaiety with which Winifred crammed + cake after cake into her rosebud of a mouth. What an enchanting creature! + how bravely she covered up her life's tragedy! + </p> + <p> + The thought made him glance at her velvet band—it was broader than + ever. + </p> + <p> + 'He has beaten you again!' he murmured furiously. Her joyous eyes + saddened, she hung her head, and her fingers crumbled the cake. 'What is + his pretext?' he asked, his blood burning. + </p> + <p> + 'Jealousy,' she whispered. + </p> + <p> + His blood lost its glow, ran cold. He felt the bully's blows on his own + skin, his romance turning suddenly sordid. But he recovered his courage. + He, too, had muscles. 'But I thought he just missed seeing me kiss your + hand.' + </p> + <p> + She opened her eyes wide. 'It wasn't you, you darling old dreamer.' + </p> + <p> + He was relieved and disturbed in one. + </p> + <p> + 'Somebody else?' he murmured. Somehow the vision of the player-fellow came + up. + </p> + <p> + She nodded. 'Isn't it lucky he has himself drawn a red-herring across the + track? I didn't mind his blows—<i>you</i> were safe!' Then, with one + of her adorable transitions, 'I am dreaming of another ice,' she cried + with roguish wistfulness. + </p> + <p> + 'I was afraid to confess my own greediness,' he said, laughing. He + beckoned the waitress. 'Two more.' + </p> + <p> + 'We haven't got any more strawberries,' was her unexpected reply. 'There's + been such a run on them today.' + </p> + <p> + Winifred's face grew overcast. 'Oh, nonsense!' she pouted. To John the + moment seemed tragic. + </p> + <p> + 'Won't you have another kind?' he queried. He himself liked any kind, but + he could scarcely eat a second ice without her. + </p> + <p> + Winifred meditated. 'Coffee?' she queried. + </p> + <p> + The waitress went away and returned with a face as gloomy as Winifred's. + 'It's been such a hot day,' she said deprecatingly. 'There is only one ice + in the place and that's Neapolitan.' + </p> + <p> + 'Well, bring two Neapolitans,' John ventured. + </p> + <p> + 'I mean there is only one Neapolitan ice left.' + </p> + <p> + 'Well, bring that. I don't really want one.' + </p> + <p> + He watched Mrs. Glamorys daintily devouring the solitary ice, and felt a + certain pathos about the parti-coloured oblong, a something of the + haunting sadness of 'The Last Rose of Summer'. It would make a graceful, + serio-comic triolet, he was thinking. But at the last spoonful, his + beautiful companion dislocated his rhymes by her sudden upspringing. + </p> + <p> + 'Goodness gracious,' she cried, 'how late it is!' + </p> + <p> + 'Oh, you're not leaving me yet!' he said. A world of things sprang to his + brain, things that he was going to say—to arrange. They had said + nothing—not a word of their love even; nothing but cakes and ices. + </p> + <p> + 'Poet!' she laughed. 'Have you forgotten I live at Hampstead?' She picked + up her parasol. + </p> + <p> + 'Put me into a hansom, or my husband will be raving at his lonely + dinner-table.' + </p> + <p> + He was so dazed as to be surprised when the waitress blocked his departure + with a bill. When Winifred was spirited away, he remembered she might, + without much risk, have given him a lift to Paddington. He hailed another + hansom and caught the next train to Oxford. But he was too late for his + own dinner in Hall. + </p> + <h3> + III + </h3> + <p> + He was kept very busy for the next few days, and could only exchange a + passionate letter or two with her. For some time the examination fever had + been raging, and in every college poor patients sat with wet towels round + their heads. Some, who had neglected their tutor all the term, now strove + to absorb his omniscience in a sitting. + </p> + <p> + On the Monday, John Lefolle was good-naturedly giving a special audience + to a muscular dunce, trying to explain to him the political effects of the + Crusades, when there was a knock at the sitting-room door, and the scout + ushered in Mrs. Glamorys. She was bewitchingly dressed in white, and stood + in the open doorway, smiling—an embodiment of the summer he was + neglecting. He rose, but his tongue was paralysed. The dunce became + suddenly important—a symbol of the decorum he had been outraging. + His soul, torn so abruptly from history to romance, could not get up the + right emotion. Why this imprudence of Winifred's? She had been so careful + heretofore. + </p> + <p> + 'What a lot of boots there are on your staircase!' she said gaily. + </p> + <p> + He laughed. The spell was broken. 'Yes, the heap to be cleaned is rather + obtrusive,' he said, 'but I suppose it is a sort of tradition.' + </p> + <p> + 'I think I've got hold of the thing pretty well now, sir.' The dunce rose + and smiled, and his tutor realized how little the dunce had to learn in + some things. He felt quite grateful to him. + </p> + <p> + 'Oh, well, you'll come and see me again after lunch, won't you, if one or + two points occur to you for elucidation,' he said, feeling vaguely a liar, + and generally guilty. But when, on the departure of the dunce, Winifred + held out her arms, everything fell from him but the sense of the exquisite + moment. Their lips met for the first time, but only for an instant. He had + scarcely time to realize that this wonderful thing had happened before the + mobile creature had darted to his book-shelves and was examining a + Thucydides upside down. + </p> + <p> + 'How clever to know Greek!' she exclaimed. 'And do you really talk it with + the other dons?' + </p> + <p> + 'No, we never talk shop,' he laughed. 'But, Winifred, what made you come + here?' + </p> + <p> + 'I had never seen Oxford. Isn't it beautiful?' + </p> + <p> + 'There's nothing beautiful <i>here</i>,' he said, looking round his sober + study. + </p> + <p> + 'No,' she admitted; 'there's nothing I care for here,' and had left + another celestial kiss on his lips before he knew it. 'And now you must + take me to lunch and on the river.' + </p> + <p> + He stammered, 'I have—work.' + </p> + <p> + She pouted. 'But I can't stay beyond tomorrow morning, and I want so much + to see all your celebrated oarsmen practising.' + </p> + <p> + 'You are not staying over the night?' he gasped. + </p> + <p> + 'Yes, I am,' and she threw him a dazzling glance. + </p> + <p> + His heart went pit-a-pat. 'Where?' he murmured. + </p> + <p> + 'Oh, some poky little hotel near the station. The swell hotels are full.' + </p> + <p> + He was glad to hear she was not conspicuously quartered. + </p> + <p> + 'So many people have come down already for Commem,' he said. 'I suppose + they are anxious to see the Generals get their degrees. But hadn't we + better go somewhere and lunch?' + </p> + <p> + They went down the stone staircase, past the battalion of boots, and + across the quad. He felt that all the windows were alive with eyes, but + she insisted on standing still and admiring their ivied picturesqueness. + After lunch he shamefacedly borrowed the dunce's punt. The necessities of + punting, which kept him far from her, and demanded much adroit labour, + gradually restored his self-respect, and he was able to look the + uncelebrated oarsmen they met in the eyes, except when they were + accompanied by their parents and sisters, which subtly made him feel + uncomfortable again. But Winifred, piquant under her pink parasol, was + singularly at ease, enraptured with the changing beauty of the river, + applauding with childish glee the wild flowers on the banks, or the + rippling reflections in the water. + </p> + <p> + 'Look, look!' she cried once, pointing skyward. He stared upwards, + expecting a balloon at least. But it was only 'Keats' little rosy cloud', + she explained. It was not her fault if he did not find the excursion + unreservedly idyllic. + </p> + <p> + 'How stupid,' she reflected, 'to keep all those nice boys cooped up + reading dead languages in a spot made for life and love.' + </p> + <p> + 'I'm afraid they don't disturb the dead languages so much as you think,' + he reassured her, smiling. 'And there will be plenty of love-making during + Commem.' + </p> + <p> + 'I am so glad. I suppose there are lots of engagements that week.' + </p> + <p> + 'Oh, yes—but not one per cent come to anything.' + </p> + <p> + 'Really? Oh, how fickle men are!' + </p> + <p> + That seemed rather question-begging, but he was so thrilled by the + implicit revelation that she could not even imagine feminine inconstancy, + that he forebore to draw her attention to her inadequate logic. + </p> + <p> + So childish and thoughtless indeed was she that day that nothing would + content her but attending a 'Viva', which he had incautiously informed her + was public. + </p> + <p> + 'Nobody will notice us,' she urged with strange unconsciousness of her + loveliness. 'Besides, they don't know I'm not your sister.' + </p> + <p> + 'The Oxford intellect is sceptical,' he said, laughing. 'It cultivates + philosophical doubt.' + </p> + <p> + But, putting a bold face on the matter, and assuming a fraternal air, he + took her to the torture-chamber, in which candidates sat dolefully on a + row of chairs against the wall, waiting their turn to come before the + three grand inquisitors at the table. Fortunately, Winifred and he were + the only spectators; but unfortunately they blundered in at the very + moment when the poor owner of the punt was on the rack. The central + inquisitor was trying to extract from him information about Becket, almost + prompting him with the very words, but without penetrating through the + duncical denseness. John Lefolle breathed more freely when the Crusades + were broached; but, alas, it very soon became evident that the dunce had + by no means 'got hold of the thing'. As the dunce passed out sadly, + obviously ploughed, John Lefolle suffered more than he. So + conscience-stricken was he that, when he had accompanied Winifred as far + as her hotel, he refused her invitation to come in, pleading the + compulsoriness of duty and dinner in Hall. But he could not get away + without promising to call in during the evening. + </p> + <p> + The prospect of this visit was with him all through dinner, at once + tempting and terrifying. Assuredly there was a skeleton at his feast, as + he sat at the high table, facing the Master. The venerable portraits round + the Hall seemed to rebuke his romantic waywardness. In the common-room, he + sipped his port uneasily, listening as in a daze to the discussion on Free + Will, which an eminent stranger had stirred up. How academic it seemed, + compared with the passionate realities of life. But somehow he found + himself lingering on at the academic discussion, postponing the realities + of life. Every now and again, he was impelled to glance at his watch; but + suddenly murmuring, 'It is very late,' he pulled himself together, and + took leave of his learned brethren. But in the street the sight of a + telegraph office drew his steps to it, and almost mechanically he wrote + out the message: 'Regret detained. Will call early in morning.' + </p> + <p> + When he did call in the morning, he was told she had gone back to London + the night before on receipt of a telegram. He turned away with a bitter + pang of disappointment and regret. + </p> + <h3> + IV + </h3> + <p> + Their subsequent correspondence was only the more amorous. The reason she + had fled from the hotel, she explained, was that she could not endure the + night in those stuffy quarters. He consoled himself with the hope of + seeing much of her during the Long Vacation. He did see her once at her + own reception, but this time her husband wandered about the two rooms. The + cosy corner was impossible, and they could only manage to gasp out a few + mutual endearments amid the buzz and movement, and to arrange a <i>rendezvous</i> + for the end of July. When the day came, he received a heart-broken letter, + stating that her husband had borne her away to Goodwood. In a postscript + she informed him that 'Quicksilver was a sure thing'. Much correspondence + passed without another meeting being effected, and he lent her five pounds + to pay a debt of honour incurred through her husband's 'absurd confidence + in Quicksilver'. A week later this horsey husband of hers brought her on + to Brighton for the races there, and hither John Lefolle flew. But her + husband shadowed her, and he could only lift his hat to her as they passed + each other on the Lawns. Sometimes he saw her sitting pensively on a chair + while her lord and thrasher perused a pink sporting-paper. Such + tantalizing proximity raised their correspondence through the Hove Post + Office to fever heat. Life apart, they felt, was impossible, and, removed + from the sobering influences of his cap and gown, John Lefolle dreamed of + throwing everything to the winds. His literary reputation had opened out a + new career. The Winifred lyrics alone had brought in a tidy sum, and + though he had expended that and more on despatches of flowers and trifles + to her, yet he felt this extravagance would become extinguished under + daily companionship, and the poems provoked by her charms would go far + towards their daily maintenance. Yes, he could throw up the University. He + would rescue her from this bully, this gentleman bruiser. They would live + openly and nobly in the world's eye. A poet was not even expected to be + conventional. + </p> + <p> + She, on her side, was no less ardent for the great step. She raged against + the world's law, the injustice by which a husband's cruelty was not + sufficient ground for divorce. 'But we finer souls must take the law into + our own hands,' she wrote. 'We must teach society that the ethics of a + barbarous age are unfitted for our century of enlightenment.' But somehow + the actual time and place of the elopement could never get itself fixed. + In September her husband dragged her to Scotland, in October after the + pheasants. When the dramatic day was actually fixed, Winifred wrote by the + next post deferring it for a week. Even the few actual preliminary + meetings they planned for Kensington Gardens or Hampstead Heath rarely + came off. He lived in a whirling atmosphere of express letters of excuse, + and telegrams that transformed the situation from hour to hour. Not that + her passion in any way abated, or her romantic resolution really altered: + it was only that her conception of time and place and ways and means was + dizzily mutable. + </p> + <p> + But after nigh six months of palpitating negotiations with the adorable + Mrs. Glamorys, the poet, in a moment of dejection, penned the prose + apophthegm, 'It is of no use trying to change a changeable person.' + </p> + <h3> + V + </h3> + <p> + But at last she astonished him by a sketch plan of the elopement, so + detailed, even to band-boxes and the Paris night route <i>via</i> Dieppe, + that no further room for doubt was left in his intoxicated soul, and he + was actually further astonished when, just as he was putting his hand-bag + into the hansom, a telegram was handed to him saying: 'Gone to Homburg. + Letter follows.' + </p> + <p> + He stood still for a moment on the pavement in utter distraction. What did + it mean? Had she failed him again? Or was it simply that she had changed + the city of refuge from Paris to Homburg? He was about to name the new + station to the cabman, but then, 'letter follows'. Surely that meant that + he was to wait for it. Perplexed and miserable, he stood with the telegram + crumpled up in his fist. What a ridiculous situation! He had wrought + himself up to the point of breaking with the world and his past, and now—it + only remained to satisfy the cabman! + </p> + <p> + He tossed feverishly all night, seeking to soothe himself, but really + exciting himself the more by a hundred plausible explanations. He was now + strung up to such a pitch of uncertainty that he was astonished for the + third time when the 'letter' did duly 'follow'. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + 'Dearest,' it ran, 'as I explained in my telegram, my husband became + suddenly ill'—('if she <i>had</i> only put that in the telegram,' he + groaned)—'and was ordered to Homburg. Of course it was impossible to + leave him in this crisis, both for practical and sentimental reasons. You + yourself, darling, would not like me to have aggravated his illness by my + flight just at this moment, and thus possibly have his death on my + conscience.' ('Darling, you are always right,' he said, kissing the + letter.) 'Let us possess our souls in patience a little longer. I need not + tell you how vexatious it will be to find myself nursing him in Homburg—out + of the season even—instead of the prospect to which I had looked + forward with my whole heart and soul. But what can one do? How true is the + French proverb, 'Nothing happens but the unexpected'! Write to me + immediately <i>Poste Restante</i>, that I may at least console myself with + your dear words.' + </p> + <p> + The unexpected did indeed happen. Despite draughts of Elizabeth-brunnen + and promenades on the Kurhaus terrace, the stalwart woman beater succumbed + to his malady. The curt telegram from Winifred gave no indication of her + emotions. He sent a reply-telegram of sympathy with her trouble. Although + he could not pretend to grieve at this sudden providential solution of + their life-problem, still he did sincerely sympathize with the distress + inevitable in connection with a death, especially on foreign soil. + </p> + <p> + He was not able to see her till her husband's body had been brought across + the North Sea and committed to the green repose of the old Hampstead + churchyard. He found her pathetically altered—her face wan and + spiritualized, and all in subtle harmony with the exquisite black gown. In + the first interview, he did not dare speak of their love at all. They + discussed the immortality of the soul, and she quoted George Herbert. But + with the weeks the question of their future began to force its way back to + his lips. + </p> + <p> + 'We could not decently marry before six months,' she said, when definitely + confronted with the problem. + </p> + <p> + 'Six months!' he gasped. + </p> + <p> + 'Well, surely you don't want to outrage everybody,' she said, pouting. + </p> + <p> + At first he was outraged himself. What! She who had been ready to flutter + the world with a fantastic dance was now measuring her footsteps. But on + reflection he saw that Mrs. Glamorys was right once more. Since Providence + had been good enough to rescue them, why should they fly in its face? A + little patience, and a blameless happiness lay before them. Let him not + blind himself to the immense relief he really felt at being spared social + obloquy. After all, a poet could be unconventional in his <i>work</i>—he + had no need of the practical outlet demanded for the less gifted. + </p> + <h3> + VI + </h3> + <p> + They scarcely met at all during the next six months—it had, + naturally, in this grateful reaction against their recklessness, become a + sacred period, even more charged with tremulous emotion than the + engagement periods of those who have not so nearly scorched themselves. + Even in her presence he found a certain pleasure in combining distant + adoration with the confident expectation of proximity, and thus she was + restored to the sanctity which she had risked by her former easiness. And + so all was for the best in the best of all possible worlds. + </p> + <p> + When the six months had gone by, he came to claim her hand. She was quite + astonished. 'You promised to marry me at the end of six months,' he + reminded her. + </p> + <p> + 'Surely it isn't six months already,' she said. + </p> + <p> + He referred her to the calendar, recalled the date of her husband's death. + </p> + <p> + 'You are strangely literal for a poet,' she said. 'Of course I <i>said</i> + six months, but six months doesn't mean twenty-six weeks by the clock. All + I meant was that a decent period must intervene. But even to myself it + seems only yesterday that poor Harold was walking beside me in the Kurhaus + Park.' She burst into tears, and in the face of them he could not pursue + the argument. + </p> + <p> + Gradually, after several interviews and letters, it was agreed that they + should wait another six months. + </p> + <p> + 'She <i>is</i> right,' he reflected again. 'We have waited so long, we may + as well wait a little longer and leave malice no handle.' + </p> + <p> + The second six months seemed to him much longer than the first. The charm + of respectful adoration had lost its novelty, and once again his breast + was racked by fitful fevers which could scarcely calm themselves even by + conversion into sonnets. The one point of repose was that shining fixed + star of marriage. Still smarting under Winifred's reproach of his unpoetic + literality, he did not intend to force her to marry him exactly at the end + of the twelve-month. But he was determined that she should have no later + than this exact date for at least 'naming the day'. Not the most + punctilious stickler for convention, he felt, could deny that Mrs. + Grundy's claim had been paid to the last minute. + </p> + <p> + The publication of his new volume—containing the Winifred lyrics—had + served to colour these months of intolerable delay. Even the reaction of + the critics against his poetry, that conventional revolt against every + second volume, that parrot cry of over-praise from the very throats that + had praised him, though it pained and perplexed him, was perhaps really + helpful. At any rate, the long waiting was over at last. He felt like + Jacob after his years of service for Rachel. + </p> + <p> + The fateful morning dawned bright and blue, and, as the towers of Oxford + were left behind him he recalled that distant Saturday when he had first + gone down to meet the literary lights of London in his publisher's salon. + How much older he was now than then—and yet how much younger! The + nebulous melancholy of youth, the clouds of philosophy, had vanished + before this beautiful creature of sunshine whose radiance cut out a clear + line for his future through the confusion of life. + </p> + <p> + At a florist's in the High Street of Hampstead he bought a costly bouquet + of white flowers, and walked airily to the house and rang the bell + jubilantly. He could scarcely believe his ears when the maid told him her + mistress was not at home. How dared the girl stare at him so impassively? + Did she not know by what appointment—on what errand—he had + come? Had he not written to her mistress a week ago that he would present + himself that afternoon? + </p> + <p> + 'Not at home!' he gasped. 'But when will she be home?' + </p> + <p> + 'I fancy she won't be long. She went out an hour ago, and she has an + appointment with her dressmaker at five.' + </p> + <p> + 'Do you know in what direction she'd have gone?' + </p> + <p> + 'Oh, she generally walks on the Heath before tea.' + </p> + <p> + The world suddenly grew rosy again. 'I will come back again,' he said. + Yes, a walk in this glorious air—heathward—would do him good. + </p> + <p> + As the door shut he remembered he might have left the flowers, but he + would not ring again, and besides, it was, perhaps, better he should + present them with his own hand, than let her find them on the hall table. + Still, it seemed rather awkward to walk about the streets with a bouquet, + and he was glad, accidentally to strike the old Hampstead Church, and to + seek a momentary seclusion in passing through its avenue of quiet + gravestones on his heathward way. + </p> + <p> + Mounting the few steps, he paused idly a moment on the verge of this green + 'God's-acre' to read a perpendicular slab on a wall, and his face + broadened into a smile as he followed the absurdly elaborate biography of + a rich, self-made merchant who had taught himself to read, 'Reader, go + thou and do likewise,' was the delicious bull at the end. As he turned + away, the smile still lingering about his lips, he saw a dainty figure + tripping down the stony graveyard path, and though he was somehow startled + to find her still in black, there was no mistaking Mrs. Glamorys. She ran + to meet him with a glad cry, which filled his eyes with happy tears. + </p> + <p> + 'How good of you to remember!' she said, as she took the bouquet from his + unresisting hand, and turned again on her footsteps. He followed her + wonderingly across the uneven road towards a narrow aisle of graves on the + left. In another instant she has stooped before a shining white stone, and + laid his bouquet reverently upon it. As he reached her side, he saw that + his flowers were almost lost in the vast mass of floral offerings with + which the grave of the woman beater was bestrewn. + </p> + <p> + 'How good of you to remember the anniversary,' she murmured again. + </p> + <p> + 'How could I forget it?' he stammered, astonished. 'Is not this the end of + the terrible twelve-month?' + </p> + <p> + The soft gratitude died out of her face. 'Oh, is <i>that</i> what you were + thinking of?' + </p> + <p> + 'What else?' he murmured, pale with conflicting emotions. + </p> + <p> + 'What else! I think decency demanded that this day, at least, should be + sacred to his memory. Oh, what brutes men are!' And she burst into tears. + </p> + <p> + His patient breast revolted at last. 'You said <i>he</i> was the brute!' + he retorted, outraged. + </p> + <p> + 'Is that your chivalry to the dead? Oh, my poor Harold, my poor Harold!' + </p> + <p> + For once her tears could not extinguish the flame of his anger. 'But you + told me he beat you,' he cried. + </p> + <p> + 'And if he did, I dare say I deserved it. Oh, my darling, my darling!' She + laid her face on the stone and sobbed. + </p> + <p> + John Lefolle stood by in silent torture. As he helplessly watched her + white throat swell and fall with the sobs, he was suddenly struck by the + absence of the black velvet band—the truer mourning she had worn in + the lifetime of the so lamented. A faint scar, only perceptible to his + conscious eye, added to his painful bewilderment. + </p> + <p> + At last she rose and walked unsteadily forward. He followed her in mute + misery. In a moment or two they found themselves on the outskirts of the + deserted heath. How beautiful stretched the gorsy rolling country! The sun + was setting in great burning furrows of gold and green—a panorama to + take one's breath away. The beauty and peace of Nature passed into the + poet's soul. + </p> + <p> + 'Forgive me, dearest,' he begged, taking her hand. + </p> + <p> + She drew it away sharply. 'I cannot forgive you. You have shown yourself + in your true colours.' + </p> + <p> + Her unreasonableness angered him again. 'What do you mean? I only came in + accordance with our long-standing arrangement. You have put me off long + enough.' + </p> + <p> + 'It is fortunate I did put you off long enough to discover what you are.' + </p> + <p> + He gasped. He thought of all the weary months of waiting, all the long + comedy of telegrams and express letters, the far-off flirtations of the + cosy corner, the baffled elopement to Paris. 'Then you won't marry me?' + </p> + <p> + 'I cannot marry a man I neither love nor respect.' + </p> + <p> + 'You don't love me!' Her spontaneous kiss in his sober Oxford study seemed + to burn on his angry lips. + </p> + <p> + 'No, I never loved you.' + </p> + <p> + He took her by the arms and turned her round roughly. 'Look me in the face + and dare to say you have never loved me.' + </p> + <p> + His memory was buzzing with passionate phrases from her endless letters. + They stung like a swarm of bees. The sunset was like blood-red mist before + his eyes. + </p> + <p> + 'I have never loved you,' she said obstinately. + </p> + <p> + 'You—!' His grasp on her arms tightened. He shook her. + </p> + <p> + 'You are bruising me,' she cried. + </p> + <p> + His grasp fell from her arms as though they were red-hot. He had become a + woman beater. + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VICTORIAN SHORT STORIES*** + + +******* This file should be named 15381-h.htm or 15381-h.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/3/8/15381 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Victorian Short Stories + +Author: Various + +Release Date: March 16, 2005 [eBook #15381] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VICTORIAN SHORT STORIES*** + + +E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan, and the Project +Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + +VICTORIAN SHORT STORIES + +Stories of Courtship + + + + + + + +CONTENTS + + ANGELA, An Inverted Love Story, by William Schwenk Gilbert + + THE PARSON'S DAUGHTER OF OXNEY COLNE, by Anthony Trollope + + ANTHONY GARSTIN'S COURTSHIP, by Hubert Crackanthorpe + + A LITTLE GREY GLOVE, by George Egerton (Mary Chavelita [Dunne] Bright) + + THE WOMAN BEATER, by Israel Zangwill + + + + + +ANGELA + +An Inverted Love Story + +By William Schwenk Gilbert + +(_The Century Magazine_, September 1890) + + +I am a poor paralysed fellow who, for many years past, has been confined +to a bed or a sofa. For the last six years I have occupied a small room, +giving on to one of the side canals of Venice, and having no one about +me but a deaf old woman, who makes my bed and attends to my food; and +there I eke out a poor income of about thirty pounds a year by making +water-colour drawings of flowers and fruit (they are the cheapest models +in Venice), and these I send to a friend in London, who sells them to a +dealer for small sums. But, on the whole, I am happy and content. + +It is necessary that I should describe the position of my room rather +minutely. Its only window is about five feet above the water of the +canal, and above it the house projects some six feet, and overhangs the +water, the projecting portion being supported by stout piles driven into +the bed of the canal. This arrangement has the disadvantage (among +others) of so limiting my upward view that I am unable to see more than +about ten feet of the height of the house immediately opposite to me, +although, by reaching as far out of the window as my infirmity will +permit, I can see for a considerable distance up and down the canal, +which does not exceed fifteen feet in width. But, although I can see but +little of the material house opposite, I can see its reflection upside +down in the canal, and I take a good deal of inverted interest in such +of its inhabitants as show themselves from time to time (always upside +down) on its balconies and at its windows. + +When I first occupied my room, about six years ago, my attention was +directed to the reflection of a little girl of thirteen or so (as nearly +as I could judge), who passed every day on a balcony just above the +upward range of my limited field of view. She had a glass of flowers and +a crucifix on a little table by her side; and as she sat there, in fine +weather, from early morning until dark, working assiduously all the +time, I concluded that she earned her living by needle-work. She was +certainly an industrious little girl, and, as far as I could judge by +her upside-down reflection, neat in her dress and pretty. She had an old +mother, an invalid, who, on warm days, would sit on the balcony with +her, and it interested me to see the little maid wrap the old lady in +shawls, and bring pillows for her chair, and a stool for her feet, and +every now and again lay down her work and kiss and fondle the old lady +for half a minute, and then take up her work again. + +Time went by, and as the little maid grew up, her reflection grew down, +and at last she was quite a little woman of, I suppose, sixteen or +seventeen. I can only work for a couple of hours or so in the brightest +part of the day, so I had plenty of time on my hands in which to watch +her movements, and sufficient imagination to weave a little romance +about her, and to endow her with a beauty which, to a great extent, I +had to take for granted. I saw--or fancied that I could see--that she +began to take an interest in _my_ reflection (which, of course, she +could see as I could see hers); and one day, when it appeared to me that +she was looking right at it--that is to say when her reflection appeared +to be looking right at me--I tried the desperate experiment of nodding +to her, and to my intense delight her reflection nodded in reply. And so +our two reflections became known to one another. + +It did not take me very long to fall in love with her, but a long time +passed before I could make up my mind to do more than nod to her every +morning, when the old woman moved me from my bed to the sofa at the +window, and again in the evening, when the little maid left the balcony +for that day. One day, however, when I saw her reflection looking at +mine, I nodded to her, and threw a flower into the canal. She nodded +several times in return, and I saw her direct her mother's attention to +the incident. Then every morning I threw a flower into the water for +'good morning', and another in the evening for 'goodnight', and I soon +discovered that I had not altogether thrown them in vain, for one day +she threw a flower to join mine, and she laughed and clapped her hands +when she saw the two flowers join forces and float away together. And +then every morning and every evening she threw her flower when I threw +mine, and when the two flowers met she clapped her hands, and so did I; +but when they were separated, as they sometimes were, owing to one of +them having met an obstruction which did not catch the other, she threw +up her hands in a pretty affectation of despair, which I tried to +imitate but in an English and unsuccessful fashion. And when they were +rudely run down by a passing gondola (which happened not unfrequently) +she pretended to cry, and I did the same. Then, in pretty pantomime, she +would point downwards to the sky to tell me that it was Destiny that had +caused the shipwreck of our flowers, and I, in pantomime, not nearly so +pretty, would try to convey to her that Destiny would be kinder next +time, and that perhaps tomorrow our flowers would be more fortunate--and +so the innocent courtship went on. One day she showed me her crucifix +and kissed it, and thereupon I took a little silver crucifix that always +stood by me, and kissed that, and so she knew that we were one in +religion. + +One day the little maid did not appear on her balcony, and for several +days I saw nothing of her; and although I threw my flowers as usual, no +flower came to keep it company. However, after a time, she reappeared, +dressed in black, and crying often, and then I knew that the poor +child's mother was dead, and, as far as I knew, she was alone in the +world. The flowers came no more for many days, nor did she show any sign +of recognition, but kept her eyes on her work, except when she placed +her handkerchief to them. And opposite to her was the old lady's chair, +and I could see that, from time to time, she would lay down her work and +gaze at it, and then a flood of tears would come to her relief. But at +last one day she roused herself to nod to me, and then her flower came, +day by day, and my flower went forth to join it, and with varying +fortunes the two flowers sailed away as of yore. + +But the darkest day of all to me was when a good-looking young +gondolier, standing right end uppermost in his gondola (for I could see +_him_ in the flesh), worked his craft alongside the house, and stood +talking to her as she sat on the balcony. They seemed to speak as old +friends--indeed, as well as I could make out, he held her by the hand +during the whole of their interview which lasted quite half an hour. +Eventually he pushed off, and left my heart heavy within me. But I soon +took heart of grace, for as soon as he was out of sight, the little maid +threw two flowers growing on the same stem--an allegory of which I could +make nothing, until it broke upon me that she meant to convey to me +that he and she were brother and sister, and that I had no cause to be +sad. And thereupon I nodded to her cheerily, and she nodded to me, and +laughed aloud, and I laughed in return, and all went on again as before. + +Then came a dark and dreary time, for it became necessary that I should +undergo treatment that confined me absolutely to my bed for many days, +and I worried and fretted to think that the little maid and I should see +each other no longer, and worse still, that she would think that I had +gone away without even hinting to her that I was going. And I lay awake +at night wondering how I could let her know the truth, and fifty plans +flitted through my brain, all appearing to be feasible enough at night, +but absolutely wild and impracticable in the morning. One day--and it +was a bright day indeed for me--the old woman who tended me told me that +a gondolier had inquired whether the English signor had gone away or had +died; and so I learnt that the little maid had been anxious about me, +and that she had sent her brother to inquire, and the brother had no +doubt taken to her the reason of my protracted absence from the window. + +From that day, and ever after during my three weeks of bed-keeping, a +flower was found every morning on the ledge of my window, which was +within easy reach of anyone in a boat; and when at last a day came when +I could be moved, I took my accustomed place on my sofa at the window, +and the little maid saw me, and stood on her head (so to speak) and +clapped her hands upside down with a delight that was as eloquent as my +right-end-up delight could be. And so the first time the gondolier +passed my window I beckoned to him, and he pushed alongside, and told +me, with many bright smiles, that he was glad indeed to see me well +again. Then I thanked him and his sister for their many kind thoughts +about me during my retreat, and I then learnt from him that her name was +Angela, and that she was the best and purest maiden in all Venice, and +that anyone might think himself happy indeed who could call her sister, +but that he was happier even than her brother, for he was to be married +to her, and indeed they were to be married the next day. + +Thereupon my heart seemed to swell to bursting, and the blood rushed +through my veins so that I could hear it and nothing else for a while. +I managed at last to stammer forth some words of awkward congratulation, +and he left me, singing merrily, after asking permission to bring his +bride to see me on the morrow as they returned from church. + +'For', said he, 'my Angela has known you very long--ever since she was a +child, and she has often spoken to me of the poor Englishman who was a +good Catholic, and who lay all day long for years and years on a sofa at +a window, and she had said over and over again how dearly she wished she +could speak to him and comfort him; and one day, when you threw a flower +into the canal, she asked me whether she might throw another, and I told +her yes, for he would understand that it meant sympathy for one sorely +afflicted.' + +And so I learned that it was pity, and not love, except indeed such love +as is akin to pity, that prompted her to interest herself in my welfare, +and there was an end of it all. + +For the two flowers that I thought were on one stem were two flowers +tied together (but I could not tell that), and they were meant to +indicate that she and the gondolier were affianced lovers, and my +expressed pleasure at this symbol delighted her, for she took it to +mean that I rejoiced in her happiness. + +And the next day the gondolier came with a train of other gondoliers, +all decked in their holiday garb, and on his gondola sat Angela, happy, +and blushing at her happiness. Then he and she entered the house in +which I dwelt, and came into my room (and it was strange indeed, after +so many years of inversion, to see her with her head above her feet!), +and then she wished me happiness and a speedy restoration to good health +(which could never be); and I in broken words and with tears in my eyes, +gave her the little silver crucifix that had stood by my bed or my table +for so many years. And Angela took it reverently, and crossed herself, +and kissed it, and so departed with her delighted husband. + +And as I heard the song of the gondoliers as they went their way--the +song dying away in the distance as the shadows of the sundown closed +around me--I felt that they were singing the requiem of the only love +that had ever entered my heart. + + + + +THE PARSON'S DAUGHTER OF OXNEY COLNE + +By Anthony Trollope + +(_London Review_, 2 March 1861) + + +The prettiest scenery in all England--and if I am contradicted in that +assertion, I will say in all Europe--is in Devonshire, on the southern +and southeastern skirts of Dartmoor, where the rivers Dart and Avon and +Teign form themselves, and where the broken moor is half cultivated, and +the wild-looking uplands fields are half moor. In making this assertion +I am often met with much doubt, but it is by persons who do not really +know the locality. Men and women talk to me on the matter who have +travelled down the line of railway from Exeter to Plymouth, who have +spent a fortnight at Torquay, and perhaps made an excursion from +Tavistock to the convict prison on Dartmoor. But who knows the glories +of Chagford? Who has walked through the parish of Manaton? Who is +conversant with Lustleigh Cleeves and Withycombe in the moor? Who has +explored Holne Chase? Gentle reader, believe me that you will be rash in +contradicting me unless you have done these things. + +There or thereabouts--I will not say by the waters of which little river +it is washed--is the parish of Oxney Colne. And for those who would wish +to see all the beauties of this lovely country a sojourn in Oxney Colne +would be most desirable, seeing that the sojourner would then be brought +nearer to all that he would delight to visit, than at any other spot in +the country. But there is an objection to any such arrangement. There +are only two decent houses in the whole parish, and these are--or were +when I knew the locality--small and fully occupied by their possessors. +The larger and better is the parsonage in which lived the parson and his +daughter; and the smaller is the freehold residence of a certain Miss Le +Smyrger, who owned a farm of a hundred acres which was rented by one +Farmer Cloysey, and who also possessed some thirty acres round her own +house which she managed herself, regarding herself to be quite as great +in cream as Mr. Cloysey, and altogether superior to him in the article of +cider. 'But yeu has to pay no rent, Miss,' Farmer Cloysey would say, when +Miss Le Smyrger expressed this opinion of her art in a manner too +defiant. 'Yeu pays no rent, or yeu couldn't do it.' Miss Le Smyrger was +an old maid, with a pedigree and blood of her own, a hundred and thirty +acres of fee-simple land on the borders of Dartmoor, fifty years of age, +a constitution of iron, and an opinion of her own on every subject under +the sun. + +And now for the parson and his daughter. The parson's name was +Woolsworthy--or Woolathy as it was pronounced by all those who lived +around him--the Rev. Saul Woolsworthy; and his daughter was Patience +Woolsworthy, or Miss Patty, as she was known to the Devonshire world of +those parts. That name of Patience had not been well chosen for her for +she was a hot-tempered damsel, warm in her convictions, and inclined to +express them freely. She had but two closely intimate friends in the +world, and by both of them this freedom of expression had been fully +permitted to her since she was a child. Miss Le Smyrger and her father +were well accustomed to her ways, and on the whole well satisfied with +them. The former was equally free and equally warm-tempered as herself, +and as Mr. Woolsworthy was allowed by his daughter to be quite paramount +on his own subject--for he had a subject--he did not object to his +daughter being paramount on all others. A pretty girl was Patience +Woolsworthy at the time of which I am writing, and one who possessed +much that was worthy of remark and admiration had she lived where beauty +meets with admiration, or where force of character is remarked. But at +Oxney Colne, on the borders of Dartmoor, there were few to appreciate +her, and it seemed as though she herself had but little idea of carrying +her talent further afield, so that it might not remain for ever wrapped +in a blanket. + +She was a pretty girl, tall and slender, with dark eyes and black hair. +Her eyes were perhaps too round for regular beauty, and her hair was +perhaps too crisp; her mouth was large and expressive; her nose was +finely formed, though a critic in female form might have declared +it to be somewhat broad. But her countenance altogether was very +attractive--if only it might be seen without that resolution for +dominion which occasionally marred it, though sometimes it even added +to her attractions. + +It must be confessed on behalf of Patience Woolsworthy that the +circumstances of her life had peremptorily called upon her to exercise +dominion. She had lost her mother when she was sixteen, and had had +neither brother nor sister. She had no neighbours near her fit either +from education or rank to interfere in the conduct of her life, +excepting always Miss Le Smyrger. Miss Le Smyrger would have done +anything for her, including the whole management of her morals and +of the parsonage household, had Patience been content with such an +arrangement. But much as Patience had ever loved Miss Le Smyrger, she +was not content with this, and therefore she had been called on to put +forth a strong hand of her own. She had put forth this strong hand +early, and hence had come the character which I am attempting to +describe. But I must say on behalf of this girl that it was not only +over others that she thus exercised dominion. In acquiring that power +she had also acquired the much greater power of exercising rule over +herself. + +But why should her father have been ignored in these family +arrangements? Perhaps it may almost suffice to say, that of all living +men her father was the man best conversant with the antiquities of the +county in which he lived. He was the Jonathan Oldbuck of Devonshire, and +especially of Dartmoor,--but without that decision of character which +enabled Oldbuck to keep his womenkind in some kind of subjection, and +probably enabled him also to see that his weekly bill did not pass their +proper limits. Our Mr. Oldbuck, of Oxney Colne, was sadly deficient in +these respects. As a parish pastor with but a small cure he did his duty +with sufficient energy to keep him, at any rate, from reproach. He was +kind and charitable to the poor, punctual in his services, forbearing +with the farmers around him, mild with his brother clergymen, and +indifferent to aught that bishop or archdeacon might think or say of +him. I do not name this latter attribute as a virtue, but as a fact. But +all these points were as nothing in the known character of Mr. +Woolsworthy, of Oxney Colne. He was the antiquarian of Dartmoor. That +was his line of life. It was in that capacity that he was known to the +Devonshire world; it was as such that he journeyed about with his humble +carpetbag, staying away from his parsonage a night or two at a time; it +was in that character that he received now and again stray visitors in +the single spare bedroom--not friends asked to see him and his girl +because of their friendship--but men who knew something as to this +buried stone, or that old land-mark. In all these things his daughter +let him have his own way, assisting and encouraging him. That was his +line of life, and therefore she respected it. But in all other matters +she chose to be paramount at the parsonage. + +Mr. Woolsworthy was a little man, who always wore, except on Sundays, +grey clothes--clothes of so light a grey that they would hardly have +been regarded as clerical in a district less remote. He had now reached +a goodly age, being full seventy years old; but still he was wiry and +active, and shewed but few symptoms of decay. His head was bald, and the +few remaining locks that surrounded it were nearly white. But there was +a look of energy about his mouth, and a humour in his light grey eye, +which forbade those who knew him to regard him altogether as an old man. +As it was, he could walk from Oxney Colne to Priestown, fifteen long +Devonshire miles across the moor; and he who could do that could hardly +be regarded as too old for work. + +But our present story will have more to do with his daughter than with +him. A pretty girl, I have said, was Patience Woolsworthy; and one, too, +in many ways remarkable. She had taken her outlook into life, weighing +the things which she had and those which she had not, in a manner very +unusual, and, as a rule, not always desirable for a young lady. The +things which she had not were very many. She had not society; she had +not a fortune; she had not any assurance of future means of livelihood; +she had not high hope of procuring for herself a position in life by +marriage; she had not that excitement and pleasure in life which she +read of in such books as found their way down to Oxney Colne Parsonage. +It would be easy to add to the list of the things which she had not; and +this list against herself she made out with the utmost vigour. The +things which she had, or those rather which she assured herself of +having, were much more easily counted. She had the birth and education +of a lady, the strength of a healthy woman, and a will of her own. Such +was the list as she made it out for herself, and I protest that I assert +no more than the truth in saying that she never added to it either +beauty, wit, or talent. + +I began these descriptions by saying that Oxney Colne would, of all +places, be the best spot from which a tourist could visit those parts +of Devonshire, but for the fact that he could obtain there none of the +accommodation which tourists require. A brother antiquarian might, +perhaps, in those days have done so, seeing that there was, as I have +said, a spare bedroom at the parsonage. Any intimate friend of Miss Le +Smyrger's might be as fortunate, for she was also so provided at Oxney +Colne, by which name her house was known. But Miss Le Smyrger was not +given to extensive hospitality, and it was only to those who were bound +to her, either by ties of blood or of very old friendship, that she +delighted to open her doors. As her old friends were very few in number, +as those few lived at a distance, and as her nearest relations were +higher in the world than she was, and were said by herself to look down +upon her, the visits made to Oxney Colne were few and far between. + +But now, at the period of which I am writing, such a visit was about to +be made. Miss Le Smyrger had a younger sister who had inherited a +property in the parish of Oxney Colne equal to that of the lady who +lived there; but this younger sister had inherited beauty also, and she +therefore, in early life, had found sundry lovers, one of whom became +her husband. She had married a man even then well to do in the world, +but now rich and almost mighty; a Member of Parliament, a Lord of this +and that board, a man who had a house in Eaton Square, and a park in the +north of England; and in this way her course of life had been very much +divided from that of our Miss Le Smyrger. But the Lord of the Government +board had been blessed with various children, and perhaps it was now +thought expedient to look after Aunt Penelope's Devonshire acres. Aunt +Penelope was empowered to leave them to whom she pleased; and though it +was thought in Eaton Square that she must, as a matter of course, leave +them to one of the family, nevertheless a little cousinly intercourse +might make the thing more certain. I will not say that this was the sole +cause for such a visit, but in these days a visit was to be made by +Captain Broughton to his aunt. Now Captain John Broughton was the second +son of Alfonso Broughton, of Clapham Park and Eaton Square, Member of +Parliament, and Lord of the aforesaid Government Board. + +And what do you mean to do with him? Patience Woolsworthy asked of Miss +Le Smyrger when that lady walked over from the Colne to say that her +nephew John was to arrive on the following morning. + +'Do with him? Why, I shall bring him over here to talk to your father.' + +'He'll be too fashionable for that, and papa won't trouble his head +about him if he finds that he doesn't care for Dartmoor.' + +'Then he may fall in love with you, my dear.' + +'Well, yes; there's that resource at any rate, and for your sake I dare +say I should be more civil to him than papa. But he'll soon get tired of +making love to me, and what you'll do then I cannot imagine.' + +That Miss Woolsworthy felt no interest in the coming of the Captain I +will not pretend to say. The advent of any stranger with whom she would +be called on to associate must be matter of interest to her in that +secluded place; and she was not so absolutely unlike other young ladies +that the arrival of an unmarried young man would be the same to her as +the advent of some patriarchal pater-familias. In taking that outlook +into life of which I have spoken she had never said to herself that she +despised those things from which other girls received the excitement, +the joys, and the disappointment of their lives. She had simply given +herself to understand that very little of such things would come in her +way, and that it behoved her to live--to live happily if such might be +possible--without experiencing the need of them. She had heard, when +there was no thought of any such visit to Oxney Colne, that John +Broughton was a handsome clever man--one who thought much of himself and +was thought much of by others--that there had been some talk of his +marrying a great heiress, which marriage, however had not taken place +through unwillingness on his part, and that he was on the whole a man of +more mark in the world than the ordinary captains of ordinary regiments. + +Captain Broughton came to Oxney Colne, stayed there a fortnight--the +intended period for his projected visit having been fixed at three or +four days--and then went his way. He went his way back to his London +haunts, the time of the year then being the close of the Easter +holy-days; but as he did so he told his aunt that he should assuredly +return to her in the autumn. + +'And assuredly I shall be happy to see you, John--if you come with a +certain purpose. If you have no such purpose, you had better remain +away.' + +'I shall assuredly come,' the Captain had replied, and then he had gone +on his journey. + +The summer passed rapidly by, and very little was said between Miss Le +Smyrger and Miss Woolsworthy about Captain Broughton. In many +respects--nay, I may say, as to all ordinary matters,--no two women +could well be more intimate with each other than they were; and more +than that, they had the courage each to talk to the other with absolute +truth as to things concerning themselves--a courage in which dear +friends often fail. But, nevertheless, very little was said between them +about Captain John Broughton. All that was said may be here repeated. + +'John says that he shall return here in August,' Miss Le Smyrger said +as Patience was sitting with her in the parlour at Oxney Colne, on the +morning after that gentleman's departure. + +'He told me so himself,' said Patience; and as she spoke her round dark +eyes assumed a look of more than ordinary self-will. If Miss Le Smyrger +had intended to carry the conversation any further she changed her mind +as she looked at her companion. Then, as I said, the summer ran by, and +towards the close of the warm days of July, Miss Le Smyrger, sitting in +the same chair in the same room, again took up the conversation. + +'I got a letter from John this morning. He says that he shall be here on +the third.' + +'Does he?' + +'He is very punctual to the time he named.' + +'Yes; I fancy that he is a punctual man,' said Patience. + +'I hope that you will be glad to see him,' said Miss Le Smyrger. + +'Very glad to see him,' said Patience, with a bold clear voice; and then +the conversation was again dropped, and nothing further was said till +after Captain Broughton's second arrival in the parish. + +Four months had then passed since his departure, and during that time +Miss Woolsworthy had performed all her usual daily duties in their +accustomed course. No one could discover that she had been less careful +in her household matters than had been her wont, less willing to go +among her poor neighbours, or less assiduous in her attentions to her +father. But not the less was there a feeling in the minds of those +around her that some great change had come upon her. She would sit +during the long summer evenings on a certain spot outside the parsonage +orchard, at the top of a small sloping field in which their solitary cow +was always pastured, with a book on her knees before her, but rarely +reading. There she would sit, with the beautiful view down to the +winding river below her, watching the setting sun, and thinking, +thinking, thinking--thinking of something of which she had never spoken. +Often would Miss Le Smyrger come upon her there, and sometimes would +pass her even without a word; but never--never once did she dare to ask +of the matter of her thoughts. But she knew the matter well enough. No +confession was necessary to inform her that Patience Woolsworthy was in +love with John Broughton--ay, in love, to the full and entire loss of +her whole heart. + +On one evening she was so sitting till the July sun had fallen and +hidden himself for the night, when her father came upon her as he +returned from one of his rambles on the moor. 'Patty,' he said, 'you +are always sitting there now. Is it not late? Will you not be cold?' + +'No papa,' she said, 'I shall not be cold.' + +'But won't you come to the house? I miss you when you come in so late +that there's no time to say a word before we go to bed.' + +She got up and followed him into the parsonage, and when they were in +the sitting-room together, and the door was closed, she came up to him +and kissed him. 'Papa,' she said, 'would it make you very unhappy if I +were to leave you?' + +'Leave me!' he said, startled by the serious and almost solemn tone of +her voice. 'Do you mean for always?' + +'If I were to marry, papa?' + +'Oh, marry! No; that would not make me unhappy. It would make me very +happy, Patty, to see you married to a man you would love;--very, very +happy; though my days would be desolate without you.' + +'That is it, papa. What would you do if I went from you?' + +'What would it matter, Patty? I should be free, at any rate, from a +load which often presses heavy on me now. What will you do when I shall +leave you? A few more years and all will be over with me. But who is it, +love? Has anybody said anything to you?' + +'It was only an idea, papa. I don't often think of such a thing; but I +did think of it then.' And so the subject was allowed to pass by. This +had happened before the day of the second arrival had been absolutely +fixed and made known to Miss Woolsworthy. + +And then that second arrival took place. The reader may have understood +from the words with which Miss Le Smyrger authorized her nephew to make +his second visit to Oxney Colne that Miss Woolsworthy's passion was not +altogether unauthorized. Captain Broughton had been told that he was not +to come unless he came with a certain purpose; and having been so told, +he still persisted in coming. There can be no doubt but that he well +understood the purport to which his aunt alluded. 'I shall assuredly +come,' he had said. And true to his word, he was now there. + +Patience knew exactly the hour at which he must arrive at the station at +Newton Abbot, and the time also which it would take to travel over those +twelve up-hill miles from the station to Oxney. It need hardly be said +that she paid no visit to Miss Le Smyrger's house on that afternoon; but +she might have known something of Captain Broughton's approach without +going thither. His road to the Colne passed by the parsonage-gate, and +had Patience sat even at her bedroom window she must have seen him. But +on such an evening she would not sit at her bedroom window;--she would +do nothing which would force her to accuse herself of a restless longing +for her lover's coming. It was for him to seek her. If he chose to do +so, he knew the way to the parsonage. + +Miss Le Smyrger--good, dear, honest, hearty Miss Le Smyrger, was in a +fever of anxiety on behalf of her friend. It was not that she wished her +nephew to marry Patience,--or rather that she had entertained any such +wish when he first came among them. She was not given to match-making, +and moreover thought, or had thought within herself, that they of Oxney +Colne could do very well without any admixture from Eaton Square. Her +plan of life had been that when old Mr. Woolsworthy was taken away from +Dartmoor, Patience should live with her, and that when she also shuffled +off her coil, then Patience Woolsworthy should be the maiden-mistress +of Oxney Colne--of Oxney Colne and of Mr. Cloysey's farm--to the utter +detriment of all the Broughtons. Such had been her plan before nephew +John had come among them--a plan not to be spoken of till the coming of +that dark day which should make Patience an orphan. But now her nephew +had been there, and all was to be altered. Miss Le Smyrger's plan would +have provided a companion for her old age; but that had not been her +chief object. She had thought more of Patience than of herself, and now +it seemed that a prospect of a higher happiness was opening for her +friend. + +'John,' she said, as soon as the first greetings were over, 'do you +remember the last words that I said to you before you went away?' Now, +for myself, I much admire Miss Le Smyrger's heartiness, but I do not +think much of her discretion. It would have been better, perhaps, had +she allowed things to take their course. + +'I can't say that I do,' said the Captain. At the same time the Captain +did remember very well what those last words had been. + +'I am so glad to see you, so delighted to see you, if--if--if--,' and +then she paused, for with all her courage she hardly dared to ask her +nephew whether he had come there with the express purport of asking Miss +Woolsworthy to marry him. + +To tell the truth--for there is no room for mystery within the limits of +this short story,--to tell, I say, at a word the plain and simple truth, +Captain Broughton had already asked that question. On the day before he +left Oxney Colne he had in set terms proposed to the parson's daughter, +and indeed the words, the hot and frequent words, which previously to +that had fallen like sweetest honey into the ears of Patience +Woolsworthy, had made it imperative on him to do so. When a man in such +a place as that has talked to a girl of love day after day, must not he +talk of it to some definite purpose on the day on which he leaves her? +Or if he do not, must he not submit to be regarded as false, selfish, +and almost fraudulent? Captain Broughton, however, had asked the +question honestly and truly. He had done so honestly and truly, but in +words, or, perhaps, simply with a tone, that had hardly sufficed to +satisfy the proud spirit of the girl he loved. She by that time had +confessed to herself that she loved him with all her heart; but she had +made no such confession to him. To him she had spoken no word, granted +no favour, that any lover might rightfully regard as a token of love +returned. She had listened to him as he spoke, and bade him keep such +sayings for the drawing-rooms of his fashionable friends. Then he had +spoken out and had asked for that hand,--not, perhaps, as a suitor +tremulous with hope,--but as a rich man who knows that he can command +that which he desires to purchase. + +'You should think more of this,' she had said to him at last. 'If you +would really have me for your wife, it will not be much to you to return +here again when time for thinking of it shall have passed by.' With +these words she had dismissed him, and now he had again come back to +Oxney Colne. But still she would not place herself at the window to look +for him, nor dress herself in other than her simple morning country +dress, nor omit one item of her daily work. If he wished to take her at +all, he should wish to take her as she really was, in her plain country +life, but he should take her also with full observance of all those +privileges which maidens are allowed to claim from their lovers. He +should curtail no ceremonious observance because she was the daughter of +a poor country parson who would come to him without a shilling, whereas +he stood high in the world's books. He had asked her to give him all +that she had, and that all she was ready to give, without stint. But the +gift must be valued before it could be given or received. He also was to +give her as much, and she would accept it as being beyond all price. But +she would not allow that that which was offered to her was in any degree +the more precious because of his outward worldly standing. + +She would not pretend to herself that she thought he would come to her +that afternoon, and therefore she busied herself in the kitchen and +about the house, giving directions to her two maids as though the day +would pass as all other days did pass in that household. They usually +dined at four, and she rarely, in these summer months, went far from the +house before that hour. At four precisely she sat down with her father, +and then said that she was going up as far as Helpholme after dinner. +Helpholme was a solitary farmhouse in another parish, on the border of +the moor, and Mr. Woolsworthy asked her whether he should accompany her. + +'Do, papa,' she said, 'if you are not too tired.' And yet she had +thought how probable it might be that she should meet John Broughton on +her walk. And so it was arranged; but, just as dinner was over, Mr. +Woolsworthy remembered himself. + +'Gracious me,' he said, 'how my memory is going! Gribbles, from +Ivybridge, and old John Poulter, from Bovey, are coming to meet here by +appointment. You can't put Helpholme off till tomorrow?' + +Patience, however, never put off anything, and therefore at six o'clock, +when her father had finished his slender modicum of toddy, she tied on +her hat and went on her walk. She started forth with a quick step, and +left no word to say by which route she would go. As she passed up along +the little lane which led towards Oxney Colne she would not even look to +see if he was coming towards her; and when she left the road, passing +over a stone stile into a little path which ran first through the upland +fields, and then across the moor ground towards Helpholme, she did not +look back once, or listen for his coming step. + +She paid her visit, remaining upwards of an hour with the old bedridden +mother of the farmer of Helpholme. 'God bless you, my darling!' said the +old lady as she left her; 'and send you someone to make your own path +bright and happy through the world.' These words were still ringing in +her ears with all their significance as she saw John Broughton waiting +for her at the first stile which she had to pass after leaving the +farmer's haggard. + +'Patty,' he said, as he took her hand, and held it close within both his +own, 'what a chase I have had after you!' + +'And who asked you, Captain Broughton?' she answered, smiling. 'If the +journey was too much for your poor London strength, could you not have +waited till tomorrow morning, when you would have found me at the +parsonage?' But she did not draw her hand away from him, or in any way +pretend that he had not a right to accost her as a lover. + +'No, I could not wait. I am more eager to see those I love than you seem +to be.' + +'How do you know whom I love, or how eager I might be to see them? There +is an old woman there whom I love, and I have thought nothing of this +walk with the object of seeing her.' And now, slowly drawing her hand +away from him, she pointed to the farmhouse which she had left. + +'Patty,' he said, after a minute's pause, during which she had looked +full into his face with all the force of her bright eyes; 'I have come +from London today, straight down here to Oxney, and from my aunt's +house close upon your footsteps after you to ask you that one question. +Do you love me?' + +'What a Hercules?' she said, again laughing. 'Do you really mean that +you left London only this morning? Why, you must have been five hours in +a railway carriage and two in a post-chaise, not to talk of the walk +afterwards. You ought to take more care of yourself, Captain Broughton!' + +He would have been angry with her,--for he did not like to be +quizzed,--had she not put her hand on his arm as she spoke, and the +softness of her touch had redeemed the offence of her words. + +'All that have I done,' said he, 'that I may hear one word from you.' + +'That any word of mine should have such potency! But, let us walk on, or +my father will take us for some of the standing stones of the moor. How +have you found your aunt? If you only knew the cares that have sat on +her dear shoulders for the last week past, in order that your high +mightyness might have a sufficiency to eat and drink in these desolate +half-starved regions.' + +'She might have saved herself such anxiety. No one can care less for +such things than I do.' + +'And yet I think I have heard you boast of the cook of your club.' And +then again there was silence for a minute or two. + +'Patty,' said he, stopping again in the path; 'answer my question. I +have a right to demand an answer. Do you love me?' + +'And what if I do? What if I have been so silly as to allow your +perfections to be too many for my weak heart? What then, Captain +Broughton?' + +'It cannot be that you love me, or you would not joke now.' + +'Perhaps not, indeed,' she said. It seemed as though she were resolved +not to yield an inch in her own humour. And then again they walked on. + +'Patty,' he said once more, 'I shall get an answer from you +tonight,--this evening; now, during this walk, or I shall return +tomorrow, and never revisit this spot again.' + +'Oh, Captain Broughton, how should we ever manage to live without you?' + +'Very well,' he said; 'up to the end of this walk I can bear it +all;--and one word spoken then will mend it all.' + +During the whole of this time she felt that she was ill-using him. She +knew that she loved him with all her heart; that it would nearly kill +her to part with him; that she had heard his renewed offer with an +ecstasy of joy. She acknowledged to herself that he was giving proof of +his devotion as strong as any which a girl could receive from her lover. +And yet she could hardly bring herself to say the word he longed to +hear. That word once said, and then she knew that she must succumb to +her love for ever! That word once said, and there would be nothing for +her but to spoil him with her idolatry! That word once said, and she +must continue to repeat it into his ears, till perhaps he might be tired +of hearing it! And now he had threatened her, and how could she speak it +after that? She certainly would not speak it unless he asked her again +without such threat. And so they walked on again in silence. + +'Patty,' he said at last. 'By the heavens above us you shall answer me. +Do you love me?' + +She now stood still, and almost trembled as she looked up into his face. +She stood opposite to him for a moment, and then placing her two hands +on his shoulders, she answered him. 'I do, I do, I do,' she said, 'with +all my heart; with all my heart--with all my heart and strength.' And +then her head fell upon his breast. + +Captain Broughton was almost as much surprised as delighted by the +warmth of the acknowledgment made by the eager-hearted passionate girl +whom he now held within his arms. She had said it now; the words had +been spoken; and there was nothing for her but to swear to him over and +over again with her sweetest oaths, that those words were true--true as +her soul. And very sweet was the walk down from thence to the parsonage +gate. He spoke no more of the distance of the ground, or the length of +his day's journey. But he stopped her at every turn that he might press +her arm the closer to his own, that he might look into the brightness of +her eyes, and prolong his hour of delight. There were no more gibes now +on her tongue, no raillery at his London finery, no laughing comments on +his coming and going. With downright honesty she told him everything: +how she had loved him before her heart was warranted in such a passion; +how, with much thinking, she had resolved that it would be unwise to +take him at his first word, and had thought it better that he should +return to London, and then think over it; how she had almost repented +of her courage when she had feared, during those long summer days, that +he would forget her; and how her heart had leapt for joy when her old +friend had told her that he was coming. + +'And yet,' said he, 'you were not glad to see me!' + +'Oh, was I not glad? You cannot understand the feelings of a girl who +has lived secluded as I have done. Glad is no word for the joy I felt. +But it was not seeing you that I cared for so much. It was the knowledge +that you were near me once again. I almost wish now that I had not seen +you till tomorrow.' But as she spoke she pressed his arm, and this +caress gave the lie to her last words. + +'No, do not come in tonight,' she said, when she reached the little +wicket that led up the parsonage. 'Indeed you shall not. I could not +behave myself properly if you did.' + +'But I don't want you to behave properly.' + +'Oh! I am to keep that for London, am I? But, nevertheless, Captain +Broughton, I will not invite you either to tea or to supper tonight.' + +'Surely I may shake hands with your father.' + +'Not tonight--not till--. John, I may tell him, may I not? I must tell +him at once.' + +'Certainly,' said he. + +'And then you shall see him tomorrow. Let me see--at what hour shall I +bid you come?' + +'To breakfast.' + +'No, indeed. What on earth would your aunt do with her broiled turkey +and the cold pie? I have got no cold pie for you.' + +'I hate cold pie.' + +'What a pity! But, John, I should be forced to leave you directly after +breakfast. Come down--come down at two, or three; and then I will go +back with you to Aunt Penelope. I must see her tomorrow.' And so at last +the matter was settled, and the happy Captain, as he left her, was +hardly resisted in his attempt to press her lips to his own. + +When she entered the parlour in which her father was sitting, there +still were Gribbles and Poulter discussing some knotty point of Devon +lore. So Patience took off her hat, and sat herself down, waiting till +they should go. For full an hour she had to wait, and then Gribbles and +Poulter did go. But it was not in such matters as this that Patience +Woolsworthy was impatient. She could wait, and wait, and wait, curbing +herself for weeks and months, while the thing waited for was in her eyes +good; but she could not curb her hot thoughts or her hot words when +things came to be discussed which she did not think to be good. + +'Papa,' she said, when Gribbles' long-drawn last word had been spoken at +the door. 'Do you remember how I asked you the other day what you would +say if I were to leave you?' + +'Yes, surely,' he replied, looking up at her in astonishment. + +'I am going to leave you now,' she said. 'Dear, dearest father, how am I +to go from you?' + +'Going to leave me,' said he, thinking of her visit to Helpholme, and +thinking of nothing else. + +Now there had been a story about Helpholme. That bedridden old lady +there had a stalwart son, who was now the owner of the Helpholme +pastures. But though owner in fee of all those wild acres and of the +cattle which they supported, he was not much above the farmers around +him, either in manners or education. He had his merits, however; for he +was honest, well to do in the world, and modest withal. How strong love +had grown up, springing from neighbourly kindness, between our Patience +and his mother, it needs not here to tell; but rising from it had come +another love--or an ambition which might have grown to love. The young +man, after much thought, had not dared to speak to Miss Woolsworthy, but +he had sent a message by Miss Le Smyrger. If there could be any hope for +him, he would present himself as a suitor--on trial. He did not owe a +shilling in the world, and had money by him--saved. He wouldn't ask the +parson for a shilling of fortune. Such had been the tenor of his +message, and Miss Le Smyrger had delivered it faithfully. 'He does not +mean it,' Patience had said with her stern voice. 'Indeed he does, my +dear. You may be sure he is in earnest,' Miss Le Smyrger had replied; +'and there is not an honester man in these parts.' + +'Tell him,' said Patience, not attending to the latter portion of her +friend's last speech, 'that it cannot be,--make him understand, you +know--and tell him also that the matter shall be thought of no more.' +The matter had, at any rate, been spoken of no more, but the young +farmer still remained a bachelor, and Helpholme still wanted a +mistress. But all this came back upon the parson's mind when his +daughter told him that she was about to leave him. + +'Yes, dearest,' she said; and as she spoke, she now knelt at his knees. +'I have been asked in marriage, and I have given myself away.' + +'Well, my love, if you will be happy--' + +'I hope I shall; I think I shall. But you, papa?' + +'You will not be far from us.' + +'Oh, yes; in London.' + +'In London.' + +'Captain Broughton lives in London generally.' + +'And has Captain Broughton asked you to marry him?' + +'Yes, papa--who else? Is he not good? Will you not love him? Oh, papa, +do not say that I am wrong to love him?' + +He never told her his mistake, or explained to her that he had not +thought it possible that the high-placed son of the London great man +shall have fallen in love with his undowered daughter; but he embraced +her, and told her, with all his enthusiasm, that he rejoiced in her joy, +and would be happy in her happiness. 'My own Patty,' he said, 'I have +ever known that you were too good for this life of ours here.' And then +the evening wore away into the night, with many tears but still with +much happiness. + +Captain Broughton, as he walked back to Oxney Colne, made up his mind +that he would say nothing on the matter to his aunt till the next +morning. He wanted to think over it all, and to think it over, if +possible, by himself. He had taken a step in life, the most important +that a man is ever called on to take, and he had to reflect whether or +no he had taken it with wisdom. + +'Have you seen her?' said Miss Le Smyrger, very anxiously, when he came +into the drawing-room. + +'Miss Woolsworthy you mean,' said he. 'Yes, I've seen her. As I found +her out I took a long walk and happened to meet her. Do you know, aunt, +I think I'll go to bed; I was up at five this morning, and have been on +the move ever since.' + +Miss Le Smyrger perceived that she was to hear nothing that evening, so +she handed him his candlestick and allowed him to go to his room. + +But Captain Broughton did not immediately retire to bed, nor when he +did so was he able to sleep at once. Had this step that he had taken +been a wise one? He was not a man who, in worldly matters, had allowed +things to arrange themselves for him, as is the case with so many men. +He had formed views for himself, and had a theory of life. Money for +money's sake he had declared to himself to be bad. Money, as a +concomitant to things which were in themselves good, he had declared to +himself to be good also. That concomitant in this affair of his +marriage, he had now missed. Well; he had made up his mind to that, and +would put up with the loss. He had means of living of his own, though +means not so extensive as might have been desirable. That it would be +well for him to become a married man, looking merely to that state of +life as opposed to his present state, he had fully resolved. On that +point, therefore, there was nothing to repent. That Patty Woolsworthy +was good, affectionate, clever, and beautiful, he was sufficiently +satisfied. It would be odd indeed if he were not so satisfied now, +seeing that for the last four months he had declared to himself daily +that she was so with many inward asseverations. And yet though he +repeated now again that he was satisfied, I do not think that he was so +fully satisfied of it as he had been throughout the whole of those four +months. It is sad to say so, but I fear--I fear that such was the case. +When you have your plaything how much of the anticipated pleasure +vanishes, especially if it have been won easily! + +He had told none of his family what were his intentions in this second +visit to Devonshire, and now he had to bethink himself whether they +would be satisfied. What would his sister say, she who had married the +Honourable Augustus Gumbleton, gold-stick-in-waiting to Her Majesty's +Privy Council? Would she receive Patience with open arms, and make much +of her about London? And then how far would London suit Patience, or +would Patience suit London? There would be much for him to do in +teaching her, and it would be well for him to set about the lesson +without loss of time. So far he got that night, but when the morning +came he went a step further, and began mentally to criticize her manner +to himself. It had been very sweet, that warm, that full, that ready +declaration of love. Yes; it had been very sweet; but--but--; when, +after her little jokes, she did confess her love, had she not been a +little too free for feminine excellence? A man likes to be told that he +is loved, but he hardly wishes that the girl he is to marry should fling +herself at his head! + +Ah me! yes; it was thus he argued to himself as on that morning he went +through the arrangements of his toilet. 'Then he was a brute,' you say, +my pretty reader. I have never said that he was not a brute. But this I +remark, that many such brutes are to be met with in the beaten paths of +the world's high highway. When Patience Woolsworthy had answered him +coldly, bidding him go back to London and think over his love; while it +seemed from her manner that at any rate as yet she did not care for him; +while he was absent from her, and, therefore, longing for her, the +possession of her charms, her talent, and bright honesty of purpose had +seemed to him a thing most desirable. Now they were his own. They had, +in fact, been his own from the first. The heart of this country-bred +girl had fallen at the first word from his mouth. Had she not so +confessed to him? She was very nice,--very nice indeed. He loved her +dearly. But had he not sold himself too cheaply? + +I by no means say that he was not a brute. But whether brute or no he +was an honest man, and had no remotest dream, either then, on that +morning, or during the following days on which such thoughts pressed +more thickly on his mind--of breaking away from his pledged word. At +breakfast on that morning he told all to Miss Le Smyrger, and that lady, +with warm and gracious intentions, confided to him her purpose regarding +her property. 'I have always regarded Patience as my heir,' she said, +'and shall do so still.' + +'Oh, indeed,' said Captain Broughton. + +'But it is a great, great pleasure to me to think that she will give +back the little property to my sister's child. You will have your +mother's, and thus it will all come together again.' + +'Ah!' said Captain Broughton. He had his own ideas about property, and +did not, even under existing circumstances, like to hear that his aunt +considered herself at liberty to leave the acres away to one who was by +blood quite a stranger to the family. + +'Does Patience know of this?' he asked. + +'Not a word,' said Miss Le Smyrger. And then nothing more was said upon +the subject. + +On that afternoon he went down and received the parson's benediction and +congratulations with a good grace. Patience said very little on the +occasion, and indeed was absent during the greater part of the +interview. The two lovers then walked up to Oxney Colne, and there were +more benedictions and more congratulations. 'All went merry as a +marriage bell', at any rate as far as Patience was concerned. Not a word +had yet fallen from that dear mouth, not a look had yet come over that +handsome face, which tended in any way to mar her bliss. Her first day +of acknowledged love was a day altogether happy, and when she prayed for +him as she knelt beside her bed there was no feeling in her mind that +any fear need disturb her joy. + +I will pass over the next three or four days very quickly, merely saying +that Patience did not find them so pleasant as that first day after her +engagement. There was something in her lover's manner--something which +at first she could not define--which by degrees seemed to grate against +her feelings. He was sufficiently affectionate, that being a matter on +which she did not require much demonstration; but joined to his +affection there seemed to be--; she hardly liked to suggest to herself a +harsh word, but could it be possible that he was beginning to think that +she was not good enough for him? And then she asked herself the +question--was she good enough for him? If there were doubt about that, +the match should be broken off, though she tore her own heart out in the +struggle. The truth, however, was this,--that he had begun that teaching +which he had already found to be so necessary. Now, had any one essayed +to teach Patience German or mathematics, with that young lady's free +consent, I believe that she would have been found a meek scholar. But it +was not probable that she would be meek when she found a self-appointed +tutor teaching her manners and conduct without her consent. + +So matters went on for four or five days, and on the evening of the +fifth day, Captain Broughton and his aunt drank tea at the parsonage. +Nothing very especial occurred; but as the parson and Miss Le Smyrger +insisted on playing backgammon with devoted perseverance during the +whole evening, Broughton had a good opportunity of saying a word or two +about those changes in his lady-love which a life in London would +require--and some word he said also--some single slight word, as to the +higher station in life to which he would exalt his bride. Patience bore +it--for her father and Miss Le Smyrger were in the room--she bore it +well, speaking no syllable of anger, and enduring, for the moment, the +implied scorn of the old parsonage. Then the evening broke up, and +Captain Broughton walked back to Oxney Colne with his aunt. 'Patty,' her +father said to her before they went to bed, 'he seems to me to be a most +excellent young man.' 'Dear papa,' she answered, kissing him. 'And +terribly deep in love,' said Mr. Woolsworthy. 'Oh, I don't know about +that,' she answered, as she left him with her sweetest smile. But though +she could thus smile at her father's joke, she had already made up her +mind that there was still something to be learned as to her promised +husband before she could place herself altogether in his hands. She +would ask him whether he thought himself liable to injury from this +proposed marriage; and though he should deny any such thought, she would +know from the manner of his denial what his true feelings were. + +And he, too, on that night, during his silent walk with Miss Le Smyrger, +had entertained some similar thoughts. 'I fear she is obstinate', he had +said to himself, and then he had half accused her of being sullen also. +'If that be her temper, what a life of misery I have before me!' + +'Have you fixed a day yet?' his aunt asked him as they came near to her +house. + +'No, not yet; I don't know whether it will suit me to fix it before I +leave.' + +'Why, it was but the other day you were in such a hurry.' + +'Ah--yes-I have thought more about it since then.' + +'I should have imagined that this would depend on what Patty thinks,' +said Miss Le Smyrger, standing up for the privileges of her sex. 'It is +presumed that the gentleman is always ready as soon as the lady will +consent.' + +'Yes, in ordinary cases it is so; but when a girl is taken out of her +own sphere--' + +'Her own sphere! Let me caution you, Master John, not to talk to Patty +about her own sphere.' + +'Aunt Penelope, as Patience is to be my wife and not yours, I must claim +permission to speak to her on such subjects as may seem suitable to me.' +And then they parted--not in the best humour with each other. + +On the following day Captain Broughton and Miss Woolsworthy did not meet +till the evening. She had said, before those few ill-omened words had +passed her lover's lips, that she would probably be at Miss Le +Smyrger's house on the following morning. Those ill-omened words did +pass her lover's lips, and then she remained at home. This did not come +from sullenness, nor even from anger, but from a conviction that it +would be well that she should think much before she met him again. Nor +was he anxious to hurry a meeting. His thought--his base thought--was +this; that she would be sure to come up to the Colne after him; but she +did not come, and therefore in the evening he went down to her, and +asked her to walk with him. + +They went away by the path that led by Helpholme, and little was said +between them till they had walked some mile together. Patience, as she +went along the path, remembered almost to the letter the sweet words +which had greeted her ears as she came down that way with him on the +night of his arrival; but he remembered nothing of that sweetness then. +Had he not made an ass of himself during these last six months? That was +the thought which very much had possession of his mind. + +'Patience,' he said at last, having hitherto spoken only an indifferent +word now and again since they had left the parsonage, 'Patience, I hope +you realize the importance of the step which you and I are about to +take?' + +'Of course I do,' she answered: 'what an odd question that is for you to +ask!' + +'Because,' said he, 'sometimes I almost doubt it. It seems to me as +though you thought you could remove yourself from here to your new home +with no more trouble than when you go from home up to the Colne.' + +'Is that meant for a reproach, John?' + +'No, not for a reproach, but for advice. Certainly not for a reproach.' + +'I am glad of that.' + +'But I should wish to make you think how great is the leap in the world +which you are about to take.' Then again they walked on for many steps +before she answered him. + +'Tell me, then, John,' she said, when she had sufficiently considered +what words she would speak;--and as she spoke a dark bright colour +suffused her face, and her eyes flashed almost with anger. 'What leap do +you mean? Do you mean a leap upwards?' + +'Well, yes; I hope it will be so.' + +'In one sense, certainly, it would be a leap upwards. To be the wife of +the man I loved; to have the privilege of holding his happiness in my +hand; to know that I was his own--the companion whom he had chosen out +of all the world--that would, indeed, be a leap upward; a leap almost to +heaven, if all that were so. But if you mean upwards in any other +sense--' + +'I was thinking of the social scale.' + +'Then, Captain Broughton, your thoughts were doing me dishonour.' + +'Doing you dishonour!' + +'Yes, doing me dishonour. That your father is, in the world's esteem, a +greater man than mine is doubtless true enough. That you, as a man, are +richer than I am as a woman is doubtless also true. But you dishonour +me, and yourself also, if these things can weigh with you now.' + +'Patience,--I think you can hardly know what words you are saying to +me.' + +'Pardon me, but I think I do. Nothing that you can give me--no gifts of +that description--can weigh aught against that which I am giving you. If +you had all the wealth and rank of the greatest lord in the land, it +would count as nothing in such a scale. If--as I have not doubted--if in +return for my heart you have given me yours, then--then--then, you have +paid me fully. But when gifts such as those are going, nothing else can +count even as a make-weight.' + +'I do not quite understand you,' he answered, after a pause. 'I fear you +are a little high-flown.' And then, while the evening was still early, +they walked back to the parsonage almost without another word. + +Captain Broughton at this time had only one more full day to remain at +Oxney Colne. On the afternoon following that he was to go as far as +Exeter, and thence return to London. Of course it was to be expected, +that the wedding day would be fixed before he went, and much had been +said about it during the first day or two of his engagement. Then he had +pressed for an early time, and Patience, with a girl's usual diffidence, +had asked for some little delay. But now nothing was said on the +subject; and how was it probable that such a matter could be settled +after such a conversation as that which I have related? That evening, +Miss Le Smyrger asked whether the day had been fixed. 'No,' said Captain +Broughton harshly; 'nothing has been fixed.' 'But it will be arranged +before you go.' 'Probably not,' he said; and then the subject was +dropped for the time. + +'John,' she said, just before she went to bed, 'if there be anything +wrong between you and Patience, I conjure you to tell me.' + +'You had better ask her,' he replied. 'I can tell you nothing.' + +On the following morning he was much surprised by seeing Patience on the +gravel path before Miss Le Smyrger's gate immediately after breakfast. +He went to the door to open it for her, and she, as she gave him her +hand, told him that she came up to speak to him. There was no hesitation +in her manner, nor any look of anger in her face. But there was in her +gait and form, in her voice and countenance, a fixedness of purpose +which he had never seen before, or at any rate had never acknowledged. + +'Certainly,' said he. 'Shall I come out with you, or will you come +upstairs?' + +'We can sit down in the summer-house,' she said; and thither they both +went. + +'Captain Broughton,' she said--and she began her task the moment that +they were both seated--'You and I have engaged ourselves as man and +wife, but perhaps we have been over rash.' + +'How so?' said he. + +'It may be--and indeed I will say more--it is the case that we have made +this engagement without knowing enough of each other's character.' + +'I have not thought so.' + +'The time will perhaps come when you will so think, but for the sake of +all that we most value, let it come before it is too late. What would be +our fate--how terrible would be our misery, if such a thought should +come to either of us after we have linked our lots together.' + +There was a solemnity about her as she thus spoke which almost repressed +him,--which for a time did prevent him from taking that tone of +authority which on such a subject he would choose to adopt. But he +recovered himself. 'I hardly think that this comes well from you,' he +said. + +'From whom else should it come? Who else can fight my battle for me; +and, John, who else can fight that same battle on your behalf? I tell +you this, that with your mind standing towards me as it does stand at +present you could not give me your hand at the altar with true words and +a happy conscience. Is it not true? You have half repented of your +bargain already. Is it not so?' + +He did not answer her; but getting up from his seat walked to the front +of the summer-house, and stood there with his back turned upon her. It +was not that he meant to be ungracious, but in truth he did not know how +to answer her. He had half repented of his bargain. + +'John,' she said, getting up and following him so that she could put her +hand upon his arm, 'I have been very angry with you.' + +'Angry with me!' he said, turning sharp upon her. + +'Yes, angry with you. You would have treated me like a child. But that +feeling has gone now. I am not angry now. There is my hand;--the hand of +a friend. Let the words that have been spoken between us be as though +they had not been spoken. Let us both be free.' + +'Do you mean it?' he asked. + +'Certainly I mean it.' As she spoke these words her eyes were filled +with tears in spite of all the efforts she could make to restrain them; +but he was not looking at her, and her efforts had sufficed to prevent +any sob from being audible. + +'With all my heart,' he said; and it was manifest from his tone that he +had no thought of her happiness as he spoke. It was true that she had +been angry with him--angry, as she had herself declared; but +nevertheless, in what she had said and what she had done, she had +thought more of his happiness than of her own. Now she was angry once +again. + +'With all your heart, Captain Broughton! Well, so be it. If with all +your heart, then is the necessity so much the greater. You go tomorrow. +Shall we say farewell now?' + +'Patience, I am not going to be lectured.' + +'Certainly not by me. Shall we say farewell now?' + +'Yes, if you are determined.' + +'I am determined. Farewell, Captain Broughton. You have all my wishes +for your happiness.' And she held out her hand to him. + +'Patience!' he said. And he looked at her with a dark frown, as though +he would strive to frighten her into submission. If so, he might have +saved himself any such attempt. + +'Farewell, Captain Broughton. Give me your hand, for I cannot stay.' He +gave her his hand, hardly knowing why he did so. She lifted it to her +lips and kissed it, and then, leaving him, passed from the summer-house +down through the wicket-gate, and straight home to the parsonage. + +During the whole of that day she said no word to anyone of what had +occurred. When she was once more at home she went about her household +affairs as she had done on that day of his arrival. When she sat down to +dinner with her father he observed nothing to make him think that she +was unhappy, nor during the evening was there any expression in her +face, or any tone in her voice, which excited his attention. On the +following morning Captain Broughton called at the parsonage, and the +servant-girl brought word to her mistress that he was in the parlour. +But she would not see him. 'Laws miss, you ain't a quarrelled with your +beau?' the poor girl said. 'No, not quarrelled,' she said; 'but give him +that.' It was a scrap of paper containing a word or two in pencil. 'It +is better that we should not meet again. God bless you.' And from that +day to this, now more than ten years, they have never met. + +'Papa,' she said to her father that afternoon, 'dear papa, do not be +angry with me. It is all over between me and John Broughton. Dearest, +you and I will not be separated.' + +It would be useless here to tell how great was the old man's surprise +and how true his sorrow. As the tale was told to him no cause was given +for anger with anyone. Not a word was spoken against the suitor who had +on that day returned to London with a full conviction that now at least +he was relieved from his engagement. 'Patty, my darling child,' he said, +'may God grant that it be for the best!' + +'It is for the best,' she answered stoutly. 'For this place I am fit; +and I much doubt whether I am fit for any other.' + +On that day she did not see Miss Le Smyrger, but on the following +morning, knowing that Captain Broughton had gone off,--having heard the +wheels of the carriage as they passed by the parsonage gate on his way +to the station,--she walked up to the Colne. + +'He has told you, I suppose?' said she. + +'Yes,' said Miss Le Smyrger. 'And I will never see him again unless he +asks your pardon on his knees. I have told him so. I would not even give +him my hand as he went.' + +'But why so, thou kindest one? The fault was mine more than his.' + +'I understand. I have eyes in my head,' said the old maid. 'I have +watched him for the last four or five days. If you could have kept the +truth to yourself and bade him keep off from you, he would have been at +your feet now, licking the dust from your shoes.' + +'But, dear friend, I do not want a man to lick dust from my shoes.' + +'Ah, you are a fool. You do not know the value of your own wealth.' + +'True; I have been a fool. I was a fool to think that one coming from +such a life as he has led could be happy with such as I am. I know the +truth now. I have bought the lesson dearly--but perhaps not too dearly, +seeing that it will never be forgotten.' + +There was but little more said about the matter between our three +friends at Oxney Colne. What, indeed, could be said? Miss Le Smyrger for +a year or two still expected that her nephew would return and claim his +bride; but he has never done so, nor has there been any correspondence +between them. Patience Woolsworthy had learned her lesson dearly. She +had given her whole heart to the man; and, though she so bore herself +that no one was aware of the violence of the struggle, nevertheless the +struggle within her bosom was very violent. She never told herself that +she had done wrong; she never regretted her loss; but yet--yet!--the +loss was very hard to bear. He also had loved her, but he was not +capable of a love which could much injure his daily peace. Her daily +peace was gone for many a day to come. + +Her father is still living; but there is a curate now in the parish. In +conjunction with him and with Miss Le Smyrger she spends her time in the +concerns of the parish. In her own eyes she is a confirmed old maid; and +such is my opinion also. The romance of her life was played out in that +summer. She never sits now lonely on the hillside thinking how much she +might do for one whom she really loved. But with a large heart she loves +many, and, with no romance, she works hard to lighten the burdens of +those she loves. + +As for Captain Broughton, all the world knows that he did marry that +great heiress with whom his name was once before connected, and that he +is now a useful member of Parliament, working on committees three or +four days a week with zeal that is indefatigable. Sometimes, not often, +as he thinks of Patience Woolsworthy a smile comes across his face. + + + + +ANTHONY GARSTIN'S COURTSHIP + +By Hubert Crackanthorpe + +(_Savoy_, July 1896) + + +I + +A stampede of huddled sheep, wildly scampering over the slaty shingle, +emerged from the leaden mist that muffled the fell-top, and a shrill +shepherd's whistle broke the damp stillness of the air. And presently a +man's figure appeared, following the sheep down the hillside. He halted +a moment to whistle curtly to his two dogs, who, laying back their ears, +chased the sheep at top speed beyond the brow; then, his hands deep in +his pockets, he strode vigorously forward. A streak of white smoke from +a toiling train was creeping silently across the distance: the great, +grey, desolate undulations of treeless country showed no other sign of +life. + +The sheep hurried in single file along a tiny track worn threadbare amid +the brown, lumpy grass: and, as the man came round the mountain's +shoulder, a narrow valley opened out beneath him--a scanty patchwork of +green fields, and, here and there, a whitewashed farm, flanked by a dark +cluster of sheltering trees. + +The man walked with a loose, swinging gait. His figure was spare and +angular: he wore a battered, black felt hat and clumsy, iron-bound +boots: his clothes were dingy from long exposure to the weather. He had +close-set, insignificant eyes, much wrinkled, and stubbly eyebrows +streaked with grey. His mouth was close-shaven, and drawn by his +abstraction into hard and taciturn lines; beneath his chin bristled an +unkempt fringe of sandy-coloured hair. + +When he reached the foot of the fell, the twilight was already blurring +the distance. The sheep scurried, with a noisy rustling, across a flat, +swampy stretch, over-grown with rushes, while the dogs headed them +towards a gap in a low, ragged wall built of loosely-heaped boulders. +The man swung the gate to after them, and waited, whistling +peremptorily, recalling the dogs. A moment later, the animals +reappeared, cringing as they crawled through the bars of the gate. He +kicked out at them contemptuously, and mounting a stone stile a few +yards further up the road, dropped into a narrow lane. + +Presently, as he passed a row of lighted windows, he heard a voice call +to him. He stopped, and perceived a crooked, white-bearded figure, +wearing clerical clothes, standing in the garden gateway. + +'Good-evening, Anthony. A raw evening this.' + +'Ay, Mr. Blencarn, it is a bit frittish,' he answered. 'I've jest bin +gittin' a few lambs off t'fell. I hope ye're keepin' fairly, an' Miss +Rosa too.' He spoke briefly, with a loud, spontaneous cordiality. + +'Thank ye, Anthony, thank ye. Rosa's down at the church, playing over +the hymns for tomorrow. How's Mrs. Garstin?' + +'Nicely, thank ye, Mr. Blencarn. She's wonderful active, is mother.' + +'Well, good night to ye, Anthony,' said the old man, clicking the gate. + +'Good night, Mr. Blencarn,' he called back. + +A few minutes later the twinkling lights of the village came in sight, +and from within the sombre form of the square-towered church, looming by +the roadside, the slow, solemn strains of the organ floated out on the +evening air. Anthony lightened his tread: then paused, listening; but, +presently, becoming aware that a man stood, listening also, on the +bridge some few yards distant, he moved forward again. Slackening his +pace, as he approached, he eyed the figure keenly; but the man paid no +heed to him, remaining, with his back turned, gazing over the parapet +into the dark, gurgling stream. + +Anthony trudged along the empty village street, past the gleaming +squares of ruddy gold, starting on either side out of the darkness. Now +and then he looked furtively backwards. The straight open road lay +behind him, glimmering wanly: the organ seemed to have ceased: the +figure on the bridge had left the parapet, and appeared to be moving +away towards the church. Anthony halted, watching it till it had +disappeared into the blackness beneath the churchyard trees. Then, after +a moment's hesitation, he left the road, and mounted an upland meadow +towards his mother's farm. + +It was a bare, oblong house. In front, a whitewashed porch, and a narrow +garden-plot, enclosed by a low iron railing, were dimly discernible: +behind, the steep fell-side loomed like a monstrous, mysterious curtain +hung across the night. He passed round the back into the twilight of a +wide yard, cobbled and partially grass-grown, vaguely flanked by the +shadowy outlines of long, low farm-buildings. All was wrapped in +darkness: somewhere overhead a bat fluttered, darting its puny scream. + +Inside, a blazing peat-fire scattered capering shadows across the +smooth, stone floor, flickered among the dim rows of hams suspended from +the ceiling and on the panelled cupboards of dark, glistening oak. A +servant-girl, spreading the cloth for supper, clattered her clogs in and +out of the kitchen: old Mrs. Garstin was stooping before the hearth, +tremulously turning some girdle-cakes that lay roasting in the embers. + +At the sound of Anthony's heavy tread in the passage, she rose, glancing +sharply at the clock above the chimney-piece. She was a heavy-built +woman, upright, stalwart almost, despite her years. Her face was gaunt +and sallow; deep wrinkles accentuated the hardness of her features. She +wore a black widow's cap above her iron-grey hair, gold-rimmed +spectacles, and a soiled, chequered apron. + +'Ye're varra late, Tony,' she remarked querulously. + +He unloosened his woollen neckerchief, and when he had hung it +methodically with his hat behind the door, answered: + +''Twas terrible thick on t' fell-top, an' them two bitches be that +senseless.' + +She caught his sleeve, and, through her spectacles, suspiciously +scrutinized his face. + +'Ye did na meet wi' Rosa Blencarn?' + +'Nay, she was in church, hymn-playin', wi' Luke Stock hangin' roond +door,' he retorted bitterly, rebuffing her with rough impatience. + +She moved away, nodding sententiously to herself. They began supper: +neither spoke: Anthony sat slowly stirring his tea, and staring moodily +into the flames: the bacon on his plate lay untouched. From time to time +his mother, laying down her knife and fork, looked across at him in +unconcealed asperity, pursing her wide, ungainly mouth. At last, +abruptly setting down her cup, she broke out: + +'I wonder ye hav'na mare pride, Tony. For hoo lang are ye goin' t' +continue settin' mopin' and broodin' like a seck sheep? Ye'll jest mak +yesself ill, an' then I reckon what ye'll prove satisfied. Ay, but I +wonder ye hav'na more pride.' + +But he made no answer, remaining unmoved, as if he had not heard. + +Presently, half to himself, without raising his eyes, he murmured: + +'Luke be goin' South, Monday.' + +'Well, ye canna tak' oop wi' his leavin's anyways. It hasna coom't that, +has it? Ye doan't intend settin' all t' parish a laughin' at ye a second +occasion?' + +He flushed dully, and bending over his plate, mechanically began his +supper. + +'Wa dang it,' he broke out a minute later, 'd'ye think I heed the +cacklin' o' fifty parishes? Na, not I,' and, with a short, grim laugh, +he brought his fist down heavily on the oak table. + +'Ye're daft, Tony,' the old woman blurted. + +'Daft or na daft, I tell ye this, mother, that I be forty-six year o' +age this back-end, and there be some things I will na listen to. Rosa +Blencarn's bonny enough for me.' + +'Ay, bonny enough--I've na patience wi' ye. Bonny enough--tricked oot +in her furbelows, gallivantin' wi' every royster fra Pe'rith. Bonny +enough--that be all ye think on. She's bin a proper parson's niece--the +giddy, feckless creature, an she'd mak' ye a proper sort o' wife, Tony +Garstin, ye great, fond booby.' + +She pushed back her chair, and, hurriedly clattering the crockery, began +to clear away the supper. + +'T' hoose be mine, t' Lord be praised,' she continued in a loud, hard +voice, 'an' as long as he spare me, Tony, I'll na see Rosa Blencarn set +foot inside it.' + +Anthony scowled, without replying, and drew his chair to the hearth. His +mother bustled about the room behind him. After a while she asked: + +'Did ye pen t' lambs in t' back field?' + +'Na, they're in Hullam bottom,' he answered curtly. + +The door closed behind her, and by and by he could hear her moving +overhead. Meditatively blinking, he filled his pipe clumsily, and +pulling a crumpled newspaper from his pocket, sat on over the +smouldering fire, reading and stolidly puffing. + + +II + +The music rolled through the dark, empty church. The last, leaden +flicker of daylight glimmered in through the pointed windows, and beyond +the level rows of dusky pews, tenanted only by a litter of prayer-books, +two guttering candles revealed the organ pipes, and the young girl's +swaying figure. + +She played vigorously. Once or twice the tune stumbled, and she +recovered it impatiently, bending over the key-board, showily +flourishing her wrists as she touched the stops. She was bare-headed +(her hat and cloak lay beside her on a stool). She had fair, fluffy +hair, cut short behind her neck; large, round eyes, heightened by a +fringe of dark lashes; rough, ruddy cheeks, and a rosy, full-lipped, +unstable mouth. She was dressed quite simply, in a black, close-fitting +bodice, a little frayed at the sleeves. Her hands and neck were coarsely +fashioned: her comeliness was brawny, literal, unfinished, as it were. + +When at last the ponderous chords of the Amen faded slowly into the +twilight, flushed, breathing a little quickly, she paused, listening to +the stillness of the church. Presently a small boy emerged from behind +the organ. + +'Good evenin', Miss Rosa', he called, trotting briskly away down the +aisle. + +'Good night, Robert', she answered, absently. + +After a while, with an impatient gesture, as if to shake some +importunate thought from her mind, she rose abruptly, pinned on her hat, +threw her cloak round her shoulders, blew out the candles, and groped +her way through the church, towards the half-open door. As she hurried +along the narrow pathway that led across the churchyard, of a sudden, a +figure started out of the blackness. + +'Who's that?' she cried, in a loud, frightened voice. + +A man's uneasy laugh answered her. + +'It's only me, Rosa. I didna' think t' scare ye. I've bin waitin' for +ye, this hoor past.' + +She made no reply, but quickened her pace. He strode on beside her. + +'I'm off, Monday, ye know,' he continued. And, as she said nothing, +'Will ye na stop jest a minnit? I'd like t' speak a few words wi' ye +before I go, an tomorrow I hev t' git over t' Scarsdale betimes,' he +persisted. + +'I don't want t' speak wi' ye: I don't want ever to see ye agin. I jest +hate the sight o' ye.' She spoke with a vehement, concentrated +hoarseness. + +'Nay, but ye must listen to me. I will na be put off wi' fratchin +speeches.' + +And gripping her arm, he forced her to stop. + +'Loose me, ye great beast,' she broke out. + +'I'll na hould ye, if ye'll jest stand quiet-like. I meant t' speak fair +t' ye, Rosa.' + +They stood at a bend in the road, face to face quite close together. +Behind his burly form stretched the dimness of a grey, ghostly field. + +'What is't ye hev to say to me? Hev done wi' it quick,' she said +sullenly. + +'It be jest this, Rosa,' he began with dogged gravity. 'I want t' tell +ye that ef any trouble comes t'ye after I'm gone--ye know t' what I +refer--I want t' tell ye that I'm prepared t' act square by ye. I've +written out on an envelope my address in London. Luke Stock, care o' +Purcell and Co., Smithfield Market, London.' + +'Ye're a bad, sinful man. I jest hate t' sight o' ye. I wish ye were +dead.' + +'Ay, but I reckon what ye'd ha best thought o' that before. Ye've +changed yer whistle considerably since Tuesday. Nay, hould on,' he +added, as she struggled to push past him. 'Here's t' envelope.' + +She snatched the paper, and tore it passionately, scattering the +fragments on to the road. When she had finished, he burst out angrily: + +'Ye cussed, unreasonable fool.' + +'Let me pass, ef ye've nought mare t'say,' she cried. + +'Nay, I'll na part wi' ye this fashion. Ye can speak soft enough when ye +choose.' And seizing her shoulders, he forced her backwards against the +wall. + +'Ye do look fine, an' na mistake, when ye're jest ablaze wi' ragin',' +he laughed bluntly, lowering his face to hers. + +'Loose me, loose me, ye great coward,' she gasped, striving to free her +arms. + +Holding her fast, he expostulated: + +'Coom, Rosa, can we na part friends?' + +'Part friends, indeed,' she retorted bitterly. 'Friends wi' the likes o' +you. What d'ye tak me for? Let me git home, I tell ye. An' please God +I'll never set eyes on ye again. I hate t' sight o' ye.' + +'Be off wi' ye, then,' he answered, pushing her roughly back into the +road. 'Be off wi' ye, ye silly. Ye canna say I hav na spak fair t' ye, +an', by goom, ye'll na see me shally-wallyin this fashion agin. Be off +wi' ye: ye can jest shift for yerself, since ye canna keep a civil +tongue in yer head.' + +The girl, catching at her breath, stood as if dazed, watching his +retreating figure; then starting forward at a run, disappeared up the +hill, into the darkness. + + +III + +Old Mr. Blencarn concluded his husky sermon. The scanty congregation, who +had been sitting, stolidly immobile in their stiff, Sunday clothes, +shuffled to their feet, and the pewful of school children, in clamorous +chorus, intoned the final hymn. Anthony stood near the organ, absently +contemplating, while the rude melody resounded through the church, +Rosa's deft manipulation of the key-board. The rugged lines of his face +were relaxed to a vacant, thoughtful limpness, that aged his expression +not a little: now and then, as if for reference, he glanced +questioningly at the girl's profile. + +A few minutes later the service was over, and the congregation sauntered +out down the aisle. A gawky group of men remained loitering by the +church door: one of them called to Anthony; but, nodding curtly, he +passed on, and strode away down the road, across the grey upland +meadows, towards home. As soon as he had breasted the hill, however, and +was no longer visible from below, he turned abruptly to the left, along +a small, swampy hollow, till he had reached the lane that led down from +the fell-side. + +He clambered over a rugged, moss-grown wall, and stood, gazing +expectantly down the dark, disused roadway; then, after a moment's +hesitation, perceiving nobody, seated himself beneath the wall, on a +projecting slab of stone. + +Overhead hung a sombre, drifting sky. A gusty wind rollicked down from +the fell--huge masses of chilly grey, stripped of the last night's mist. +A few dead leaves fluttered over the stones, and from off the fell-side +there floated the plaintive, quavering rumour of many bleating sheep. + +Before long, he caught sight of two figures coming towards him, slowly +climbing the hill. He sat awaiting their approach, fidgeting with his +sandy beard, and abstractedly grinding the ground beneath his heel. At +the brow they halted: plunging his hands deep into his pockets, he +strolled sheepishly towards them. + +'Ah! good day t' ye, Anthony,' called the old man, in a shrill, +breathless voice. ''Tis a long hill, an' my legs are not what they were. +Time was when I'd think nought o' a whole day's tramp on t' fells. Ay, +I'm gittin' feeble, Anthony, that's what 'tis. And if Rosa here wasn't +the great, strong lass she is, I don't know how her old uncle'd manage;' +and he turned to the girl with a proud, tremulous smile. + +'Will ye tak my arm a bit, Mr. Blencarn? Miss Rosa'll be tired, likely,' +Anthony asked. + +'Nay, Mr. Garstin, but I can manage nicely,' the girl interrupted +sharply. + +Anthony looked up at her as she spoke. She wore a straw hat, trimmed +with crimson velvet, and a black, fur-edged cape, that seemed to set off +mightily the fine whiteness of her neck. Her large, dark eyes were fixed +upon him. He shifted his feet uneasily, and dropped his glance. + +She linked her uncle's arm in hers, and the three moved slowly forward. +Old Mr. Blencarn walked with difficulty, pausing at intervals for breath. +Anthony, his eyes bent on the ground, sauntered beside him, clumsily +kicking at the cobbles that lay in his path. + +When they reached the vicarage gate, the old man asked him to come +inside. + +'Not jest now, thank ye, Mr. Blencarn. I've that lot o' lambs t' see to +before dinner. It's a grand marnin', this,' he added, inconsequently. + +'Uncle's bought a nice lot o' Leghorns, Tuesday,' Rosa remarked. +Anthony met her gaze; there was a grave, subdued expression on her face +this morning, that made her look more of a woman, less of a girl. + +'Ay, do ye show him the birds, Rosa. I'd be glad to have his opinion on +'em.' + +The old man turned to hobble into the house, and Rosa, as she supported +his arm, called back over her shoulder: + +'I'll not be a minute, Mr. Garstin.' + +Anthony strolled round to the yard behind the house, and waited, +watching a flock of glossy-white poultry that strutted, perkily pecking, +over the grass-grown cobbles. + +'Ay, Miss Rosa, they're a bonny lot,' he remarked, as the girl joined +him. + +'Are they not?' she rejoined, scattering a handful of corn before her. + +The birds scuttled across the yard with greedy, outstretched necks. The +two stood, side by side, gazing at them. + +'What did he give for 'em?' Anthony asked. + +'Fifty-five shillings.' + +'Ay,' he assented, nodding absently. + +'Was Dr. Sanderson na seein' o' yer father yesterday?' he asked, after a +moment. + +'He came in t' forenoon. He said he was jest na worse.' + +'Ye knaw, Miss Rosa, as I'm still thinkin' on ye,' he began abruptly, +without looking up. + +'I reckon it ain't much use,' she answered shortly, scattering another +handful of corn towards the birds. 'I reckon I'll never marry. I'm jest +weary o' bein' courted--' + +'I would na weary ye wi' courtin',' he interrupted. + +She laughed noisily. + +'Ye are a queer customer, an' na mistake.' + +'I'm a match for Luke Stock anyway,' he continued fiercely. 'Ye think +nought o' taking oop wi' him--about as ranty, wild a young feller as +ever stepped.' + +The girl reddened, and bit her lip. + +'I don't know what you mean, Mr. Garstin. It seems to me ye're might +hasty in jumpin' t' conclusions.' + +'Mabbe I kin see a thing or two,' he retorted doggedly. + +'Luke Stock's gone to London, anyway.' + +'Ay, an' a powerful good job too, in t' opinion o' some folks.' + +'Ye're jest jealous,' she exclaimed, with a forced titter. 'Ye're jest +jealous o' Luke Stock.' + +'Nay, but ye need na fill yer head wi' that nonsense. I'm too deep set +on ye t' feel jealousy,' he answered, gravely. + +The smile faded from her face, as she murmured: + +'I canna mak ye out, Mr. Garstin.' + +'Nay, that ye canna. An' I suppose it's natural, considerin' ye're +little more than a child, an' I'm a'most old enough to be yer father,' +he retorted, with blunt bitterness. + +'But ye know yer mother's took that dislike t' me. She'd never abide the +sight o' me at Hootsey.' + +He remained silent a moment, moodily reflecting. + +'She'd jest ha't' git ower it. I see nought in that objection,' he +declared. + +'Nay, Mr. Garstin, it canna be. Indeed it canna be at all. Ye'd best jest +put it right from yer mind, once and for all.' + +'I'd jest best put it off my mind, had I? Ye talk like a child!' he +burst out scornfully. 'I intend ye t' coom t' love me, an' I will na tak +ye till ye do. I'll jest go on waitin' for ye, an', mark my words, my +day 'ull coom at last.' + +He spoke loudly, in a slow, stubborn voice, and stepped suddenly towards +her. With a faint, frightened cry she shrank back into the doorway of +the hen-house. + +'Ye talk like a prophet. Ye sort o' skeer me.' + +He laughed grimly, and paused, reflectively scanning her face. He seemed +about to continue in the same strain; but, instead, turned abruptly on +his heel, and strode away through the garden gate. + + +IV + +For three hundred years there had been a Garstin at Hootsey: generation +after generation had tramped the grey stretch of upland, in the +spring-time scattering their flocks over the fell-sides, and, at the +'back-end', on dark, winter afternoons, driving them home again, down +the broad bridle-path that led over the 'raise'. They had been a race of +few words, 'keeping themselves to themselves', as the phrase goes; +beholden to no man, filled with a dogged, churlish pride--an upright, +old-fashioned race, stubborn, long-lived, rude in speech, slow of +resolve. + +Anthony had never seen his father, who had died one night, upon the +fell-top, he and his shepherd, engulfed in the great snowstorm of 1849. +Folks had said that he was the only Garstin who had failed to make old +man's bones. + +After his death, Jake Atkinson, from Ribblehead in Yorkshire, had come +to live at Hootsey. Jake was a fine farmer, a canny bargainer, and very +handy among the sheep, till he took to drink, and roystering every week +with the town wenches up at Carlisle. He was a corpulent, deep-voiced, +free-handed fellow: when his time came, though he died very hardly, he +remained festive and convivial to the last. And for years afterwards, in +the valley, his memory lingered: men spoke of him regretfully, recalling +his quips, his feats of strength, and his choice breed of Herdwicke +rams. But he left behind him a host of debts up at Carlisle, in Penrith, +and in almost every market town--debts that he had long ago pretended to +have paid with money that belonged to his sister. The widow Garstin sold +the twelve Herdwicke rams, and nine acres of land: within six weeks she +had cleared off every penny, and for thirteen months, on Sundays, wore +her mourning with a mute, forbidding grimness: the bitter thought that, +unbeknown to her, Jake had acted dishonestly in money matters, and that +he had ended his days in riotous sin, soured her pride, imbued her with +a rancorous hostility against all the world. For she was a very proud +woman, independent, holding her head high, so folks said, like a Garstin +bred and born; and Anthony, although some reckoned him quiet and of +little account, came to take after her as he grew into manhood. + +She took into her own hands the management of the Hootsey farm, and set +the boy to work for her along with the two farm servants. It was +twenty-five years now since his uncle Jake's death: there were grey +hairs in his sandy beard; but he still worked for his mother, as he had +done when a growing lad. + +And now that times were grown to be bad (of late years the price of +stock had been steadily falling; and the hay harvests had drifted from +bad to worse) the widow Garstin no longer kept any labouring men; but +lived, she and her son, year in and year out, in a close parsimonious +way. + +That had been Anthony Garstin's life--a dull, eventless sort of +business, the sluggish incrustation of monotonous years. And until Rosa +Blencarn had come to keep house for her uncle, he had never thought +twice on a woman's face. + +The Garstins had always been good church-goers, and Anthony, for years, +had acted as churchwarden. It was one summer evening, up at the +vicarage, whilst he was checking the offertory account, that he first +set eyes upon her. She was fresh back from school at Leeds: she was +dressed in a white dress: she looked, he thought, like a London lady. + +She stood by the window, tall and straight and queenly, dreamily gazing +out into the summer twilight, whilst he and her uncle sat over their +business. When he rose to go, she glanced at him with quick curiosity; +he hurried away, muttering a sheepish good night. + +The next time that he saw her was in church on Sunday. He watched her +shyly, with a hesitating, reverential discretion: her beauty seemed to +him wonderful, distant, enigmatic. In the afternoon, young Mrs. Forsyth, +from Longscale, dropped in for a cup of tea with his mother, and the two +set off gossiping of Rosa Blencarn, speaking of her freely, in tones of +acrimonious contempt. For a long while he sat silent, puffing at his +pipe; but at last, when his mother concluded with, 'She looks t' me fair +stuck-oop, full o' toonish airs an' graces,' despite himself, he burst +out: 'Ye're jest wastin' yer breath wi' that cackle. I reckon Miss +Blencarn's o' a different clay to us folks.' Young Mrs. Forsyth tittered +immoderately, and the next week it was rumoured about the valley that +'Tony Garstin was gone luny over t' parson's niece.' + +But of all this he knew nothing--keeping to himself, as was his wont, +and being, besides, very busy with the hay harvest--until one day, at +dinner-time, Henry Sisson asked if he'd started his courting; Jacob +Sowerby cried that Tony'd been too slow in getting to work, for that the +girl had been seen spooning in Crosby Shaws with Curbison the +auctioneer, and the others (there were half-a-dozen of them lounging +round the hay-waggon) burst into a boisterous guffaw. Anthony flushed +dully, looking hesitatingly from the one to the other; then slowly put +down his beer-can, and of a sudden, seizing Jacob by the neck, swung him +heavily on the grass. He fell against the waggon-wheel, and when he rose +the blood was streaming from an ugly cut in his forehead. And +henceforward Tony Garstin's courtship was the common jest of all the +parish. + +As yet, however, he had scarcely spoken to her, though twice he had +passed her in the lane that led up to the vicarage. She had given him a +frank, friendly smile; but he had not found the resolution to do more +than lift his hat. He and Henry Sisson stacked the hay in the yard +behind the house; there was no further mention made of Rosa Blencarn; +but all day long Anthony, as he knelt thatching the rick, brooded over +the strange sweetness of her face, and on the fell-top, while he tramped +after the ewes over the dry, crackling heather, and as he jogged along +the narrow, rickety road, driving his cartload of lambs into the auction +mart. + +Thus, as the weeks slipped by, he was content with blunt, wistful +ruminations upon her indistinct image. Jacob Sowerby's accusation, and +several kindred innuendoes let fall by his mother, left him coolly +incredulous; the girl still seemed to him altogether distant; but from +the first sight of her face he had evolved a stolid, unfaltering +conception of her difference from the ruck of her sex. + +But one evening, as he passed the vicarage on his way down from the +fells, she called to him, and with a childish, confiding familiarity +asked for advice concerning the feeding of the poultry. In his eagerness +to answer her as best he could, he forgot his customary embarrassment, +and grew, for the moment, almost voluble, and quite at his ease in her +presence. Directly her flow of questions ceased, however, the returning +perception of her rosy, hesitating smile, and of her large, deep eyes +looking straight into his face, perturbed him strangely, and, reddening, +he remembered the quarrel in the hay-field and the tale of Crosby Shaws. + +After this, the poultry became a link between them--a link which he +regarded in all seriousness, blindly unconscious that there was aught +else to bring them together, only feeling himself in awe of her, because +of her schooling, her townish manners, her ladylike mode of dress. And +soon, he came to take a sturdy, secret pride in her friendly familiarity +towards him. Several times a week he would meet her in the lane, and +they would loiter a moment together; she would admire his dogs, though +he assured her earnestly that they were but sorry curs; and once, +laughing at his staidness, she nick-named him 'Mr. Churchwarden'. + +That the girl was not liked in the valley he suspected, curtly +attributing her unpopularity to the women's senseless jealousy. Of +gossip concerning her he heard no further hint; but instinctively, and +partly from that rugged, natural reserve of his, shrank from mentioning +her name, even incidentally, to his mother. + +Now, on Sunday evenings, he often strolled up to the vicarage, each time +quitting his mother with the same awkward affectation of casualness; +and, on his return, becoming vaguely conscious of how she refrained from +any comment on his absence, and appeared oddly oblivious of the +existence of parson Blencarn's niece. + +She had always been a sour-tongued woman; but, as the days shortened +with the approach of the long winter months, she seemed to him to grow +more fretful than ever; at times it was almost as if she bore him some +smouldering, sullen resentment. He was of stubborn fibre, however, +toughened by long habit of a bleak, unruly climate; he revolved the +matter in his mind deliberately, and when, at last, after much plodding +thought, it dawned upon him that she resented his acquaintance with Rosa +Blencarn, he accepted the solution with an unflinching phlegm, and +merely shifted his attitude towards the girl, calculating each day the +likelihood of his meeting her, and making, in her presence, persistent +efforts to break down, once for all, the barrier of his own timidity. He +was a man not to be clumsily driven, still less, so he prided himself, a +man to be craftily led. + +It was close upon Christmas time before the crisis came. His mother was +just home from Penrith market. The spring-cart stood in the yard, the +old grey horse was steaming heavily in the still, frosty air. + +'I reckon ye've come fast. T' ould horse is over hot,' he remarked +bluntly, as he went to the animal's head. + +She clambered down hastily, and, coming to his side, began breathlessly: + +'Ye ought t' hev coom t' market, Tony. There's bin pretty goin's on in +Pe'rith today. I was helpin' Anna Forsyth t' choose six yards o' +sheetin' in Dockroy, when we sees Rosa Blencarn coom oot o' t' 'Bell and +Bullock' in company we' Curbison and young Joe Smethwick. Smethwick was +fair reelin' drunk, and Curbison and t' girl were a-houldin' on to him, +to keep him fra fallin'; and then, after a bit, he puts his arm round +the girl t' stiddy hisself, and that fashion they goes off, right oop t' +public street--' + +He continued to unload the packages, and to carry them mechanically one +by one into the house. Each time, when he reappeared, she was standing +by the steaming horse, busy with her tale. + +'An' on t' road hame we passed t' three on' em in Curbison's trap, with +Smethwick leein' in t' bottom, singin' maudlin' songs. They were passin' +Dunscale village, an't' folks coom runnin' oot o' houses t' see 'em go +past--' + +He led the cart away towards the stable, leaving her to cry the +remainder after him across the yard. + +Half-an-hour later he came in for his dinner. During the meal not a word +passed between them, and directly he had finished he strode out of the +house. About nine o'clock he returned, lit his pipe, and sat down to +smoke it over the kitchen fire. + +'Where've ye bin, Tony?' she asked. + +'Oop t' vicarage, courtin', he retorted defiantly, with his pipe in his +mouth. + +This was ten months ago; ever since he had been doggedly waiting. That +evening he had set his mind on the girl, he intended to have her; and +while his mother gibed, as she did now upon every opportunity, his +patience remained grimly unflagging. She would remind him that the farm +belonged to her, that he would have to wait till her death before he +could bring the hussy to Hootsey: he would retort that as soon as the +girl would have him, he intended taking a small holding over at +Scarsdale. Then she would give way, and for a while piteously upbraid +him with her old age, and with the memory of all the years she and he +had spent together, and he would comfort her with a display of brusque, +evasive remorse. + +But, none the less, on the morrow, his thoughts would return to dwell on +the haunting vision of the girl's face, while his own rude, credulous +chivalry, kindled by the recollection of her beauty, stifled his +misgivings concerning her conduct. + +Meanwhile she dallied with him, and amused herself with the younger men. +Her old uncle fell ill in the spring, and could scarcely leave the +house. She declared that she found life in the valley intolerably dull, +that she hated the quiet of the place, that she longed for Leeds, and +the exciting bustle of the streets; and in the evenings she wrote long +letters to the girl-friends she had left behind there, describing with +petulant vivacity her tribe of rustic admirers. At the harvest-time she +went back on a fortnight's visit to friends; the evening before her +departure she promised Anthony to give him her answer on her return. +But, instead, she avoided him, pretended to have promised in jest, and +took up with Luke Stock, a cattle-dealer from Wigton. + + +V + +It was three weeks since he had fetched his flock down from the fell. + +After dinner he and his mother sat together in the parlour: they had +done so every Sunday afternoon, year in and year out, as far back as he +could remember. + +A row of mahogany chairs, with shiny, horse-hair seats, were ranged +round the room. A great collection of agricultural prize-tickets were +pinned over the wall; and, on a heavy, highly-polished sideboard stood +several silver cups. A heap of gilt-edged shavings filled the unused +grate: there were gaudily-tinted roses along the mantelpiece, and, on a +small table by the window, beneath a glass-case, a gilt basket filled +with imitation flowers. Every object was disposed with a scrupulous +precision: the carpet and the red-patterned cloth on the centre table +were much faded. The room was spotlessly clean, and wore, in the chilly +winter sunlight, a rigid, comfortless air. + +Neither spoke, or appeared conscious of the other's presence. Old Mrs. +Garstin, wrapped in a woollen shawl, sat knitting: Anthony dozed +fitfully on a stiff-backed chair. + +Of a sudden, in the distance, a bell started tolling. Anthony rubbed his +eyes drowsily, and taking from the table his Sunday hat, strolled out +across the dusky fields. Presently, reaching a rude wooden seat, built +beside the bridle-path, he sat down and relit his pipe. The air was very +still; below him a white filmy mist hung across the valley: the +fell-sides, vaguely grouped, resembled hulking masses of sombre shadow; +and, as he looked back, three squares of glimmering gold revealed the +lighted windows of the square-towered church. + +He sat smoking; pondering, with placid and reverential contemplation, +on the Mighty Maker of the world--a world majestically and inevitably +ordered; a world where, he argued, each object--each fissure in the +fells, the winding course of each tumbling stream--possesses its +mysterious purport, its inevitable signification.... + +At the end of the field two rams were fighting; retreating, then running +together, and, leaping from the ground, butting head to head and horn to +horn. Anthony watched them absently, pursuing his rude meditations. + +... And the succession of bad seasons, the slow ruination of the farmers +throughout the country, were but punishment meted out for the +accumulated wickedness of the world. In the olden time God rained +plagues upon the land: nowadays, in His wrath, He spoiled the produce of +the earth, which, with His own hands, He had fashioned and bestowed upon +men. + +He rose and continued his walk along the bridle-path. A multitude of +rabbits scuttled up the hill at his approach; and a great cloud of +plovers, rising from the rushes, circled overhead, filling the air with +a profusion of their querulous cries. All at once he heard a rattling of +stones, and perceived a number of small pieces of shingle bounding in +front of him down the grassy slope. + +A woman's figure was moving among the rocks above him. The next moment, +by the trimming of crimson velvet on her hat, he had recognized her. He +mounted the slope with springing strides, wondering the while how it was +she came to be there, that she was not in church playing the organ at +afternoon service. + +Before she was aware of his approach, he was beside her. + +'I thought ye'd be in church--' he began. + +She started: then, gradually regaining her composure, answered, weakly +smiling: + +'Mr. Jenkinson, the new schoolmaster, wanted to try the organ.' + +He came towards her impulsively: she saw the odd flickers in his eyes as +she stepped back in dismay. + +'Nay, but I will na harm ye,' he said. 'Only I reckon what 'tis a +special turn o' Providence, meetin' wi' ye oop here. I reckon what ye'll +hev t' give me a square answer noo. Ye canna dilly-dally everlastingly.' + +He spoke almost brutally; and she stood, white and gasping, staring at +him with large, frightened eyes. The sheep-walk was but a tiny +threadlike track: the slope of the shingle on either side was very +steep: below them lay the valley; distant, lifeless, all blurred by the +evening dusk. She looked about her helplessly for a means of escape. + +'Miss Rosa,' he continued, in a husky voice, 'can ye na coom t' think on +me? Think ye, I've bin waitin' nigh upon two year for ye. I've watched +ye tak oop, first wi' this young fellar, and then wi' that, till +soomtimes my heart's fit t' burst. Many a day, oop on t' fell-top, t' +thought o' ye's nigh driven me daft, and I've left my shepherdin' jest +t' set on a cairn in t' mist, picturin' an' broodin' on yer face. Many +an evenin' I've started oop t' vicarage, wi' t' resolution t' speak +right oot t' ye; but when it coomed t' point, a sort o' timidity seemed +t' hould me back, I was that feared t' displease ye. I knaw I'm na +scholar, an' mabbe ye think I'm rough-mannered. I knaw I've spoken +sharply to ye once or twice lately. But it's jest because I'm that mad +wi' love for ye: I jest canna help myself soomtimes--' + +He waited, peering into her face. She could see the beads of sweat above +his bristling eyebrows: the damp had settled on his sandy beard: his +horny fingers were twitching at the buttons of his black Sunday coat. + +She struggled to summon a smile; but her under-lip quivered, and her +large dark eyes filled slowly with tears. + +And he went on: + +'Ye've coom t' mean jest everything to me. Ef ye will na hev me, I care +for nought else. I canna speak t' ye in phrases: I'm jest a plain, +unscholarly man: I canna wheedle ye, wi' cunnin' after t' fashion o' +toon folks. But I can love ye wi' all my might, an' watch over ye, and +work for ye better than any one o' em--' + +She was crying to herself, silently, while he spoke. He noticed nothing, +however: the twilight hid her face from him. + +'There's nought against me,' he persisted. 'I'm as good a man as any one +on 'em. Ay, as good a man as any one on 'em,' he repeated defiantly, +raising his voice. + +'It's impossible, Mr. Garstin, it's impossible. Ye've been very kind to +me--' she added, in a choking voice. + +'Wa dang it, I didna mean t' mak ye cry, lass,' he exclaimed, with a +softening of his tone. 'There's nought for ye t' cry ower.' + +She sank on to the stones, passionately sobbing in hysterical and +defenceless despair. Anthony stood a moment, gazing at her in clumsy +perplexity: then, coming close to her, put his hand on her shoulder, and +said gently: + +'Coom, lass, what's trouble? Ye can trust me.' + +She shook her head faintly. + +'Ay, but ye can though,' he asserted, firmly. 'Come, what is't?' + +Heedless of him, she continued to rock herself to and fro, crooning in +her distress: + +'Oh! I wish I were dead!... I wish I could die!' + +--'Wish ye could die?' he repeated. 'Why, whatever can't be that's +troublin' ye like this? There, there, lassie, give ower: it 'ull all +coom right, whatever it be--' + +'No, no,' she wailed. 'I wish I could die!... I wish I could die!' + +Lights were twinkling in the village below; and across the valley +darkness was draping the hills. The girl lifted her face from her hands, +and looked up at him with a scared, bewildered expression. + +'I must go home: I must be getting home,' she muttered. + +'Nay, but there's sommut mighty amiss wi' ye.' + +'No, it's nothing... I don't know--I'm not well... I mean it's +nothing... it'll pass over... you mustn't think anything of it.' + +'Nay, but I canna stand by an see ye in sich trouble.' + +'It's nothing, Mr. Garstin, indeed it's nothing,' she repeated. + +'Ay, but I canna credit that,' he objected stubbornly. + +She sent him a shifting, hunted glance. + +'Let me get home... you must let me get home.' + +She made a tremulous, pitiful attempt at firmness. Eyeing her keenly, he +barred her path: she flushed scarlet, and looked hastily away across the +valley. + +'If ye'll tell me yer distress, mabbe I can help ye.' + +'No, no, it's nothing... it's nothing.' + +'If ye'll tell me yer distress, mabbe I can help ye,' he repeated, with +a solemn, deliberate sternness. She shivered, and looked away again, +vaguely, across the valley. + +'You can do nothing: there's nought to be done,' she murmured drearily. + +'There's a man in this business,' he declared. + +'Let me go! Let me go!' she pleaded desperately. + +'Who is't that's bin puttin' ye into this distress?' His voice sounded +loud and harsh. + +'No one, no one. I canna tell ye, Mr. Garstin.... It's no one,' she +protested weakly. The white, twisted look on his face frightened her. + +'My God!' he burst out, gripping her wrist, 'an' a proper soft fool +ye've made o' me. Who is't, I tell ye? Who's t' man?' + +'Ye're hurtin' me. Let me go. I canna tell ye.' + +'And ye're fond o' him?' + +'No, no. He's a wicked, sinful man. I pray God I may never set eyes on +him again. I told him so.' + +'But ef he's got ye into trouble, he'll hev t' marry ye,' he persisted +with a brutal bitterness. + +'I will not. I hate him!' she cried fiercely. + +'But is he _willin'_ t' marry ye?' + +'I don't know ... I don't care ... he said so before he went +away ... But I'd kill myself sooner than live with him.' + +He let her hands fall and stepped back from her. She could only see his +figure, like a sombre cloud, standing before her. The whole fell-side +seemed still and dark and lonely. Presently she heard his voice again: + +'I reckon what there's one road oot o' yer distress.' + +She shook her head drearily. + +'There's none. I'm a lost woman.' + +'An' ef ye took me instead?' he said eagerly. + +'I--I don't understand--' + +'Ef ye married me instead of Luke Stock?' + +'But that's impossible--the--the--' + +'Ay, t' child. I know. But I'll tak t' child as mine.' + +She remained silent. After a moment he heard her voice answer in a +queer, distant tone: + +'You mean that--that ye're ready to marry me, and adopt the child?' + +'I do,' he answered doggedly. + +'But people--your mother--?' + +'Folks 'ull jest know nought about it. It's none o' their business. T' +child 'ull pass as mine. Ye'll accept that?' + +'Yes,' she answered, in a low, rapid voice. + +'Ye'll consent t' hev me, ef I git ye oot o' yer trouble?' + +'Yes,' she repeated, in the same tone. + +She heard him draw a long breath. + +'I said 't was a turn o' Providence, meetin' wi' ye oop here,' he +exclaimed, with half-suppressed exultation. + +Her teeth began to chatter a little: she felt that he was peering at +her, curiously, through the darkness. + +'An' noo,' he continued briskly, 'ye'd best be gettin' home. Give me +ye're hand, an' I'll stiddy ye ower t' stones.' + +He helped her down the bank of shingle, exclaiming: 'By goom, ye're +stony cauld.' Once or twice she slipped: he supported her, roughly +gripping her knuckles. The stones rolled down the steps, noisily, +disappearing into the night. + +Presently they struck the turf bridle-path, and, as they descended +silently towards the lights of the village, he said gravely: + +'I always reckoned what my day 'ud coom.' + +She made no reply; and he added grimly: + +'There'll be terrible work wi' mother over this.' + +He accompanied her down the narrow lane that led past her uncle's house. +When the lighted windows came in sight he halted. + +'Good night, lassie,' he said kindly. 'Do ye give ower distressin' +yeself.' + +'Good night, Mr. Garstin,' she answered, in the same low, rapid voice in +which she had given him her answer up on the fell. + +'We're man an' wife plighted now, are we not?' he blurted timidly. + +She held her face to his, and he kissed her on the cheek, clumsily. + + +VI + +The next morning the frost had set in. The sky was still clear and +glittering: the whitened fields sparkled in the chilly sunlight: here +and there, on high, distant peaks, gleamed dainty caps of snow. All +the week Anthony was to be busy at the fell-foot, wall-building against +the coming of the winter storms: the work was heavy, for he was +single-handed, and the stone had to be fetched from off the fell-side. +Two or three times a day he led his rickety, lumbering cart along the +lane that passed the vicarage gate, pausing on each journey to glance +furtively up at the windows. But he saw no sign of Rosa Blencarn; and, +indeed, he felt no longing to see her: he was grimly exultant over the +remembrance of his wooing of her, and over the knowledge that she was +his. There glowed within him a stolid pride in himself: he thought of +the others who had courted her, and the means by which he had won her +seemed to him a fine stroke of cleverness. + +And so he refrained from any mention of the matter; relishing, as he +worked, all alone, the days through, the consciousness of his secret +triumph, and anticipating, with inward chucklings, the discomforted +cackle of his mother's female friends. He foresaw without misgiving, her +bitter opposition: he felt himself strong; and his heart warmed towards +the girl. And when, at intervals, the brusque realization that, after +all, he was to possess her swept over him, he gripped the stones, and +swung them almost fiercely into their places. + +All around him the white, empty fields seemed slumbering breathlessly. +The stillness stiffened the leafless trees. The frosty air flicked his +blood: singing vigorously to himself he worked with a stubborn, +unflagging resolution, methodically postponing, till the length of the +wall should be completed, the announcement of his betrothal. + +After his reticent, solitary fashion, he was very happy, reviewing his +future prospects, with a plain and steady assurance, and, as the +week-end approached, coming to ignore the irregularity of the whole +business: almost to assume, in the exaltation of his pride, that he had +won her honestly; and to discard, stolidly, all thought of Luke Stock, +of his relations with her, of the coming child that was to pass for his +own. + +And there were moments too, when, as he sauntered homewards through the +dusk at the end of his day's work, his heart grew full to overflowing of +a rugged, superstitious gratitude towards God in Heaven who had granted +his desires. + +About three o'clock on the Saturday afternoon he finished the length of +wall. He went home, washed, shaved, put on his Sunday coat; and, +avoiding the kitchen, where his mother sat knitting by the fireside, +strode up to the vicarage. + +It was Rosa who opened the door to him. On recognizing him she started, +and he followed her into the dining-room. He seated himself, and began, +brusquely: + +'I've coom, Miss Rosa, t' speak t' Mr. Blencarn.' + +Then added, eyeing her closely: + +'Ye're lookin' sick, lass.' + +Her faint smile accentuated the worn, white look on her face. + +'I reckon ye've been frettin' yeself,' he continued gently, 'leein' +awake o' nights, hev'n't yee, noo?' + +She smiled vaguely. + +'Well, but ye see I've coom t' settle t' whole business for ye. Ye +thought mabbe that I was na a man o' my word.' + +'No, no, not that,' she protested, 'but--but--' + +'But what then?' + +'Ye must not do it, Mr. Garstin ... I must just bear my own trouble the +best I can--' she broke out. + +'D'ye fancy I'm takin' ye oot of charity? Ye little reckon the sort o' +stuff my love for ye's made of. Nay, Miss Rosa, but ye canna draw back +noo.' + +'But ye cannot do it, Mr. Garstin. Ye know your mother will na have me at +Hootsey.... I could na live there with your mother.... I'd sooner bear +my trouble alone, as best I can.... She's that stern is Mrs. Garstin. I +couldn't look her in the face.... I can go away somewhere.... I could +keep it all from uncle.' + +Her colour came and went: she stood before him, looking away from him, +dully, out of the window. + +'I intend ye t' coom t' Hootsey. I'm na lad: I reckon I can choose my +own wife. Mother'll hev ye at t' farm, right enough: ye need na distress +yeself on that point--' + +'Nay, Mr. Garstin, but indeed she will not, never... I know she will +not... She always set herself against me, right from the first.' + +'Ay, but that was different. T' case is all changed noo,' he objected +doggedly. + +'She'll support the sight of me all the less,' the girl faltered. + +'Mother'll hev ye at Hootsey--receive ye willin' of her own free +wish--of her own free wish, d'ye hear? I'll answer for that.' + +He struck the table with his fist heavily. His tone of determination +awed her: she glanced at him hurriedly, struggling with her +irresolution. + +'I knaw hoo t' manage mother. An' now,' he concluded, changing his tone, +'is yer uncle about t' place?' + +'He's up the paddock, I think,' she answered. + +'Well, I'll jest step oop and hev a word wi' him.' + +'Ye're ... ye will na tell him.' + +'Tut, tut, na harrowin' tales, ye need na fear, lass. I reckon ef I can +tackle mother, I can accommodate myself t' parson Blencarn.' + +He rose, and coming close to her, scanned her face. + +'Ye must git t' roses back t' yer cheeks,' he exclaimed, with a short +laugh, 'I canna be takin' a ghost t' church.' + +She smiled tremulously, and he continued, laying one hand affectionately +on her shoulder: + +'Nay, but I was but jestin'. Roses or na roses, ye'll be t' bonniest +bride in all Coomberland. I'll meet ye in Hullam lane, after church +time, tomorrow,' he added, moving towards the door. + +After he had gone, she hurried to the backdoor furtively. His retreating +figure was already mounting the grey upland field. Presently, beyond +him, she perceived her uncle, emerging through the paddock gate. She ran +across the poultry yard, and mounting a tub, stood watching the two +figures as they moved towards one another along the brow, Anthony +vigorously trudging, with his hands thrust deep in his pockets; her +uncle, his wideawake tilted over his nose, hobbling, and leaning stiffly +on his pair of sticks. They met; she saw Anthony take her uncle's arm: +the two, turning together, strolled away towards the fell. + +She went back into the house. Anthony's dog came towards her, slinking +along the passage. She caught the animal's head in her hands, and bent +over it caressingly, in an impulsive outburst of almost hysterical +affection. + + +VII + +The two men returned towards the vicarage. At the paddock gate they +halted, and the old man concluded: + +'I could not have wished a better man for her, Anthony. Mabbe the +Lord'll not be minded to spare me much longer. After I'm gone Rosa'll +hev all I possess. She was my poor brother Isaac's only child. After her +mother was taken, he, poor fellow, went altogether to the bad, and until +she came here she mostly lived among strangers. It's been a wretched +sort of childhood for her--a wretched sort of childhood. Ye'll take care +of her, Anthony, will ye not? ... Nay, but I could not hev wished for a +better man for her, and there's my hand on 't.' + +'Thank ee, Mr. Blencarn, thank ee,' Anthony answered huskily, gripping +the old man's hand. + +And he started off down the lane homewards. + +His heart was full of a strange, rugged exaltation. He felt with a +swelling pride that God had entrusted to him this great charge--to tend +her; to make up to her, tenfold, for all that loving care, which, in her +childhood, she had never known. And together with a stubborn confidence +in himself, there welled up within him a great pity for her--a tender +pity, that, chastening with his passion, made her seem to him, as he +brooded over that lonely childhood of hers, the more distinctly +beautiful, the more profoundly precious. He pictured to himself, +tremulously, almost incredulously, their married life--in the winter, +his return home at nightfall to find her awaiting him with a glad, +trustful smile; their evenings, passed together, sitting in silent +happiness over the smouldering logs; or, in summer-time, the midday rest +in the hay-fields when, wearing perhaps a large-brimmed hat fastened +with a red ribbon, beneath her chin, he would catch sight of her, +carrying his dinner, coming across the upland. + +She had not been brought up to be a farmer's wife: she was but a child +still, as the old parson had said. She should not have to work as other +men's wives worked: she should dress like a lady, and on Sundays, in +church, wear fine bonnets, and remain, as she had always been, the belle +of all the parish. + +And, meanwhile, he would farm as he had never farmed before, +watching his opportunities, driving cunning bargains, spending +nothing on himself, hoarding every penny that she might have what +she wanted.... And, as he strode through the village, he seemed to +foresee a general brightening of prospects, a sobering of the fever +of speculation in sheep, a cessation of the insensate glutting, year +after year, of the great winter marts throughout the North, a slackening +of the foreign competition followed by a steady revival of the price +of fatted stocks--a period of prosperity in store for the farmer at +last.... And the future years appeared to open out before him, spread +like a distant, glittering plain, across which, he and she, hand in +hand, were called to travel together.... + +And then, suddenly, as his iron-bound boots clattered over the cobbled +yard, he remembered, with brutal determination, his mother, and the +stormy struggle that awaited him. + +He waited till supper was over, till his mother had moved from the table +to her place by the chimney corner. For several minutes he remained +debating with himself the best method of breaking the news to her. Of a +sudden he glanced up at her: her knitting had slipped on to her lap: she +was sitting, bunched of a heap in her chair, nodding with sleep. By the +flickering light of the wood fire, she looked worn and broken: he felt a +twinge of clumsy compunction. And then he remembered the piteous, hunted +look in the girl's eyes, and the old man's words when they had parted at +the paddock gate, and he blurted out: + +'I doot but what I'll hev t' marry Rosa Blencarn after all.' + +She started, and blinking her eyes, said: + +'I was jest takin' a wink o' sleep. What was 't ye were saying, Tony?' + +He hesitated a moment, puckering his forehead into coarse rugged lines, +and fidgeting noisily with his tea-cup. Presently he repeated: + +'I doot but what I'll hev t' marry Rosa Blencarn after all.' + +She rose stiffly, and stepping down from the hearth, came towards him. + +'Mabbe I did na hear ye aright, Tony.' She spoke hurriedly, and though +she was quite close to him, steadying herself with one hand clutching +the back of his chair, her voice sounded weak, distant almost. + +'Look oop at me. Look oop into my face,' she commanded fiercely. + +He obeyed sullenly. + +'Noo oot wi 't. What's yer meanin', Tony?' + +'I mean what I say,' he retorted doggedly, averting his gaze. + +'What d'ye mean by sayin' that ye've _got_ t' marry her?' + +'I tell yer I mean what I say,' he repeated dully. + +'Ye mean ye've bin an' put t' girl in trouble?' + +He said nothing; but sat staring stupidly at the floor. + +'Look oop at me, and answer,' she commanded, gripping his shoulder and +shaking him. + +He raised his face slowly, and met her glance. + +'Ay, that's aboot it,' he answered. + +'This'll na be truth. It'll be jest a piece o' wanton trickery!' she +cried. + +'Nay, but't is truth,' he answered deliberately. + +'Ye will na swear t' it?' she persisted. + +'I see na necessity for swearin'.' + +'Then ye canna swear t' it,' she burst out triumphantly. + +He paused an instant; then said quietly: + +'Ay, but I'll swear t' it easy enough. Fetch t' Book.' + +She lifted the heavy, tattered Bible from the chimney-piece, and placed +it before him on the table. He laid his lumpish fist on it. + +'Say,' she continued with a tense tremulousness, 'say, I swear t' ye, +mother, that 't is t' truth, t' whole truth, and noat but t' truth, +s'help me God.' + +'I swear t' ye, mother, it's truth, t' whole truth, and nothin' but t' +truth, s'help me God,' he repeated after her. + +'Kiss t' Book,' she ordered. + +He lifted the Bible to his lips. As he replaced it on the table, he +burst out into a short laugh: + +'Be ye satisfied noo?' + +She went back to the chimney corner without a word. The logs on the +hearth hissed and crackled. Outside, amid the blackness the wind was +rising, hooting through the firs, and past the windows. + +After a long while he roused himself, and drawing his pipe from his +pocket almost steadily, proceeded leisurely to pare in the palm of his +hand a lump of black tobacco. + +'We'll be asked in church Sunday,' he remarked bluntly. + +She made no answer. + +He looked across at her. + +Her mouth was drawn tight at the corners: her face wore a queer, rigid +aspect. She looked, he thought, like a figure of stone. + +'Ye're not feeling poorly, are ye, mother?' he asked. + +She shook her head grimly: then, hobbling out into the room, began to +speak in a shrill, tuneless voice. + +'Ye talked at one time o' takin' a farm over Scarsdale way. But ye'd +best stop here. I'll no hinder ye. Ye can have t' large bedroom in t' +front, and I'll move ower to what used to be my brother Jake's room. Ye +knaw I've never had no opinion of t' girl, but I'll do what's right by +her, ef I break my sperrit in t' doin' on't. I'll mak' t' girl welcome +here: I'll stand by her proper-like: mebbe I'll finish by findin' soom +good in her. But from this day forward, Tony, ye're na son o' mine. Ye've +dishonoured yeself: ye've laid a trap for me--ay, laid a trap, that's t' +word. Ye've brought shame and bitterness on yer ould mother in her ould +age. Ye've made me despise t' varra sect o' ye. Ye can stop on here, but +ye shall niver touch a penny of my money; every shillin' of 't shall go +t' yer child, or to your child's children. Ay,' she went on, raising her +voice, 'ay, ye've got yer way at last, and mebbe ye reckon ye've chosen a +mighty smart way. But time 'ull coom when ye'll regret this day, when ye +eat oot yer repentance in doost an' ashes. Ay, Lord 'ull punish ye, Tony, +chastize ye properly. Ye'll learn that marriage begun in sin can end in +nought but sin. Ay,' she concluded, as she reached the door, raising her +skinny hand prophetically, 'ay, after I'm deed and gone, ye mind ye o' t' +words o' t' apostle--"For them that hev sinned without t' law, shall also +perish without t' law."' + +And she slammed the door behind her. + + + + +A LITTLE GREY GLOVE + +By George Egerton (Mary Chavelita [Dunne] Bright) + +(_Keynotes_, London: Elkin Mathews and John Lane, Vigo Street, 1893) + +Early-Spring, 1893 + + +_The book of life begins with a man and woman in a garden and ends--with +Revelations._ + +OSCAR WILDE + + +Yes, most fellows' book of life may be said to begin at the chapter +where woman comes in; mine did. She came in years ago, when I was a raw +undergraduate. With the sober thought of retrospective analysis, I may +say she was not all my fancy painted her; indeed now that I come to +think of it there was no fancy about the vermeil of her cheeks, rather +an artificial reality; she had her bower in the bar of the Golden Boar, +and I was madly in love with her, seriously intent on lawful wedlock. +Luckily for me she threw me over for a neighbouring pork butcher, but at +the time I took it hardly, and it made me sex-shy. I was a very poor man +in those days. One feels one's griefs more keenly then, one hasn't the +wherewithal to buy distraction. Besides, ladies snubbed me rather, on +the rare occasions I met them. Later I fell in for a legacy, the +forerunner of several; indeed, I may say I am beastly rich. My tastes +are simple too, and I haven't any poor relations. I believe they are of +great assistance in getting rid of superfluous capital, wish I had some! +It was after the legacy that women discovered my attractions. They found +that there was something superb in my plainness (before, they said +ugliness), something after the style of the late Victor Emanuel, +something infinitely more striking than mere ordinary beauty. At least +so Harding told me his sister said, and she had the reputation of being +a clever girl. Being an only child, I never had the opportunity other +fellows had of studying the undress side of women through familiar +intercourse, say with sisters. Their most ordinary belongings were +sacred to me. I had, I used to be told, ridiculous high-flown notions +about them (by the way I modified those considerably on closer +acquaintance). I ought to study them, nothing like a woman for +developing a fellow. So I laid in a stock of books in different +languages, mostly novels, in which women played title roles, in order to +get up some definite data before venturing amongst them. I can't say I +derived much benefit from this course. There seemed to be as great a +diversity of opinion about the female species as, let us say, about the +salmonidae. + +My friend Ponsonby Smith, who is one of the oldest fly-fishers in the +three kingdoms, said to me once: Take my word for it, there are only +four true salmo; the salar, the trutta, the fario, the ferox; all the +rest are just varieties, subgenuses of the above; stick to that. Some +writing fellow divided all the women into good-uns and bad-uns. But as a +conscientious stickler for truth, I must say that both in trout as in +women, I have found myself faced with most puzzling varieties, that were +a tantalizing blending of several qualities. I then resolved to study +them on my own account. I pursued the Eternal Feminine in a spirit of +purely scientific investigation. I knew you'd laugh sceptically at that, +but it's a fact. I was impartial in my selection of subjects for +observation--French, German, Spanish, as well as the home product. +Nothing in petticoats escaped me. I devoted myself to the freshest +_ingenue_ as well as the experienced widow of three departed; and I may +as well confess that the more I saw of her, the less I understood her. +But I think they understood me. They refused to take me _au serieux_. +When they weren't fleecing me, they were interested in the state of my +soul (I preferred the former), but all humbugged me equally, so I gave +them up. I took to rod and gun instead, _pro salute animae_; it's +decidedly safer. I have scoured every country in the globe; indeed I can +say that I have shot and fished in woods and waters where no other white +man, perhaps ever dropped a beast or played a fish before. There is no +life like the life of a free wanderer, and no lore like the lore one +gleans in the great book of nature. But one must have freed one's spirit +from the taint of the town before one can even read the alphabet of its +mystic meaning. + +What has this to do with the glove? True, not much, and yet it has a +connection--it accounts for me. + +Well, for twelve years I have followed the impulses of the wandering +spirit that dwells in me. I have seen the sun rise in Finland and gild +the Devil's Knuckles as he sank behind the Drachensberg. I have caught +the barba and the gamer yellow fish in the Vaal river, taken muskelunge +and black-bass in Canada, thrown a fly over _guapote_ and _cavallo_ in +Central American lakes, and choked the monster eels of the Mauritius +with a cunningly faked-up duckling. But I have been shy as a chub at the +shadow of a woman. + +Well, it happened last year I came back on business--another confounded +legacy; end of June too, just as I was off to Finland. But Messrs. +Thimble and Rigg, the highly respectable firm who look after my affairs, +represented that I owed it to others, whom I kept out of their share of +the legacy, to stay near town till affairs were wound up. They told me, +with a view to reconcile me perhaps, of a trout stream with a decent inn +near it; an unknown stream in Kent. It seems a junior member of the firm +is an angler, at least he sometimes catches pike or perch in the Medway +some way from the stream where the trout rise in audacious security from +artificial lures. I stipulated for a clerk to come down with any papers +to be signed, and started at once for Victoria. I decline to tell the +name of my find, firstly because the trout are the gamest little fish +that ever rose to fly and run to a good two pounds. Secondly, I have +paid for all the rooms in the inn for the next year, and I want it to +myself. The glove is lying on the table next me as I write. If it isn't +in my breast-pocket or under my pillow, it is in some place where I can +see it. It has a delicate grey body (suede, I think they call it) with a +whipping of silver round the top, and a darker grey silk tag to fasten +it. It is marked 5-3/4 inside, and has a delicious scent about it, to +keep off moths, I suppose; naphthaline is better. It reminds me of a +'silver-sedge' tied on a ten hook. I startled the good landlady of the +little inn (there is no village fortunately) when I arrived with the +only porter of the tiny station laden with traps. She hesitated about a +private sitting-room, but eventually we compromised matters, as I was +willing to share it with the other visitor. I got into knickerbockers at +once, collared a boy to get me worms and minnow for the morrow, and as I +felt too lazy to unpack tackle, just sat in the shiny armchair (made +comfortable by the successive sitting of former occupants) at the open +window and looked out. The river, not the trout stream, winds to the +right, and the trees cast trembling shadows into its clear depths. The +red tiles of a farm roof show between the beeches, and break the +monotony of blue sky background. A dusty waggoner is slaking his thirst +with a tankard of ale. I am conscious of the strange lonely feeling that +a visit to England always gives me. Away in strange lands, even in +solitary places, one doesn't feel it somehow. One is filled with the +hunter's lust, bent on a 'kill', but at home in the quiet country, with +the smoke curling up from some fireside, the mowers busy laying the hay +in swaths, the children tumbling under the trees in the orchards, and a +girl singing as she spreads the clothes on the sweetbriar hedge, amidst +a scene quick with home sights and sounds, a strange lack creeps in and +makes itself felt in a dull, aching way. Oddly enough, too, I had a +sense of uneasiness, a 'something going to happen'. I had often +experienced it when out alone in a great forest, or on an unknown lake, +and it always meant 'ware danger' of some kind. But why should I feel it +here? Yet I did, and I couldn't shake it off. I took to examining the +room. It was a commonplace one of the usual type. But there was a +work-basket on the table, a dainty thing, lined with blue satin. There +was a bit of lace stretched over shiny blue linen, with the needle +sticking in it; such fairy work, like cobwebs seen from below, spun from +a branch against a background of sky. A gold thimble, too, with +initials, not the landlady's, I know. What pretty things, too, in the +basket! A scissors, a capital shape for fly-making; a little file, and +some floss silk and tinsel, the identical colour I want for a new fly I +have in my head, one that will be a demon to kill. The northern devil I +mean to call him. Some one looks in behind me, and a light step passes +upstairs. I drop the basket, I don't know why. There are some reviews +near it. I take up one, and am soon buried in an article on Tasmanian +fauna. It is strange, but whenever I do know anything about a subject, +I always find these writing fellows either entirely ignorant or damned +wrong. + +After supper, I took a stroll to see the river. It was a silver grey +evening, with just the last lemon and pink streaks of the sunset +staining the sky. There had been a shower, and somehow the smell of the +dust after rain mingled with the mignonette in the garden brought back +vanished scenes of small-boyhood, when I caught minnows in a bottle, and +dreamt of a shilling rod as happiness unattainable. I turned aside from +the road in accordance with directions, and walked towards the stream. +Holloa! someone before me, what a bore! The angler is hidden by an +elder-bush, but I can see the fly drop delicately, artistically on the +water. Fishing upstream, too! There is a bit of broken water there, and +the midges dance in myriads; a silver gleam, and the line spins out, and +the fly falls just in the right place. It is growing dusk, but the +fellow is an adept at quick, fine casting--I wonder what fly he has +on--why, he's going to try downstream now? I hurry forward, and as I +near him, I swerve to the left out of the way. S-s-s-s! a sudden sting +in the lobe of my ear. Hey! I cry as I find I am caught; the tail fly is +fast in it. A slight, grey-clad woman holding the rod lays it carefully +down and comes towards me through the gathering dusk. My first impulse +is to snap the gut and take to my heels, but I am held by something less +tangible but far more powerful than the grip of the Limerick hook in my +ear. + +'I am very sorry!' she says in a voice that matched the evening, it was +so quiet and soft; 'but it was exceedingly stupid of you to come behind +like that.' + +'I didn't think you threw such a long line; I thought I was safe,' I +stammered. + +'Hold this!' she says, giving me a diminutive fly-book, out of which she +has taken a scissors. I obey meekly. She snips the gut. + +'Have you a sharp knife? If I strip the hook you can push it through; it +is lucky it isn't in the cartilage.' + +I suppose I am an awful idiot, but I only handed her the knife, and she +proceeded as calmly as if stripping a hook in a man's ear were an +everyday occurrence. Her gown is of some soft grey stuff, and her grey +leather belt is silver clasped. Her hands are soft and cool and steady, +but there is a rarely disturbing thrill in their gentle touch. The +thought flashed through my mind that I had just missed that, a woman's +voluntary tender touch, not a paid caress, all my life. + +'Now you can push it through yourself. I hope it won't hurt much.' +Taking the hook, I push it through, and a drop of blood follows it. +'Oh!' she cries, but I assure her it is nothing, and stick the hook +surreptitiously in my coat sleeve. Then we both laugh, and I look at her +for the first time. She has a very white forehead, with little tendrils +of hair blowing round it under her grey cap, her eyes are grey. I didn't +see that then, I only saw they were steady, smiling eyes that matched +her mouth. Such a mouth, the most maddening mouth a man ever longed to +kiss, above a too-pointed chin, soft as a child's; indeed, the whole +face looks soft in the misty light. + +'I am sorry I spoilt your sport!' I say. + +'Oh, that don't matter, it's time to stop. I got two brace, one a +beauty.' + +She is winding in her line, and I look in her basket; they _are_ +beauties, one two-pounder, the rest running from a half to a pound. + +'What fly?' + +'Yellow dun took that one, but your assailant was a partridge spider.' I +sling her basket over my shoulder; she takes it as a matter of course, +and we retrace our steps. I feel curiously happy as we walk towards the +road; there is a novel delight in her nearness; the feel of woman works +subtly and strangely in me; the rustle of her skirt as it brushes the +black-heads in the meadow-grass, and the delicate perfume, partly +violets, partly herself, that comes to me with each of her movements is +a rare pleasure. I am hardly surprised when she turns into the garden of +the inn, I think I knew from the first that she would. + +'Better bathe that ear of yours, and put a few drops of carbolic in the +water.' She takes the basket as she says it, and goes into the kitchen. +I hurry over this, and go into the little sitting-room. There is a tray +with a glass of milk and some oaten cakes upon the table. I am too +disturbed to sit down; I stand at the window and watch the bats flitter +in the gathering moonlight, and listen with quivering nerves for her +step--perhaps she will send for the tray, and not come after all. What a +fool I am to be disturbed by a grey-clad witch with a tantalizing mouth! +That comes of loafing about doing nothing. I mentally darn the old fool +who saved her money instead of spending it. Why the devil should I be +bothered? I don't want it anyhow. She comes in as I fume, and I forget +everything at her entrance. I push the armchair towards the table, and +she sinks quietly into it, pulling the tray nearer. She has a wedding +ring on, but somehow it never strikes me to wonder if she is married or +a widow or who she may be. I am content to watch her break her biscuits. +She has the prettiest hands, and a trick of separating her last fingers +when she takes hold of anything. They remind me of white orchids I saw +somewhere. She led me to talk; about Africa, I think. I liked to watch +her eyes glow deeply in the shadow and then catch light as she bent +forward to say something in her quick responsive way. + +'Long ago when I was a girl,' she said once. + +'Long ago?' I echo incredulously, 'surely not?' + +'Ah, but yes, you haven't seen me in the daylight,' with a soft little +laugh. 'Do you know what the gipsies say? "Never judge a woman or a +ribbon by candle-light." They might have said moonlight equally well.' + +She rises as she speaks, and I feel an overpowering wish to have her put +out her hand. But she does not, she only takes the work-basket and a +book, and says good night with an inclination of her little head. + +I go over and stand next to her chair; I don't like to sit in it, but I +like to put my hand where her head leant, and fancy, if she were there, +how she would look up. + +I woke next morning with a curious sense of pleasurable excitement. I +whistled from very lightness of heart as I dressed. When I got down I +found the landlady clearing away her breakfast things. I felt +disappointed and resolved to be down earlier in future. I didn't feel +inclined to try the minnow. I put them in a tub in the yard and tried to +read and listen for her step. I dined alone. The day dragged terribly. I +did not like to ask about her, I had a notion she might not like it. I +spent the evening on the river. I might have filled a good basket, but I +let the beggars rest. After all, I had caught fish enough to stock all +the rivers in Great Britain. There are other things than trout in the +world. I sit and smoke a pipe where she caught me last night. If I half +close my eyes I can see hers, and her mouth, in the smoke. That is one +of the curious charms of baccy, it helps to reproduce brain pictures. +After a bit, I think 'perhaps she has left'. I get quite feverish at the +thought and hasten back. I must ask. I look up at the window as I pass; +there is surely a gleam of white. I throw down my traps and hasten up. +She is leaning with her arms on the window-ledge staring out into the +gloom. I could swear I caught a suppressed sob as I entered. I cough, +and she turns quickly and bows slightly. A bonnet and gloves and lace +affair and a lot of papers are lying on the table. I am awfully afraid +she is going. I say-- + +'Please don't let me drive you away, it is so early yet. I half expected +to see you on the river.' + +'Nothing so pleasant; I have been up in town (the tears have certainly +got into her voice) all day; it was so hot and dusty, I am tired out.' + +The little servant brings in the lamp and a tray with a bottle of +lemonade. + +'Mistress hasn't any lemons, 'm, will this do?' + +'Yes,' she says wearily, she is shading her eyes with her hand; +'anything; I am fearfully thirsty.' + +'Let me concoct you a drink instead. I have lemons and ice and things. +My man sent me down supplies today; I leave him in town. I am rather a +dab at drinks; I learnt it from the Yankees; about the only thing I did +learn from them I care to remember. Susan!' The little maid helps me to +get the materials, and _she_ watches me quietly. When I give it to her +she takes it with a smile (she _has_ been crying). That is an ample +thank you. She looks quite old. Something more than tiredness called up +those lines in her face. + + * * * * * + +Well, ten days passed, sometimes we met at breakfast, sometimes at +supper, sometimes we fished together or sat in the straggling orchard +and talked; she neither avoided me nor sought me. She is the most +charming mixture of child and woman I ever met. She is a dual creature. +Now I never met that in a man. When she is here without getting a letter +in the morning or going to town, she seems like a girl. She runs about +in her grey gown and little cap and laughs, and seems to throw off all +thought like an irresponsible child. She is eager to fish, or pick +gooseberries and eat them daintily, or sit under the trees and talk. But +when she goes to town--I notice she always goes when she gets a lawyer's +letter, there is no mistaking the envelope--she comes home tired and +haggard-looking, an old woman of thirty-five. I wonder why. It takes +her, even with her elasticity of temperament, nearly a day to get young +again. I hate her to go to town; it is extraordinary how I miss her; I +can't recall, when she is absent, her saying anything very wonderful, +but she converses all the time. She has a gracious way of filling the +place with herself, there is an entertaining quality in her very +presence. We had one rainy afternoon; she tied me some flies (I shan't +use any of them); I watched the lights in her hair as she moved, it is +quite golden in some places, and she has a tiny mole near her left ear +and another on her left wrist. On the eleventh day she got a letter but +she didn't go to town, she stayed up in her room all day; twenty times I +felt inclined to send her a line, but I had no excuse. I heard the +landlady say as I passed the kitchen window: 'Poor dear! I'm sorry to +lose her!' Lose her? I should think not. It has come to this with me +that I don't care to face any future without her; and yet I know nothing +about her, not even if she is a free woman. I shall find that out the +next time I see her. In the evening I catch a glimpse of her gown in the +orchard, and I follow her. We sit down near the river. Her left hand is +lying gloveless next to me in the grass. + +'Do you think from what you have seen of me, that I would ask a question +out of any mere impertinent curiosity?' + +She starts. 'No, I do not!' + +I take up her hand and touch the ring. 'Tell me, does this bind you to +any one?' + +I am conscious of a buzzing in my ears and a dancing blurr of water and +sky and trees, as I wait (it seems to me an hour) for her reply. I felt +the same sensation once before, when I got drawn into some rapids and +had an awfully narrow shave, but of that another time. + +The voice is shaking. + +'I am not legally bound to anyone, at least; but why do you ask?' she +looks me square in the face as she speaks, with a touch of haughtiness +I never saw in her before. + +Perhaps the great relief I feel, the sense of joy at knowing she is +free, speaks out of my face, for hers flushes and she drops her eyes, +her lips tremble. I don't look at her again, but I can see her all the +same. After a while she says-- + +'I half intended to tell you something about myself this evening, now I +_must_. Let us go in. I shall come down to the sitting-room after your +supper.' She takes a long look at the river and the inn, as if fixing +the place in her memory; it strikes me with a chill that there is a +goodbye in her gaze. Her eyes rest on me a moment as they come back, +there is a sad look in their grey clearness. She swings her little grey +gloves in her hand as we walk back. I can hear her walking up and down +overhead; how tired she will be, and how slowly the time goes. I am +standing at one side of the window when she enters; she stands at the +other, leaning her head against the shutter with her hands clasped +before her. I can hear my own heart beating, and, I fancy, hers through +the stillness. The suspense is fearful. At length she says-- + +'You have been a long time out of England; you don't read the papers?' + +'No.' A pause. I believe my heart is beating inside my head. + +'You asked me if I was a free woman. I don't pretend to misunderstand +why you asked me. I am not a beautiful woman, I never was. But there +must be something about me, there is in some women, "essential +femininity" perhaps, that appeals to all men. What I read in your eyes +I have seen in many men's before, but before God I never tried to rouse +it. Today (with a sob), I can say I am free, yesterday morning I could +not. Yesterday my husband gained his case and divorced me!' she closes +her eyes and draws in her under-lip to stop its quivering. I want to +take her in my arms, but I am afraid to. + +'I did not ask you any more than if you were free!' + +'No, but I am afraid you don't quite take in the meaning. I did not +divorce my husband, he divorced _me_, he got a decree _nisi_; do you +understand now? (she is speaking with difficulty), do you know what that +implies?' + +I can't stand her face any longer. I take her hands, they are icy cold, +and hold them tightly. + +'Yes, I know what it implies, that is, I know the legal and social +conclusion to be drawn from it--if that is what you mean. But I never +asked you for that information. I have nothing to do with your past. You +did not exist for me before the day we met on the river. I take you from +that day and I ask you to marry me.' + +I feel her tremble and her hands get suddenly warm. She turns her head +and looks at me long and searchingly, then she says-- + +'Sit down, I want to say something!' + +I obey, and she comes and stands next the chair. I can't help it, I +reach up my arm, but she puts it gently down. + +'No, you must listen without touching me, I shall go back to the +window. I don't want to influence you a bit by any personal magnetism +I possess. I want you to listen--I have told you he divorced me, the +co-respondent was an old friend, a friend of my childhood, of my +girlhood. He died just after the first application was made, luckily for +me. He would have considered my honour before my happiness. _I_ did not +defend the case, it wasn't likely--ah, if you knew all? He proved his +case; given clever counsel, willing witnesses to whom you make it worth +while, and no defence, divorce is always attainable even in England. But +remember: I figure as an adulteress in every English-speaking paper. If +you buy last week's evening papers--do you remember the day I was in +town?'--I nod--'you will see a sketch of me in that day's; someone, +perhaps he, must have given it; it was from an old photograph. I bought +one at Victoria as I came out; it is funny (with an hysterical laugh) to +buy a caricature of one's own poor face at a news-stall. Yet in spite of +that I have felt glad. The point for you is that I made no defence to +the world, and (with a lifting of her head) I will make no apology, no +explanation, no denial to you, now nor ever. I am very desolate and your +attention came very warm to me, but I don't love you. Perhaps I could +learn to (with a rush of colour), for what you have said tonight, and it +is because of that I tell you to weigh what this means. Later, when your +care for me will grow into habit, you may chafe at my past. It is from +that I would save you.' + +I hold out my hands and she comes and puts them aside and takes me by +the beard and turns up my face and scans it earnestly. She must have +been deceived a good deal. I let her do as she pleases, it is the wisest +way with women, and it is good to have her touch me in that way. She +seems satisfied. She stands leaning against the arm of the chair and +says-- + +'I must learn first to think of myself as a free woman again, it almost +seems wrong today to talk like this; can you understand that feeling?' + +I nod assent. + +'Next time I must be sure, and you must be sure,' she lays her fingers +on my mouth as I am about to protest, 'S-sh! You shall have a year to +think. If you repeat then what you have said today, I shall give you +your answer. You must not try to find me. I have money. If I am living, +I will come here to you. If I am dead, you will be told of it. In the +year between I shall look upon myself as belonging to you, and render an +account if you wish of every hour. You will not be influenced by me in +any way, and you will be able to reason it out calmly. If you think +better of it, don't come.' + +I feel there would be no use trying to move her, I simply kiss her hands +and say: + +'As you will, dear woman, I shall be here.' + +We don't say any more; she sits down on a footstool with her head +against my knee, and I just smooth it. When the clocks strike ten +through the house, she rises and I stand up. I see that she has been +crying quietly, poor lonely little soul. I lift her off her feet and +kiss her, and stammer out my sorrow at losing her, and she is gone. Next +morning the little maid brought me an envelope from the lady, who left +by the first train. It held a little grey glove; that is why I carry it +always, and why I haunt the inn and never leave it for longer than a +week; why I sit and dream in the old chair that has a ghost of her +presence always; dream of the spring to come with the May-fly on the +wing, and the young summer when midges dance, and the trout are growing +fastidious; when she will come to me across the meadow grass, through +the silver haze, as she did before; come with her grey eyes shining to +exchange herself for her little grey glove. + + + + +THE WOMAN BEATER + +By Israel Zangwill + +(_The Grey Wig/Stories and Novelettes_, New York: The Macmillan Company, +1903) + + +I + +She came 'to meet John Lefolle', but John Lefolle did not know he was +to meet Winifred Glamorys. He did not even know he was himself the +meeting-point of all the brilliant and beautiful persons, assembled in +the publisher's Saturday Salon, for although a youthful minor poet, he +was modest and lovable. Perhaps his Oxford tutorship was sobering. At +any rate his head remained unturned by his precocious fame, and to meet +these other young men and women--his reverend seniors on the slopes of +Parnassus--gave him more pleasure than the receipt of 'royalties'. Not +that his publisher afforded him much opportunity of contrasting the two +pleasures. The profits of the Muse went to provide this room of old +furniture and roses, this beautiful garden a-twinkle with Japanese +lanterns, like gorgeous fire-flowers blossoming under the white +crescent-moon of early June. + +Winifred Glamorys was not literary herself. She was better than a +poetess, she was a poem. The publisher always threw in a few realities, +and some beautiful brainless creature would generally be found the +nucleus of a crowd, while Clio in spectacles languished in a corner. +Winifred Glamorys, however, was reputed to have a tongue that matched +her eye; paralleling with whimsies and epigrams its freakish fires and +witcheries, and, assuredly, flitting in her white gown through the dark +balmy garden, she seemed the very spirit of moonlight, the subtle +incarnation of night and roses. + +When John Lefolle met her, Cecilia was with her, and the first +conversation was triangular. Cecilia fired most of the shots; she was +a bouncing, rattling beauty, chockful of confidence and high spirits, +except when asked to do the one thing she could do--sing! Then she +became--quite genuinely--a nervous, hesitant, pale little thing. +However, the suppliant hostess bore her off, and presently her rich +contralto notes passed through the garden, adding to its passion and +mystery, and through the open French windows, John could see her +standing against the wall near the piano, her head thrown back, her eyes +half-closed, her creamy throat swelling in the very abandonment of +artistic ecstasy. + +'What a charming creature!' he exclaimed involuntarily. + +'That is what everybody thinks, except her husband,' Winifred laughed. + +'Is he blind then?' asked John with his cloistral _naivete_. + +'Blind? No, love is blind. Marriage is never blind.' + +The bitterness in her tone pierced John. He felt vaguely the passing of +some icy current from unknown seas of experience. Cecilia's voice soared +out enchantingly. + +'Then, marriage must be deaf,' he said, 'or such music as that would +charm it.' + +She smiled sadly. Her smile was the tricksy play of moonlight among +clouds of faery. + +'You have never been married,' she said simply. + +'Do you mean that you, too, are neglected?' something impelled him to +exclaim. + +'Worse,' she murmured. + +'It is incredible!' he cried. 'You!' + +'Hush! My husband will hear you.' + +Her warning whisper brought him into a delicious conspiracy with her. +'Which is your husband?' he whispered back. + +'There! Near the casement, standing gazing open-mouthed at Cecilia. He +always opens his mouth when she sings. It is like two toys moved by the +same wire.' + +He looked at the tall, stalwart, ruddy-haired Anglo-Saxon. 'Do you mean +to say he--?' + +'I mean to say nothing.' + +'But you said--' + +'I said "worse".' + +'Why, what can be worse?' + +She put her hand over her face. 'I am ashamed to tell you.' How adorable +was that half-divined blush! + +'But you must tell me everything.' He scarcely knew how he had leapt +into this role of confessor. He only felt they were 'moved by the same +wire'. + +Her head drooped on her breast. 'He--beats--me.' + +'What!' John forgot to whisper. It was the greatest shock his recluse +life had known, compact as it was of horror at the revelation, shamed +confusion at her candour, and delicious pleasure in her confidence. + +This fragile, exquisite creature under the rod of a brutal bully! + +Once he had gone to a wedding reception, and among the serious presents +some grinning Philistine drew his attention to an uncouth club--'a +wife-beater' he called it. The flippancy had jarred upon John terribly: +this intrusive reminder of the customs of the slums. It grated like +Billingsgate in a boudoir. Now that savage weapon recurred to him--for a +lurid instant he saw Winifred's husband wielding it. Oh, abomination of +his sex! And did he stand there, in his immaculate evening dress, posing +as an English gentleman? Even so might some gentleman burglar bear +through a salon his imperturbable swallow-tail. + +Beat a woman! Beat that essence of charm and purity, God's best gift to +man, redeeming him from his own grossness! Could such things be? John +Lefolle would as soon have credited the French legend that English wives +are sold in Smithfield. No! it could not be real that this flower-like +figure was thrashed. + +'Do you mean to say--?' he cried. The rapidity of her confidence alone +made him feel it all of a dreamlike unreality. + +'Hush! Cecilia's singing!' she admonished him with an unexpected smile, +as her fingers fell from her face. + +'Oh, you have been making fun of me.' He was vastly relieved. 'He beats +you--at chess--or at lawn-tennis?' + +'Does one wear a high-necked dress to conceal the traces of chess, or +lawn-tennis?' + +He had not noticed her dress before, save for its spiritual whiteness. +Susceptible though he was to beautiful shoulders, Winifred's enchanting +face had been sufficiently distracting. Now the thought of physical +bruises gave him a second spasm of righteous horror. That delicate +rose-leaf flesh abraded and lacerated! + +'The ruffian! Does he use a stick or a fist?' + +'Both! But as a rule he just takes me by the arms and shakes me like a +terrier a rat. I'm all black and blue now.' + +'Poor butterfly!' he murmured poetically. + +'Why did I tell you?' she murmured back with subtler poetry. + +The poet thrilled in every vein. 'Love at first sight', of which he had +often read and often written, was then a reality! It could be as mutual, +too, as Romeo's and Juliet's. But how awkward that Juliet should be +married and her husband a Bill Sykes in broad-cloth! + + +II + +Mrs. Glamorys herself gave 'At Homes', every Sunday afternoon, and so, on +the morrow, after a sleepless night mitigated by perpended sonnets, the +love-sick young tutor presented himself by invitation at the beautiful +old house in Hampstead. He was enchanted to find his heart's mistress +set in an eighteenth-century frame of small-paned windows and of high +oak-panelling, and at once began to image her dancing minuets and +playing on virginals. Her husband was absent, but a broad band of velvet +round Winifred's neck was a painful reminder of his possibilities. +Winifred, however, said it was only a touch of sore throat caught in the +garden. Her eyes added that there was nothing in the pathological +dictionary which she would not willingly have caught for the sake of +those divine, if draughty moments; but that, alas! it was more than a +mere bodily ailment she had caught there. + +There were a great many visitors in the two delightfully quaint rooms, +among whom he wandered disconsolate and admired, jealous of her +scattered smiles, but presently he found himself seated by her side on +a 'cosy corner' near the open folding-doors, with all the other guests +huddled round a violinist in the inner room. How Winifred had managed it +he did not know but she sat plausibly in the outer room, awaiting +newcomers, and this particular niche was invisible, save to a determined +eye. He took her unresisting hand--that dear, warm hand, with its +begemmed artistic fingers, and held it in uneasy beatitude. How +wonderful! She--the beautiful and adored hostess, of whose sweetness and +charm he heard even her own guests murmur to one another--it was her +actual flesh-and-blood hand that lay in his--thrillingly tangible. Oh, +adventure beyond all merit, beyond all hoping! + +But every now and then, the outer door facing them would open on some +newcomer, and John had hastily to release her soft magnetic fingers and +sit demure, and jealously overhear her effusive welcome to those +innocent intruders, nor did his brow clear till she had shepherded them +within the inner fold. Fortunately, the refreshments were in this +section, so that once therein, few of the sheep strayed back, and the +jiggling wail of the violin was succeeded by a shrill babble of tongues +and the clatter of cups and spoons. 'Get me an ice, please--strawberry,' +she ordered John during one of these forced intervals in manual +flirtation; and when he had steered laboriously to and fro, he found a +young actor beside her in his cosy corner, and his jealous fancy almost +saw _their_ hands dispart. He stood over them with a sickly smile, while +Winifred ate her ice. When he returned from depositing the empty saucer, +the player-fellow was gone, and in remorse for his mad suspicion he +stooped and reverently lifted her fragrant finger-tips to his lips. The +door behind his back opened abruptly. + +'Goodbye,' she said, rising in a flash. The words had the calm +conventional cadence, and instantly extorted from him--amid all his +dazedness--the corresponding 'Goodbye'. When he turned and saw it was Mr. +Glamorys who had come in, his heart leapt wildly at the nearness of his +escape. As he passed this masked ruffian, he nodded perfunctorily and +received a cordial smile. Yes, he was handsome and fascinating enough +externally, this blonde savage. + +'A man may smile and smile and be a villain,' John thought. 'I wonder +how he'd feel, if he knew I knew he beats women.' + +Already John had generalized the charge. 'I hope Cecilia will keep him +at arm's length,' he had said to Winifred, 'if only that she may not +smart for it some day.' + +He lingered purposely in the hall to get an impression of the brute, who +had begun talking loudly to a friend with irritating bursts of laughter, +speciously frank-ringing. Golf, fishing, comic operas--ah, the Boeotian! +These were the men who monopolized the ethereal divinities. + +But this brusque separation from his particular divinity was +disconcerting. How to see her again? He must go up to Oxford in the +morning, he wrote her that night, but if she could possibly let him +call during the week he would manage to run down again. + + * * * * * + +'Oh, my dear, dreaming poet,' she wrote to Oxford, 'how could you +possibly send me a letter to be laid on the breakfast-table beside _The +Times_! With a poem in it, too. Fortunately my husband was in a hurry to +get down to the City, and he neglected to read my correspondence. (The +unchivalrous blackguard,' John commented. 'But what can be expected of a +woman beater?') Never, never write to me again at the house. A letter, +care of Mrs. Best, 8A Foley Street, W.C., will always find me. She is my +maid's mother. And you must not come here either, my dear handsome +head-in-the-clouds, except to my 'At Homes', and then only at judicious +intervals. I shall be walking round the pond in Kensington Gardens at +four next Wednesday, unless Mrs. Best brings me a letter to the contrary. +And now thank you for your delicious poem; I do not recognize my humble +self in the dainty lines, but I shall always be proud to think I +inspired them. Will it be in the new volume? I have never been in print +before; it will be a novel sensation. I cannot pay you song for song, +only feeling for feeling. Oh, John Lefolle, why did we not meet when I +had still my girlish dreams? Now, I have grown to distrust all men--to +fear the brute beneath the cavalier....' + + * * * * * + +Mrs. Best did bring her a letter, but it was not to cancel the +appointment, only to say he was not surprised at her horror of the male +sex, but that she must beware of false generalizations. Life was still a +wonderful and beautiful thing--_vide_ poem enclosed. He was counting the +minutes till Wednesday afternoon. It was surely a popular mistake that +only sixty went to the hour. + +This chronometrical reflection recurred to him even more poignantly in +the hour that he circumambulated the pond in Kensington Gardens. Had she +forgotten--had her husband locked her up? What could have happened? It +seemed six hundred minutes, ere, at ten past five she came tripping +daintily towards him. His brain had been reduced to insanely devising +problems for his pupils--if a man walks two strides of one and a half +feet a second round a lake fifty acres in area, in how many turns will +he overtake a lady who walks half as fast and isn't there?--but the +moment her pink parasol loomed on the horizon, all his long misery +vanished in an ineffable peace and uplifting. He hurried, bare-headed, +to clasp her little gloved hand. He had forgotten her unpunctuality, nor +did she remind him of it. + +'How sweet of you to come all that way,' was all she said, and it was a +sufficient reward for the hours in the train and the six hundred minutes +among the nursemaids and perambulators. The elms were in their glory, +the birds were singing briskly, the water sparkled, the sunlit sward +stretched fresh and green--it was the loveliest, coolest moment of the +afternoon. John instinctively turned down a leafy avenue. Nature and +Love! What more could poet ask? + +'No, we can't have tea by the Kiosk,' Mrs. Glamorys protested. 'Of course +I love anything that savours of Paris, but it's become so fashionable. +There will be heaps of people who know me. I suppose you've forgotten +it's the height of the season. I know a quiet little place in the High +Street.' She led him, unresisting but bemused, towards the gate, and +into a confectioner's. Conversation languished on the way. + +'Tea,' he was about to instruct the pretty attendant. + +'Strawberry ices,' Mrs. Glamorys remarked gently. 'And some of those nice +French cakes.' + +The ice restored his spirits, it was really delicious, and he had got so +hot and tired, pacing round the pond. Decidedly Winifred was a practical +person and he was a dreamer. The pastry he dared not touch--being a +genius--but he was charmed at the gaiety with which Winifred crammed +cake after cake into her rosebud of a mouth. What an enchanting +creature! how bravely she covered up her life's tragedy! + +The thought made him glance at her velvet band--it was broader than +ever. + +'He has beaten you again!' he murmured furiously. Her joyous eyes +saddened, she hung her head, and her fingers crumbled the cake. 'What is +his pretext?' he asked, his blood burning. + +'Jealousy,' she whispered. + +His blood lost its glow, ran cold. He felt the bully's blows on his own +skin, his romance turning suddenly sordid. But he recovered his +courage. He, too, had muscles. 'But I thought he just missed seeing me +kiss your hand.' + +She opened her eyes wide. 'It wasn't you, you darling old dreamer.' + +He was relieved and disturbed in one. + +'Somebody else?' he murmured. Somehow the vision of the player-fellow +came up. + +She nodded. 'Isn't it lucky he has himself drawn a red-herring across +the track? I didn't mind his blows--_you_ were safe!' Then, with one of +her adorable transitions, 'I am dreaming of another ice,' she cried with +roguish wistfulness. + +'I was afraid to confess my own greediness,' he said, laughing. He +beckoned the waitress. 'Two more.' + +'We haven't got any more strawberries,' was her unexpected reply. +'There's been such a run on them today.' + +Winifred's face grew overcast. 'Oh, nonsense!' she pouted. To John the +moment seemed tragic. + +'Won't you have another kind?' he queried. He himself liked any kind, +but he could scarcely eat a second ice without her. + +Winifred meditated. 'Coffee?' she queried. + +The waitress went away and returned with a face as gloomy as Winifred's. +'It's been such a hot day,' she said deprecatingly. 'There is only one +ice in the place and that's Neapolitan.' + +'Well, bring two Neapolitans,' John ventured. + +'I mean there is only one Neapolitan ice left.' + +'Well, bring that. I don't really want one.' + +He watched Mrs. Glamorys daintily devouring the solitary ice, and felt a +certain pathos about the parti-coloured oblong, a something of the +haunting sadness of 'The Last Rose of Summer'. It would make a graceful, +serio-comic triolet, he was thinking. But at the last spoonful, his +beautiful companion dislocated his rhymes by her sudden upspringing. + +'Goodness gracious,' she cried, 'how late it is!' + +'Oh, you're not leaving me yet!' he said. A world of things sprang to +his brain, things that he was going to say--to arrange. They had said +nothing--not a word of their love even; nothing but cakes and ices. + +'Poet!' she laughed. 'Have you forgotten I live at Hampstead?' She +picked up her parasol. + +'Put me into a hansom, or my husband will be raving at his lonely +dinner-table.' + +He was so dazed as to be surprised when the waitress blocked his +departure with a bill. When Winifred was spirited away, he remembered +she might, without much risk, have given him a lift to Paddington. He +hailed another hansom and caught the next train to Oxford. But he was +too late for his own dinner in Hall. + + +III + +He was kept very busy for the next few days, and could only exchange a +passionate letter or two with her. For some time the examination fever +had been raging, and in every college poor patients sat with wet towels +round their heads. Some, who had neglected their tutor all the term, now +strove to absorb his omniscience in a sitting. + +On the Monday, John Lefolle was good-naturedly giving a special audience +to a muscular dunce, trying to explain to him the political effects of +the Crusades, when there was a knock at the sitting-room door, and the +scout ushered in Mrs. Glamorys. She was bewitchingly dressed in white, +and stood in the open doorway, smiling--an embodiment of the summer he +was neglecting. He rose, but his tongue was paralysed. The dunce became +suddenly important--a symbol of the decorum he had been outraging. His +soul, torn so abruptly from history to romance, could not get up the +right emotion. Why this imprudence of Winifred's? She had been so +careful heretofore. + +'What a lot of boots there are on your staircase!' she said gaily. + +He laughed. The spell was broken. 'Yes, the heap to be cleaned is rather +obtrusive,' he said, 'but I suppose it is a sort of tradition.' + +'I think I've got hold of the thing pretty well now, sir.' The dunce +rose and smiled, and his tutor realized how little the dunce had to +learn in some things. He felt quite grateful to him. + +'Oh, well, you'll come and see me again after lunch, won't you, if one +or two points occur to you for elucidation,' he said, feeling vaguely a +liar, and generally guilty. But when, on the departure of the dunce, +Winifred held out her arms, everything fell from him but the sense of +the exquisite moment. Their lips met for the first time, but only for an +instant. He had scarcely time to realize that this wonderful thing had +happened before the mobile creature had darted to his book-shelves and +was examining a Thucydides upside down. + +'How clever to know Greek!' she exclaimed. 'And do you really talk it +with the other dons?' + +'No, we never talk shop,' he laughed. 'But, Winifred, what made you come +here?' + +'I had never seen Oxford. Isn't it beautiful?' + +'There's nothing beautiful _here_,' he said, looking round his sober +study. + +'No,' she admitted; 'there's nothing I care for here,' and had left +another celestial kiss on his lips before he knew it. 'And now you must +take me to lunch and on the river.' + +He stammered, 'I have--work.' + +She pouted. 'But I can't stay beyond tomorrow morning, and I want so +much to see all your celebrated oarsmen practising.' + +'You are not staying over the night?' he gasped. + +'Yes, I am,' and she threw him a dazzling glance. + +His heart went pit-a-pat. 'Where?' he murmured. + +'Oh, some poky little hotel near the station. The swell hotels are +full.' + +He was glad to hear she was not conspicuously quartered. + +'So many people have come down already for Commem,' he said. 'I suppose +they are anxious to see the Generals get their degrees. But hadn't we +better go somewhere and lunch?' + +They went down the stone staircase, past the battalion of boots, and +across the quad. He felt that all the windows were alive with eyes, but +she insisted on standing still and admiring their ivied picturesqueness. +After lunch he shamefacedly borrowed the dunce's punt. The necessities +of punting, which kept him far from her, and demanded much adroit +labour, gradually restored his self-respect, and he was able to look the +uncelebrated oarsmen they met in the eyes, except when they were +accompanied by their parents and sisters, which subtly made him feel +uncomfortable again. But Winifred, piquant under her pink parasol, was +singularly at ease, enraptured with the changing beauty of the river, +applauding with childish glee the wild flowers on the banks, or the +rippling reflections in the water. + +'Look, look!' she cried once, pointing skyward. He stared upwards, +expecting a balloon at least. But it was only 'Keats' little rosy +cloud', she explained. It was not her fault if he did not find the +excursion unreservedly idyllic. + +'How stupid,' she reflected, 'to keep all those nice boys cooped up +reading dead languages in a spot made for life and love.' + +'I'm afraid they don't disturb the dead languages so much as you think,' +he reassured her, smiling. 'And there will be plenty of love-making +during Commem.' + +'I am so glad. I suppose there are lots of engagements that week.' + +'Oh, yes--but not one per cent come to anything.' + +'Really? Oh, how fickle men are!' + +That seemed rather question-begging, but he was so thrilled by the +implicit revelation that she could not even imagine feminine +inconstancy, that he forebore to draw her attention to her inadequate +logic. + +So childish and thoughtless indeed was she that day that nothing would +content her but attending a 'Viva', which he had incautiously informed +her was public. + +'Nobody will notice us,' she urged with strange unconsciousness of her +loveliness. 'Besides, they don't know I'm not your sister.' + +'The Oxford intellect is sceptical,' he said, laughing. 'It cultivates +philosophical doubt.' + +But, putting a bold face on the matter, and assuming a fraternal air, he +took her to the torture-chamber, in which candidates sat dolefully on a +row of chairs against the wall, waiting their turn to come before the +three grand inquisitors at the table. Fortunately, Winifred and he were +the only spectators; but unfortunately they blundered in at the very +moment when the poor owner of the punt was on the rack. The central +inquisitor was trying to extract from him information about Becket, +almost prompting him with the very words, but without penetrating +through the duncical denseness. John Lefolle breathed more freely when +the Crusades were broached; but, alas, it very soon became evident that +the dunce had by no means 'got hold of the thing'. As the dunce passed +out sadly, obviously ploughed, John Lefolle suffered more than he. So +conscience-stricken was he that, when he had accompanied Winifred as +far as her hotel, he refused her invitation to come in, pleading the +compulsoriness of duty and dinner in Hall. But he could not get away +without promising to call in during the evening. + +The prospect of this visit was with him all through dinner, at once +tempting and terrifying. Assuredly there was a skeleton at his feast, as +he sat at the high table, facing the Master. The venerable portraits +round the Hall seemed to rebuke his romantic waywardness. In the +common-room, he sipped his port uneasily, listening as in a daze to the +discussion on Free Will, which an eminent stranger had stirred up. How +academic it seemed, compared with the passionate realities of life. But +somehow he found himself lingering on at the academic discussion, +postponing the realities of life. Every now and again, he was impelled +to glance at his watch; but suddenly murmuring, 'It is very late,' he +pulled himself together, and took leave of his learned brethren. But in +the street the sight of a telegraph office drew his steps to it, and +almost mechanically he wrote out the message: 'Regret detained. Will +call early in morning.' + +When he did call in the morning, he was told she had gone back to London +the night before on receipt of a telegram. He turned away with a bitter +pang of disappointment and regret. + + +IV + +Their subsequent correspondence was only the more amorous. The reason +she had fled from the hotel, she explained, was that she could not +endure the night in those stuffy quarters. He consoled himself with the +hope of seeing much of her during the Long Vacation. He did see her once +at her own reception, but this time her husband wandered about the two +rooms. The cosy corner was impossible, and they could only manage to +gasp out a few mutual endearments amid the buzz and movement, and to +arrange a _rendezvous_ for the end of July. When the day came, he +received a heart-broken letter, stating that her husband had borne her +away to Goodwood. In a postscript she informed him that 'Quicksilver was +a sure thing'. Much correspondence passed without another meeting being +effected, and he lent her five pounds to pay a debt of honour incurred +through her husband's 'absurd confidence in Quicksilver'. A week later +this horsey husband of hers brought her on to Brighton for the races +there, and hither John Lefolle flew. But her husband shadowed her, and +he could only lift his hat to her as they passed each other on the +Lawns. Sometimes he saw her sitting pensively on a chair while her lord +and thrasher perused a pink sporting-paper. Such tantalizing proximity +raised their correspondence through the Hove Post Office to fever heat. +Life apart, they felt, was impossible, and, removed from the sobering +influences of his cap and gown, John Lefolle dreamed of throwing +everything to the winds. His literary reputation had opened out a new +career. The Winifred lyrics alone had brought in a tidy sum, and though +he had expended that and more on despatches of flowers and trifles to +her, yet he felt this extravagance would become extinguished under daily +companionship, and the poems provoked by her charms would go far towards +their daily maintenance. Yes, he could throw up the University. He would +rescue her from this bully, this gentleman bruiser. They would live +openly and nobly in the world's eye. A poet was not even expected to be +conventional. + +She, on her side, was no less ardent for the great step. She raged +against the world's law, the injustice by which a husband's cruelty was +not sufficient ground for divorce. 'But we finer souls must take the law +into our own hands,' she wrote. 'We must teach society that the ethics +of a barbarous age are unfitted for our century of enlightenment.' But +somehow the actual time and place of the elopement could never get +itself fixed. In September her husband dragged her to Scotland, in +October after the pheasants. When the dramatic day was actually fixed, +Winifred wrote by the next post deferring it for a week. Even the few +actual preliminary meetings they planned for Kensington Gardens or +Hampstead Heath rarely came off. He lived in a whirling atmosphere of +express letters of excuse, and telegrams that transformed the situation +from hour to hour. Not that her passion in any way abated, or her +romantic resolution really altered: it was only that her conception of +time and place and ways and means was dizzily mutable. + +But after nigh six months of palpitating negotiations with the adorable +Mrs. Glamorys, the poet, in a moment of dejection, penned the prose +apophthegm, 'It is of no use trying to change a changeable person.' + + +V + +But at last she astonished him by a sketch plan of the elopement, so +detailed, even to band-boxes and the Paris night route _via_ Dieppe, +that no further room for doubt was left in his intoxicated soul, and he +was actually further astonished when, just as he was putting his +hand-bag into the hansom, a telegram was handed to him saying: 'Gone to +Homburg. Letter follows.' + +He stood still for a moment on the pavement in utter distraction. What +did it mean? Had she failed him again? Or was it simply that she had +changed the city of refuge from Paris to Homburg? He was about to name +the new station to the cabman, but then, 'letter follows'. Surely that +meant that he was to wait for it. Perplexed and miserable, he stood with +the telegram crumpled up in his fist. What a ridiculous situation! He +had wrought himself up to the point of breaking with the world and his +past, and now--it only remained to satisfy the cabman! + +He tossed feverishly all night, seeking to soothe himself, but really +exciting himself the more by a hundred plausible explanations. He was +now strung up to such a pitch of uncertainty that he was astonished for +the third time when the 'letter' did duly 'follow'. + + * * * * * + +'Dearest,' it ran, 'as I explained in my telegram, my husband became +suddenly ill'--('if she _had_ only put that in the telegram,' he +groaned)--'and was ordered to Homburg. Of course it was impossible to +leave him in this crisis, both for practical and sentimental reasons. +You yourself, darling, would not like me to have aggravated his illness +by my flight just at this moment, and thus possibly have his death on my +conscience.' ('Darling, you are always right,' he said, kissing the +letter.) 'Let us possess our souls in patience a little longer. I need +not tell you how vexatious it will be to find myself nursing him in +Homburg--out of the season even--instead of the prospect to which I had +looked forward with my whole heart and soul. But what can one do? How +true is the French proverb, 'Nothing happens but the unexpected'! Write +to me immediately _Poste Restante_, that I may at least console myself +with your dear words.' + +The unexpected did indeed happen. Despite draughts of Elizabeth-brunnen +and promenades on the Kurhaus terrace, the stalwart woman beater +succumbed to his malady. The curt telegram from Winifred gave no +indication of her emotions. He sent a reply-telegram of sympathy with +her trouble. Although he could not pretend to grieve at this sudden +providential solution of their life-problem, still he did sincerely +sympathize with the distress inevitable in connection with a death, +especially on foreign soil. + +He was not able to see her till her husband's body had been brought +across the North Sea and committed to the green repose of the old +Hampstead churchyard. He found her pathetically altered--her face wan +and spiritualized, and all in subtle harmony with the exquisite black +gown. In the first interview, he did not dare speak of their love at +all. They discussed the immortality of the soul, and she quoted George +Herbert. But with the weeks the question of their future began to force +its way back to his lips. + +'We could not decently marry before six months,' she said, when +definitely confronted with the problem. + +'Six months!' he gasped. + +'Well, surely you don't want to outrage everybody,' she said, pouting. + +At first he was outraged himself. What! She who had been ready to +flutter the world with a fantastic dance was now measuring her +footsteps. But on reflection he saw that Mrs. Glamorys was right once +more. Since Providence had been good enough to rescue them, why should +they fly in its face? A little patience, and a blameless happiness lay +before them. Let him not blind himself to the immense relief he really +felt at being spared social obloquy. After all, a poet could be +unconventional in his _work_--he had no need of the practical outlet +demanded for the less gifted. + + +VI + +They scarcely met at all during the next six months--it had, naturally, +in this grateful reaction against their recklessness, become a sacred +period, even more charged with tremulous emotion than the engagement +periods of those who have not so nearly scorched themselves. Even in her +presence he found a certain pleasure in combining distant adoration with +the confident expectation of proximity, and thus she was restored to +the sanctity which she had risked by her former easiness. And so all was +for the best in the best of all possible worlds. + +When the six months had gone by, he came to claim her hand. She was +quite astonished. 'You promised to marry me at the end of six months,' +he reminded her. + +'Surely it isn't six months already,' she said. + +He referred her to the calendar, recalled the date of her husband's +death. + +'You are strangely literal for a poet,' she said. 'Of course I _said_ +six months, but six months doesn't mean twenty-six weeks by the clock. +All I meant was that a decent period must intervene. But even to myself +it seems only yesterday that poor Harold was walking beside me in the +Kurhaus Park.' She burst into tears, and in the face of them he could +not pursue the argument. + +Gradually, after several interviews and letters, it was agreed that they +should wait another six months. + +'She _is_ right,' he reflected again. 'We have waited so long, we may as +well wait a little longer and leave malice no handle.' + +The second six months seemed to him much longer than the first. The +charm of respectful adoration had lost its novelty, and once again his +breast was racked by fitful fevers which could scarcely calm themselves +even by conversion into sonnets. The one point of repose was that +shining fixed star of marriage. Still smarting under Winifred's reproach +of his unpoetic literality, he did not intend to force her to marry him +exactly at the end of the twelve-month. But he was determined that she +should have no later than this exact date for at least 'naming the day'. +Not the most punctilious stickler for convention, he felt, could deny +that Mrs. Grundy's claim had been paid to the last minute. + +The publication of his new volume--containing the Winifred lyrics--had +served to colour these months of intolerable delay. Even the reaction of +the critics against his poetry, that conventional revolt against every +second volume, that parrot cry of over-praise from the very throats that +had praised him, though it pained and perplexed him, was perhaps really +helpful. At any rate, the long waiting was over at last. He felt like +Jacob after his years of service for Rachel. + +The fateful morning dawned bright and blue, and, as the towers of +Oxford were left behind him he recalled that distant Saturday when he +had first gone down to meet the literary lights of London in his +publisher's salon. How much older he was now than then--and yet how much +younger! The nebulous melancholy of youth, the clouds of philosophy, had +vanished before this beautiful creature of sunshine whose radiance cut +out a clear line for his future through the confusion of life. + +At a florist's in the High Street of Hampstead he bought a costly +bouquet of white flowers, and walked airily to the house and rang the +bell jubilantly. He could scarcely believe his ears when the maid told +him her mistress was not at home. How dared the girl stare at him so +impassively? Did she not know by what appointment--on what errand--he +had come? Had he not written to her mistress a week ago that he would +present himself that afternoon? + +'Not at home!' he gasped. 'But when will she be home?' + +'I fancy she won't be long. She went out an hour ago, and she has an +appointment with her dressmaker at five.' + +'Do you know in what direction she'd have gone?' + +'Oh, she generally walks on the Heath before tea.' + +The world suddenly grew rosy again. 'I will come back again,' he said. +Yes, a walk in this glorious air--heathward--would do him good. + +As the door shut he remembered he might have left the flowers, but he +would not ring again, and besides, it was, perhaps, better he should +present them with his own hand, than let her find them on the hall +table. Still, it seemed rather awkward to walk about the streets with a +bouquet, and he was glad, accidentally to strike the old Hampstead +Church, and to seek a momentary seclusion in passing through its avenue +of quiet gravestones on his heathward way. + +Mounting the few steps, he paused idly a moment on the verge of this +green 'God's-acre' to read a perpendicular slab on a wall, and his face +broadened into a smile as he followed the absurdly elaborate biography +of a rich, self-made merchant who had taught himself to read, 'Reader, +go thou and do likewise,' was the delicious bull at the end. As he +turned away, the smile still lingering about his lips, he saw a dainty +figure tripping down the stony graveyard path, and though he was somehow +startled to find her still in black, there was no mistaking Mrs. +Glamorys. She ran to meet him with a glad cry, which filled his eyes +with happy tears. + +'How good of you to remember!' she said, as she took the bouquet from +his unresisting hand, and turned again on her footsteps. He followed her +wonderingly across the uneven road towards a narrow aisle of graves on +the left. In another instant she has stooped before a shining white +stone, and laid his bouquet reverently upon it. As he reached her side, +he saw that his flowers were almost lost in the vast mass of floral +offerings with which the grave of the woman beater was bestrewn. + +'How good of you to remember the anniversary,' she murmured again. + +'How could I forget it?' he stammered, astonished. 'Is not this the end +of the terrible twelve-month?' + +The soft gratitude died out of her face. 'Oh, is _that_ what you were +thinking of?' + +'What else?' he murmured, pale with conflicting emotions. + +'What else! I think decency demanded that this day, at least, should be +sacred to his memory. Oh, what brutes men are!' And she burst into +tears. + +His patient breast revolted at last. 'You said _he_ was the brute!' he +retorted, outraged. + +'Is that your chivalry to the dead? Oh, my poor Harold, my poor Harold!' + +For once her tears could not extinguish the flame of his anger. 'But you +told me he beat you,' he cried. + +'And if he did, I dare say I deserved it. Oh, my darling, my darling!' +She laid her face on the stone and sobbed. + +John Lefolle stood by in silent torture. As he helplessly watched her +white throat swell and fall with the sobs, he was suddenly struck by the +absence of the black velvet band--the truer mourning she had worn in the +lifetime of the so lamented. A faint scar, only perceptible to his +conscious eye, added to his painful bewilderment. + +At last she rose and walked unsteadily forward. He followed her in mute +misery. In a moment or two they found themselves on the outskirts of the +deserted heath. How beautiful stretched the gorsy rolling country! The +sun was setting in great burning furrows of gold and green--a panorama +to take one's breath away. The beauty and peace of Nature passed into +the poet's soul. + +'Forgive me, dearest,' he begged, taking her hand. + +She drew it away sharply. 'I cannot forgive you. You have shown yourself +in your true colours.' + +Her unreasonableness angered him again. 'What do you mean? I only came +in accordance with our long-standing arrangement. You have put me off +long enough.' + +'It is fortunate I did put you off long enough to discover what you +are.' + +He gasped. He thought of all the weary months of waiting, all the long +comedy of telegrams and express letters, the far-off flirtations of the +cosy corner, the baffled elopement to Paris. 'Then you won't marry me?' + +'I cannot marry a man I neither love nor respect.' + +'You don't love me!' Her spontaneous kiss in his sober Oxford study +seemed to burn on his angry lips. + +'No, I never loved you.' + +He took her by the arms and turned her round roughly. 'Look me in the +face and dare to say you have never loved me.' + +His memory was buzzing with passionate phrases from her endless letters. +They stung like a swarm of bees. The sunset was like blood-red mist +before his eyes. + +'I have never loved you,' she said obstinately. + +'You--!' His grasp on her arms tightened. He shook her. + +'You are bruising me,' she cried. + +His grasp fell from her arms as though they were red-hot. He had become +a woman beater. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VICTORIAN SHORT STORIES*** + + +******* This file should be named 15381.txt or 15381.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/3/8/15381 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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