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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:18:54 -0700 |
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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/2309-0.txt b/2309-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2827a64 --- /dev/null +++ b/2309-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11838 @@ + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Freelands, by John Galsworthy + +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: The Freelands + +Author: John Galsworthy + +Release Date: June 14, 2006 [EBook #2309] +Last Updated: February 18, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FREELANDS *** + + + + +Produced by Donald Lainson; David Widger + + + + +THE FREELANDS + + +By John Galsworthy + + + + + +CONTENTS + + +PROLOGUE + +CHAPTER I + +CHAPTER II + +CHAPTER III + +CHAPTER IV + +CHAPTER V + +CHAPTER VI + +CHAPTER VII + +CHAPTER VIII + +CHAPTER IX + +CHAPTER X + +CHAPTER XI + +CHAPTER XII + +CHAPTER XIII + +CHAPTER XIV + +CHAPTER XV + +CHAPTER XVI + +CHAPTER XVII + +CHAPTER XVIII + +CHAPTER XIX + +CHAPTER XX + +CHAPTER XXI + +CHAPTER XXII + +CHAPTER XXIII + +CHAPTER XXIV + +CHAPTER XXV + +CHAPTER XXVI + +CHAPTER XXVII + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +CHAPTER XXIX + +CHAPTER XXX + +CHAPTER XXXI + +CHAPTER XXXII + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +CHAPTER XXXV + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +CHAPTER XXXVII + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + + + + +“Liberty's a glorious feast.”—Burns. + + + + + +PROLOGUE + +One early April afternoon, in a Worcestershire field, the only field in +that immediate landscape which was not down in grass, a man moved slowly +athwart the furrows, sowing—a big man of heavy build, swinging his +hairy brown arm with the grace of strength. He wore no coat or hat; a +waistcoat, open over a blue-checked cotton shirt, flapped against belted +corduroys that were somewhat the color of his square, pale-brown face +and dusty hair. His eyes were sad, with the swimming yet fixed stare of +epileptics; his mouth heavy-lipped, so that, but for the yearning eyes, +the face would have been almost brutal. He looked as if he suffered from +silence. The elm-trees bordering the field, though only just in leaf, +showed dark against a white sky. A light wind blew, carrying already a +scent from the earth and growth pushing up, for the year was early. +The green Malvern hills rose in the west; and not far away, shrouded by +trees, a long country house of weathered brick faced to the south. Save +for the man sowing, and some rooks crossing from elm to elm, no life +was visible in all the green land. And it was quiet—with a strange, a +brooding tranquillity. The fields and hills seemed to mock the scars of +road and ditch and furrow scraped on them, to mock at barriers of +hedge and wall—between the green land and white sky was a conspiracy +to disregard those small activities. So lonely was it, so plunged in a +ground-bass of silence; so much too big and permanent for any figure of +man. + +Across and across the brown loam the laborer doggedly finished out +his task; scattered the few last seeds into a corner, and stood still. +Thrushes and blackbirds were just beginning that even-song whose +blitheness, as nothing else on earth, seems to promise youth forever to +the land. He picked up his coat, slung it on, and, heaving a straw bag +over his shoulder, walked out on to the grass-bordered road between the +elms. + +“Tryst! Bob Tryst!” + +At the gate of a creepered cottage amongst fruit-trees, high above the +road, a youth with black hair and pale-brown face stood beside a girl +with frizzy brown hair and cheeks like poppies. + +“Have you had that notice?” + +The laborer answered slowly: + +“Yes, Mr. Derek. If she don't go, I've got to.” + +“What a d—d shame!” + +The laborer moved his head, as though he would have spoken, but no words +came. + +“Don't do anything, Bob. We'll see about that.” + +“Evenin', Mr. Derek. Evenin', Miss Sheila,” and the laborer moved on. + +The two at the wicket gate also turned away. A black-haired woman +dressed in blue came to the wicket gate in their place. There seemed no +purpose in her standing there; it was perhaps an evening custom, some +ceremony such as Moslems observe at the muezzin-call. And any one who +saw her would have wondered what on earth she might be seeing, gazing +out with her dark glowing eyes above the white, grass-bordered roads +stretching empty this way and that between the elm-trees and green +fields; while the blackbirds and thrushes shouted out their hearts, +calling all to witness how hopeful and young was life in this English +countryside.... + + + + + +CHAPTER I + +Mayday afternoon in Oxford Street, and Felix Freeland, a little late, +on his way from Hampstead to his brother John's house in Porchester +Gardens. Felix Freeland, author, wearing the very first gray top hat of +the season. A compromise, that—like many other things in his life +and works—between individuality and the accepted view of things, +aestheticism and fashion, the critical sense and authority. After the +meeting at John's, to discuss the doings of the family of his brother +Morton Freeland—better known as Tod—he would perhaps look in on the +caricatures at the English Gallery, and visit one duchess in Mayfair, +concerning the George Richard Memorial. And so, not the soft felt hat +which really suited authorship, nor the black top hat which obliterated +personality to the point of pain, but this gray thing with narrowish +black band, very suitable, in truth, to a face of a pale buff color, to +a moustache of a deep buff color streaked with a few gray hairs, to a +black braided coat cut away from a buff-colored waistcoat, to his neat +boots—not patent leather—faintly buffed with May-day dust. Even his +eyes, Freeland gray, were a little buffed over by sedentary habit, and +the number of things that he was conscious of. For instance, that the +people passing him were distressingly plain, both men and women; plain +with the particular plainness of those quite unaware of it. It struck +him forcibly, while he went along, how very queer it was that with so +many plain people in the country, the population managed to keep up even +as well as it did. To his wonderfully keen sense of defect, it seemed +little short of marvellous. A shambling, shoddy crew, this crowd +of shoppers and labor demonstrators! A conglomeration of hopelessly +mediocre visages! What was to be done about it? Ah! what indeed!—since +they were evidently not aware of their own dismal mediocrity. Hardly +a beautiful or a vivid face, hardly a wicked one, never anything +transfigured, passionate, terrible, or grand. Nothing Greek, early +Italian, Elizabethan, not even beefy, beery, broad old Georgian. +Something clutched-in, and squashed-out about it all—on that collective +face something of the look of a man almost comfortably and warmly +wrapped round by a snake at the very beginning of its squeeze. It gave +Felix Freeland a sort of faint excitement and pleasure to notice this. +For it was his business to notice things, and embalm them afterward +in ink. And he believed that not many people noticed it, so that it +contributed in his mind to his own distinction, which was precious to +him. Precious, and encouraged to be so by the press, which—as he well +knew—must print his name several thousand times a year. And yet, as a +man of culture and of principle, how he despised that kind of fame, and +theoretically believed that a man's real distinction lay in his oblivion +of the world's opinion, particularly as expressed by that flighty +creature, the Fourth Estate. But here again, as in the matter of the +gray top hat, he had instinctively compromised, taking in press cuttings +which described himself and his works, while he never failed to describe +those descriptions—good, bad, and indifferent—as 'that stuff,' and their +writers as 'those fellows.' + +Not that it was new to him to feel that the country was in a bad way. +On the contrary, it was his established belief, and one for which he was +prepared to furnish due and proper reasons. In the first place he traced +it to the horrible hold Industrialism had in the last hundred years laid +on the nation, draining the peasantry from 'the Land'; and in the second +place to the influence of a narrow and insidious Officialism, sapping +the independence of the People. + +This was why, in going to a conclave with his brother John, high in +Government employ, and his brother Stanley, a captain of industry, +possessor of the Morton Plough Works, he was conscious of a certain +superiority in that he, at all events, had no hand in this paralysis +which was creeping on the country. + +And getting more buff-colored every minute, he threaded his way on, +till, past the Marble Arch, he secured the elbow-room of Hyde Park. +Here groups of young men, with chivalrous idealism, were jeering at +and chivying the broken remnants of a suffrage meeting. Felix debated +whether he should oppose his body to their bodies, his tongue to theirs, +or whether he should avert his consciousness and hurry on; but, that +instinct which moved him to wear the gray top hat prevailing, he did +neither, and stood instead, looking at them in silent anger, which +quickly provoked endearments—such as: “Take it off,” or “Keep it on,” or +“What cheer, Toppy!” but nothing more acute. And he meditated: Culture! +Could culture ever make headway among the blind partisanships, the +hand-to-mouth mentality, the cheap excitements of this town life? The +faces of these youths, the tone of their voices, the very look of their +bowler hats, said: No! You could not culturalize the impermeable texture +of their vulgarity. And they were the coming manhood of the nation—this +inexpressibly distasteful lot of youths! The country had indeed got too +far away from 'the Land.' And this essential towny commonness was not +confined to the classes from which these youths were drawn. He had even +remarked it among his own son's school and college friends—an impatience +of discipline, an insensibility to everything but excitement and having +a good time, a permanent mental indigestion due to a permanent diet of +tit-bits. What aspiration they possessed seemed devoted to securing for +themselves the plums of official or industrial life. His boy Alan, even, +was infected, in spite of home influences and the atmosphere of art in +which he had been so sedulously soaked. He wished to enter his Uncle +Stanley's plough works, seeing in it a 'soft thing.' + +But the last of the woman-baiters had passed by now, and, conscious that +he was really behind time, Felix hurried on.... + +In his study—a pleasant room, if rather tidy—John Freeland was standing +before the fire smoking a pipe and looking thoughtfully at nothing. He +was, in fact, thinking, with that continuity characteristic of a man who +at fifty has won for himself a place of permanent importance in the +Home Office. Starting life in the Royal Engineers, he still preserved +something of a military look about his figure, and grave visage with +steady eyes and drooping moustache (both a shade grayer than those of +Felix), and a forehead bald from justness and knowing where to lay +his hand on papers. His face was thinner, his head narrower, than his +brother's, and he had acquired a way of making those he looked at doubt +themselves and feel the sudden instability of all their facts. He +was—as has been said—thinking. His brother Stanley had wired to him that +morning: “Am motoring up to-day on business; can you get Felix to come +at six o'clock and talk over the position at Tod's?” What position at +Tod's? He had indeed heard something vague—of those youngsters of Tod's, +and some fuss they were making about the laborers down there. He had +not liked it. Too much of a piece with the general unrest, and these new +democratic ideas that were playing old Harry with the country! For in +his opinion the country was in a bad way, partly owing to Industrialism, +with its rotting effect upon physique; partly to this modern analytic +Intellectualism, with its destructive and anarchic influence on morals. +It was difficult to overestimate the mischief of those two factors; and +in the approaching conference with his brothers, one of whom was the +head of an industrial undertaking, and the other a writer, whose books, +extremely modern, he never read, he was perhaps vaguely conscious of his +own cleaner hands. Hearing a car come to a halt outside, he went to the +window and looked out. Yes, it was Stanley!... + +Stanley Freeland, who had motored up from Becket—his country place, +close to his plough works in Worcestershire—stood a moment on the +pavement, stretching his long legs and giving directions to his +chauffeur. He had been stopped twice on the road for not-exceeding the +limit as he believed, and was still a little ruffled. Was it not his +invariable principle to be moderate in speed as in all other things? And +his feeling at the moment was stronger even than usual, that the country +was in a bad way, eaten up by officialism, with its absurd limitations +of speed and the liberty of the subject, and the advanced ideas of +these new writers and intellectuals, always talking about the rights +and sufferings of the poor. There was no progress along either of those +roads. He had it in his heart, as he stood there on the pavement, to say +something pretty definite to John about interference with the liberty +of the subject, and he wouldn't mind giving old Felix a rap about his +precious destructive doctrines, and continual girding at the upper +classes, vested interests, and all the rest of it. If he had something +to put in their place that would be another matter. Capital and those +who controlled it were the backbone of the country—what there was left +of the country, apart from these d—d officials and aesthetic fellows! +And with a contraction of his straight eyebrows above his straight gray +eyes, straight blunt nose, blunter moustaches, and blunt chin, he kept a +tight rein on his blunt tongue, not choosing to give way even to his own +anger. + +Then, perceiving Felix coming—'in a white topper, by Jove!'—he crossed +the pavement to the door; and, tall, square, personable, rang the bell. + + + + + +CHAPTER II + +“Well, what's the matter at Tod's?” + +And Felix moved a little forward in his chair, his eyes fixed with +interest on Stanley, who was about to speak. + +“It's that wife of his, of course. It was all very well so long as +she confined herself to writing, and talk, and that Land Society, or +whatever it was she founded, the one that snuffed out the other day; but +now she's getting herself and those two youngsters mixed up in our local +broils, and really I think Tod's got to be spoken to.” + +“It's impossible for a husband to interfere with his wife's principles.” +So Felix. + +“Principles!” The word came from John. + +“Certainly! Kirsteen's a woman of great character; revolutionary +by temperament. Why should you expect her to act as you would act +yourselves?” + +When Felix had said that, there was a silence. + +Then Stanley muttered: “Poor old Tod!” + +Felix sighed, lost for a moment in his last vision of his youngest +brother. It was four years ago now, a summer evening—Tod standing +between his youngsters Derek and Sheila, in a doorway of his white, +black-timbered, creepered cottage, his sunburnt face and blue eyes the +serenest things one could see in a day's march! + +“Why 'poor'?” he said. “Tod's much happier than we are. You've only to +look at him.” + +“Ah!” said Stanley suddenly. “D'you remember him at Father's +funeral?—without his hat, and his head in the clouds. Fine-lookin' chap, +old Tod—pity he's such a child of Nature.” + +Felix said quietly: + +“If you'd offered him a partnership, Stanley—it would have been the +making of him.” + +“Tod in the plough works? My hat!” + +Felix smiled. At sight of that smile, Stanley grew red, and John +refilled his pipe. It is always the devil to have a brother more +sarcastic than oneself! + +“How old are those two?” John said abruptly. + +“Sheila's twenty, Derek nineteen.” + +“I thought the boy was at an agricultural college?” + +“Finished.” + +“What's he like?” + +“A black-haired, fiery fellow, not a bit like Tod.” + +John muttered: “That's her Celtic blood. Her father, old Colonel Moray, +was just that sort; by George, he was a regular black Highlander. What's +the trouble exactly?” + +It was Stanley who answered: “That sort of agitation business is all +very well until it begins to affect your neighbors; then it's time it +stopped. You know the Mallorings who own all the land round Tod's. Well, +they've fallen foul of the Mallorings over what they call injustice +to some laborers. Questions of morality involved. I don't know all the +details. A man's got notice to quit over his deceased wife's sister; +and some girl or other in another cottage has kicked over—just ordinary +country incidents. What I want is that Tod should be made to see that +his family mustn't quarrel with his nearest neighbors in this way. We +know the Mallorings well, they're only seven miles from us at Becket. It +doesn't do; sooner or later it plays the devil all round. And the air's +full of agitation about the laborers and 'the Land,' and all the rest of +it—only wants a spark to make real trouble.” + +And having finished this oration, Stanley thrust his hands deep into his +pockets, and jingled the money that was there. + +John said abruptly: + +“Felix, you'd better go down.” + +Felix was sitting back, his eyes for once withdrawn from his brothers' +faces. + +“Odd,” he said, “really odd, that with a perfectly unique person like +Tod for a brother, we only see him once in a blue moon.” + +“It's because he IS so d—d unique.” + +Felix got up and gravely extended his hand to Stanley. + +“By Jove,” he said, “you've spoken truth.” And to John he added: “Well, +I WILL go, and let you know the upshot.” + +When he had departed, the two elder brothers remained for some moments +silent, then Stanley said: + +“Old Felix is a bit tryin'! With the fuss they make of him in the +papers, his head's swelled!” + +John did not answer. One could not in so many words resent one's own +brother being made a fuss of, and if it had been for something +real, such as discovering the source of the Black River, conquering +Bechuanaland, curing Blue-mange, or being made a Bishop, he would have +been the first and most loyal in his appreciation; but for the sort of +thing Felix made up—Fiction, and critical, acid, destructive sort of +stuff, pretending to show John Freeland things that he hadn't seen +before—as if Felix could!—not at all the jolly old romance which one +could read well enough and enjoy till it sent you to sleep after a good +day's work. No! that Felix should be made a fuss of for such work as +that really almost hurt him. It was not quite decent, violating deep +down one's sense of form, one's sense of health, one's traditions. +Though he would not have admitted it, he secretly felt, too, that this +fuss was dangerous to his own point of view, which was, of course, to +him the only real one. And he merely said: + +“Will you stay to dinner, Stan?” + + + + + +CHAPTER III + +If John had those sensations about Felix, so—when he was away from +John—had Felix about himself. He had never quite grown out of the +feeling that to make himself conspicuous in any way was bad form. +In common with his three brothers he had been through the mills of +gentility—those unique grinding machines of education only found in his +native land. Tod, to be sure, had been publicly sacked at the end of his +third term, for climbing on to the headmaster's roof and filling up two +of his chimneys with football pants, from which he had omitted to remove +his name. Felix still remembered the august scene—the horrid thrill of +it, the ominous sound of that: “Freeland minimus!” the ominous sight of +poor little Tod emerging from his obscurity near the roof of the Speech +Room, and descending all those steps. How very small and rosy he had +looked, his bright hair standing on end, and his little blue eyes +staring up very hard from under a troubled frown. And the august hand +holding up those sooty pants, and the august voice: “These appear to +be yours, Freeland minimus. Were you so good as to put them down my +chimneys?” And the little piping, “Yes, sir.” + +“May I ask why, Freeland minimus?” + +“I don't know, sir.” + +“You must have had some reason, Freeland minimus?” + +“It was the end of term, sir.” + +“Ah! You must not come back here, Freeland minimus. You are too +dangerous, to yourself, and others. Go to your place.” + +And poor little Tod ascending again all those steps, cheeks more +terribly rosy than ever, eyes bluer, from under a still more troubled +frown; little mouth hard set; and breathing so that you could hear him +six forms off. True, the new Head had been goaded by other outrages, the +authors of which had not omitted to remove their names; but the want +of humor, the amazing want of humor! As if it had not been a sign of +first-rate stuff in Tod! And to this day Felix remembered with delight +the little bubbling hiss that he himself had started, squelched at once, +but rippling out again along the rows like tiny scattered lines of fire +when a conflagration is suppressed. Expulsion had been the salvation of +Tod! Or—his damnation? Which? God would know, but Felix was not certain. +Having himself been fifteen years acquiring 'Mill' philosophy, and +another fifteen years getting rid of it, he had now begun to think +that after all there might be something in it. A philosophy that took +everything, including itself, at face value, and questioned nothing, was +sedative to nerves too highly strung by the continual examination of the +insides of oneself and others, with a view to their alteration. Tod, +of course, having been sent to Germany after his expulsion, as one +naturally would be, and then put to farming, had never properly acquired +'Mill' manner, and never sloughed it off; and yet he was as sedative a +man as you could meet. + +Emerging from the Tube station at Hampstead, he moved toward home under +a sky stranger than one might see in a whole year of evenings. Between +the pine-trees on the ridge it was opaque and colored like pinkish +stone, and all around violent purple with flames of the young green, +and white spring blossom lit against it. Spring had been dull and +unimaginative so far, but this evening it was all fire and gathered +torrents; Felix wondered at the waiting passion of that sky. + +He reached home just as those torrents began to fall. + +The old house, beyond the Spaniard's Road, save for mice and a faint +underlying savor of wood-rot in two rooms, well satisfied the aesthetic +sense. Felix often stood in his hall, study, bedroom, and other +apartments, admiring the rich and simple glow of them—admiring the +rarity and look of studied negligence about the stuffs, the flowers, +the books, the furniture, the china; and then quite suddenly the feeling +would sweep over him: “By George, do I really own all this, when my +ideal is 'bread and water, and on feast days a little bit of cheese'?” +True, he was not to blame for the niceness of his things—Flora did it; +but still—there they were, a little hard to swallow for an epicurean. +It might, of course, have been worse, for if Flora had a passion for +collecting, it was a very chaste one, and though what she collected cost +no little money, it always looked as if it had been inherited, and—as +everybody knows—what has been inherited must be put up with, whether it +be a coronet or a cruet-stand. + +To collect old things, and write poetry! It was a career; one would +not have one's wife otherwise. She might, for instance, have been like +Stanley's wife, Clara, whose career was wealth and station; or John's +wife, Anne, whose career had been cut short; or even Tod's wife, +Kirsteen, whose career was revolution. No—a wife who had two, and only +two children, and treated them with affectionate surprise, who was never +out of temper, never in a hurry, knew the points of a book or play, +could cut your hair at a pinch; whose hand was dry, figure still good, +verse tolerable, and—above all—who wished for no better fate than Fate +had given her—was a wife not to be sneezed at. And Felix never had. He +had depicted so many sneezing wives and husbands in his books, and knew +the value of a happy marriage better perhaps than any one in England. He +had laid marriage low a dozen times, wrecked it on all sorts of rocks, +and had the greater veneration for his own, which had begun early, +manifested every symptom of ending late, and in the meantime walked down +the years holding hands fast, and by no means forgetting to touch lips. + +Hanging up the gray top hat, he went in search of her. He found her in +his dressing-room, surrounded by a number of little bottles, which +she was examining vaguely, and putting one by one into an 'inherited' +waste-paper basket. Having watched her for a little while with a certain +pleasure, he said: + +“Yes, my dear?” + +Noticing his presence, and continuing to put bottles into the basket, +she answered: + +“I thought I must—they're what dear Mother's given us.” + +There they lay—little bottles filled with white and brown fluids, white +and blue and brown powders; green and brown and yellow ointments; black +lozenges; buff plasters; blue and pink and purple pills. All beautifully +labelled and corked. + +And he said in a rather faltering voice: + +“Bless her! How she does give her things away! Haven't we used ANY?” + +“Not one. And they have to be cleared away before they're stale, for +fear we might take one by mistake.” + +“Poor Mother!” + +“My dear, she's found something newer than them all by now.” + +Felix sighed. + +“The nomadic spirit. I have it, too!” + +And a sudden vision came to him of his mother's carved ivory face, kept +free of wrinkles by sheer will-power, its firm chin, slightly aquiline +nose, and measured brows; its eyes that saw everything so quickly, so +fastidiously, its compressed mouth that smiled sweetly, with a resolute +but pathetic acceptation. Of the piece of fine lace, sometimes black, +sometimes white, over her gray hair. Of her hands, so thin now, always +moving a little, as if all the composure and care not to offend any eye +by allowing Time to ravage her face, were avenging themselves in that +constant movement. Of her figure, that was short but did not seem so, +still quick-moving, still alert, and always dressed in black or gray. +A vision of that exact, fastidious, wandering spirit called Frances +Fleeming Freeland—that spirit strangely compounded of domination and +humility, of acceptation and cynicism; precise and actual to the +point of desert dryness; generous to a point that caused her family to +despair; and always, beyond all things, brave. + +Flora dropped the last little bottle, and sitting on the edge of the +bath let her eyebrows rise. How pleasant was that impersonal humor which +made her superior to other wives! + +“You—nomadic? How?” + +“Mother travels unceasingly from place to place, person to person, thing +to thing. I travel unceasingly from motive to motive, mind to mind; my +native air is also desert air—hence the sterility of my work.” + +Flora rose, but her eyebrows descended. + +“Your work,” she said, “is not sterile.” + +“That, my dear,” said Felix, “is prejudice.” And perceiving that she +was going to kiss him, he waited without annoyance. For a woman of +forty-two, with two children and three books of poems—and not knowing +which had taken least out of her—with hazel-gray eyes, wavy eyebrows +darker than they should have been, a glint of red in her hair; wavy +figure and lips; quaint, half-humorous indolence, quaint, half-humorous +warmth—was she not as satisfactory a woman as a man could possibly have +married! + +“I have got to go down and see Tod,” he said. “I like that wife of his; +but she has no sense of humor. How much better principles are in theory +than in practice!” + +Flora repeated softly, as if to herself: + +“I'm glad I have none.” She was at the window leaning out, and Felix +took his place beside her. The air was full of scent from wet leaves, +alive with the song of birds thanking the sky. Suddenly he felt her +arm round his ribs; either it or they—which, he could not at the moment +tell—seemed extraordinarily soft.... + +Between Felix and his young daughter, Nedda, there existed the only +kind of love, except a mother's, which has much permanence—love based on +mutual admiration. Though why Nedda, with her starry innocence, should +admire him, Felix could never understand, not realizing that she read +his books, and even analyzed them for herself in the diary which she +kept religiously, writing it when she ought to have been asleep. He had +therefore no knowledge of the way his written thoughts stimulated the +ceaseless questioning that was always going on within her; the thirst to +know why this was and that was not. Why, for instance, her heart ached +so some days and felt light and eager other days? Why, when people wrote +and talked of God, they seemed to know what He was, and she never did? +Why people had to suffer; and the world be black to so many millions? +Why one could not love more than one man at a time? Why—a thousand +things? Felix's books supplied no answers to these questions, but they +were comforting; for her real need as yet was not for answers, but +ever for more questions, as a young bird's need is for opening its beak +without quite knowing what is coming out or going in. When she and her +father walked, or sat, or went to concerts together, their talk was +neither particularly intimate nor particularly voluble; they made to +each other no great confidences. Yet each was certain that the other was +not bored—a great thing; and they squeezed each other's little fingers +a good deal—very warming. Now with his son Alan, Felix had a continual +sensation of having to keep up to a mark and never succeeding—a feeling, +as in his favorite nightmare, of trying to pass an examination for which +he had neglected to prepare; of having to preserve, in fact, form +proper to the father of Alan Freeland. With Nedda he had a sense of +refreshment; the delight one has on a spring day, watching a clear +stream, a bank of flowers, birds flying. And Nedda with her father—what +feeling had she? To be with him was like a long stroking with a touch +of tickle in it; to read his books, a long tickle with a nice touch of +stroking now and then when one was not expecting it. + +That night after dinner, when Alan had gone out and Flora into a dream, +she snuggled up alongside her father, got hold of his little finger, and +whispered: + +“Come into the garden, Dad; I'll put on goloshes. It's an awfully nice +moon.” + +The moon indeed was palest gold behind the pines, so that its radiance +was a mere shower of pollen, just a brushing of white moth-down over +the reeds of their little dark pond, and the black blur of the flowering +currant bushes. And the young lime-trees, not yet in full leaf, quivered +ecstatically in that moon-witchery, still letting fall raindrops of +the past spring torrent, with soft hissing sounds. A real sense in +the garden, of God holding his breath in the presence of his own youth +swelling, growing, trembling toward perfection! Somewhere a bird—a +thrush, they thought—mixed in its little mind as to night and day, was +queerly chirruping. And Felix and his daughter went along the dark wet +paths, holding each other's arms, not talking much. For, in him, very +responsive to the moods of Nature, there was a flattered feeling, with +that young arm in his, of Spring having chosen to confide in him this +whispering, rustling hour. And in Nedda was so much of that night's +unutterable youth—no wonder she was silent! Then, somehow—neither +responsible—they stood motionless. How quiet it was, but for a distant +dog or two, and the stilly shivering-down of the water drops, and the +far vibration of the million-voiced city! How quiet and soft and fresh! +Then Nedda spoke: + +“Dad, I do so want to know everything.” + +Not rousing even a smile, with its sublime immodesty, that aspiration +seemed to Felix infinitely touching. What less could youth want in the +very heart of Spring? And, watching her face put up to the night, her +parted lips, and the moon-gleam fingering her white throat, he answered: + +“It'll all come soon enough, my pretty!” + +To think that she must come to an end like the rest, having found out +almost nothing, having discovered just herself, and the particle of God +that was within her! But he could not, of course, say this. + +“I want to FEEL. Can't I begin?” + +How many millions of young creatures all the world over were sending up +that white prayer to climb and twine toward the stars, and—fall to earth +again! And nothing to be answered, but: + +“Time enough, Nedda!” + +“But, Dad, there are such heaps of things, such heaps of people, and +reasons, and—and life; and I know nothing. Dreams are the only times, it +seems to me, that one finds out anything.” + +“As for that, my child, I am exactly in your case. What's to be done for +us?” + +She slid her hand through his arm again. + +“Don't laugh at me!” + +“Heaven forbid! I meant it. You're finding out much quicker than I. It's +all folk-music to you still; to me Strauss and the rest of the tired +stuff. The variations my mind spins—wouldn't I just swap them for the +tunes your mind is making?” + +“I don't seem making tunes at all. I don't seem to have anything to make +them of. Take me down to see 'the Tods,' Dad!” + +Why not? And yet—! Just as in this spring night Felix felt so much, +so very much, lying out there behind the still and moony dark, such +marvellous holding of breath and waiting sentiency, so behind +this innocent petition, he could not help the feeling of a lurking +fatefulness. That was absurd. And he said: “If you wish it, by all +means. You'll like your Uncle Tod; as to the others, I can't say, +but your aunt is an experience, and experiences are what you want, it +seems.” + +Fervently, without speech, Nedda squeezed his arm. + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +Stanley Freeland's country house, Becket, was almost a show place. +It stood in its park and pastures two miles from the little town of +Transham and the Morton Plough Works; close to the ancestral home of the +Moretons, his mother's family—that home burned down by Roundheads in +the Civil War. The site—certain vagaries in the ground—Mrs. Stanley +had caused to be walled round, and consecrated so to speak with a +stone medallion on which were engraved the aged Moreton arms—arrows +and crescent moons in proper juxtaposition. Peacocks, too—that bird +'parlant,' from the old Moreton crest—were encouraged to dwell there +and utter their cries, as of passionate souls lost in too comfortable +surroundings. + +By one of those freaks of which Nature is so prodigal, Stanley—owner of +this native Moreton soil—least of all four Freeland brothers, had the +Moreton cast of mind and body. That was why he made so much more money +than the other three put together, and had been able, with the aid of +Clara's undoubted genius for rank and station, to restore a strain of +Moreton blood to its rightful position among the county families of +Worcestershire. Bluff and without sentiment, he himself set little store +by that, smiling up his sleeve—for he was both kindly and prudent—at +his wife who had been a Tomson. It was not in Stanley to appreciate the +peculiar flavor of the Moretons, that something which in spite of +their naivete and narrowness, had really been rather fine. To him, such +Moretons as were left were 'dry enough sticks, clean out of it.' They +were of a breed that was already gone, the simplest of all country +gentlemen, dating back to the Conquest, without one solitary conspicuous +ancestor, save the one who had been physician to a king and perished +without issue—marrying from generation to generation exactly their own +equals; living simple, pious, parochial lives; never in trade, never +making money, having a tradition and a practice of gentility more +punctilious than the so-called aristocracy; constitutionally paternal +and maternal to their dependents, constitutionally so convinced that +those dependents and all indeed who were not 'gentry,' were of different +clay, that they were entirely simple and entirely without arrogance, +carrying with them even now a sort of Early atmosphere of archery and +home-made cordials, lavender and love of clergy, together with frequent +use of the word 'nice,' a peculiar regularity of feature, and a +complexion that was rather parchmenty. High Church people and Tories, +naturally, to a man and woman, by sheer inbred absence of ideas, and +sheer inbred conviction that nothing else was nice; but withal very +considerate of others, really plucky in bearing their own ills; not +greedy, and not wasteful. + +Of Becket, as it now was, they would not have approved at all. By what +chance Edmund Moreton (Stanley's mother's grandfather), in the middle +of the eighteenth century, had suddenly diverged from family feeling and +ideals, and taken that 'not quite nice' resolution to make ploughs and +money, would never now be known. The fact remained, together with +the plough works. A man apparently of curious energy and character, +considering his origin, he had dropped the E from his name, and—though +he continued the family tradition so far as to marry a Fleeming of +Worcestershire, to be paternal to his workmen, to be known as Squire, +and to bring his children up in the older Moreton 'niceness'—he had yet +managed to make his ploughs quite celebrated, to found a little town, +and die still handsome and clean-shaved at the age of sixty-six. Of his +four sons, only two could be found sufficiently without the E to go on +making ploughs. Stanley's grandfather, Stuart Morton, indeed, had tried +hard, but in the end had reverted to the congenital instinct for being +just a Moreton. An extremely amiable man, he took to wandering with +his family, and died in France, leaving one daughter—Frances, Stanley's +mother—and three sons, one of whom, absorbed in horses, wandered to +Australia and was killed by falling from them; one of whom, a soldier, +wandered to India, and the embraces of a snake; and one of whom wandered +into the embraces of the Holy Roman Church. + +The Morton Plough Works were dry and dwindling when Stanley's father, +seeking an opening for his son, put him and money into them. From that +moment they had never looked back, and now brought Stanley, the sole +proprietor, an income of full fifteen thousand pounds a year. He wanted +it. For Clara, his wife, had that energy of aspiration which before now +has raised women to positions of importance in the counties which +are not their own, and caused, incidentally, many acres to go out of +cultivation. Not one plough was used on the whole of Becket, not even a +Morton plough—these indeed were unsuitable to English soil and were all +sent abroad. It was the corner-stone of his success that Stanley had +completely seen through the talked-of revival of English agriculture, +and sedulously cultivated the foreign market. This was why the Becket +dining-room could contain without straining itself large quantities of +local magnates and celebrities from London, all deploring the condition +of 'the Land,' and discussing without end the regrettable position of +the agricultural laborer. Except for literary men and painters, present +in small quantities to leaven the lump, Becket was, in fact, a rallying +point for the advanced spirits of Land Reform—one of those places where +they were sure of being well done at week-ends, and of congenial and +even stimulating talk about the undoubted need for doing something, +and the designs which were being entertained upon 'the Land' by either +party. This very heart of English country that the old Moretons in their +paternal way had so religiously farmed, making out of its lush grass and +waving corn a simple and by no means selfish or ungenerous subsistence, +was now entirely lawns, park, coverts, and private golf course, together +with enough grass to support the kine which yielded that continual +stream of milk necessary to Clara's entertainments and children, all +female, save little Francis, and still of tender years. Of gardeners, +keepers, cow-men, chauffeurs, footmen, stablemen—full twenty were +supported on those fifteen hundred acres that formed the little Becket +demesne. Of agricultural laborers proper—that vexed individual so much +in the air, so reluctant to stay on 'the Land,' and so difficult to +house when he was there, there were fortunately none, so that it was +possible for Stanley, whose wife meant him to 'put up' for the Division, +and his guests, who were frequently in Parliament, to hold entirely +unbiassed and impersonal views upon the whole question so long as they +were at Becket. + +It was beautiful there, too, with the bright open fields hedged with +great elms, and that ever-rich serenity of its grass and trees. The +white house, timbered with dark beams in true Worcestershire fashion, +and added-to from time to time, had preserved, thanks to a fine +architect, an old-fashioned air of spacious presidency above its gardens +and lawns. On the long artificial lake, with innumerable rushy nooks +and water-lilies and coverture of leaves floating flat and bright in +the sun, the half-tame wild duck and shy water-hens had remote little +worlds, and flew and splashed when all Becket was abed, quite as if the +human spirit, with its monkey-tricks and its little divine flame, had +not yet been born. + +Under the shade of a copper-beech, just where the drive cut through into +its circle before the house, an old lady was sitting that afternoon on +a campstool. She was dressed in gray alpaca, light and cool, and had on +her iron-gray hair a piece of black lace. A number of Hearth and Home +and a little pair of scissors, suspended by an inexpensive chain from +her waist, rested on her knee, for she had been meaning to cut out for +dear Felix a certain recipe for keeping the head cool; but, as a fact, +she sat without doing so, very still, save that, now and then, she +compressed her pale fine lips, and continually moved her pale fine +hands. She was evidently waiting for something that promised excitement, +even pleasure, for a little rose-leaf flush had quavered up into a face +that was colored like parchment; and her gray eyes under regular and +still-dark brows, very far apart, between which there was no semblance +of a wrinkle, seemed noting little definite things about her, almost +unwillingly, as an Arab's or a Red Indian's eyes will continue to note +things in the present, however their minds may be set on the future. So +sat Frances Fleeming Freeland (nee Morton) waiting for the arrival of +her son Felix and her grandchildren Alan and Nedda. + +She marked presently an old man limping slowly on a stick toward where +the drive debouched, and thought at once: “He oughtn't to be coming this +way. I expect he doesn't know the way round to the back. Poor man, he's +very lame. He looks respectable, too.” She got up and went toward +him, remarking that his face with nice gray moustaches was wonderfully +regular, almost like a gentleman's, and that he touched his dusty hat +with quite old-fashioned courtesy. And smiling—her smile was sweet +but critical—she said: “You'll find the best way is to go back to that +little path, and past the greenhouses. Have you hurt your leg?” + +“My leg's been like that, m'm, fifteen year come Michaelmas.” + +“How did it happen?” + +“Ploughin'. The bone was injured; an' now they say the muscle's dried up +in a manner of speakin'.” + +“What do you do for it? The very best thing is this.” + +From the recesses of a deep pocket, placed where no one else wore such a +thing, she brought out a little pot. + +“You must let me give it you. Put it on when you go to bed, and rub it +well in; you'll find it act splendidly.” + +The old man took the little pot with dubious reverence. + +“Yes, m'm,” he said; “thank you, m'm.” + +“What is your name?” + +“Gaunt.” + +“And where do you live?” + +“Over to Joyfields, m'm.” + +“Joyfields—another of my sons lives there—Mr. Morton Freeland. But it's +seven miles.” + +“I got a lift half-way.” + +“And have you business at the house?” The old man was silent; the +downcast, rather cynical look of his lined face deepened. And Frances +Freeland thought: 'He's overtired. They must give him some tea and +an egg. What can he want, coming all this way? He's evidently not a +beggar.' + +The old man who was not a beggar spoke suddenly: + +“I know the Mr. Freeland at Joyfields. He's a good gentleman, too.” + +“Yes, he is. I wonder I don't know you.” + +“I'm not much about, owin' to my leg. It's my grand-daughter in service +here, I come to see.” + +“Oh, yes! What is her name?” + +“Gaunt her name is.” + +“I shouldn't know her by her surname.” + +“Alice.” + +“Ah! in the kitchen; a nice, pretty girl. I hope you're not in trouble.” + +Again the old man was silent, and again spoke suddenly: + +“That's as you look at it, m'm,” he said. “I've got a matter of a few +words to have with her about the family. Her father he couldn't come, so +I come instead.” + +“And how are you going to get back?” + +“I'll have to walk, I expect, without I can pick up with a cart.” + +Frances Freeland compressed her lips. “With that leg you should have +come by train.” + +The old man smiled. + +“I hadn't the fare like,” he said. “I only gets five shillin's a week, +from the council, and two o' that I pays over to my son.” + +Frances Freeland thrust her hand once more into that deep pocket, and as +she did so she noticed that the old man's left boot was flapping open, +and that there were two buttons off his coat. Her mind was swiftly +calculating: “It is more than seven weeks to quarter day. Of course I +can't afford it, but I must just give him a sovereign.” + +She withdrew her hand from the recesses of her pocket and looked at +the old man's nose. It was finely chiselled, and the same yellow as his +face. “It looks nice, and quite sober,” she thought. In her hand was her +purse and a boot-lace. She took out a sovereign. + +“Now, if I give you this,” she said, “you must promise me not to spend +any of it in the public-house. And this is for your boot. And you must +go back by train. And get those buttons sewn on your coat. And tell +cook, from me, please, to give you some tea and an egg.” And noticing +that he took the sovereign and the boot-lace very respectfully, +and seemed altogether very respectable, and not at all coarse or +beery-looking, she said: + +“Good-by; don't forget to rub what I gave you into your leg every night +and every morning,” and went back to her camp-stool. Sitting down on it +with the scissors in her hand, she still did not cut out that recipe, +but remained as before, taking in small, definite things, and feeling +with an inner trembling that dear Felix and Alan and Nedda would soon be +here; and the little flush rose again in her cheeks, and again her lips +and hands moved, expressing and compressing what was in her heart. And +close behind her, a peacock, straying from the foundations of the old +Moreton house, uttered a cry, and moved slowly, spreading its tail under +the low-hanging boughs of the copper-beeches, as though it knew +those dark burnished leaves were the proper setting for its 'parlant' +magnificence. + + + + + +CHAPTER V + +The day after the little conference at John's, Felix had indeed received +the following note: + +“DEAR FELIX: + +“When you go down to see old Tod, why not put up with us at Becket? +Any time will suit, and the car can take you over to Joyfields when you +like. Give the pen a rest. Clara joins in hoping you'll come, and Mother +is still here. No use, I suppose, to ask Flora. + +“Yours ever, + +“STANLEY.” + +During the twenty years of his brother's sojourn there Felix had been +down to Becket perhaps once a year, and latterly alone; for Flora, +having accompanied him the first few times, had taken a firm stand. + +“My dear,” she said, “I feel all body there.” + +Felix had rejoined: + +“No bad thing, once in a way.” + +But Flora had remained firm. Life was too short! She did not get on +well with Clara. Neither did Felix feel too happy in his sister-in-law's +presence; but the gray top-hat instinct had kept him going there, for +one ought to keep in touch with one's brothers. + +He replied to Stanley: + +“DEAR STANLEY: + +“Delighted; if I may bring my two youngsters. We'll arrive to-morrow at +four-fifty. + +“Yours affectionately, + +“FELIX.” + +Travelling with Nedda was always jolly; one could watch her eyes noting, +inquiring, and when occasion served, have one's little finger hooked in +and squeezed. Travelling with Alan was convenient, the young man having +a way with railways which Felix himself had long despaired of acquiring. +Neither of the children had ever been at Becket, and though Alan was +seldom curious, and Nedda too curious about everything to be specially +so about this, yet Felix experienced in their company the sensations of +a new adventure. + +Arrived at Transham, that little town upon a hill which the Morton +Plough Works had created, they were soon in Stanley's car, whirling into +the sleepy peace of a Worcestershire afternoon. Would this young bird +nestling up against him echo Flora's verdict: 'I feel all body there!' +or would she take to its fatted luxury as a duck to water? And he said: +“By the way, your aunt's 'Bigwigs' set in on a Saturday. Are you for +staying and seeing the lions feed, or do we cut back?” + +From Alan he got the answer he expected: + +“If there's golf or something, I suppose we can make out all right.” +From Nedda: “What sort of Bigwigs are they, Dad?” + +“A sort you've never seen, my dear.” + +“Then I should like to stay. Only, about dresses?” + +“What war paint have you?” + +“Only two white evenings. And Mums gave me her Mechlin.” + +“'Twill serve.” + +To Felix, Nedda in white 'evenings' was starry and all that man could +desire. + +“Only, Dad, do tell me about them, beforehand.” + +“My dear, I will. And God be with you. This is where Becket begins.” + +The car had swerved into a long drive between trees not yet full-grown, +but decorously trying to look more than their twenty years. To the +right, about a group of older elms, rooks were in commotion, for +Stanley's three keepers' wives had just baked their annual rook pies, +and the birds were not yet happy again. Those elms had stood there when +the old Moretons walked past them through corn-fields to church of a +Sunday. Away on the left above the lake, the little walled mound had +come in view. Something in Felix always stirred at sight of it, and, +squeezing Nedda's arm, he said: + +“See that silly wall? Behind there Granny's ancients lived. Gone now—new +house—new lake—new trees—new everything.” + +But he saw from his little daughter's calm eyes that the sentiment in +him was not in her. + +“I like the lake,” she said. “There's Granny—oh, and a peacock!” + +His mother's embrace, with its frail energy, and the pressure of her +soft, dry lips, filled Felix always with remorse. Why could he not give +the simple and direct expression to his feeling that she gave to hers? +He watched those lips transferred to Nedda, heard her say: “Oh, my +darling, how lovely to see you! Do you know this for midge-bites?” A +hand, diving deep into a pocket, returned with a little silver-coated +stick having a bluish end. Felix saw it rise and hover about Nedda's +forehead, and descend with two little swift dabs. “It takes them away at +once.” + +“Oh, but Granny, they're not midge-bites; they're only from my hat!” + +“It doesn't matter, darling; it takes away anything like that.” + +And he thought: 'Mother is really wonderful!' + +At the house the car had already disgorged their luggage. Only one man, +but he absolutely the butler, awaited them, and they entered, at once +conscious of Clara's special pot-pourri. Its fragrance steamed from blue +china, in every nook and crevice, a sort of baptism into luxury. Clara +herself, in the outer morning-room, smelled a little of it. Quick and +dark of eye, capable, comely, perfectly buttoned, one of those women who +know exactly how not to be superior to the general taste of the period. +In addition to that great quality she was endowed with a fine nose, an +instinct for co-ordination not to be excelled, and a genuine love of +making people comfortable; so that it was no wonder that she had risen +in the ranks of hostesses, till her house was celebrated for its ease, +even among those who at their week-ends liked to feel 'all body.' In +regard to that characteristic of Becket, not even Felix in his ironies +had ever stood up to Clara; the matter was too delicate. Frances +Freeland, indeed—not because she had any philosophic preconceptions on +the matter, but because it was 'not nice, dear, to be wasteful' even if +it were only of rose-leaves, or to 'have too much decoration,' such +as Japanese prints in places where they hum—sometimes told her +daughter-in-law frankly what was wrong, without, however, making the +faintest impression upon Clara, for she was not sensitive, and, as she +said to Stanley, it was 'only Mother.' + +When they had drunk that special Chinese tea, all the rage, but which +no one really liked, in the inner morning, or afternoon room—for the +drawing-rooms were too large to be comfortable except at week-ends—they +went to see the children, a special blend of Stanley and Clara, save the +little Francis, who did not seem to be entirely body. Then Clara took +them to their rooms. She lingered kindly in Nedda's, feeling that the +girl could not yet feel quite at home, and looking in the soap-dish lest +she might not have the right verbena, and about the dressing-table +to see that she had pins and scent, and plenty of 'pot-pourri,' and +thinking: 'The child is pretty—a nice girl, not like her mother.' +Explaining carefully how, because of the approaching week-end, she +had been obliged to put her in 'a very simple room' where she would be +compelled to cross the corridor to her bath, she asked her if she had a +quilted dressing-gown, and finding that she had not, left her saying she +would send one—and could she do her frocks up, or should Sirrett come? + +Abandoned, the girl stood in the middle of the room, so far more +'simple' than she had ever slept in, with its warm fragrance of +rose-leaves and verbena, its Aubusson carpet, white silk-quilted bed, +sofa, cushioned window-seat, dainty curtains, and little nickel box of +biscuits on little spindly table. There she stood and sniffed, stretched +herself, and thought: 'It's jolly—only, it smells too much!' and she +went up to the pictures, one by one. They seemed to go splendidly with +the room, and suddenly she felt homesick. Ridiculous, of course! Yet, if +she had known where her father's room was, she would have run out to it; +but her memory was too tangled up with stairs and corridors—to find her +way down to the hall again was all she could have done. + +A maid came in now with a blue silk gown very thick and soft. Could she +do anything for Miss Freeland? No, thanks, she could not; only, did she +know where Mr. Freeland's room was? + +“Which Mr. Freeland, miss, the young or the old?” + +“Oh, the old!” Having said which, Nedda felt unhappy; her Dad was not +old! “No, miss; but I'll find out. It'll be in the walnut wing!” But +with a little flutter at the thought of thus setting people to run about +wings, Nedda murmured: “Oh! thanks, no; it doesn't matter.” + +She settled down now on the cushion of the window-seat, to look out and +take it all in, right away to that line of hills gone blue in the haze +of the warm evening. That would be Malvern; and there, farther to the +south, the 'Tods' lived. 'Joyfields!' A pretty name! And it was lovely +country all round; green and peaceful, with its white, timbered houses +and cottages. People must be very happy, living here—happy and quiet +like the stars and the birds; not like the crowds in London thronging +streets and shops and Hampstead Heath; not like the people in all those +disgruntled suburbs that led out for miles where London ought to have +stopped but had not; not like the thousands and thousands of those poor +creatures in Bethnal Green, where her slum work lay. The natives here +must surely be happy. Only, were there any natives? She had not seen +any. Away to the right below her window were the first trees of the +fruit garden; for many of them Spring was over, but the apple-trees had +just come into blossom, and the low sun shining through a gap in some +far elms was slanting on their creamy pink, christening them—Nedda +thought—with drops of light; and lovely the blackbirds' singing sounded +in the perfect hush! How wonderful to be a bird, going where you would, +and from high up in the air seeing everything; flying down a sunbeam, +drinking a raindrop, sitting on the very top of a tall tree, running +in grass so high that you were hidden, laying little perfect blue-green +eggs, or pure-gray speckly ones; never changing your dress, yet always +beautiful. Surely the spirit of the world was in the birds and the +clouds, roaming, floating, and in the flowers and trees that never +smelled anything but sweet, never looked anything but lovely, and +were never restless. Why was one restless, wanting things that did not +come—wanting to feel and know, wanting to love, and be loved? And at +that thought which had come to her so unexpectedly—a thought never +before shaped so definitely—Nedda planted her arms on the window-sill, +with sleeves fallen down, and let her hands meet cup-shaped beneath her +chin. Love! To have somebody with whom she could share everything—some +one to whom and for whom she could give up—some one she could protect +and comfort—some one who would bring her peace. Peace, rest—from what? +Ah! that she could not make clear, even to herself. Love! What would +love be like? Her father loved her, and she loved him. She loved her +mother; and Alan on the whole was jolly to her—it was not that. What was +it—where was it—when would it come and wake her, and kiss her to +sleep, all in one? Come and fill her as with the warmth and color, the +freshness, light, and shadow of this beautiful May evening, flood her +as with the singing of those birds, and the warm light sunning the apple +blossoms. And she sighed. Then—as with all young things whose attention +after all is but as the hovering of a butterfly—her speculation was +attracted to a thin, high-shouldered figure limping on a stick, away +from the house, down one of the paths among the apple-trees. He wavered, +not knowing, it seemed, his way. And Nedda thought: 'Poor old man, how +lame he is!' She saw him stoop, screened, as he evidently thought, from +sight, and take something very small from his pocket. He gazed, rubbed +it, put it back; what it was she could not see. Then pressing his hand +down, he smoothed and stretched his leg. His eyes seemed closed. So a +stone man might have stood! Till very slowly he limped on, passing out +of sight. And turning from the window, Nedda began hurrying into her +evening things. + +When she was ready she took a long time to decide whether to wear her +mother's lace or keep it for the Bigwigs. But it was so nice and creamy +that she simply could not take it off, and stood turning and turning +before the glass. To stand before a glass was silly and old-fashioned; +but Nedda could never help it, wanting so badly to be nicer to look at +than she was, because of that something that some day was coming! + +She was, in fact, pretty, but not merely pretty—there was in her face +something alive and sweet, something clear and swift. She had still that +way of a child raising its eyes very quickly and looking straight at you +with an eager innocence that hides everything by its very wonder; and +when those eyes looked down they seemed closed—their dark lashes were +so long. Her eyebrows were wide apart, arching with a slight angle, +and slanting a little down toward her nose. Her forehead under its +burnt-brown hair was candid; her firm little chin just dimpled. +Altogether, a face difficult to take one's eyes off. But Nedda was far +from vain, and her face seemed to her too short and broad, her eyes too +dark and indeterminate, neither gray nor brown. The straightness of her +nose was certainly comforting, but it, too, was short. Being creamy in +the throat and browning easily, she would have liked to be marble-white, +with blue dreamy eyes and fair hair, or else like a Madonna. And was she +tall enough? Only five foot five. And her arms were too thin. The only +things that gave her perfect satisfaction were her legs, which, of +course, she could not at the moment see; they really WERE rather jolly! +Then, in a panic, fearing to be late, she turned and ran out, fluttering +into the maze of stairs and corridors. + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +Clara, Mrs. Stanley Freeland, was not a narrow woman either in mind +or body; and years ago, soon indeed after she married Stanley, she had +declared her intention of taking up her sister-in-law, Kirsteen, in +spite of what she had heard were the woman's extraordinary notions. +Those were the days of carriages, pairs, coachmen, grooms, and, with her +usual promptitude, ordering out the lot, she had set forth. It is safe +to say she had never forgotten that experience. + +Imagine an old, white, timbered cottage with a thatched roof, and no +single line about it quite straight. A cottage crazy with age, buried +up to the thatch in sweetbrier, creepers, honeysuckle, and perched high +above crossroads. A cottage almost unapproachable for beehives and their +bees—an insect for which Clara had an aversion. Imagine on the rough, +pebbled approach to the door of this cottage (and Clara had on thin +shoes) a peculiar cradle with a dark-eyed baby that was staring placidly +at two bees sleeping on a coverlet made of a rough linen such as Clara +had never before seen. Imagine an absolutely naked little girl of three, +sitting in a tub of sunlight in the very doorway. Clara had turned +swiftly and closed the wicket gate between the pebbled pathway and the +mossed steps that led down to where her coachman and her footman were +sitting very still, as was the habit of those people. She had perceived +at once that she was making no common call. Then, with real courage she +had advanced, and, looking down at the little girl with a fearful smile, +had tickled the door with the handle of her green parasol. A woman +younger than herself, a girl, indeed, appeared in a low doorway. She +had often told Stanley since that she would never forget her first sight +(she had not yet had another) of Tod's wife. A brown face and black +hair, fiery gray eyes, eyes all light, under black lashes, and “such +a strange smile;” bare, brown, shapely arms and neck in a shirt of the +same rough, creamy linen, and, from under a bright blue skirt, bare, +brown, shapely ankles and feet! A voice so soft and deadly that, as +Clara said: “What with her eyes, it really gave me the shivers. And, my +dear,” she had pursued, “white-washed walls, bare brick floors, not a +picture, not a curtain, not even a fire-iron. Clean—oh, horribly! They +must be the most awful cranks. The only thing I must say that was nice +was the smell. Sweetbrier, and honey, coffee, and baked apples—really +delicious. I must try what I can do with it. But that woman—girl, I +suppose she is—stumped me. I'm sure she'd have cut my head off if I'd +attempted to open my mouth on ordinary topics. The children were rather +ducks; but imagine leaving them about like that amongst the bees. +'Kirsteen!' She looked it. Never again! And Tod I didn't see at all; I +suppose he was mooning about amongst his creatures.” + +It was the memory of this visit, now seventeen years ago, that had made +her smile so indulgently when Stanley came back from the conference. She +had said at once that they must have Felix to stay, and for her part she +would be only too glad to do anything she could for those poor children +of Tod's, even to asking them to Becket, and trying to civilize them a +little.... “But as for that woman, there'll be nothing to be done with +her, I can assure you. And I expect Tod is completely under her thumb.” + +To Felix, who took her in to dinner, she spoke feelingly and in a low +voice. She liked Felix, in spite of his wife, and respected him—he had +a name. Lady Malloring—she told him—the Mallorings owned, of course, +everything round Joyfields—had been telling her that of late Tod's wife +had really become quite rabid over the land question. 'The Tods' were +hand in glove with all the cottagers. She, Clara, had nothing to say +against any one who sympathized with the condition of the agricultural +laborer; quite the contrary. Becket was almost, as Felix knew—though +perhaps it wasn't for her to say so—the centre of that movement; but +there were ways of doing things, and one did so deprecate women like +this Kirsteen—what an impossibly Celtic name!—putting her finger into +any pie that really was of national importance. Nothing could come of +anything done that sort of way. If Felix had any influence with Tod it +would be a mercy to use it in getting those poor young creatures away +from home, to mix a little with people who took a sane view of things. +She would like very much to get them over to Becket, but with their +notions it was doubtful whether they had evening clothes! She had, of +course, never forgotten that naked mite in the tub of sunlight, nor +the poor baby with its bees and its rough linen. Felix replied +deferentially—he was invariably polite, and only just ironic enough, in +the houses of others—that he had the very greatest respect for Tod, and +that there could be nothing very wrong with the woman to whom Tod was so +devoted. As for the children, his own young people would get at them and +learn all about what was going on in a way that no fogey like himself +could. In regard to the land question, there were, of course, many +sides to that, and he, for one, would not be at all sorry to observe yet +another. After all, the Tods were in real contact with the laborers, and +that was the great thing. It would be very interesting. + +Yes, Clara quite saw all that, but—and here she sank her voice so that +there was hardly any left—as Felix was going over there, she really must +put him au courant with the heart of this matter. Lady Malloring had +told her the whole story. It appeared there were two cases: A family +called Gaunt, an old man, and his son, who had two daughters—one of +them, Alice, quite a nice girl, was kitchen-maid here at Becket, but the +other sister—Wilmet—well! she was one of those girls that, as Felix +must know, were always to be found in every village. She was leading the +young men astray, and Lady Malloring had put her foot down, telling her +bailiff to tell the farmer for whom Gaunt worked that he and his family +must go, unless they sent the girl away somewhere. That was one case. +And the other was of a laborer called Tryst, who wanted to marry his +deceased wife's sister. Of course, whether Mildred Malloring was not +rather too churchy and puritanical—now that a deceased wife's sister +was legal—Clara did not want to say; but she was undoubtedly within her +rights if she thought it for the good of the village. This man, Tryst, +was a good workman, and his farmer had objected to losing him, but Lady +Malloring had, of course, not given way, and if he persisted he would +get put out. All the cottages about there were Sir Gerald Malloring's, +so that in both cases it would mean leaving the neighborhood. In regard +to village morality, as Felix knew, the line must be drawn somewhere. + +Felix interrupted quietly: + +“I draw it at Lady Malloring.” + +“Well, I won't argue that with you. But it really is a scandal that +Tod's wife should incite her young people to stir up the villagers. +Goodness knows where that mayn't lead! Tod's cottage and land, you see, +are freehold, the only freehold thereabouts; and his being a brother of +Stanley's makes it particularly awkward for the Mallorings.” + +“Quite so!” murmured Felix. + +“Yes, but my dear Felix, when it comes to infecting those simple people +with inflated ideas of their rights, it's serious, especially in the +country. I'm told there's really quite a violent feeling. I hear from +Alice Gaunt that the young Tods have been going about saying that dogs +are better off than people treated in this fashion, which, of course, is +all nonsense, and making far too much of a small matter. Don't you think +so?” + +But Felix only smiled his peculiar, sweetish smile, and answered: + +“I'm glad to have come down just now.” + +Clara, who did not know that when Felix smiled like that he was angry, +agreed. + +“Yes,” she said; “you're an observer. You will see the thing in right +perspective.” + +“I shall endeavor to. What does Tod say?” + +“Oh! Tod never seems to say anything. At least, I never hear of it.” + +Felix murmured: + +“Tod is a well in the desert.” + +To which deep saying Clara made no reply, not indeed understanding in +the least what it might signify. + +That evening, when Alan, having had his fill of billiards, had left the +smoking-room and gone to bed, Felix remarked to Stanley: + +“I say, what sort of people are these Mallorings?” + +Stanley, who was settling himself for the twenty minutes of whiskey, +potash, and a Review, with which he commonly composed his mind before +retiring, answered negligently: + +“The Mallorings? Oh! about the best type of landowner we've got.” + +“What exactly do you mean by that?” + +Stanley took his time to answer, for below his bluff good-nature he +had the tenacious, if somewhat slow, precision of an English man of +business, mingled with a certain mistrust of 'old Felix.' + +“Well,” he said at last, “they build good cottages, yellow brick, d—d +ugly, I must say; look after the character of their tenants; give 'em +rebate of rent if there's a bad harvest; encourage stock-breedin', and +machinery—they've got some of my ploughs, but the people don't like 'em, +and, as a matter of fact, they're right—they're not made for these small +fields; set an example goin' to church; patronize the Rifle Range; buy +up the pubs when they can, and run 'em themselves; send out jelly, and +let people over their place on bank holidays. Dash it all, I don't know +what they don't do. Why?” + +“Are they liked?” + +“Liked? No, I should hardly think they were liked; respected, and all +that. Malloring's a steady fellow, keen man on housing, and a gentleman; +she's a bit too much perhaps on the pious side. They've got one of the +finest Georgian houses in the country. Altogether they're what you call +'model.'” + +“But not human.” + +Stanley slightly lowered the Review and looked across it at his brother. +It was evident to him that 'old Felix' was in one of his free-thinking +moods. + +“They're domestic,” he said, “and fond of their children, and pleasant +neighbors. I don't deny that they've got a tremendous sense of duty, but +we want that in these days.” + +“Duty to what?” + +Stanley raised his level eyebrows. It was a stumper. Without great care +he felt that he would be getting over the border into the uncharted land +of speculation and philosophy, wandering on paths that led him nowhere. + +“If you lived in the country, old man,” he said, “you wouldn't ask that +sort of question.” + +“You don't imagine,” said Felix, “that you or the Mallorings live in +the country? Why, you landlords are every bit as much town dwellers as +I am—thought, habit, dress, faith, souls, all town stuff. There IS no +'country' in England now for us of the 'upper classes.' It's gone. I +repeat: Duty to what?” + +And, rising, he went over to the window, looking out at the moonlit +lawn, overcome by a sudden aversion from more talk. Of what use were +words from a mind tuned in one key to a mind tuned in another? And yet, +so ingrained was his habit of discussion, that he promptly went on: + +“The Mallorings, I've not the slightest doubt, believe it their duty +to look after the morals of those who live on their property. There are +three things to be said about that: One—you can't make people moral +by adopting the attitude of the schoolmaster. Two—it implies that they +consider themselves more moral than their neighbors. Three—it's a theory +so convenient to their security that they would be exceptionally good +people if they did not adopt it; but, from your account, they are not +so much exceptionally as just typically good people. What you call +their sense of duty, Stanley, is really their sense of self-preservation +coupled with their sense of superiority.” + +“H'm!” said Stanley; “I don't know that I quite follow you.” + +“I always hate an odor of sanctity. I'd prefer them to say frankly: +'This is my property, and you'll jolly well do what I tell you, on it.'” + +“But, my dear chap, after all, they really ARE superior.” + +“That,” said Felix, “I emphatically question. Put your Mallorings to +earn their living on fifteen to eighteen shillings a week, and where +would they be? The Mallorings have certain virtues, no doubt, natural to +their fortunate environment, but of the primitive virtues of +patience, hardihood, perpetual, almost unconscious self-sacrifice, and +cheerfulness in the face of a hard fate, they are no more the equals of +the people they pretend to be superior to than I am your equal as a man +of business.” + +“Hang it!” was Stanley's answer, “what a d—d old heretic you are!” + +Felix frowned. “Am I? Be honest! Take the life of a Malloring and take +it at its best; see how it stands comparison in the ordinary virtues +with those of an averagely good specimen of a farm-laborer. Your +Malloring is called with a cup of tea, at, say, seven o'clock, out of a +nice, clean, warm bed; he gets into a bath that has been got ready for +him; into clothes and boots that have been brushed for him; and goes +down to a room where there's a fire burning already if it's a cold day, +writes a few letters, perhaps, before eating a breakfast of exactly what +he likes, nicely prepared for him, and reading the newspaper that best +comforts his soul; when he has eaten and read, he lights his cigar +or his pipe and attends to his digestion in the most sanitary and +comfortable fashion; then in his study he sits down to steady direction +of other people, either by interview or by writing letters, or what +not. In this way, between directing people and eating what he likes, +he passes the whole day, except that for two or three hours, sometimes +indeed seven or eight hours, he attends to his physique by riding, +motoring, playing a game, or indulging in a sport that he has chosen for +himself. And, at the end of all that, he probably has another bath that +has been made ready for him, puts on clean clothes that have been put +out for him, goes down to a good dinner that has been cooked for him, +smokes, reads, learns, and inwardly digests, or else plays cards, +billiards, and acts host till he is sleepy, and so to bed, in a clean, +warm bed, in a clean, fresh room. Is that exaggerated?” + +“No; but when you talk of his directing other people, you forget that he +is doing what they couldn't.” + +“He may be doing what they couldn't; but ordinary directive ability is +not born in a man; it's acquired by habit and training. Suppose fortune +had reversed them at birth, the Gaunt or Tryst would by now have it and +the Malloring would not. The accident that they were not reversed at +birth has given the Malloring a thousandfold advantage.” + +“It's no joke directing things,” muttered Stanley. + +“No work is any joke; but I just put it to you: Simply as work, without +taking in the question of reward, would you dream for a minute of +swapping your work with the work of one of your workmen? No. Well, +neither would a Malloring with one of his Gaunts. So that, my boy, +for work which is intrinsically more interesting and pleasurable, the +Malloring gets a hundred to a thousand times more money.” + +“All this is rank socialism, my dear fellow.” + +“No; rank truth. Now, to take the life of a Gaunt. He gets up summer and +winter much earlier out of a bed that he cannot afford time or money to +keep too clean or warm, in a small room that probably has not a large +enough window; into clothes stiff with work and boots stiff with clay; +makes something hot for himself, very likely brings some of it to his +wife and children; goes out, attending to his digestion crudely and +without comfort; works with his hands and feet from half past six or +seven in the morning till past five at night, except that twice he stops +for an hour or so and eats simple things that he would not altogether +have chosen to eat if he could have had his will. He goes home to a tea +that has been got ready for him, and has a clean-up without assistance, +smokes a pipe of shag, reads a newspaper perhaps two days old, and goes +out again to work for his own good, in his vegetable patch, or to sit on +a wooden bench in an atmosphere of beer and 'baccy.' And so, dead tired, +but not from directing other people, he drowses himself to early lying +again in his doubtful bed. Is that exaggerated?” + +“I suppose not, but he—” + +“Has his compensations: Clean conscience—freedom from worry—fresh air, +all the rest of it! I know. Clean conscience granted, but so has your +Malloring, it would seem. Freedom from worry—yes, except when a pair of +boots is wanted, or one of the children is ill; then he has to make up +for lost time with a vengeance. Fresh air—and wet clothes, with a good +chance of premature rheumatism. Candidly, which of those two lives +demands more of the virtues on which human life is founded—courage and +patience, hardihood and self-sacrifice? And which of two men who have +lived those two lives well has most right to the word 'superior'?” + +Stanley dropped the Review and for fully a minute paced the room without +reply. Then he said: + +“Felix, you're talking flat revolution.” + +Felix, who, faintly smiling, had watched him up and down, up and down +the Turkey carpet, answered: + +“Not so. I am by no means a revolutionary person, because with all the +good-will in the world I have been unable to see how upheavals from the +bottom, or violence of any sort, is going to equalize these lives or +do any good. But I detest humbug, and I believe that so long as you and +your Mallorings go on blindly dosing yourselves with humbug about duty +and superiority, so long will you see things as they are not. And until +you see things as they are, purged of all that sickening cant, you will +none of you really move to make the conditions of life more and ever +more just. For, mark you, Stanley, I, who do not believe in revolution +from the bottom, the more believe that it is up to us in honour to +revolutionize things from the top!” + +“H'm!” said Stanley; “that's all very well; but the more you give the +more they want, till there's no end to it.” + +Felix stared round that room, where indeed one was all body. + +“By George,” he said, “I've yet to see a beginning. But, anyway, if you +give in a grudging spirit, or the spirit of a schoolmaster, what can +you expect? If you offer out of real good-will, so it is taken.” And +suddenly conscious that he had uttered a constructive phrase, Felix cast +down his eyes, and added: + +“I am going to my clean, warm bed. Good night, old man!” + +When his brother had taken up his candlestick and gone, Stanley, +uttering a dubious sound, sat down on the lounge, drank deep out of his +tumbler, and once more took up his Review. + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +The next day Stanley's car, fraught with Felix and a note from Clara, +moved swiftly along the grass-bordered roads toward Joyfields. Lying +back on the cushioned seat, the warm air flying at his face, Felix +contemplated with delight his favorite countryside. Certainly this +garden of England was very lovely, its greenness, trees, and large, +pied, lazy cattle; its very emptiness of human beings even was pleasing. + +Nearing Joyfields he noted the Mallorings' park and their long Georgian +house, carefully fronting south. There, too, was the pond of what +village there was, with the usual ducks on it; and three well-remembered +cottages in a row, neat and trim, of the old, thatched sort, but +evidently restored. Out of the door of one of them two young people had +just emerged, going in the same direction as the car. Felix passed them +and turned to look. Yes, it was they! He stopped the car. They were +walking, with eyes straight before them, frowning. And Felix thought: +'Nothing of Tod in either of them; regular Celts!' + +The girl's vivid, open face, crisp, brown, untidy hair, cheeks brimful +of color, thick lips, eyes that looked up and out as a Skye terrier's +eyes look out of its shagginess—indeed, her whole figure struck Felix as +almost frighteningly vital; and she walked as if she despised the ground +she covered. The boy was even more arresting. What a strange, pale-dark +face, with its black, uncovered hair, its straight black brows; what a +proud, swan's-eyed, thin-lipped, straight-nosed young devil, marching +like a very Highlander; though still rather run-up, from sheer +youthfulness! They had come abreast of the car by now, and, leaning out, +he said: + +“You don't remember me, I'm afraid!” The boy shook his head. Wonderful +eyes he had! But the girl put out her hand. + +“Of course, Derek; it's Uncle Felix.” + +They both smiled now, the girl friendly, the boy rather drawn back into +himself. And feeling strangely small and ill at ease, Felix murmured: + +“I'm going to see your father. Can I give you a lift home?” + +The answer came as he expected: + +“No, thanks.” Then, as if to tone it down, the girl added: + +“We've got something to do first. You'll find him in the orchard.” + +She had a ringing voice, full of warmth. Lifting his hat, Felix passed +on. They WERE a couple! Strange, attractive, almost frightening. +Kirsteen had brought his brother a formidable little brood. + +Arriving at the cottage, he went up its mossy stones and through the +wicket gate. There was little change, indeed, since the days of Clara's +visit, save that the beehives had been moved farther out. Nor did any +one answer his knock; and mindful of the girl's words, “You'll find him +in the orchard,” he made his way out among the trees. The grass was long +and starred with petals. Felix wandered over it among bees busy with the +apple-blossom. At the very end he came on his brother, cutting down a +pear-tree. Tod was in shirt-sleeves, his brown arms bare almost to the +shoulders. How tremendous the fellow was! What resounding and terrific +blows he was dealing! Down came the tree, and Tod drew his arm across +his brow. This great, burnt, curly-headed fellow was more splendid to +look upon than even Felix had remembered, and so well built that not +a movement of his limbs was heavy. His cheek-bones were very broad and +high; his brows thick and rather darker than his bright hair, so that +his deep-set, very blue eyes seemed to look out of a thicket; his level +white teeth gleamed from under his tawny moustache, and his brown, +unshaven cheeks and jaw seemed covered with gold powder. Catching sight +of Felix, he came forward. + +“Fancy,” he said, “old Gladstone spending his leisure cutting down +trees—of all melancholy jobs!” + +Felix did not quite know what to answer, so he put his arm within his +brother's. Tod drew him toward the tree. + +“Sit down!” he said. Then, looking sorrowfully at the pear-tree, he +murmured: + +“Seventy years—and down in seven minutes. Now we shall burn it. Well, it +had to go. This is the third year it's had no blossom.” + +His speech was slow, like that of a man accustomed to think aloud. Felix +admired him askance. “I might live next door,” he thought, “for all the +notice he's taken of my turning up!” + +“I came over in Stanley's car,” he said. “Met your two coming along—fine +couple they are!” + +“Ah!” said Tod. And there was something in the way he said it that was +more than a mere declaration of pride or of affection. Then he looked at +Felix. + +“What have you come for, old man?” + +Felix smiled. Quaint way to put it! + +“For a talk.” + +“Ah!” said Tod, and he whistled. + +A largish, well-made dog with a sleek black coat, white underneath, and +a black tail white-tipped, came running up, and stood before Tod, with +its head rather to one side and its yellow-brown eyes saying: 'I simply +must get at what you're thinking, you know.' + +“Go and tell your mistress to come—Mistress!” + +The dog moved his tail, lowered it, and went off. + +“A gypsy gave him to me,” said Tod; “best dog that ever lived.” + +“Every one thinks that of his own dog, old man.” + +“Yes,” said Tod; “but this IS.” + +“He looks intelligent.” + +“He's got a soul,” said Tod. “The gypsy said he didn't steal him, but he +did.” + +“Do you always know when people aren't speaking the truth, then?” + +“Yes.” + +At such a monstrous remark from any other man, Felix would have smiled; +but seeing it was Tod, he only asked: “How?” + +“People who aren't speaking the truth look you in the face and never +move their eyes.” + +“Some people do that when they are speaking the truth.” + +“Yes; but when they aren't, you can see them struggling to keep their +eyes straight. A dog avoids your eye when he's something to conceal; a +man stares at you. Listen!” + +Felix listened and heard nothing. + +“A wren;” and, screwing up his lips, Tod emitted a sound: “Look!” + +Felix saw on the branch of an apple-tree a tiny brown bird with a little +beak sticking out and a little tail sticking up. And he thought: 'Tod's +hopeless!' + +“That fellow,” said Tod softly, “has got his nest there just behind us.” +Again he emitted the sound. Felix saw the little bird move its head with +a sort of infinite curiosity, and hop twice on the branch. + +“I can't get the hen to do that,” Tod murmured. + +Felix put his hand on his brother's arm—what an arm! + +“Yes,” he said; “but look here, old man—I really want to talk to you.” + +Tod shook his head. “Wait for her,” he said. + +Felix waited. Tod was getting awfully eccentric, living this queer, +out-of-the-way life with a cranky woman year after year; never reading +anything, never seeing any one but tramps and animals and villagers. And +yet, sitting there beside his eccentric brother on that fallen tree, he +had an extraordinary sense of rest. It was, perhaps, but the beauty +and sweetness of the day with its dappling sunlight brightening the +apple-blossoms, the wind-flowers, the wood-sorrel, and in the blue sky +above the fields those clouds so unimaginably white. All the tiny +noises of the orchard, too, struck on his ear with a peculiar meaning, +a strange fulness, as if he had never heard such sounds before. Tod, who +was looking at the sky, said suddenly: + +“Are you hungry?” + +And Felix remembered that they never had any proper meals, but, when +hungry, went to the kitchen, where a wood-fire was always burning, and +either heated up coffee, and porridge that was already made, with boiled +eggs and baked potatoes and apples, or devoured bread, cheese, jam, +honey, cream, tomatoes, butter, nuts, and fruit, that were always set +out there on a wooden table, under a muslin awning; he remembered, too, +that they washed up their own bowls and spoons and plates, and, having +finished, went outside and drew themselves a draught of water. Queer +life, and deuced uncomfortable—almost Chinese in its reversal of +everything that every one else was doing. + +“No,” he said, “I'm not.” + +“I am. Here she is.” + +Felix felt his heart beating—Clara was not alone in being frightened +of this woman. She was coming through the orchard with the dog; a +remarkable-looking woman—oh, certainly remarkable! She greeted him +without surprise and, sitting down close to Tod, said: “I'm glad to see +you.” + +Why did this family somehow make him feel inferior? The way she sat +there and looked at him so calmly! Still more the way she narrowed her +eyes and wrinkled her lips, as if rather malicious thoughts were +rising in her soul! Her hair, as is the way of fine, soft, almost +indigo-colored hair, was already showing threads of silver; her whole +face and figure thinner than he had remembered. But a striking woman +still—with wonderful eyes! Her dress—Felix had scanned many a crank +in his day—was not so alarming as it had once seemed to Clara; its +coarse-woven, deep-blue linen and needle-worked yoke were pleasing to +him, and he could hardly take his gaze from the kingfisher-blue band or +fillet that she wore round that silver-threaded black hair. + +He began by giving her Clara's note, the wording of which he had himself +dictated: + +“DEAR KIRSTEEN: + +“Though we have not seen each other for so long, I am sure you will +forgive my writing. It would give us so much pleasure if you and the two +children would come over for a night or two while Felix and his young +folk are staying with us. It is no use, I fear, to ask Tod; but +of course if he would come, too, both Stanley and myself would be +delighted. + +“Yours cordially, + +“CLARA FREELAND.” + +She read it, handed it to Tod, who also read it and handed it to Felix. +Nobody said anything. It was so altogether simple and friendly a note +that Felix felt pleased with it, thinking: 'I expressed that well!' + +Then Tod said: “Go ahead, old man! You've got something to say about the +youngsters, haven't you?” + +How on earth did he know that? But then Tod HAD a sort of queer +prescience. + +“Well,” he brought out with an effort, “don't you think it's a pity to +embroil your young people in village troubles? We've been hearing from +Stanley—” + +Kirsteen interrupted in her calm, staccato voice with just the faintest +lisp: + +“Stanley would not understand.” + +She had put her arm through Tod's, but never removed her eyes from her +brother-in-law's face. + +“Possibly,” said Felix, “but you must remember that Stanley, John, and +myself represent ordinary—what shall we say—level-headed opinion.” + +“With which we have nothing in common, I'm afraid.” + +Felix glanced from her to Tod. The fellow had his head on one side and +seemed listening to something in the distance. And Felix felt a certain +irritation. + +“It's all very well,” he said, “but I think you really have got to look +at your children's future from a larger point of view. You don't surely +want them to fly out against things before they've had a chance to see +life for themselves.” + +She answered: + +“The children know more of life than most young people. They've seen it +close to, they've seen its realities. They know what the tyranny of the +countryside means.” + +“Yes, yes,” said Felix, “but youth is youth.” + +“They are not too young to know and feel the truth.” + +Felix was impressed. How those narrowing eyes shone! What conviction in +that faintly lisping voice! + +'I am a fool for my pains,' he thought, and only said: + +“Well, what about this invitation, anyway?” + +“Yes; it will be just the thing for them at the moment.” + +The words had to Felix a somewhat sinister import. He knew well enough +that she did not mean by them what others would have meant. But he said: +“When shall we expect them? Tuesday, I suppose, would be best for Clara, +after her weekend. Is there no chance of you and Tod?” + +She quaintly wrinkled her lips into not quite a smile, and answered: + +“Tod shall say. Do you hear, Tod?” + +“In the meadow. It was there yesterday—first time this year.” + +Felix slipped his arm through his brother's. + +“Quite so, old man.” + +“What?” said Tod. “Ah! let's go in. I'm awfully hungry....” + +Sometimes out of a calm sky a few drops fall, the twigs rustle, and far +away is heard the muttering of thunder; the traveller thinks: 'A storm +somewhere about.' Then all once more is so quiet and peaceful that he +forgets he ever had that thought, and goes on his way careless. + +So with Felix returning to Becket in Stanley's car. That woman's face, +those two young heathens—the unconscious Tod! + +There was mischief in the air above that little household. But once more +the smooth gliding of the cushioned car, the soft peace of the meadows +so permanently at grass, the churches, mansions, cottages embowered +among their elms, the slow-flapping flight of the rooks and crows lulled +Felix to quietude, and the faint far muttering of that thunder died +away. + +Nedda was in the drive when he returned, gazing at a nymph set up there +by Clara. It was a good thing, procured from Berlin, well known for +sculpture, and beginning to green over already, as though it had been +there a long time—a pretty creature with shoulders drooping, eyes +modestly cast down, and a sparrow perching on her head. + +“Well, Dad?” + +“They're coming.” + +“When?” + +“On Tuesday—the youngsters, only.” + +“You might tell me a little about them.” + +But Felix only smiled. His powers of description faltered before that +task; and, proud of those powers, he did not choose to subject them to +failure. + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +Not till three o'clock that Saturday did the Bigwigs begin to come. +Lord and Lady Britto first from Erne by car; then Sir Gerald and Lady +Malloring, also by car from Joyfields; an early afternoon train brought +three members of the Lower House, who liked a round of golf—Colonel +Martlett, Mr. Sleesor, and Sir John Fanfar—with their wives; also +Miss Bawtrey, an American who went everywhere; and Moorsome, the +landscape-painter, a short, very heavy man who went nowhere, and that +in almost perfect silence, which he afterward avenged. By a train almost +sure to bring no one else came Literature in Public Affairs, alone, +Henry Wiltram, whom some believed to have been the very first to have +ideas about the land. He was followed in the last possible train by +Cuthcott, the advanced editor, in his habitual hurry, and Lady Maude +Ughtred in her beauty. Clara was pleased, and said to Stanley, while +dressing, that almost every shade of opinion about the land was +represented this week-end. She was not, she said, afraid of anything, +if she could keep Henry Wiltram and Cuthcott apart. The House of Commons +men would, of course, be all right. Stanley assented: “They'll be 'fed +up' with talk. But how about Britto—he can sometimes be very nasty, and +Cuthcott's been pretty rough on him, in his rag.” + +Clara had remembered that, and she was putting Lady Maude on one side of +Cuthcott, and Moorsome on the other, so that he would be quite safe at +dinner, and afterward—Stanley must look out! + +“What have you done with Nedda?” Stanley asked. + +“Given her to Colonel Martlett, with Sir John Fanfar on the other +side; they both like something fresh.” She hoped, however, to foster +a discussion, so that they might really get further this week-end; the +opportunity was too good to throw away. + +“H'm!” Stanley murmured. “Felix said some very queer things the other +night. He, too, might make ructions.” + +Oh, no!—Clara persisted—Felix had too much good taste. She thought that +something might be coming out of this occasion, something as it were +national, that would bear fruit. And watching Stanley buttoning his +braces, she grew enthusiastic. For, think how splendidly everything was +represented! Britto, with his view that the thing had gone too far, and +all the little efforts we might make now were no good, with Canada and +those great spaces to outbid anything we could do; though she could not +admit that he was right, there was a lot in what he said; he had +great gifts—and some day might—who knew? Then there was Sir John—Clara +pursued—who was almost the father of the new Tory policy: Assist the +farmers to buy their own land. And Colonel Martlett, representing the +older Tory policy of: What the devil would happen to the landowners if +they did? Secretly (Clara felt sure) he would never go into a lobby to +support that. He had said to her: 'Look at my brother James's property; +if we bring this policy in, and the farmers take advantage, his house +might stand there any day without an acre round it.' Quite true—it +might. The same might even happen to Becket. + +Stanley grunted. + +Exactly!—Clara went on: And that was the beauty of having got the +Mallorings; theirs was such a steady point of view, and she was not sure +that they weren't right, and the whole thing really a question of model +proprietorship. + +“H'm!” Stanley muttered. “Felix will have his knife into that.” + +Clara did not think that mattered. The thing was to get everybody's +opinion. Even Mr. Moorsome's would be valuable—if he weren't so +terrifically silent, for he must think a lot, sitting all day, as he +did, painting the land. + +“He's a heavy ass,” said Stanley. + +Yes; but Clara did not wish to be narrow. That was why it was so +splendid to have got Mr. Sleesor. If anybody knew the Radical mind he +did, and he could give full force to what one always felt was at the +bottom of it—that the Radicals' real supporters were the urban classes; +so that their policy must not go too far with 'the Land,' for fear of +seeming to neglect the towns. For, after all, in the end it was out of +the pockets of the towns that 'the Land' would have to be financed, and +nobody really could expect the towns to get anything out of it. Stanley +paused in the adjustment of his tie; his wife was a shrewd woman. + +“You've hit it there,” he said. “Wiltram will give it him hot on that, +though.” + +Of course, Clara assented. And it was magnificent that they had got +Henry Wiltram, with his idealism and his really heavy corn tax; not +caring what happened to the stunted products of the towns—and they +truly were stunted, for all that the Radicals and the half-penny press +said—till at all costs we could grow our own food. There was a lot in +that. + +“Yes,” Stanley muttered, “and if he gets on to it, shan't I have a jolly +time of it in the smoking-room? I know what Cuthcott's like with his +shirt out.” + +Clara's eyes brightened; she was very curious herself to see Mr. +Cuthcott with his—that is, to hear him expound the doctrine he was +always writing up, namely, that 'the Land' was gone and, short of +revolution, there was nothing for it but garden cities. She had heard he +was so cutting and ferocious that he really did seem as if he hated his +opponents. She hoped he would get a chance—perhaps Felix could encourage +him. + +“What about the women?” Stanley asked suddenly. “Will they stand a +political powwow? One must think of them a bit.” + +Clara had. She was taking a farewell look at herself in the far-away +mirror through the door into her bedroom. It was a mistake—she added—to +suppose that women were not interested in 'the Land.' Lady Britto +was most intelligent, and Mildred Malloring knew every cottage on her +estate. + +“Pokes her nose into 'em often enough,” Stanley muttered. + +Lady Fanfar again, and Mrs. Sleesor, and even Hilda Martlett, were +interested in their husbands, and Miss Bawtrey, of course, interested in +everything. As for Maude Ughtred, all talk would be the same to her; she +was always week-ending. Stanley need not worry—it would be all right; +some real work would get done, some real advance be made. So saying, she +turned her fine shoulders twice, once this way and once that, and went +out. She had never told even Stanley her ambition that at Becket, under +her aegis, should be laid the foundation-stone of the real scheme, +whatever it might be, that should regenerate 'the Land.' Stanley would +only have laughed; even though it would be bound to make him Lord +Freeland when it came to be known some day.... + +To the eyes and ears of Nedda that evening at dinner, all was new +indeed, and all wonderful. It was not that she was unaccustomed to +society or to conversation, for to their house at Hampstead many people +came, uttering many words, but both the people and the words were so +very different. After the first blush, the first reconnaissance of the +two Bigwigs between whom she sat, her eyes WOULD stray and her ears +would only half listen to them. Indeed, half her ears, she soon found +out, were quite enough to deal with Colonel Martlett and Sir John +Fanfar. Across the azaleas she let her glance come now and again to +anchor on her father's face, and exchanged with him a most enjoyable +blink. She tried once or twice to get through to Alan, but he was always +eating; he looked very like a young Uncle Stanley this evening. + +What was she feeling? Short, quick stabs of self-consciousness as to how +she was looking; a sort of stunned excitement due to sheer noise and the +number of things offered to her to eat and drink; keen pleasure in the +consciousness that Colonel Martlett and Sir John Fanfar and other men, +especially that nice one with the straggly moustache who looked as if he +were going to bite, glanced at her when they saw she wasn't looking. If +only she had been quite certain that it was not because they thought her +too young to be there! She felt a sort of continual exhilaration, that +this was the great world—the world where important things were said and +done, together with an intense listening expectancy, and a sense most +unexpected and almost frightening, that nothing important was being said +or would be done. But this she knew to be impudent. On Sunday evenings +at home people talked about a future existence, about Nietzsche, +Tolstoy, Chinese pictures, post-impressionism, and would suddenly grow +hot and furious about peace, and Strauss, justice, marriage, and +De Maupassant, and whether people were losing their souls through +materialism, and sometimes one of them would get up and walk about the +room. But to-night the only words she could catch were the names of two +politicians whom nobody seemed to approve of, except that nice one who +was going to bite. Once very timidly she asked Colonel Martlett whether +he liked Strauss, and was puzzled by his answer: “Rather; those 'Tales +of Hoffmann' are rippin', don't you think? You go to the opera much?” +She could not, of course, know that the thought which instantly rose +within her was doing the governing classes a grave injustice—almost all +of whom save Colonel Martlett knew that the 'Tales of Hoffmann' were +by one Offenbach. But beyond all things she felt she would never, never +learn to talk as they were all talking—so quickly, so continuously, so +without caring whether everybody or only the person they were talking +to heard what they said. She had always felt that what you said was only +meant for the person you said it to, but here in the great world she +must evidently not say anything that was not meant for everybody, and +she felt terribly that she could not think of anything of that sort +to say. And suddenly she began to want to be alone. That, however, +was surely wicked and wasteful, when she ought to be learning such a +tremendous lot; and yet, what was there to learn? And listening just +sufficiently to Colonel Martlett, who was telling her how great a man he +thought a certain general, she looked almost despairingly at the one +who was going to bite. He was quite silent at that moment, gazing at +his plate, which was strangely empty. And Nedda thought: 'He has jolly +wrinkles about his eyes, only they might be heart disease; and I like +the color of his face, so nice and yellow, only that might be liver. But +I DO like him—I wish I'd been sitting next to him; he looks real.' From +that thought, of the reality of a man whose name she did not know, she +passed suddenly into the feeling that nothing else of this about her was +real at all, neither the talk nor the faces, not even the things she +was eating. It was all a queer, buzzing dream. Nor did that sensation +of unreality cease when her aunt began collecting her gloves, and they +trooped forth to the drawing-room. There, seated between Mrs. Sleesor +and Lady Britto, with Lady Malloring opposite, and Miss Bawtrey leaning +over the piano toward them, she pinched herself to get rid of the +feeling that, when all these were out of sight of each other, they would +become silent and have on their lips a little, bitter smile. Would it be +like that up in their bedrooms, or would it only be on her (Nedda's) own +lips that this little smile would come? It was a question she could +not answer; nor could she very well ask it of any of these ladies. She +looked them over as they sat there talking and felt very lonely. And +suddenly her eyes fell on her grandmother. Frances Freeland was seated +halfway down the long room in a sandalwood chair, somewhat insulated by +a surrounding sea of polished floor. She sat with a smile on her lips, +quite still, save for the continual movement of her white hands on her +black lap. To her gray hair some lace of Chantilly was pinned with a +little diamond brooch, and hung behind her delicate but rather long +ears. And from her shoulders was depended a silvery garment, of stuff +that looked like the mail shirt of a fairy, reaching the ground on +either side. A tacit agreement had evidently been come to, that she was +incapable of discussing 'the Land' or those other subjects such as the +French murder, the Russian opera, the Chinese pictures, and the doings +of one, L—— , whose fate was just then in the air, so that she sat +alone. + +And Nedda thought: 'How much more of a lady she looks than anybody here! +There's something deep in her to rest on that isn't in the Bigwigs; +perhaps it's because she's of a different generation.' And, getting up, +she went over and sat down beside her on a little chair. + +Frances Freeland rose at once and said: + +“Now, my darling, you can't be comfortable in that tiny chair. You must +take mine.” + +“Oh, no, Granny; please!” + +“Oh, yes; but you must! It's so comfortable, and I've simply been +longing to sit in the chair you're in. Now, darling, to please me!” + +Seeing that a prolonged struggle would follow if she did not get up, +Nedda rose and changed chairs. + +“Do you like these week-ends, Granny?” + +Frances Freeland seemed to draw her smile more resolutely across her +face. With her perfect articulation, in which there was, however, no +trace of bigwiggery, she answered: + +“I think they're most interesting, darling. It's so nice to see new +people. Of course you don't get to know them, but it's very amusing to +watch, especially the head-dresses!” And sinking her voice: “Just look +at that one with the feather going straight up; did you ever see such a +guy?” and she cackled with a very gentle archness. Gazing at that +almost priceless feather, trying to reach God, Nedda felt suddenly how +completely she was in her grandmother's little camp; how entirely she +disliked bigwiggery. + +Frances Freeland's voice brought her round. + +“Do you know, darling, I've found the most splendid thing for eyebrows? +You just put a little on every night and it keeps them in perfect order. +I must give you my little pot.” + +“I don't like grease, Granny.” + +“Oh! but this isn't grease, darling. It's a special thing; and you only +put on just the tiniest touch.” + +Diving suddenly into the recesses of something, she produced an exiguous +round silver box. Prizing it open, she looked over her shoulder at the +Bigwigs, then placed her little finger on the contents of the little +box, and said very softly: + +“You just take the merest touch, and you put it on like that, and it +keeps them together beautifully. Let me! Nobody'll see!” + +Quite well understanding that this was all part of her grandmother's +passion for putting the best face upon things, and having no belief in +her eyebrows, Nedda bent forward; but in a sudden flutter of fear lest +the Bigwigs might observe the operation, she drew back, murmuring: “Oh, +Granny, darling! Not just now!” + +At that moment the men came in, and, under cover of the necessary +confusion, she slipped away into the window. + +It was pitch-black outside, with the moon not yet up. The bloomy, +peaceful dark out there! Wistaria and early roses, clustering in, had +but the ghost of color on their blossoms. Nedda took a rose in her +fingers, feeling with delight its soft fragility, its coolness against +her hot palm. Here in her hand was a living thing, here was a little +soul! And out there in the darkness were millions upon millions of other +little souls, of little flame-like or coiled-up shapes alive and true. + +A voice behind her said: + +“Nothing nicer than darkness, is there?” + +She knew at once it was the one who was going to bite; the voice +was proper for him, having a nice, smothery sound. And looking round +gratefully, she said: + +“Do you like dinner-parties?” + +It was jolly to watch his eyes twinkle and his thin cheeks puff out. He +shook his head and muttered through that straggly moustache: + +“You're a niece, aren't you? I know your father. He's a big man.” + +Hearing those words spoken of her father, Nedda flushed. + +“Yes, he is,” she said fervently. + +Her new acquaintance went on: + +“He's got the gift of truth—can laugh at himself as well as others; +that's what makes him precious. These humming-birds here to-night +couldn't raise a smile at their own tomfoolery to save their silly +souls.” + +He spoke still in that voice of smothery wrath, and Nedda thought: 'He +IS nice!' + +“They've been talking about 'the Land'”—he raised his hands and ran them +through his palish hair—“'the Land!' Heavenly Father! 'The Land!' Why! +Look at that fellow!” + +Nedda looked and saw a man, like Richard Coeur de Lion in the history +books, with a straw-colored moustache just going gray. + +“Sir Gerald Malloring—hope he's not a friend of yours! Divine right of +landowners to lead 'the Land' by the nose! And our friend Britto!” + +Nedda, following his eyes, saw a robust, quick-eyed man with a suave +insolence in his dark, clean-shaved face. + +“Because at heart he's just a supercilious ruffian, too cold-blooded +to feel, he'll demonstrate that it's no use to feel—waste of valuable +time—ha! valuable!—to act in any direction. And that's a man they +believe things of. And poor Henry Wiltram, with his pathetic: 'Grow our +own food—maximum use of the land as food-producer, and let the rest +take care of itself!' As if we weren't all long past that feeble +individualism; as if in these days of world markets the land didn't +stand or fall in this country as a breeding-ground of health and stamina +and nothing else. Well, well!” + +“Aren't they really in earnest, then?” asked Nedda timidly. + +“Miss Freeland, this land question is a perfect tragedy. Bar one or two, +they all want to make the omelette without breaking eggs; well, by the +time they begin to think of breaking them, mark me—there'll be no eggs +to break. We shall be all park and suburb. The real men on the land, +what few are left, are dumb and helpless; and these fellows here for +one reason or another don't mean business—they'll talk and tinker and +top-dress—that's all. Does your father take any interest in this? He +could write something very nice.” + +“He takes interest in everything,” said Nedda. “Please go on, Mr.—Mr.—” +She was terribly afraid he would suddenly remember that she was too +young and stop his nice, angry talk. + +“Cuthcott. I'm an editor, but I was brought up on a farm, and know +something about it. You see, we English are grumblers, snobs to the +backbone, want to be something better than we are; and education +nowadays is all in the direction of despising what is quiet and humdrum. +We never were a stay-at-home lot, like the French. That's at the back of +this business—they may treat it as they like, Radicals or Tories, but if +they can't get a fundamental change of opinion into the national mind as +to what is a sane and profitable life; if they can't work a revolution +in the spirit of our education, they'll do no good. There'll be lots +of talk and tinkering, tariffs and tommy-rot, and, underneath, the +land-bred men dying, dying all the time. No, madam, industrialism and +vested interests have got us! Bar the most strenuous national heroism, +there's nothing for it now but the garden city!” + +“Then if we WERE all heroic, 'the Land' could still be saved?” + +Mr. Cuthcott smiled. + +“Of course we might have a European war or something that would shake +everything up. But, short of that, when was a country ever consciously +and homogeneously heroic—except China with its opium? When did it ever +deliberately change the spirit of its education, the trend of its ideas; +when did it ever, of its own free will, lay its vested interests on the +altar; when did it ever say with a convinced and resolute heart: 'I will +be healthy and simple before anything. I will not let the love of sanity +and natural conditions die out of me!' When, Miss Freeland, when?” + +And, looking so hard at Nedda that he almost winked, he added: + +“You have the advantage of me by thirty years. You'll see what I shall +not—the last of the English peasant. Did you ever read 'Erewhon,' where +the people broke up their machines? It will take almost that sort of +national heroism to save what's left of him, even.” + +For answer, Nedda wrinkled her brows horribly. Before her there had come +a vision of the old, lame man, whose name she had found out was Gaunt, +standing on the path under the apple-trees, looking at that little +something he had taken from his pocket. Why she thought of him thus +suddenly she had no idea, and she said quickly: + +“It's awfully interesting. I do so want to hear about 'the Land.' I only +know a little about sweated workers, because I see something of them.” + +“It's all of a piece,” said Mr. Cuthcott; “not politics at all, but +religion—touches the point of national self-knowledge and faith, the +point of knowing what we want to become and of resolving to become it. +Your father will tell you that we have no more idea of that at present +than a cat of its own chemical composition. As for these good people +here to-night—I don't want to be disrespectful, but if they think +they're within a hundred miles of the land question, I'm a—I'm a +Jingo—more I can't say.” + +And, as if to cool his head, he leaned out of the window. + +“Nothing is nicer than darkness, as I said just now, because you can +only see the way you MUST go instead of a hundred and fifty ways you +MIGHT. In darkness your soul is something like your own; in daylight, +lamplight, moonlight, never.” + +Nedda's spirit gave a jump; he seemed almost at last to be going to talk +about the things she wanted, above all, to find out. Her cheeks went +hot, she clenched her hands and said resolutely: + +“Mr. Cuthcott, do you believe in God?” + +Mr. Cuthcott made a queer, deep little noise; it was not a laugh, +however, and it seemed as if he knew she could not bear him to look at +her just then. + +“H'm!” he said. “Every one does that—according to their natures. Some +call God IT, some HIM, some HER, nowadays—that's all. You might as well +ask—do I believe that I'm alive?” + +“Yes,” said Nedda, “but which do YOU call God?” + +As she asked that, he gave a wriggle, and it flashed through her: 'He +must think me an awful enfant terrible!' His face peered round at +her, queer and pale and puffy, with nice, straight eyes; and she added +hastily: + +“It isn't a fair question, is it? Only you talked about darkness, and +the only way—so I thought—” + +“Quite a fair question. My answer is, of course: 'All three'; but the +point is rather: Does one wish to make even an attempt to define God to +oneself? Frankly, I don't! I'm content to feel that there is in one some +kind of instinct toward perfection that one will still feel, I hope, +when the lights are going out; some kind of honour forbidding one to +let go and give up. That's all I've got; I really don't know that I want +more.” + +Nedda clasped her hands. + +“I like that,” she said; “only—what is perfection, Mr. Cuthcott?” + +Again he emitted that deep little sound. + +“Ah!” he repeated, “what is perfection? Awkward, that—isn't it?” + +“Is it”—Nedda rushed the words out—“is it always to be sacrificing +yourself, or is it—is it always to be—to be expressing yourself?” + +“To some—one; to some—the other; to some—half one, half the other.” + +“But which is it to me?” + +“Ah! that you've got to find out for yourself. There's a sort of +metronome inside us—wonderful, sell-adjusting little machine; most +delicate bit of mechanism in the world—people call it conscience—that +records the proper beat of our tempos. I guess that's all we have to go +by.” + +Nedda said breathlessly: + +“Yes; and it's frightfully hard, isn't it?” + +“Exactly,” Mr. Cuthcott answered. “That's why people devised religions +and other ways of having the thing done second-hand. We all object to +trouble and responsibility if we can possibly avoid it. Where do you +live?” + +“In Hampstead.” + +“Your father must be a stand-by, isn't he?” + +“Oh, yes; Dad's splendid; only, you see, I AM a good deal younger than +he. There was just one thing I was going to ask you. Are these very +Bigwigs?” + +Mr. Cuthcott turned to the room and let his screwed-up glance wander. He +looked just then particularly as if he were going to bite. + +“If you take 'em at their own valuation: Yes. If at the country's: +So-so. If at mine: Ha! I know what you'd like to ask: Should I be a +Bigwig in THEIR estimation? Not I! As you knock about, Miss Freeland, +you'll find out one thing—all bigwiggery is founded on: Scratch my back, +and I'll scratch yours. Seriously, these are only tenpenny ones; but the +mischief is, that in the matter of 'the Land,' the men who really are in +earnest are precious scarce. Nothing short of a rising such as there was +in 1832 would make the land question real, even for the moment. Not +that I want to see one—God forbid! Those poor doomed devils were treated +worse than dogs, and would be again.” + +Before Nedda could pour out questions about the rising in 1832, +Stanley's voice said: + +“Cuthcott, I want to introduce you!” + +Her new friend screwed his eyes up tighter and, muttering something, put +out his hand to her. + +“Thank you for our talk. I hope we shall meet again. Any time you want +to know anything—I'll be only too glad. Good night!” + +She felt the squeeze of his hand, warm and dry, but rather soft, as of +a man who uses a pen too much; saw him following her uncle across the +room, with his shoulders a little hunched, as if preparing to inflict, +and ward off, blows. And with the thought: 'He must be jolly when he +gives them one!' she turned once more to the darkness, than which he had +said there was nothing nicer. It smelled of new-mown grass, was full of +little shiverings of leaves, and all colored like the bloom of a black +grape. And her heart felt soothed. + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +“...When I first saw Derek I thought I should never feel anything but +shy and hopeless. In four days, only in four days, the whole world +is different.... And yet, if it hadn't been for that thunder-storm, +I shouldn't have got over being shy in time. He has never loved +anybody—nor have I. It can't often be like that—it makes it solemn. +There's a picture somewhere—not a good one, I know—of a young Highlander +being taken away by soldiers from his sweetheart. Derek is fiery and +wild and shy and proud and dark—like the man in that picture. That last +day along the hills—along and along—with the wind in our faces, I could +have walked forever; and then Joyfields at the end! Their mother's +wonderful; I'm afraid of her. But Uncle Tod is a perfect dear. I never +saw any one before who noticed so many things that I didn't, and nothing +that I did. I am sure he has in him what Mr. Cuthcott said we were all +losing—the love of simple, natural conditions. And then, THE moment, +when I stood with Derek at the end of the orchard, to say good-by. The +field below covered with those moony-white flowers, and the cows all +dark and sleepy; the holy feeling down there was wonderful, and in +the branches over our heads, too, and the velvety, starry sky, and the +dewiness against one's face, and the great, broad silence—it was all +worshipping something, and I was worshipping—worshipping happiness. I +WAS happy, and I think HE was. Perhaps I shall never be so happy again. +When he kissed me I didn't think the whole world had so much happiness +in it. I know now that I'm not cold a bit; I used to think I was. I +believe I could go with him anywhere, and do anything he wanted. What +would Dad think? Only the other day I was saying I wanted to know +everything. One only knows through love. It's love that makes the world +all beautiful—makes it like those pictures that seem to be wrapped in +gold, makes it like a dream—no, not like a dream—like a wonderful tune. +I suppose that's glamour—a goldeny, misty, lovely feeling, as if my soul +were wandering about with his—not in my body at all. I want it to go +on and on wandering—oh! I don't want it back in my body, all hard and +inquisitive and aching! I shall never know anything so lovely as loving +him and being loved. I don't want anything more—nothing! Stay with +me, please—Happiness! Don't go away and leave me!... They frighten me, +though; he frightens me—their idealism; wanting to do great things, +and fight for justice. If only I'd been brought up more like that—but +everything's been so different. It's their mother, I think, even more +than themselves. I seem to have grown up just looking on at life as at a +show; watching it, thinking about it, trying to understand—not living +it at all. I must get over that; I will. I believe I can tell the very +moment I began to love him. It was in the schoolroom the second evening. +Sheila and I were sitting there just before dinner, and he came, in a +rage, looking splendid. 'That footman put out everything just as if +I were a baby—asked me for suspenders to fasten on my socks; hung the +things on a chair in order, as if I couldn't find out for myself what +to put on first; turned the tongues of my shoes out!—curled them over!' +Then Derek looked at me and said: 'Do they do that for you?—And poor old +Gaunt, who's sixty-six and lame, has three shillings a week to buy him +everything. Just think of that! If we had the pluck of flies—' And he +clenched his fists. But Sheila got up, looked hard at me, and said: +'That'll do, Derek.' Then he put his hand on my arm and said: 'It's +only Cousin Nedda!' I began to love him then; and I believe he saw it, +because I couldn't take my eyes away. But it was when Sheila sang +'The Red Sarafan,' after dinner, that I knew for certain. 'The Red +Sarafan'—it's a wonderful song, all space and yearning, and yet such +calm—it's the song of the soul; and he was looking at me while she sang. +How can he love me? I am nothing—no good for anything! Alan calls him +a 'run-up kid, all legs and wings.' Sometimes I hate Alan; he's +conventional and stodgy—the funny thing is that he admires Sheila. +She'll wake him up; she'll stick pins into him. No, I don't want Alan +hurt—I want every one in the world to be happy, happy—as I am.... The +next day was the thunder-storm. I never saw lightning so near—and didn't +care a bit. If he were struck I knew I should be; that made it all +right. When you love, you don't care, if only the something must happen +to you both. When it was over, and we came out from behind the stack +and walked home through the fields, all the beasts looked at us as if we +were new and had never been seen before; and the air was ever so +sweet, and that long, red line of cloud low down in the purple, and the +elm-trees so heavy and almost black. He put his arm round me, and I +let him.... It seems an age to wait till they come to stay with us next +week. If only Mother likes them, and I can go and stay at Joyfields. +Will she like them? It's all so different to what it would be if they +were ordinary. But if he were ordinary I shouldn't love him; it's +because there's nobody like him. That isn't a loverish fancy—you +only have to look at him against Alan or Uncle Stanley or even Dad. +Everything he does is so different; the way he walks, and the way he +stands drawn back into himself, like a stag, and looks out as if he were +burning and smouldering inside; even the way he smiles. Dad asked me +what I thought of him! That was only the second day. I thought he was +too proud, then. And Dad said: 'He ought to be in a Highland regiment; +pity—great pity!' He is a fighter, of course. I don't like fighting, but +if I'm not ready to, he'll stop loving me, perhaps. I've got to learn. +O Darkness out there, help me! And Stars, help me! O God, make me brave, +and I will believe in you forever! If you are the spirit that grows +in things in spite of everything, until they're like the flowers, so +perfect that we laugh and sing at their beauty, grow in me, too; make +me beautiful and brave; then I shall be fit for him, alive or dead; and +that's all I want. Every evening I shall stand in spirit with him at +the end of that orchard in the darkness, under the trees above the +white flowers and the sleepy cows, and perhaps I shall feel him kiss +me again.... I'm glad I saw that old man Gaunt; it makes what they feel +more real to me. He showed me that poor laborer Tryst, too, the one +who mustn't marry his wife's sister, or have her staying in the house +without marrying her. Why should people interfere with others like that? +It does make your blood boil! Derek and Sheila have been brought up to +be in sympathy with the poor and oppressed. If they had lived in London +they would have been even more furious, I expect. And it's no use my +saying to myself 'I don't know the laborer, I don't know his hardships,' +because he is really just the country half of what I do know and see, +here in London, when I don't hide my eyes. One talk showed me how +desperately they feel; at night, in Sheila's room, when we had gone up, +just we four. Alan began it; they didn't want to, I could see; but he +was criticising what some of those Bigwigs had said—the 'Varsity makes +boys awfully conceited. It was such a lovely night; we were all in +the big, long window. A little bat kept flying past; and behind +the copper-beech the moon was shining on the lake. Derek sat in the +windowsill, and when he moved he touched me. To be touched by him gives +me a warm shiver all through. I could hear him gritting his teeth at +what Alan said—frightfully sententious, just like a newspaper: 'We can't +go into land reform from feeling, we must go into it from reason.' Then +Derek broke out: 'Walk through this country as we've walked; see the +pigsties the people live in; see the water they drink; see the tiny +patches of ground they have; see the way their roofs let in the rain; +see their peeky children; see their patience and their hopelessness; see +them working day in and day out, and coming on the parish at the end! +See all that, and then talk about reason! Reason! It's the coward's +excuse, and the rich man's excuse, for doing nothing. It's the excuse of +the man who takes jolly good care not to see for fear that he may come +to feel! Reason never does anything, it's too reasonable. The thing is +to act; then perhaps reason will be jolted into doing something.' But +Sheila touched his arm, and he stopped very suddenly. She doesn't trust +us. I shall always be being pushed away from him by her. He's just +twenty, and I shall be eighteen in a week; couldn't we marry now at +once? Then, whatever happened, I couldn't be cut off from him. If I +could tell Dad, and ask him to help me! But I can't—it seems desecration +to talk about it, even to Dad. All the way up in the train to-day, +coming back home, I was struggling not to show anything; though it's +hateful to keep things from Dad. Love alters everything; it melts up +the whole world and makes it afresh. Love is the sun of our spirits, and +it's the wind. Ah, and the rain, too! But I won't think of that!... I +wonder if he's told Aunt Kirsteen!...” + + + + + +CHAPTER X + +While Nedda sat, long past midnight, writing her heart out in her +little, white, lilac-curtained room of the old house above the +Spaniard's Road, Derek, of whom she wrote, was walking along the Malvern +hills, hurrying upward in the darkness. The stars were his companions; +though he was no poet, having rather the fervid temper of the born +swordsman, that expresses itself in physical ecstasies. He had come +straight out from a stormy midnight talk with Sheila. What was he +doing—had been the burden of her cry—falling in love just at this moment +when they wanted all their wits and all their time and strength for this +struggle with the Mallorings? It was foolish, it was weak; and with a +sweet, soft sort of girl who could be no use. Hotly he had answered: +What business was it of hers? As if one fell in love when one wished! +She didn't know—her blood didn't run fast enough! Sheila had retorted, +“I've more blood in my big toe than Nedda in all her body! A lot of use +you'll be, with your heart mooning up in London!” And crouched together +on the end of her bed, gazing fixedly up at him through her hair, she +had chanted mockingly: “Here we go gathering wool and stars—wool and +stars—wool and stars!” + +He had not deigned to answer, but had gone out, furious with her, +striding over the dark fields, scrambling his way through the hedges +toward the high loom of the hills. Up on the short grass in the cooler +air, with nothing between him and those swarming stars, he lost his +rage. It never lasted long—hers was more enduring. With the innate +lordliness of a brother he already put it down to jealousy. Sheila was +hurt that he should want any one but her; as if his love for Nedda would +make any difference to their resolution to get justice for Tryst and the +Gaunts, and show those landed tyrants once for all that they could not +ride roughshod. + +Nedda! with her dark eyes, so quick and clear, so loving when they +looked at him! Nedda, soft and innocent, the touch of whose lips had +turned his heart to something strange within him, and wakened such +feelings of chivalry! Nedda! To see whom for half a minute he felt he +would walk a hundred miles. + +This boy's education had been administered solely by his mother till +he was fourteen, and she had brought him up on mathematics, French, +and heroism. His extensive reading of history had been focussed on the +personality of heroes, chiefly knights errant, and revolutionaries. He +had carried the worship of them to the Agricultural College, where he +had spent four years; and a rather rough time there had not succeeded in +knocking romance out of him. He had found that you could not have such +beliefs comfortably without fighting for them, and though he ended his +career with the reputation of a rebel and a champion of the weak, he +had had to earn it. To this day he still fed himself on stories of +rebellions and fine deeds. The figures of Spartacus, Montrose, Hofer, +Garibaldi, Hampden, and John Nicholson, were more real to him than +the people among whom he lived, though he had learned never to +mention—especially not to the matter-of-fact Sheila—his encompassing +cloud of heroes; but, when he was alone, he pranced a bit with them, and +promised himself that he too would reach the stars. So you may sometimes +see a little, grave boy walking through a field, unwatched as he +believes, suddenly fling his feet and his head every which way. An +active nature, romantic, without being dreamy and book-loving, is +not too prone to the attacks of love; such a one is likely to survive +unscathed to a maturer age. But Nedda had seduced him, partly by the +appeal of her touchingly manifest love and admiration, and chiefly by +her eyes, through which he seemed to see such a loyal, and loving little +soul looking. She had that indefinable something which lovers know that +they can never throw away. And he had at once made of her, secretly, the +crown of his active romanticism—the lady waiting for the spoils of his +lance. Queer is the heart of a boy—strange its blending of reality and +idealism! + +Climbing at a great pace, he reached Malvern Beacon just as it came +dawn, and stood there on the top, watching. He had not much aesthetic +sense; but he had enough to be impressed by the slow paling of the stars +over space that seemed infinite, so little were its dreamy confines +visible in the May morning haze, where the quivering crimson flags and +spears of sunrise were forging up in a march upon the sky. That vision +of the English land at dawn, wide and mysterious, hardly tallied with +Mr. Cuthcott's view of a future dedicate to Park and Garden City. +While Derek stood there gazing, the first lark soared up and began its +ecstatic praise. Save for that song, silence possessed all the driven +dark, right out to the Severn and the sea, and the fastnesses of the +Welsh hills, and the Wrekin, away in the north, a black point in the +gray. For a moment dark and light hovered and clung together. Would +victory wing back into night or on into day? Then, as a town is taken, +all was over in one overmastering rush, and light proclaimed. Derek +tightened his belt and took a bee-line down over the slippery grass. He +meant to reach the cottage of the laborer Tryst before that early bird +was away to the fields. He meditated as he went. Bob Tryst was all +right! If they only had a dozen or two like him! A dozen or two whom +they could trust, and who would trust each other and stand firm to form +the nucleus of a strike, which could be timed for hay harvest. What +slaves these laborers still were! If only they could be relied on, if +only they would stand together! Slavery! It WAS slavery; so long as +they could be turned out of their homes at will in this fashion. His +rebellion against the conditions of their lives, above all against the +manifold petty tyrannies that he knew they underwent, came from use of +his eyes and ears in daily contact with a class among whom he had been +more or less brought up. In sympathy with, and yet not of them, he had +the queer privilege of feeling their slights as if they were his own, +together with feelings of protection, and even of contempt that they +should let themselves be slighted. He was near enough to understand how +they must feel; not near enough to understand why, feeling as they +did, they did not act as he would have acted. In truth, he knew them no +better than he should. + +He found Tryst washing at his pump. In the early morning light the big +laborer's square, stubborn face, with its strange, dog-like eyes, had a +sodden, hungry, lost look. Cutting short ablutions that certainly were +never protracted, he welcomed Derek, and motioned him to pass into the +kitchen. The young man went in, and perched himself on the window-sill +beside a pot of Bridal Wreath. The cottage was one of the Mallorings', +and recently repaired. A little fire was burning, and a teapot of stewed +tea sat there beside it. Four cups and spoons and some sugar were put +out on a deal table, for Tryst was, in fact, brewing the morning draught +of himself and children, who still lay abed up-stairs. The sight made +Derek shiver and his eyes darken. He knew the full significance of what +he saw. + +“Did you ask him again, Bob?” + +“Yes, I asked 'im.” + +“What did he say?” + +“Said as orders was plain. 'So long as you lives there,' he says, 'along +of yourself alone, you can't have her come back.'” + +“Did you say the children wanted looking after badly? Did you make it +clear? Did you say Mrs. Tryst wished it, before she—” + +“I said that.” + +“What did he say then?” + +“'Sorry for you, m'lad, but them's m'lady's orders, an' I can't go +contrary. I don't wish to go into things,' he says; 'you know better'n +I how far 'tis gone when she was 'ere before; but seein' as m'lady don't +never give in to deceased wife's sister marryin', if she come back 'tis +certain to be the other thing. So, as that won't do neither, you go +elsewhere,' he says.” + +Having spoken thus at length, Tryst lifted the teapot and poured out the +dark tea into the three cups. + +“Will 'ee have some, sir?” + +Derek shook his head. + +Taking the cups, Tryst departed up the narrow stairway. And Derek +remained motionless, staring at the Bridal Wreath, till the big man came +down again and, retiring into a far corner, sat sipping at his own cup. + +“Bob,” said the boy suddenly, “do you LIKE being a dog; put to what +company your master wishes?” + +Tryst set his cup down, stood up, and crossed his thick arms—the swift +movement from that stolid creature had in it something sinister; but he +did not speak. + +“Do you like it, Bob?” + +“I'll not say what I feels, Mr. Derek; that's for me. What I does'll be +for others, p'raps.” + +And he lifted his strange, lowering eyes to Derek's. For a full minute +the two stared, then Derek said: + +“Look out, then; be ready!” and, getting off the sill, he went out. + +On the bright, slimy surface of the pond three ducks were quietly +revelling in that hour before man and his damned soul, the dog, rose +to put the fear of God into them. In the sunlight, against the green +duckweed, their whiteness was truly marvellous; difficult to believe +that they were not white all through. Passing the three cottages, in the +last of which the Gaunts lived, he came next to his own home, but did +not turn in, and made on toward the church. It was a very little one, +very old, and had for him a curious fascination, never confessed to man +or beast. To his mother, and Sheila, more intolerant, as became women, +that little, lichened, gray stone building was the very emblem of +hypocrisy, of a creed preached, not practised; to his father it was +nothing, for it was not alive, and any tramp, dog, bird, or fruit-tree +meant far more. But in Derek it roused a peculiar feeling, such as a man +might have gazing at the shores of a native country, out of which he +had been thrown for no fault of his own—a yearning deeply muffled up in +pride and resentment. Not infrequently he would come and sit brooding +on the grassy hillock just above the churchyard. Church-going, with its +pageantry, its tradition, dogma, and demand for blind devotion, would +have suited him very well, if only blind devotion to his mother had not +stood across that threshold; he could not bring himself to bow to that +which viewed his rebellious mother as lost. And yet the deep fibres +of heredity from her papistic Highland ancestors, and from old pious +Moretons, drew him constantly to this spot at times when no one would +be about. It was his enemy, this little church, the fold of all the +instincts and all the qualities against which he had been brought up +to rebel; the very home of patronage and property and superiority; the +school where his friends the laborers were taught their place! And yet +it had that queer, ironical attraction for him. In some such sort had +his pet hero Montrose rebelled, and then been drawn despite himself once +more to the side of that against which he had taken arms. + +While he leaned against the rail, gazing at that ancient edifice, he +saw a girl walk into the churchyard at the far end, sit down on a +gravestone, and begin digging a little hole in the grass with the toe +of her boot. She did not seem to see him, and at his ease he studied +her face, one of those broad, bright English country faces with deep-set +rogue eyes and red, thick, soft lips, smiling on little provocation. In +spite of her disgrace, in spite of the fact that she was sitting on her +mother's grave, she did not look depressed. And Derek thought: 'Wilmet +Gaunt is the jolliest of them all! She isn't a bit a bad girl, as they +say; it's only that she must have fun. If they drive her out of here, +she'll still want fun wherever she is; she'll go to a town and end up +like those girls I saw in Bristol.' And the memory of those night girls, +with their rouged faces and cringing boldness, came back to him with +horror. + +He went across the grass toward her. + +She looked round as he came, and her face livened. + +“Well, Wilmet?” + +“You're an early bird, Mr. Derek.” + +“Haven't been to bed.” + +“Oh!” + +“Been up Malvern Beacon to see the sun rise.” + +“You're tired, I expect!” + +“No.” + +“Must be fine up there. You'd see a long ways from there; near to London +I should think. Do you know London, Mr. Derek?” + +“No.” + +“They say 'tis a funny place, too.” Her rogue eyes gleamed from under +a heavy frown. “It'd not be all 'Do this' an' 'Do that'; an' 'You bad +girl' an' 'You little hussy!' in London. They say there's room for +more'n one sort of girl there.” + +“All towns are beastly places, Wilmet.” + +Again her rogue's eyes gleamed. “I don' know so much about that, Mr. +Derek. I'm going where I won't be chivied about and pointed at, like +what I am here.” + +“Your dad's stuck to you; you ought to stick to him.” + +“Ah, Dad! He's losin' his place for me, but that don't stop his tongue +at home. 'Tis no use to nag me—nag me. Suppose one of m'lady's daughters +had a bit of fun—they say there's lots as do—I've heard tales—there'd be +none comin' to chase her out of her home. 'No, my girl, you can't live +here no more, endangerin' the young men. You go away. Best for you's +where they'll teach you to be'ave. Go on! Out with you! I don't care +where you go; but you just go!' 'Tis as if girls were all pats o' +butter—same square, same pattern on it, same weight, an' all.” + +Derek had come closer; he put his hand down and gripped her arm. Her +eloquence dried up before the intentness of his face, and she just +stared up at him. + +“Now, look here, Wilmet; you promise me not to scoot without letting us +know. We'll get you a place to go to. Promise.” + +A little sheepishly the rogue-girl answered: + +“I promise; only, I'm goin'.” + +Suddenly she dimpled and broke into her broad smile. + +“Mr. Derek, d'you know what they say—they say you're in love. You was +seen in th' orchard. Ah! 'tis all right for you and her! But if any one +kiss and hug ME, I got to go!” + +Derek drew back among the graves, as if he had been struck with a whip. + +She looked up at him with coaxing sweetness. + +“Don't you mind me, Mr. Derek, and don't you stay here neither. If they +saw you here with me, they'd say: 'Aw—look! Endangerin' another young +man—poor young man!' Good mornin', Mr. Derek!” + +The rogue eyes followed him gravely, then once more began examining the +grass, and the toe of her boot again began kicking a little hole. But +Derek did not look back. + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +It is in the nature of men and angels to pursue with death such birds as +are uncommon, such animals as are rare; and Society had no use for one +like Tod, so uncut to its pattern as to be practically unconscious of +its existence. Not that he had deliberately turned his back on anything; +he had merely begun as a very young man to keep bees. The better to do +that he had gone on to the cultivation of flowers and fruit, together +with just enough farming as kept his household in vegetables, milk, +butter, and eggs. Living thus amongst insects, birds, cows, and the +peace of trees, he had become queer. His was not a very reflective mind, +it distilled but slowly certain large conclusions, and followed intently +the minute happenings of his little world. To him a bee, a bird, a +flower, a tree was well-nigh as interesting as a man; yet men, women, +and especially children took to him, as one takes to a Newfoundland dog, +because, though capable of anger, he seemed incapable of contempt, and +to be endowed with a sort of permanent wonder at things. Then, too, he +was good to look at, which counts for more than a little in the scales +of our affections; indeed, the slight air of absence in his blue eyes +was not chilling, as is that which portends a wandering of its owner on +his own business. People recognized that it meant some bee or other +in that bonnet, or elsewhere, some sound or scent or sight of life, +suddenly perceived—always of life! He had often been observed gazing +with peculiar gravity at a dead flower, bee, bird, or beetle, and, if +spoken to at such a moment, would say, “Gone!” touching a wing or +petal with his finger. To conceive of what happened after death did +not apparently come within the few large conclusions of his reflective +powers. That quaint grief of his in the presence of the death of things +that were not human had, more than anything, fostered a habit among the +gentry and clergy of the neighborhood of drawing up the mouth when they +spoke of him, and slightly raising the shoulders. For the cottagers, to +be sure, his eccentricity consisted rather in his being a 'gentleman,' +yet neither eating flesh, drinking wine, nor telling them how they +ought to behave themselves, together with the way he would sit down on +anything and listen to what they had to tell him, without giving them +the impression that he was proud of himself for doing so. In fact, it +was the extraordinary impression he made of listening and answering +without wanting anything either for himself or for them, that they could +not understand. How on earth it came about that he did not give them +advice about their politics, religion, morals, or monetary states, was +to them a never-ending mystery; and though they were too well bred to +shrug their shoulders, there did lurk in their dim minds the suspicion +that 'the good gentleman,' as they called him, was 'a tiddy-bit off.' +He had, of course, done many practical little things toward helping them +and their beasts, but always, as it seemed, by accident, so that they +could never make up their minds afterward whether he remembered having +done them, which, in fact, he probably did not; and this seemed to them +perhaps the most damning fact of all about his being—well, about his +being—not quite all there. Another worrying habit he had, too, that of +apparently not distinguishing between them and any tramps or strangers +who might happen along and come across him. This was, in their eyes, +undoubtedly a fault; for the village was, after all, their village, and +he, as it were, their property. To crown all, there was a story, +full ten years old now, which had lost nothing in the telling, of his +treatment of a cattle-drover. To the village it had an eerie look, that +windmill-like rage let loose upon a man who, after all, had only been +twisting a bullock's tail and running a spiked stick into its softer +parts, as any drover might. People said—the postman and a wagoner had +seen the business, raconteurs born, so that the tale had perhaps lost +nothing—that he had positively roared as he came leaping down into the +lane upon the man, a stout and thick-set fellow, taken him up like a +baby, popped him into a furzebush, and held him there. People said that +his own bare arms had been pricked to the very shoulder from pressing +the drover down into that uncompromising shrub, and the man's howls had +pierced the very heavens. The postman, to this day, would tell how the +mere recollection of seeing it still made him sore all over. Of the +words assigned to Tod on this occasion, the mildest and probably most +true were: “By the Lord God, if you treat a beast like that again, I'll +cut your liver out, you hell-hearted sweep!” + +The incident, which had produced a somewhat marked effect in regard to +the treatment of animals all round that neighborhood, had never +been forgotten, nor in a sense forgiven. In conjunction with the +extraordinary peace and mildness of his general behavior, it had endowed +Tod with mystery; and people, especially simple folk, cannot bring +themselves to feel quite at home with mystery. Children only—to whom +everything is so mysterious that nothing can be—treated him as he +treated them, giving him their hands with confidence. But children, even +his own, as they grew up, began to have a little of the village feeling +toward Tod; his world was not theirs, and what exactly his world was +they could not grasp. Possibly it was the sense that they partook of his +interest and affection too much on a level with any other kind of +living thing that might happen to be about, which discomfited their +understanding. They held him, however, in a certain reverence. + +That early morning he had already done a good two hours' work in +connection with broad beans, of which he grew, perhaps, the best in the +whole county, and had knocked off for a moment, to examine a spider's +web. This marvellous creation, which the dew had visited and clustered +over, as stars over the firmament, was hung on the gate of the vegetable +garden, and the spider, a large and active one, was regarding Tod +with the misgiving natural to its species. Intensely still Tod stood, +absorbed in contemplation of that bright and dusty miracle. Then, taking +up his hoe again, he went back to the weeds that threatened his broad +beans. Now and again he stopped to listen, or to look at the sky, as is +the way of husbandmen, thinking of nothing, enjoying the peace of his +muscles. + +“Please, sir, father's got into a fit again.” + +Two little girls were standing in the lane below. The elder, who had +spoken in that small, anxious voice, had a pale little face with pointed +chin; her hair, the color of over-ripe corn, hung fluffy on her thin +shoulders, her flower-like eyes, with something motherly in them +already, were the same hue as her pale-blue, almost clean, overall. She +had her smaller, chubbier sister by the hand, and, having delivered her +message, stood still, gazing up at Tod, as one might at God. Tod dropped +his hoe. + +“Biddy come with me; Susie go and tell Mrs. Freeland, or Miss Sheila.” + +He took the frail little hand of the elder Tryst and ran. They ran at +the child's pace, the one so very massive, the other such a whiff of +flesh and blood. + +“Did you come at once, Biddy?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Where was he taken?” + +“In the kitchen—just as I was cookin' breakfast.” + +“Ah! Is it a bad one?” + +“Yes, sir, awful bad—he's all foamy.” + +“What did you do for it?” + +“Susie and me turned him over, and Billy's seein' he don't get his +tongue down his throat—like what you told us, and we ran to you. Susie +was frightened, he hollered so.” + +Past the three cottages, whence a woman at a window stared in amaze to +see that queer couple running, past the pond where the ducks, whiter +than ever in the brightening sunlight, dived and circled carelessly, +into the Tryst kitchen. There on the brick floor lay the distressful +man, already struggling back out of epilepsy, while his little +frightened son sat manfully beside him. + +“Towels, and hot water, Biddy!” + +With extraordinary calm rapidity the small creature brought what might +have been two towels, a basin, and the kettle; and in silence she and +Tod steeped his forehead. + +“Eyes look better, Biddy?” + +“He don't look so funny now, sir.” + +Picking up that form, almost as big as his own, Tod carried it up +impossibly narrow stairs and laid it on a dishevelled bed. + +“Phew! Open the window, Biddy.” + +The small creature opened what there was of window. + +“Now, go down and heat two bricks and wrap them in something, and bring +them up.” + +Tryst's boots and socks removed, Tod rubbed the large, warped feet. +While doing this he whistled, and the little boy crept up-stairs and +squatted in the doorway, to watch and listen. The morning air overcame +with its sweetness the natural odor of that small room, and a bird or +two went flirting past. The small creature came back with the bricks, +wrapped in petticoats of her own, and, placing them against the soles +of her father's feet, she stood gazing at Tod, for all the world like a +little mother dog with puppies. + +“You can't go to school to-day, Biddy.” + +“Is Susie and Billy to go?” + +“Yes; there's nothing to be frightened of now. He'll be nearly all right +by evening. But some one shall stay with you.” + +At this moment Tryst lifted his hand, and the small creature went and +stood beside him, listening to the whispering that emerged from his +thick lips. + +“Father says I'm to thank you, please.” + +“Yes. Have you had your breakfasts?” + +The small creature and her smaller brother shook their heads. + +“Go down and get them.” + +Whispering and twisting back, they went, and by the side of the bed Tod +sat down. In Tryst's eyes was that same look of dog-like devotion he +had bent on Derek earlier that morning. Tod stared out of the window +and gave the man's big hand a squeeze. Of what did he think, watching a +lime-tree outside, and the sunlight through its foliage painting bright +the room's newly whitewashed wall, already gray-spotted with damp again; +watching the shadows of the leaves playing in that sunlight? Almost +cruel, that lovely shadow game of outside life so full and joyful, so +careless of man and suffering; too gay almost, too alive! Of what did +he think, watching the chase and dart of shadow on shadow, as of gray +butterflies fluttering swift to the sack of flowers, while beside him on +the bed the big laborer lay?... + +When Kirsteen and Sheila came to relieve him of that vigil he went +down-stairs. There in the kitchen Biddy was washing up, and Susie and +Billy putting on their boots for school. They stopped to gaze at Tod +feeling in his pockets, for they knew that things sometimes happened +after that. To-day there came out two carrots, some lumps of sugar, +some cord, a bill, a pruning knife, a bit of wax, a bit of chalk, three +flints, a pouch of tobacco, two pipes, a match-box with a single +match in it, a six-pence, a necktie, a stick of chocolate, a tomato, +a handkerchief, a dead bee, an old razor, a bit of gauze, some tow, +a stick of caustic, a reel of cotton, a needle, no thimble, two dock +leaves, and some sheets of yellowish paper. He separated from the +rest the sixpence, the dead bee, and what was edible. And in delighted +silence the three little Trysts gazed, till Biddy with the tip of one +wet finger touched the bee. + +“Not good to eat, Biddy.” + +At those words, one after the other, cautiously, the three little Trysts +smiled. Finding that Tod smiled too, they broadened, and Billy burst +into chuckles. Then, clustering in the doorway, grasping the edibles and +the sixpence, and consulting with each other, they looked long after his +big figure passing down the road. + + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +Still later, that same morning, Derek and Sheila moved slowly up the +Mallorings' well-swept drive. Their lips were set, as though they had +spoken the last word before battle, and an old cock pheasant, running +into the bushes close by, rose with a whir and skimmed out toward his +covert, scared, perhaps, by something uncompromising in the footsteps of +those two. + +Only when actually under the shelter of the porch, which some folk +thought enhanced the old Greek-temple effect of the Mallorings' house, +Derek broke through that taciturnity: + +“What if they won't?” + +“Wait and see; and don't lose your head, Derek.” The man who stood +there when the door opened was tall, grave, wore his hair in powder, and +waited without speech. + +“Will you ask Sir Gerald and Lady Malloring if Miss Freeland and Mr. +Derek Freeland could see them, please; and will you say the matter is +urgent?” + +The man bowed, left them, and soon came back. + +“My lady will see you, miss; Sir Gerald is not in. This way.” + +Past the statuary, flowers, and antlers of the hall, they traversed a +long, cool corridor, and through a white door entered a white room, not +very large, and very pretty. Two children got up as they came in and +flapped out past them like young partridges, and Lady Malloring rose +from her writing-table and came forward, holding out her hand. The two +young Freelands took it gravely. For all their hostility they could not +withstand the feeling that she would think them terrible young prigs if +they simply bowed. And they looked steadily at one with whom they had +never before been at quite such close quarters. Lady Malloring, who had +originally been the Honorable Mildred Killory, a daughter of Viscount +Silport, was tall, slender, and not very striking, with very fair hair +going rather gray; her expression in repose was pleasant, a little +anxious; only by her eyes was the suspicion awakened that she was a +woman of some character. They had that peculiar look of belonging to two +worlds, so often to be met with in English eyes, a look of self-denying +aspiration, tinctured with the suggestion that denial might not be +confined to self. + +In a quite friendly voice she said: + +“Can I do anything for you?” And while she waited for an answer her +glance travelled from face to face of the two young people, with a +certain curiosity. After a silence of several seconds, Sheila answered: + +“Not for us, thank you; for others, you can.” + +Lady Malloring's eyebrows rose a little, as if there seemed to her +something rather unjust in those words—'for others.' + +“Yes?” she said. + +Sheila, whose hands were clenched, and whose face had been fiery red, +grew suddenly almost white. + +“Lady Malloring, will you please let the Gaunts stay in their cottage +and Tryst's wife's sister come to live with the children and him?” + +Lady Malloring raised one hand; the motion, quite involuntary, ended at +the tiny cross on her breast. She said quietly: + +“I'm afraid you don't understand.” + +“Yes,” said Sheila, still very pale, “we understand quite well. We +understand that you are acting in what you believe to be the interests +of morality. All the same, won't you? Do!” + +“I'm very sorry, but I can't.” + +“May we ask why?” + +Lady Malloring started, and transferred her glance to Derek. + +“I don't know,” she said with a smile, “that I am obliged to account for +my actions to you two young people. Besides, you must know why, quite +well.” + +Sheila put out her hand. + +“Wilmet Gaunt will go to the bad if you turn them out.” + +“I am afraid I think she has gone to the bad already, and I do not mean +her to take others there with her. I am sorry for poor Tryst, and I +wish he could find some nice woman to marry; but what he proposes is +impossible.” + +The blood had flared up again in Sheila's cheeks; she was as red as the +comb of a turkey-cock. + +“Why shouldn't he marry his wife's sister? It's legal, now, and you've +no right to stop it.” + +Lady Malloring bit her lips; she looked straight and hard at Sheila. + +“I do not stop it; I have no means of stopping it. Only, he cannot do +it and live in one of our cottages. I don't think we need discuss this +further.” + +“I beg your pardon—” + +The words had come from Derek. Lady Malloring paused in her walk toward +the bell. With his peculiar thin-lipped smile the boy went on: + +“We imagined you would say no; we really came because we thought it fair +to warn you that there may be trouble.” + +Lady Malloring smiled. + +“This is a private matter between us and our tenants, and we should be +so glad if you could manage not to interfere.” + +Derek bowed, and put his hand within his sister's arm. But Sheila did +not move; she was trembling with anger. + +“Who are you,” she suddenly burst out, “to dispose of the poor, body +and soul? Who are you, to dictate their private lives? If they pay their +rent, that should be enough for you.” + +Lady Malloring moved swiftly again toward the bell. She paused with her +hand on it, and said: + +“I am sorry for you two; you have been miserably brought up!” + +There was a silence; then Derek said quietly: + +“Thank you; we shall remember that insult to our people. Don't ring, +please; we're going.” + +In a silence if anything more profound than that of their approach, the +two young people retired down the drive. They had not yet learned—most +difficult of lessons—how to believe that people could in their bones +differ from them. It had always seemed to them that if only they had +a chance of putting directly what they thought, the other side must +at heart agree, and only go on saying they didn't out of mere +self-interest. They came away, therefore, from this encounter with the +enemy a little dazed by the discovery that Lady Malloring in her bones +believed that she was right. It confused them, and heated the fires of +their anger. + +They had shaken off all private dust before Sheila spoke. + +“They're all like that—can't see or feel—simply certain they're +superior! It makes—it makes me hate them! It's terrible, ghastly.” And +while she stammered out those little stabs of speech, tears of rage +rolled down her cheeks. + +Derek put his arm round her waist. + +“All right! No good groaning; let's think seriously what to do.” + +There was comfort to the girl in that curiously sudden reversal of their +usual attitudes. + +“Whatever's done,” he went on, “has got to be startling. It's no good +pottering and protesting, any more.” And between his teeth he muttered: +“'Men of England, wherefore plough?'...” + +In the room where the encounter had taken place Mildred Malloring was +taking her time to recover. From very childhood she had felt that the +essence of her own goodness, the essence of her duty in life, was the +doing of 'good' to others; from very childhood she had never doubted +that she was in a position to do this, and that those to whom she did +good, although they might kick against it as inconvenient, must admit +that it WAS their 'good.' The thought: 'They don't admit that I am +superior!' had never even occurred to her, so completely was she +unselfconscious, in her convinced superiority. It was hard, indeed, to +be flung against such outspoken rudeness. It shook her more than she +gave sign of, for she was not by any means an insensitive woman—shook +her almost to the point of feeling that there was something in the +remonstrance of those dreadful young people. Yet, how could there be, +when no one knew better than she that the laborers on the Malloring +estate were better off than those on nine out of ten estates; better +paid and better housed, and—better looked after in their morals. Was she +to give up that?—when she knew that she WAS better able to tell what was +good for them than they were themselves. After all, without stripping +herself naked of every thought, experience, and action since her birth, +how could she admit that she was not better able? And slowly, in the +white room with the moss-green carpet, she recovered, till there was +only just a touch of soreness left, at the injustice implicit in their +words. Those two had been 'miserably brought up,' had never had a chance +of finding their proper place, of understanding that they were just two +callow young things, for whom Life had some fearful knocks in store. She +could even feel now that she had meant that saying: 'I am sorry for you +two!' She WAS sorry for them, sorry for their want of manners and their +point of view, neither of which they could help, of course, with a +mother like that. For all her gentleness and sensibility, there was much +practical directness about Mildred Malloring; for her, a page turned +was a page turned, an idea absorbed was never disgorged; she was of +religious temperament, ever trimming her course down the exact channel +marked out with buoys by the Port Authorities, and really incapable of +imagining spiritual wants in others that could not be satisfied by what +satisfied herself. And this pathetic strength she had in common with +many of her fellow creatures in every class. Sitting down at the +writing-table from which she had been disturbed, she leaned her thin, +rather long, gentle, but stubborn face on her hand, thinking. These +Gaunts were a source of irritation in the parish, a kind of open sore. +It would be better if they could be got rid of before quarter day, up to +which she had weakly said they might remain. Far better for them to go +at once, if it could be arranged. As for the poor fellow Tryst, +thinking that by plunging into sin he could improve his lot and his poor +children's, it was really criminal of those Freelands to encourage him. +She had refrained hitherto from seriously worrying Gerald on such points +of village policy—his hands were so full; but he must now take his part. +And she rang the bell. + +“Tell Sir Gerald I'd like to see him, please, as soon as he gets back.” + +“Sir Gerald has just come in, my lady.” + +“Now, then!” + +Gerald Malloring—an excellent fellow, as could be seen from his face +of strictly Norman architecture, with blue stained-glass windows rather +deep set in—had only one defect: he was not a poet. Not that this would +have seemed to him anything but an advantage, had he been aware of it. +His was one of those high-principled natures who hold that breadth is +synonymous with weakness. It may be said without exaggeration that the +few meetings of his life with those who had a touch of the poet in them +had been exquisitely uncomfortable. Silent, almost taciturn by nature, +he was a great reader of poetry, and seldom went to sleep without having +digested a page or two of Wordsworth, Milton, Tennyson, or Scott. Byron, +save such poems as 'Don Juan' or 'The Waltz,' he could but did not read, +for fear of setting a bad example. Burns, Shelley, and Keats he did +not care for. Browning pained him, except by such things as: 'How They +Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix' and the 'Cavalier Tunes'; while +of 'Omar Khayyam' and 'The Hound of Heaven' he definitely disapproved. +For Shakespeare he had no real liking, though he concealed this, from +humility in the face of accepted opinion. His was a firm mind, sure of +itself, but not self-assertive. His points were so good, and he had so +many of them, that it was only when he met any one touched with poetry +that his limitations became apparent; it was rare, however, and getting +more so every year, for him to have this unpleasant experience. + +When summoned by his wife, he came in with a wrinkle between his +straight brows; he had just finished a morning's work on a drainage +scheme, like the really good fellow that he was. She greeted him with +a little special smile. Nothing could be friendlier than the relations +between these two. Affection and trust, undeviating undemonstrativeness, +identity of feeling as to religion, children, property; and, in regard +to views on the question of sex, a really strange unanimity, considering +that they were man and woman. + +“It's about these Gaunts, Gerald. I feel they must go at once. They're +only creating bad feeling by staying till quarter day. I have had the +young Freelands here.” + +“Those young pups!” + +“Can't it be managed?” + +Malloring did not answer hastily. He had that best point of the good +Englishman, a dislike to being moved out of a course of conduct by +anything save the appeal of his own conscience. + +“I don't know,” he said, “why we should alter what we thought was just. +Must give him time to look round and get a job elsewhere.” + +“I think the general state of feeling demands it. It's not fair to the +villagers to let the Freelands have such a handle for agitating. Labor's +badly wanted everywhere; he can't have any difficulty in getting a +place, if he likes.” + +“No. Only, I rather admire the fellow for sticking by his girl, though +he is such a 'land-lawyer.' I think it's a bit harsh to move him +suddenly.” + +“So did I, till I saw from those young furies what harm it's doing. They +really do infect the cottagers. You know how discontent spreads. And +Tryst—they're egging him on, too.” + +Malloring very thoughtfully filled a pipe. He was not an alarmist; if +anything, he erred on the side of not being alarmed until it was all +over and there was no longer anything to be alarmed at! His imagination +would then sometimes take fire, and he would say that such and such, or +so and so, was dangerous. + +“I'd rather go and have a talk with Freeland,” he said. “He's queer, but +he's not at all a bad chap.” + +Lady Malloring rose, and took one of his real-leather buttons in her +hand. + +“My dear Gerald, Mr. Freeland doesn't exist.” + +“Don't know about that; a man can always come to life, if he likes, in +his own family.” + +Lady Malloring was silent. It was true. For all their unanimity of +thought and feeling, for all the latitude she had in domestic and +village affairs, Gerald had a habit of filling his pipe with her +decisions. Quite honestly, she had no objection to their becoming smoke +through HIS lips, though she might wriggle just a little. To her +credit, she did entirely carry out in her life her professed belief that +husbands should be the forefronts of their wives. For all that, there +burst from her lips the words: + +“That Freeland woman! When I think of the mischief she's always done +here, by her example and her irreligion—I can't forgive her. I don't +believe you'll make any impression on Mr. Freeland; he's entirely under +her thumb.” + +Smoking slowly, and looking just over the top of his wife's head, +Malioring answered: + +“I'll have a try; and don't you worry!” + +Lady Malloring turned away. Her soreness still wanted salve. + +“Those two young people,” she murmured, “said some very unpleasant +things to me. The boy, I believe, might have some good in him, but the +girl is simply terrible.” + +“H'm! I think just the reverse, you know.” + +“They'll come to awful grief if they're not brought up sharp. They ought +to be sent to the colonies to learn reality.” + +Malloring nodded. + +“Come out, Mildred, and see how they're getting on with the new vinery.” +And they went out together through the French window. + +The vinery was of their own designing, and of extraordinary interest. In +contemplation of its lofty glass and aluminium-cased pipes the feeling +of soreness left her. It was very pleasant, standing with Gerald, +looking at what they had planned together; there was a soothing sense +of reality about that visit, after the morning's happening, with its +disappointment, its reminder of immorality and discontent, and of +folk ungrateful for what was done for their good. And, squeezing her +husband's arm, she murmured: + +“It's really exactly what we thought it would be, Gerald!” + + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +About five o'clock of that same afternoon, Gerald Malloring went to see +Tod. An open-air man himself, who often deplored the long hours he was +compelled to spend in the special atmosphere of the House of Commons, +he rather envied Tod his existence in this cottage, crazed from age, +and clothed with wistaria, rambler roses, sweetbrier, honeysuckle, and +Virginia creeper. Freeland had, in his opinion, quite a jolly life of +it—the poor fellow not being able, of course, to help having a cranky +wife and children like that. He pondered, as he went along, over a talk +at Becket, when Stanley, still under the influence of Felix's outburst, +had uttered some rather queer sayings. For instance, he had supposed +that they (meaning, apparently, himself and Malloring) WERE rather +unable to put themselves in the position of these Trysts and Gaunts. He +seemed to speak of them as one might speak generically of Hodge, which +had struck Malloring as singular, it not being his habit to see anything +in common between an individual case, especially on his own estate, and +the ethics of a general proposition. The place for general propositions +was undoubtedly the House of Commons, where they could be supported +one way or the other, out of blue books. He had little use for them in +private life, where innumerable things such as human nature and all that +came into play. He had stared rather hard at his host when Stanley had +followed up that first remark with: “I'm bound to say, I shouldn't care +to have to get up at half past five, and go out without a bath!” What +that had to do with the land problem or the regulation of village +morality Malloring had been unable to perceive. It all depended on what +one was accustomed to; and in any case threw no light on the question, +as to whether or not he was to tolerate on his estate conduct of which +his wife and himself distinctly disapproved. At the back of national +life there was always this problem of individual conduct, especially +sexual conduct—without regularity in which, the family, as the unit of +national life, was gravely threatened, to put it on the lowest ground. +And he did not see how to bring it home to the villagers that they had +got to be regular, without making examples now and then. + +He had hoped very much to get through his call without coming across +Freeland's wife and children, and was greatly relieved to find Tod, +seated on a window-sill in front of his cottage, smoking, and gazing +apparently at nothing. In taking the other corner of the window-sill, +the thought passed through his mind that Freeland was really a very +fine-looking fellow. Tod was, indeed, about Malloring's own height of +six feet one, with the same fairness and straight build of figure and +feature. But Tod's head was round and massive, his hair crisp and uncut; +Malloring's head long and narrow, his hair smooth and close-cropped. +Tod's eyes, blue and deep-set, seemed fixed on the horizon, Malloring's, +blue and deep-set, on the nearest thing they could light on. Tod smiled, +as it were, without knowing; Malloring seemed to know what he was +smiling at almost too well. It was comforting, however, that Freeland +was as shy and silent as himself, for this produced a feeling that +there could not be any real difference between their points of view. +Perceiving at last that if he did not speak they would continue sitting +there dumb till it was time for him to go, Malloring said: + +“Look here, Freeland; about my wife and yours and Tryst and the Gaunts, +and all the rest of it! It's a pity, isn't it? This is a small place, +you know. What's your own feeling?” + +Tod answered: + +“A man has only one life.” + +Malloring was a little puzzled. + +“In this world. I don't follow.” + +“Live and let live.” + +A part of Malloring undoubtedly responded to that curt saying, a part of +him as strongly rebelled against it; and which impulse he was going to +follow was not at first patent. + +“You see, YOU keep apart,” he said at last. “You couldn't say that so +easily if you had, like us, to take up the position in which we find +ourselves.” + +“Why take it up?” + +Malloring frowned. “How would things go on?” + +“All right,” said Tod. + +Malloring got up from the sill. This was 'laisser-faire' with a +vengeance! Such philosophy had always seemed to him to savor dangerously +of anarchism. And yet twenty years' experience as a neighbor had +shown him that Tod was in himself perhaps the most harmless person +in Worcestershire, and held in a curious esteem by most of the people +about. He was puzzled, and sat down again. + +“I've never had a chance to talk things over with you,” he said. “There +are a good few people, Freeland, who can't behave themselves; we're not +bees, you know!” + +He stopped, having an uncomfortable suspicion that his hearer was not +listening. + +“First I've heard this year,” said Tod. + +For all the rudeness of that interruption, Malloring felt a stir of +interest. He himself liked birds. Unfortunately, he could hear nothing +but the general chorus of their songs. + +“Thought they'd gone,” murmured Tod. + +Malloring again got up. “Look here, Freeland,” he said, “I wish you'd +give your mind to this. You really ought not to let your wife and +children make trouble in the village.” + +Confound the fellow! He was smiling; there was a sort of twinkle in his +smile, too, that Malloring found infectious! + +“No, seriously,” he said, “you don't know what harm you mayn't do.” + +“Have you ever watched a dog looking at a fire?” asked Tod. + +“Yes, often; why?” + +“He knows better than to touch it.” + +“You mean you're helpless? But you oughtn't to be.” + +The fellow was smiling again! + +“Then you don't mean to do anything?” + +Tod shook his head. + +Malloring flushed. “Now, look here, Freeland,” he said, “forgive my +saying so, but this strikes me as a bit cynical. D'you think I enjoy +trying to keep things straight?” + +Tod looked up. + +“Birds,” he said, “animals, insects, vegetable life—they all eat each +other more or less, but they don't fuss about it.” + +Malloring turned abruptly and went down the path. Fuss! He never fussed. +Fuss! The word was an insult, addressed to him! If there was one thing +he detested more than another, whether in public or private life, it +was 'fussing.' Did he not belong to the League for Suppression of +Interference with the Liberty of the Subject? Was he not a member of the +party notoriously opposed to fussy legislation? Had any one ever used +the word in connection with conduct of his, before? If so, he had never +heard them. Was it fussy to try and help the Church to improve the +standard of morals in the village? Was it fussy to make a simple +decision and stick to it? The injustice of the word really hurt him. And +the more it hurt him, the slower and more dignified and upright became +his march toward his drive gate. + +'Wild geese' in the morning sky had been forerunners; very heavy clouds +were sweeping up from the west, and rain beginning to fall. He passed +an old man leaning on the gate of a cottage garden and said: “Good +evening!” + +The old man touched his hat but did not speak. + +“How's your leg, Gaunt?” + +“'Tis much the same, Sir Gerald.” + +“Rain coming makes it shoot, I expect.” + +“It do.” + +Malloring stood still. The impulse was on him to see if, after all, the +Gaunts' affair could not be disposed of without turning the old fellow +and his son out. + +“Look here!” he said; “about this unfortunate business. Why don't +you and your son make up your minds without more ado to let your +granddaughter go out to service? You've been here all your lives; I +don't want to see you go.” + +The least touch of color invaded the old man's carved and grayish face. + +“Askin' your pardon,” he said, “my son sticks by his girl, and I sticks +by my son!” + +“Oh! very well; you know your own business, Gaunt. I spoke for your +good.” + +A faint smile curled the corners of old Gaunt's mouth downward beneath +his gray moustaches. + +“Thank you kindly,” he said. + +Malloring raised a finger to his cap and passed on. Though he felt +a longing to stride his feelings off, he did not increase his pace, +knowing that the old man's eyes were following him. But how pig-headed +they were, seeing nothing but their own point of view! Well, he could +not alter his decision. They would go at the June quarter—not a day +before, nor after. + +Passing Tryst's cottage, he noticed a 'fly' drawn up outside, and its +driver talking to a woman in hat and coat at the cottage doorway. She +avoided his eye. + +'The wife's sister again!' he thought. 'So that fellow's going to be an +ass, too? Hopeless, stubborn lot!' And his mind passed on to his scheme +for draining the bottom fields at Cantley Bromage. This village trouble +was too small to occupy for long the mind of one who had so many +duties.... + +Old Gaunt remained at the gate watching till the tall figure passed +out of sight, then limped slowly down the path and entered his +son's cottage. Tom Gaunt, not long in from work, was sitting in his +shirtsleeves, reading the paper—a short, thick-set man with small eyes, +round, ruddy cheeks, and humorous lips indifferently concealed by a +ragged moustache. Even in repose there was about him something talkative +and disputatious. He was clearly the kind of man whose eyes and wit +would sparkle above a pewter pot. A good workman, he averaged out an +income of perhaps eighteen shillings a week, counting the two shillings' +worth of vegetables that he grew. His erring daughter washed for two old +ladies in a bungalow, so that with old Gaunt's five shillings from the +parish, the total resources of this family of five, including two small +boys at school, was seven and twenty shillings a week. Quite a sum! His +comparative wealth no doubt contributed to the reputation of Tom Gaunt, +well known as local wag and disturber of political meetings. His method +with these gatherings, whether Liberal or Tory, had a certain masterly +simplicity. By interjecting questions that could not be understood, and +commenting on the answers received, he insured perpetual laughter, with +the most salutary effects on the over-consideration of any political +question, together with a tendency to make his neighbors say: “Ah! Tom +Gaunt, he's a proper caution, he is!” An encomium dear to his ears. What +he seriously thought about anything in this world, no one knew; but some +suspected him of voting Liberal, because he disturbed their meetings +most. His loyalty to his daughter was not credited to affection. It was +like Tom Gaunt to stick his toes in and kick—the Quality, for choice. To +look at him and old Gaunt, one would not have thought they could be son +and father, a relationship indeed ever dubious. As for his wife, she had +been dead twelve years. Some said he had joked her out of life, others +that she had gone into consumption. He was a reader—perhaps the only one +in all the village, and could whistle like a blackbird. To work hard, +but without too great method, to drink hard, but with perfect method, +and to talk nineteen to the dozen anywhere except at home—was his mode +of life. In a word, he was a 'character.' + +Old Gaunt sat down in a wooden rocking-chair, and spoke. + +“Sir Gerald 'e've a-just passed.” + +“Sir Gerald 'e can goo to hell. They'll know un there, by 'is little +ears.” + +“'E've a-spoke about us stoppin'; so as Mettie goes out to sarvice.” + +“'E've a-spoke about what 'e don't know 'bout, then. Let un do what they +like, they can't put Tom Gaunt about; he can get work anywhere—Tom Gaunt +can, an' don't you forget that, old man.” + +The old man, placing his thin brown hands on his knees, was silent. And +thoughts passed through and through him. 'If so be as Tom goes, there'll +be no one as'll take me in for less than three bob a week. Two bob a +week, that's what I'll 'ave to feed me—Two bob a week—two bob a week! +But if so be's I go with Tom, I'll 'ave to reg'lar sit down under he for +me bread and butter.' And he contemplated his son. + +“Where are you goin', then?” he said. + +Tom Gaunt rustled the greenish paper he was reading, and his little, +hard gray eyes fixed his father. + +“Who said I was going?” + +Old Gaunt, smoothing and smoothing the lined, thin cheeks of the +parchmenty, thin-nosed face that Frances Freeland had thought to be +almost like a gentleman's, answered: “I thart you said you was goin'.” + +“You think too much, then—that's what 'tis. You think too much, old +man.” + +With a slight deepening of the sardonic patience in his face, old Gaunt +rose, took a bowl and spoon down from a shelf, and very slowly proceeded +to make himself his evening meal. It consisted of crusts of bread soaked +in hot water and tempered with salt, pepper, onion, and a touch of +butter. And while he waited, crouched over the kettle, his son smoked +his grayish clay and read his greenish journal; an old clock ticked and +a little cat purred without provocation on the ledge of the tight-closed +window. Then the door opened and the rogue-girl appeared. She shook her +shoulders as though to dismiss the wetting she had got, took off her +turn-down, speckly, straw hat, put on an apron, and rolled up her +sleeves. Her arms were full and firm and red; the whole of her was full +and firm. From her rosy cheeks to her stout ankles she was superabundant +with vitality, the strangest contrast to her shadowy, thin old +grandfather. About the preparation of her father's tea she moved with a +sort of brooding stolidity, out of which would suddenly gleam a twinkle +of rogue-sweetness, as when she stopped to stroke the little cat or to +tickle the back of her grandfather's lean neck in passing. Having set +the tea, she stood by the table and said slowly: “Tea's ready, father. +I'm goin' to London.” + +Tom Gaunt put down his pipe and journal, took his seat at the table, +filled his mouth with sausage, and said: “You're goin' where I tell +you.” + +“I'm goin' to London.” + +Tom Gaunt stayed the morsel in one cheek and fixed her with his little, +wild boar's eye. + +“Ye're goin' to catch the stick,” he said. “Look here, my girl, Tom +Gaunt's been put about enough along of you already. Don't you make no +mistake.” + +“I'm goin' to London,” repeated the rogue-girl stolidly. “You can get +Alice to come over.” + +“Oh! Can I? Ye're not goin' till I tell you. Don't you think it!” + +“I'm goin'. I saw Mr. Derek this mornin'. They'll get me a place there.” + +Tom Gaunt remained with his fork as it were transfixed. The effort of +devising contradiction to the chief supporters of his own rebellion was +for the moment too much for him. He resumed mastication. + +“You'll go where I want you to go; and don't you think you can tell me +where that is.” + +In the silence that ensued the only sound was that of old Gaunt supping +at his crusty-broth. Then the rogue-girl went to the window and, taking +the little cat on her breast, sat looking out into the rain. Having +finished his broth, old Gaunt got up, and, behind his son's back, he +looked at his granddaughter and thought: + +'Goin' to London! 'Twud be best for us all. WE shudn' need to be movin', +then. Goin' to London!' But he felt desolate. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +When Spring and first love meet in a girl's heart, then the birds sing. + +The songs that blackbirds and dusty-coated thrushes flung through +Nedda's window when she awoke in Hampstead those May mornings seemed to +have been sung by herself all night. Whether the sun were flashing on +the leaves, or rain-drops sieving through on a sou'west wind, the same +warmth glowed up in her the moment her eyes opened. Whether the lawn +below were a field of bright dew, or dry and darkish in a shiver of east +wind, her eyes never grew dim all day; and her blood felt as light as +ostrich feathers. + +Stormed by an attack of his cacoethes scribendi, after those few blank +days at Becket, Felix saw nothing amiss with his young daughter. The +great observer was not observant of things that other people observed. +Neither he nor Flora, occupied with matters of more spiritual +importance, could tell, offhand, for example, on which hand a +wedding-ring was worn. They had talked enough of Becket and the Tods to +produce the impression on Flora's mind that one day or another two young +people would arrive in her house on a visit; but she had begun a poem +called 'Dionysus at the Well,' and Felix himself had plunged into a +satiric allegory entitled 'The Last of the Laborers.' Nedda, therefore, +walked alone; but at her side went always an invisible companion. In +that long, imaginary walking-out she gave her thoughts and the whole of +her heart, and to be doing this never surprised her, who, before, had +not given them whole to anything. A bee knows the first summer day and +clings intoxicated to its flowers; so did Nedda know and cling. She +wrote him two letters and he wrote her one. It was not poetry; indeed, +it was almost all concerned with Wilmet Gaunt, asking Nedda to find a +place in London where the girl could go; but it ended with the words: + +“Your lover, + +“DEREK.” + +This letter troubled Nedda. She would have taken it at once to Felix or +to Flora if it had not been for the first words, “Dearest Nedda,” and +those last three. Except her mother, she instinctively distrusted women +in such a matter as that of Wilmet Gaunt, feeling they would want to +know more than she could tell them, and not be too tolerant of what they +heard. Casting about, at a loss, she thought suddenly of Mr. Cuthcott. + +At dinner that day she fished round carefully. Felix spoke of him almost +warmly. What Cuthcott could have been doing at Becket, of all places, he +could not imagine—the last sort of man one expected to see there; a good +fellow, rather desperate, perhaps, as men of his age were apt to get if +they had too many women, or no woman, about them. + +Which, said Nedda, had Mr. Cuthcott? + +Oh! None. How had he struck Nedda? And Felix looked at his little +daughter with a certain humble curiosity. He always felt that the young +instinctively knew so much more than he did. + +“I liked him awfully. He was like a dog.” + +“Ah!” said Felix, “he IS like a dog—very honest; he grins and runs about +the city, and might be inclined to bay the moon.” + +'I don't mind that,' Nedda thought, 'so long as he's not “superior.”' + +“He's very human,” Felix added. + +And having found out that he lived in Gray's Inn, Nedda thought: 'I +will; I'll ask him.' + +To put her project into execution, she wrote this note: + +“DEAR MR. CUTHCOTT: + +“You were so kind as to tell me you wouldn't mind if I bothered you +about things. I've got a very bothery thing to know what to do about, +and I would be so glad of your advice. It so happens that I can't ask my +father and mother. I hope you won't think me very horrible, wasting your +time. And please say no, if you'd rather. + +“Yours sincerely, + +“NEDDA FREELAND.” + +The answer came: + +“DEAR MISS FREELAND: + +“Delighted. But if very bothery, better save time and ink, and have a +snack of lunch with me to-morrow at the Elgin restaurant, close to +the British Museum. Quiet and respectable. No flowers by request. One +o'clock. + +“Very truly yours, + +“GILES CUTHCOTT.” + +Putting on 'no flowers' and with a fast-beating heart, Nedda, went on +her first lonely adventure. To say truth she did not know in the least +how ever she was going to ask this almost strange man about a girl of +doubtful character. But she kept saying to herself: 'I don't care—he has +nice eyes.' And her spirit would rise as she got nearer, because, after +all, she was going to find things out, and to find things out was jolly. +The new warmth and singing in her heart had not destroyed, but rather +heightened, her sense of the extraordinary interest of all things that +be. And very mysterious to her that morning was the kaleidoscope of +Oxford Street and its innumerable girls, and women, each going about her +business, with a life of her own that was not Nedda's. For men she had +little use just now, they had acquired a certain insignificance, not +having gray-black eyes that smoked and flared, nor Harris tweed suits +that smelled delicious. Only once on her journey from Oxford Circus she +felt the sense of curiosity rise in her, in relation to a man, and this +was when she asked a policeman at Tottenham Court Road, and he put his +head down fully a foot to listen to her. So huge, so broad, so red in +the face, so stolid, it seemed wonderful to her that he paid her any +attention! If he were a human being, could she really be one, too? But +that, after all, was no more odd than everything. Why, for instance, the +spring flowers in that woman's basket had been born; why that high white +cloud floated over; why and what was Nedda Freeland? + +At the entrance of the little restaurant she saw Mr. Cuthcott waiting. +In a brown suit, with his pale but freckled face, and his gnawed-at, +sandy moustache, and his eyes that looked out and beyond, he was +certainly no beauty. But Nedda thought: 'He's even nicer than I +remembered, and I'm sure he knows a lot.' + +At first, to be sitting opposite to him, in front of little plates +containing red substances and small fishes, was so exciting that she +simply listened to his rapid, rather stammering voice mentioning that +the English had no idea of life or cookery, that God had so made +this country by mistake that everything, even the sun, knew it. What, +however, would she drink? Chardonnet? It wasn't bad here. + +She assented, not liking to confess that she did not know what +Chardonnet might be, and hoping it was some kind of sherbet. She had +never yet drunk wine, and after a glass felt suddenly extremely strong. + +“Well,” said Mr. Cuthcott, and his eyes twinkled, “what's your +botheration? I suppose you want to strike out for yourself. MY daughters +did that without consulting me.” + +“Oh! Have you got daughters?” + +“Yes—funny ones; older than you.” + +“That's why you understand, then.” + +Mr. Cuthcott smiled. “They WERE a liberal education!” + +And Nedda thought: 'Poor Dad, I wonder if I am!' + +“Yes,” Mr. Cuthcott murmured, “who would think a gosling would ever +become a goose?” + +“Ah!” said Nedda eagerly, “isn't it wonderful how things grow?” + +She felt his eyes suddenly catch hold of hers. + +“You're in love!” he said. + +It seemed to her a great piece of luck that he had found that out. It +made everything easy at once, and her words came out pell-mell. + +“Yes, and I haven't told my people yet. I don't seem able. He's given me +something to do, and I haven't much experience.” + +A funny little wriggle passed over Mr. Cuthcott's face. “Yes, yes; go +on! Tell us about it.” + +She took a sip from her glass, and the feeling that he had been going to +laugh passed away. + +“It's about the daughter of a laborer, down there in Worcestershire, +where he lives, not very far from Becket. He's my cousin, Derek, the +son of my other uncle at Joyfields. He and his sister feel most awfully +strongly about the laborers.” + +“Ah!” said Mr. Cuthcott, “the laborers! Queer how they're in the air, +all of a sudden.” + +“This girl hasn't been very good, and she has to go from the village, or +else her family have. He wants me to find a place for her in London.” + +“I see; and she hasn't been very good?” + +“Not very.” She knew that her cheeks were flushing, but her eyes felt +steady, and seeing that his eyes never moved, she did not mind. She went +on: + +“It's Sir Gerald Malloring's estate. Lady Malloring—won't—” + +She heard a snap. Mr. Cuthcott's mouth had closed. + +“Oh!” he said, “say no more!” + +'He CAN bite nicely!' she thought. + +Mr. Cuthcott, who had begun lightly thumping the little table with his +open hand, broke out suddenly: + +“That petty bullying in the country! I know it! My God! Those prudes, +those prisms! They're the ruination of half the girls on the—” He looked +at Nedda and stopped short. “If she can do any kind of work, I'll find +her a place. In fact, she'd better come, for a start, under my old +housekeeper. Let your cousin know; she can turn up any day. Name? Wilmet +Gaunt? Right you are!” He wrote it on his cuff. + +Nedda rose to her feet, having an inclination to seize his hand, or +stroke his head, or something. She subsided again with a fervid sigh, +and sat exchanging with him a happy smile. At last she said: + +“Mr. Cuthcott, is there any chance of things like that changing?” + +“Changing?” He certainly had grown paler, and was again lightly +thumping the table. “Changing? By gum! It's got to change! This d—d +pluto-aristocratic ideal! The weed's so grown up that it's choking us. +Yes, Miss Freeland, whether from inside or out I don't know yet, but +there's a blazing row coming. Things are going to be made new before +long.” + +Under his thumps the little plates had begun to rattle and leap. And +Nedda thought: 'I DO like him.' + +But she said anxiously: + +“You believe there's something to be done, then? Derek is simply full of +it; I want to feel like that, too, and I mean to.” + +His face grew twinkly; he put out his hand. And wondering a little +whether he meant her to, Nedda timidly stretched forth her own and +grasped it. + +“I like you,” he said. “Love your cousin and don't worry.” + +Nedda's eyes slipped into the distance. + +“But I'm afraid for him. If you saw him, you'd know.” + +“One's always afraid for the fellows that are worth anything. There was +another young Freeland at your uncle's the other night—” + +“My brother Alan!” + +“Oh! your brother? Well, I wasn't afraid for him, and it seemed a pity. +Have some of this; it's about the only thing they do well here.” + +“Oh, thank you, no. I've had a lovely lunch. Mother and I generally have +about nothing.” And clasping her hands she added: + +“This is a secret, isn't it, Mr. Cuthcott?” + +“Dead.” + +He laughed and his face melted into a mass of wrinkles. Nedda laughed +also and drank up the rest of her wine. She felt blissful. + +“Yes,” said Mr. Cuthcott, “there's nothing like loving. How long have +you been at it?” + +“Only five days, but it's everything.” + +Mr. Cuthcott sighed. “That's right. When you can't love, the only thing +is to hate.” + +“Oh!” said Nedda. + +Mr. Cuthcott again began banging on the little table. “Look at them, +look at them!” His eyes wandered angrily about the room, wherein sat +some few who had passed though the mills of gentility. “What do they +know of life? Where are their souls and sympathies? They haven't any. +I'd like to see their blood flow, the silly brutes.” + +Nedda looked at them with alarm and curiosity. They seemed to her +somewhat like everybody she knew. She said timidly: “Do you think OUR +blood ought to flow, too?” + +Mr. Cuthcott relapsed into twinkles. “Rather! Mine first!” + +'He IS human!' thought Nedda. And she got up: “I'm afraid I ought to go +now. It's been awfully nice. Thank you so very much. Good-by!” + +He shook her firm little hand with his frail thin one, and stood smiling +till the restaurant door cut him off from her view. + +The streets seemed so gorgeously full of life now that Nedda's head +swam. She looked at it all with such absorption that she could not tell +one thing from another. It seemed rather long to the Tottenham Court +Road, though she noted carefully the names of all the streets she +passed, and was sure she had not missed it. She came at last to one +called POULTRY. 'Poultry!' she thought; 'I should have remembered +that—Poultry?' And she laughed. It was so sweet and feathery a laugh +that the driver of an old four-wheeler stopped his horse. He was old and +anxious-looking, with a gray beard and deep folds in his red cheeks. + +“Poultry!” she said. “Please, am I right for the Tottenham Court Road?” + +The old man answered: “Glory, no, miss; you're goin' East!” + +'East!' thought Nedda; 'I'd better take him.' And she got in. She sat +in the four-wheeler, smiling. And how far this was due to Chardonnet she +did not consider. She was to love and not worry. It was wonderful! In +this mood she was put down, still smiling, at the Tottenham Court Road +Tube, and getting out her purse she prepared to pay the cabman. The +fare would be a shilling, but she felt like giving him two. He looked so +anxious and worn, in spite of his red face. He took them, looked at her, +and said: “Thank you, miss; I wanted that.” + +“Oh!” murmured Nedda, “then please take this, too. It's all I happen to +have, except my Tube fare.” + +The old man took it, and water actually ran along his nose. + +“God bless yer!” he said. And taking up his whip, he drove off quickly. + +Rather choky, but still glowing, Nedda descended to her train. It was +not till she was walking to the Spaniard's Road that a cloud seemed to +come over her sky, and she reached home dejected. + +In the garden of the Freelands' old house was a nook shut away by +berberis and rhododendrons, where some bees were supposed to make honey, +but, knowing its destination, and belonging to a union, made no more +than they were obliged. In this retreat, which contained a rustic bench, +Nedda was accustomed to sit and read; she went there now. And her eyes +began filling with tears. Why must the poor old fellow who had driven +her look so anxious and call on God to bless her for giving him that +little present? Why must people grow old and helpless, like that +Grandfather Gaunt she had seen at Becket? Why was there all the tyranny +that made Derek and Sheila so wild? And all the grinding poverty that +she herself could see when she went with her mother to their Girls' +Club, in Bethnal Green? What was the use of being young and strong if +nothing happened, nothing was really changed, so that one got old and +died seeing still the same things as before? What was the use even of +loving, if love itself had to yield to death? The trees! How they grew +from tiny seeds to great and beautiful things, and then slowly, slowly +dried and decayed away to dust. What was the good of it all? What +comfort was there in a God so great and universal that he did not care +to keep her and Derek alive and loving forever, and was not interested +enough to see that the poor old cab-driver should not be haunted day and +night with fear of the workhouse for himself and an old wife, perhaps? +Nedda's tears fell fast, and how far THIS was Chardonnet no one could +tell. + +Felix, seeking inspiration from the sky in regard to 'The Last of the +Laborers,' heard a noise like sobbing, and, searching, found his little +daughter sitting there and crying as if her heart would break. The sight +was so unusual and so utterly disturbing that he stood rooted, quite +unable to bring her help. Should he sneak away? Should he go for Flora? +What should he do? Like many men whose work keeps them centred within +themselves, he instinctively avoided everything likely to pain or +trouble him; for this reason, when anything did penetrate those +mechanical defences he became almost strangely tender. Loath, for +example, to believe that any one was ill, if once convinced of it, +he made so good a nurse that Flora, at any rate, was in the habit of +getting well with suspicious alacrity. Thoroughly moved now, he sat down +on the bench beside Nedda, and said: + +“My darling!” + +She leaned her forehead against his arm and sobbed the more. + +Felix waited, patting her far shoulder gently. + +He had often dealt with such situations in his books, and now that +one had come true was completely at a loss. He could not even begin to +remember what was usually said or done, and he only made little soothing +noises. + +To Nedda this tenderness brought a sudden sharp sense of guilt and +yearning. She began: + +“It's not because of that I'm crying, Dad, but I want you to know that +Derek and I are in love.” + +The words: 'You! What! In those few days!' rose, and got as far as +Felix's teeth; he swallowed them and went on patting her shoulder. Nedda +in love! He felt blank and ashy. That special feeling of owning her +more than any one else, which was so warming and delightful, so really +precious—it would be gone! What right had she to take it from him, thus, +without warning! Then he remembered how odious he had always said the +elderly were, to spoke the wheels of youth, and managed to murmur: + +“Good luck to you, my pretty!” + +He said it, conscious that a father ought to be saying: + +'You're much too young, and he's your cousin!' But what a father ought +to say appeared to him just then both sensible and ridiculous. Nedda +rubbed her cheek against his hand. + +“It won't make any difference, Dad, I promise you!” + +And Felix thought: 'Not to you, only to me!' But he said: + +“Not a scrap, my love! What WERE you crying about?” + +“About the world; it seems so heartless.” + +And she told him about the water that had run along the nose of the old +four-wheeler man. + +But while he seemed to listen, Felix thought: 'I wish to God I were made +of leather; then I shouldn't feel as if I'd lost the warmth inside me. +I mustn't let her see. Fathers ARE queer—I always suspected that. There +goes my work for a good week!' Then he answered: + +“No, my dear, the world is not heartless; it's only arranged according +to certain necessary contraries: No pain, no pleasure; no dark, no +light, and the rest of it. If you think, it couldn't be arranged +differently.” + +As he spoke a blackbird came running with a chuckle from underneath +the berberis, looked at them with alarm, and ran back. Nedda raised her +face. + +“Dad, I mean to do something with my life!” + +Felix answered: + +“Yes. That's right.” + +But long after Nedda had fallen into dreams that night, he lay awake, +with his left foot enclosed between Floras', trying to regain that sense +of warmth which he knew he must never confess to having lost. + + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +Flora took the news rather with the air of a mother-dog that says to her +puppy: “Oh, very well, young thing! Go and stick your teeth in it +and find out for yourself!” Sooner or later this always happened, and +generally sooner nowadays. Besides, she could not help feeling that she +would get more of Felix, to her a matter of greater importance than +she gave sign of. But inwardly the news had given her a shock almost as +sharp as that felt by him. Was she really the mother of one old enough +to love? Was the child that used to cuddle up to her in the window-seat +to be read to, gone from her; that used to rush in every morning at all +inconvenient moments of her toilet; that used to be found sitting in the +dark on the stairs, like a little sleepy owl, because, for-sooth, it was +so 'cosey'? + +Not having seen Derek, she did not as yet share her husband's anxiety on +that score, though his description was dubious: + +“Upstanding young cockerel, swinging his sporran and marching to pipes—a +fine spurn about him! Born to trouble, if I know anything, trying to +sweep the sky with his little broom!” + +“Is he a prig?” + +“No-o. There's simplicity about his scorn, and he seems to have been +brought up on facts, not on literature, like most of these young +monkeys. The cousinship I don't think matters; Kirsteen brings in too +strong an out-strain. He's HER son, not Tod's. But perhaps,” he added, +sighing, “it won't last.” + +Flora shook her head. “It will last!” she said; “Nedda's deep.” + +And if Nedda held, so would Fate; no one would throw Nedda over! They +naturally both felt that. 'Dionysus at the Well,' no less than 'The Last +of the Laborers,' had a light week of it. + +Though in a sense relieved at having parted with her secret, Nedda yet +felt that she had committed desecration. Suppose Derek should mind her +people knowing! + +On the day that he and Sheila were to come, feeling she could not trust +herself to seem even reasonably calm, she started out, meaning to go +to the South Kensington Museum and wander the time away there; but once +out-of-doors the sky seemed what she wanted, and, turning down the hill +on the north side, she sat down under a gorse bush. Here tramps, coming +in to London, passed the night under the stars; here was a vision, +however dim, of nature. And nature alone could a little soothe her +ecstatic nerves. + +How would he greet her? Would he be exactly as he was when they stood at +the edge of Tod's orchard, above the dreamy, darkening fields, joining +hands and lips, moved as they had never been moved before? + +May blossom was beginning to come out along the hedge of the private +grounds that bordered that bit of Cockney Common, and from it, warmed by +the sun, the scent stole up to her. Familiar, like so many children +of the cultured classes, with the pagan and fairy-tales of nature, she +forgot them all the moment she was really by herself with earth and +sky. In their breadth, their soft and stirring continuity, they rejected +bookish fancy, and woke in her rapture and yearning, a sort of long +delight, a never-appeased hunger. Crouching, hands round knees, she +turned her face to get the warmth of the sun, and see the white clouds +go slowly by, and catch all the songs that the birds sang. And every now +and then she drew a deep breath. It was true what Dad had said: There +was no real heartlessness in nature. It was warm, beating, breathing. +And if things ate each other, what did it matter? They had lived and +died quickly, helping to make others live. The sacred swing and circle +of it went on forever, full and harmonious under the lighted sky, under +the friendly stars. It was wonderful to be alive! And all done by love. +Love! More, more, more love! And then death, if it must come! For, after +all, to Nedda death was so far away, so unimaginably dim and distant, +that it did not really count. + +While she sat, letting her fingers, that were growing slowly black, +scrabble the grass and fern, a feeling came on her of a Presence, a +creature with wings above and around, that seemed to have on its face a +long, mysterious smile of which she, Nedda, was herself a tiny twinkle. +She would bring Derek here. They two would sit together and let the +clouds go over them, and she would learn all that he really thought, and +tell him all her longings and fears; they would be silent, too, loving +each other too much to talk. She made elaborate plans of what they were +to do and see, beginning with the East End and the National Gallery, +and ending with sunrise from Parliament Hill; but she somehow knew that +nothing would happen as she had designed. If only the first moment were +not different from what she hoped! + +She sat there so long that she rose quite stiff, and so hungry that she +could not help going home and stealing into the kitchen. It was three +o'clock, and the old cook, as usual, asleep in an armchair, with her +apron thrown up between her face and the fire. What would Cookie say +if she knew? In that oven she had been allowed to bake in fancy perfect +little doll loaves, while Cookie baked them in reality. Here she had +watched the mysterious making of pink cream, had burned countless 'goes' +of toffy, and cocoanut ice; and tasted all kinds of loveliness. Dear +old Cookie! Stealing about on tiptoe, seeking what she might devour, she +found four small jam tarts and ate them, while the cook snored softly. +Then, by the table, that looked so like a great loaf-platter, she stood +contemplating cook. Old darling, with her fat, pale, crumply face! Hung +to the dresser, opposite, was a little mahogany looking-glass tilted +forward. Nedda could see herself almost down to her toes. 'I mean to +be prettier than I am!' she thought, putting her hands on her waist. +'I wonder if I can pull them in a bit!' Sliding her fingers under her +blouse, she began to pull at certain strings. They would not budge. They +were loose, yes, really too comfortable. She would have to get the next +size smaller! And dropping her chin, she rubbed it on the lace edging of +her chest, where it felt warm and smelled piny. Had Cookie ever been in +love? Her gray hairs were coming, poor old duck! The windows, where a +protection of wire gauze kept out the flies, were opened wide, and +the sun shone in and dimmed the fire. The kitchen clock ticked like a +conscience; a faint perfume of frying-pan and mint scented the air. And, +for the first time since this new sensation of love had come to her, +Nedda felt as if a favorite book, read through and done with, were +dropping from her hands. The lovely times in that kitchen, in every nook +of that old house and garden, would never come again! Gone! She felt +suddenly cast down to sadness. They HAD been lovely times! To be +deserting in spirit all that had been so good to her—it seemed like a +crime! She slid down off the table and, passing behind the cook, put +her arms round those substantial sides. Without meaning to, out of +sheer emotion, she pressed them somewhat hard, and, as from a concertina +emerges a jerked and drawn-out chord, so from the cook came a long, +quaking sound; her apron fell, her body heaved, and her drowsy, flat, +soft voice, greasy from pondering over dishes, murmured: + +“Ah, Miss Nedda! it's you, my dear! Bless your pretty 'eart.” + +But down Nedda's cheeks, behind her, rolled two tears. + +“Cookie, oh, Cookie!” And she ran out.... + +And the first moment? It was like nothing she had dreamed of. Strange, +stiff! One darting look, and then eyes down; one convulsive squeeze, +then such a formal shake of hot, dry hands, and off he had gone with +Felix to his room, and she with Sheila to hers, bewildered, biting down +consternation, trying desperately to behave 'like a little lady,' as her +old nurse would have put it—before Sheila, especially, whose hostility +she knew by instinct she had earned. All that evening, furtive watching, +formal talk, and underneath a ferment of doubt and fear and longing. All +a mistake! An awful mistake! Did he love her? Heaven! If he did not, +she could never face any one again. He could not love her! His eyes +were like those of a swan when its neck is drawn up and back in anger. +Terrible—having to show nothing, having to smile at Sheila, at Dad, and +Mother! And when at last she got to her room, she stood at the window +and at first simply leaned her forehead against the glass and shivered. +What had she done? Had she dreamed it all—dreamed that they had stood +together under those boughs in the darkness, and through their lips +exchanged their hearts? She must have dreamed it! Dreamed that most +wonderful, false dream! And the walk home in the thunder-storm, and his +arm round her, and her letters, and his letter—dreamed it all! And +now she was awake! From her lips came a little moan, and she sank down +huddled, and stayed there ever so long, numb and chilly. Undress—go +to bed? Not for the world. By the time the morning came she had got to +forget that she had dreamed. For very shame she had got to forget that; +no one should see. Her cheeks and ears and lips were burning, but her +body felt icy cold. Then—what time she did not know at all—she felt she +must go out and sit on the stairs. They had always been her comforters, +those wide, shallow, cosey stairs. Out and down the passage, past all +their rooms—his the last—to the dark stairs, eerie at night, where the +scent of age oozed out of the old house. All doors below, above, were +closed; it was like looking down into a well, to sit with her head +leaning against the banisters. And silent, so silent—just those faint +creakings that come from nowhere, as it might be the breathing of the +house. She put her arms round a cold banister and hugged it hard. It +hurt her, and she embraced it the harder. The first tears of self-pity +came welling up, and without warning a great sob burst out of her. +Alarmed at the sound, she smothered her mouth with her arm. No good; +they came breaking out! A door opened; all the blood rushed to her heart +and away from it, and with a little dreadful gurgle she was silent. Some +one was listening. How long that terrible listening lasted she had no +idea; then footsteps, and she was conscious that it was standing in +the dark behind her. A foot touched her back. She gave a little gasp. +Derek's voice whispered hoarsely: + +“What? Who are you?” + +And, below her breath, she answered: “Nedda.” + +His arms wrenched her away from the banister, his voice in her ear said: + +“Nedda, darling, Nedda!” + +But despair had sunk too deep; she could only quiver and shake and try +to drive sobbing out of her breath. Then, most queer, not his words, nor +the feel of his arms, comforted her—any one could pity!—but the smell +and the roughness of his Norfolk jacket. So he, too, had not been in +bed; he, too, had been unhappy! And, burying her face in his sleeve, she +murmured: + +“Oh, Derek! Why?” + +“I didn't want them all to see. I can't bear to give it away. Nedda, +come down lower and let's love each other!” + +Softly, stumbling, clinging together, they went down to the last turn of +the wide stairs. How many times had she not sat there, in white frocks, +her hair hanging down as now, twisting the tassels of little programmes +covered with hieroglyphics only intelligible to herself, talking +spasmodically to spasmodic boys with budding 'tails,' while Chinese +lanterns let fall their rose and orange light on them and all the other +little couples as exquisitely devoid of ease. Ah! it was worth those +hours of torture to sit there together now, comforting each other with +hands and lips and whisperings. It was more, as much more than that +moment in the orchard, as sun shining after a Spring storm is more than +sun in placid mid-July. To hear him say: “Nedda, I love you!” to feel +it in his hand clasped on her heart was much more, now that she knew how +difficult it was for him to say or show it, except in the dark with her +alone. Many a long day they might have gone through together that would +not have shown her so much of his real heart as that hour of whispering +and kisses. + +He had known she was unhappy, and yet he couldn't! It had only made him +more dumb! It was awful to be like that! But now that she knew, she was +glad to think that it was buried so deep in him and kept for her alone. +And if he did it again she would just know that it was only shyness and +pride. And he was not a brute and a beast, as he insisted. But suppose +she had chanced not to come out! Would she ever have lived through the +night? And she shivered. + +“Are you cold, darling? Put on my coat.” + +It was put on her in spite of all effort to prevent him. Never was +anything so warm, so delicious, wrapping her in something more than +Harris tweed. And the hall clock struck—Two! + +She could just see his face in the glimmer that filtered from the +skylight at the top. And she felt that he was learning her, learning all +that she had to give him, learning the trust that was shining through +her eyes. There was just enough light for them to realize the old house +watching from below and from above—a glint on the dark floor there, +on the dark wall here; a blackness that seemed to be inhabited by some +spirit, so that their hands clutched and twitched, when the tiny, tiny +noises of Time, playing in wood and stone, clicked out. + +That stare of the old house, with all its knowledge of lives past, of +youth and kisses spent and gone, of hopes spun and faiths abashed, the +old house cynical, stirred in them desire to clutch each other close and +feel the thrill of peering out together into mystery that must hold +for them so much of love and joy and trouble! And suddenly she put her +fingers to his face, passed them softly, clingingly, over his hair, +forehead, eyes, traced the sharp cheek-bones down to his jaw, round +by the hard chin up to his lips, over the straight bone of his nose, +lingering, back, to his eyes again. + +“Now, if I go blind, I shall know you. Give me one kiss, Derek. You MUST +be tired.” + +Buried in the old dark house that kiss lasted long; then, tiptoeing—she +in front—pausing at every creak, holding breath, they stole up to their +rooms. And the clock struck—Three! + + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +Felix (nothing if not modern) had succumbed already to the feeling that +youth ruled the roost. Whatever his misgivings, his and Flora's sense of +loss, Nedda must be given a free hand! Derek gave no outward show of his +condition, and but for his little daughter's happy serenity Felix would +have thought as she had thought that first night. He had a feeling that +his nephew rather despised one so soaked in mildness and reputation as +Felix Freeland; and he got on better with Sheila, not because she was +milder, but because she was devoid of that scornful tang which clung +about her brother. No! Sheila was not mild. Rich-colored, downright +of speech, with her mane of short hair, she was a no less startling +companion. The smile of Felix had never been more whimsically employed +than during that ten-day visit. The evening John Freeland came to dinner +was the highwater mark of his alarmed amusement. Mr. Cuthcott, also +bidden, at Nedda's instigation, seemed to take a mischievous delight in +drawing out those two young people in face of their official uncle. The +pleasure of the dinner to Felix—and it was not too great—was in watching +Nedda's face. She hardly spoke, but how she listened! Nor did Derek say +much, but what he did say had a queer, sarcastic twinge about it. + +“An unpleasant young man,” was John's comment afterward. “How the deuce +did he ever come to be Tod's son? Sheila, of course, is one of these +hot-headed young women that make themselves a nuisance nowadays, but +she's intelligible. By the way, that fellow Cuthcott's a queer chap!” + +One subject of conversation at dinner had been the morality of +revolutionary violence. And the saying that had really upset John had +been Derek's: “Conflagration first—morality afterward!” He had looked +at his nephew from under brows which a constant need for rejecting +petitions to the Home Office had drawn permanently down and in toward +the nose, and made no answer. + +To Felix these words had a more sinister significance. With his juster +appreciation both of the fiery and the official points of view, his far +greater insight into his nephew than ever John would have, he saw that +they were more than a mere arrow of controversy. And he made up his mind +that night that he would tackle his nephew and try to find out exactly +what was smouldering within that crisp, black pate. + +Following him into the garden next morning, he said to himself: 'No +irony—that's fatal. Man to man—or boy to boy—whichever it is!' But, +on the garden path, alongside that young spread-eagle, whose dark, +glowering, self-contained face he secretly admired, he merely began: + +“How do you like your Uncle John?” + +“He doesn't like me, Uncle Felix.” + +Somewhat baffled, Felix proceeded: + +“I say, Derek, fortunately or unfortunately, I've some claim now to a +little knowledge of you. You've got to open out a bit to me. What +are you going to do with yourself in life? You can't support Nedda on +revolution.” + +Having drawn this bow at a venture, he paused, doubtful of his wisdom. +A glance at Derek's face confirmed his doubt. It was closer than ever, +more defiant. + +“There's a lot of money in revolution, Uncle Felix—other people's.” + +Dash the young brute! There was something in him! He swerved off to a +fresh line. + +“How do you like London?” + +“I don't like it. But, Uncle Felix, don't you wish YOU were seeing it +for the first time? What books you'd write!” + +Felix felt that unconscious thrust go 'home.' Revolt against staleness +and clipped wings, against the terrible security of his too solid +reputation, smote him. + +“What strikes you most about it, then?” he asked. + +“That it ought to be jolly well blown up. Everybody seems to know that, +too—they look it, anyway, and yet they go on as if it oughtn't.” + +“Why ought it to be blown up?” + +“Well, what's the good of anything while London and all these other big +towns are sitting on the country's chest? England must have been a fine +place once, though!” + +“Some of us think it a fine place still.” + +“Of course it is, in a way. But anything new and keen gets sat on. +England's like an old tom-cat by the fire: too jolly comfortable for +anything!” + +At this support to his own theory that the country was going to the +dogs, owing to such as John and Stanley, Felix thought: 'Out of the +mouths of babes!' But he merely said: “You're a cheerful young man!” + +“It's got cramp,” Derek muttered; “can't even give women votes. Fancy my +mother without a vote! And going to wait till every laborer is off the +land before it attends to them. It's like the port you gave us last +night, Uncle Felix, wonderful crust!” + +“And what is to be your contribution to its renovation?” + +Derek's face instantly resumed its peculiar defiant smile, and Felix +thought: 'Young beggar! He's as close as wax.' After their little +talk, however, he had more understanding of his nephew. His defiant +self-sufficiency seemed more genuine.... + +In spite of his sensations when dining with Felix, John Freeland (little +if not punctilious) decided that it was incumbent on him to have the +'young Tods' to dinner, especially since Frances Freeland had come to +stay with him the day after the arrival of those two young people at +Hampstead. She had reached Porchester Gardens faintly flushed from +the prospect of seeing darling John, with one large cane trunk, and a +hand-bag of a pattern which the man in the shop had told her was the +best thing out. It had a clasp which had worked beautifully in the shop, +but which, for some reason, on the journey had caused her both pain and +anxiety. Convinced, however, that she could cure it and open the bag the +moment she could get to that splendid new pair of pincers in her trunk, +which a man had only yesterday told her were the latest, she still felt +that she had a soft thing, and dear John must have one like it if she +could get him one at the Stores to-morrow. + +John, who had come away early from the Home Office, met her in that +dark hall, to which he had paid no attention since his young wife died, +fifteen years ago. Embracing him, with a smile of love almost timorous +from intensity, Frances Freeland looked him up and down, and, catching +what light there was gleaming on his temples, determined that she had +in her bag, as soon as she could get it open, the very thing for dear +John's hair. He had such a nice moustache, and it was a pity he was +getting bald. Brought to her room, she sat down rather suddenly, +feeling, as a fact, very much like fainting—a condition of affairs to +which she had never in the past and intended never in the future to +come, making such a fuss! Owing to that nice new patent clasp, she had +not been able to get at her smelling-salts, nor the little flask of +brandy and the one hard-boiled egg without which she never travelled; +and for want of a cup of tea her soul was nearly dying within her. Dear +John would never think she had not had anything since breakfast (she +travelled always by a slow train, disliking motion), and she would not +for the world let him know—so near dinner-time, giving a lot of trouble! +She therefore stayed quite quiet, smiling a little, for fear he might +suspect her. Seeing John, however, put her bag down in the wrong place, +she felt stronger. + +“No, darling—not there—in the window.” + +And while he was changing the position of the bag, her heart swelled +with joy because his back was so straight, and with the thought: 'What +a pity the dear boy has never married again! It does so keep a man from +getting moony!' With all that writing and thinking he had to do, such +important work, too, it would have been so good for him, especially at +night. She would not have expressed it thus in words—that would not have +been quite nice—but in thought Frances Freeland was a realist. + +When he was gone, and she could do as she liked, she sat stiller than +ever, knowing by long experience that to indulge oneself in private only +made it more difficult not to indulge oneself in public. It really was +provoking that this nice new clasp should go wrong just this once, and +that the first time it was used! And she took from her pocket a tiny +prayer-book, and, holding it to the light, read the eighteenth psalm—it +was a particularly good one, that never failed her when she felt low—she +used no glasses, and up to the present had avoided any line between the +brows, knowing it was her duty to remain as nice as she could to look +at, so as not to spoil the pleasure of people round about her. Then +saying to herself firmly, “I do not, I WILL not want any tea—but I shall +be glad of dinner!” she rose and opened her cane trunk. Though she knew +exactly where they were, she was some time finding the pincers, because +there were so many interesting things above them, each raising a +different train of thought. A pair of field-glasses, the very latest—the +man had said—for darling Derek; they would be so useful to keep his mind +from thinking about things that it was no good thinking about. And for +dear Flora (how wonderful that she could write poetry—poetry!) a really +splendid, and perfectly new, little pill. She herself had already taken +two, and they had suited her to perfection. For darling Felix a new kind +of eau de cologne, made in Worcester, because that was the only scent +he would use. For her pet Nedda, a piece of 'point de Venise' that she +really could not be selfish enough to keep any longer, especially as she +was particularly fond of it. For Alan, a new kind of tin-opener that +the dear boy would like enormously; he was so nice and practical. For +Sheila, such a nice new novel by Mr. and Mrs. Whirlingham—a bright, +wholesome tale, with such a good description of quite a new country in +it—the dear child was so clever, it would be a change for her. Then, +actually resting on the pincers, she came on her pass-book, recently +made up, containing little or no balance, just enough to get darling +John that bag like hers with the new clasp, which would be so handy for +his papers when he went travelling. And having reached the pincers, she +took them in her hand, and sat down again to be quite quiet a moment, +with her still-dark eyelashes resting on her ivory cheeks and her lips +pressed to a colorless line; for her head swam from stooping over. In +repose, with three flies circling above her fine gray hair, she might +have served a sculptor for a study of the stoic spirit. Then, going to +the bag, her compressed lips twitching, her gray eyes piercing into its +clasp with a kind of distrustful optimism, she lifted the pincers and +tweaked it hard. + +If the atmosphere of that dinner, to which all six from Hampstead came, +was less disturbed than John anticipated, it was due to his sense of +hospitality, and to every one's feeling that controversy would puzzle +and distress Granny. That there were things about which people differed, +Frances Freeland well knew, but that they should so differ as to make +them forget to smile and have good manners would not have seemed right +to her at all. And of this, in her presence, they were all conscious; so +that when they had reached the asparagus there was hardly anything left +that could by any possibility be talked about. And this—for fear of +seeming awkward—they at once proceeded to discuss, Flora remarking that +London was very full. John agreed. + +Frances Freeland, smiling, said: + +“It's so nice for Derek and Sheila to be seeing it like this for the +first time.” + +Sheila said: + +“Why? Isn't it always as full as this?” + +John answered: + +“In August practically empty. They say a hundred thousand people, at +least, go away.” + +“Double!” remarked Felix. + +“The figures are variously given. My estimate—” + +“One in sixty. That shows you!” + +At this interruption of Derek's John frowned slightly. “What does it +show you?” he said. + +Derek glanced at his grandmother. + +“Oh, nothing!” + +“Of course it shows you,” exclaimed Sheila, “what a heartless great +place it is. All 'the world' goes out of town, and 'London's empty!' But +if you weren't told so you'd never know the difference.” + +Derek muttered: “I think it shows more than that.” + +Under the table Flora was touching John's foot warningly; Nedda +attempting to touch Derek's; Felix endeavoring to catch John's eye; Alan +trying to catch Sheila's; John biting his lip and looking carefully at +nothing. Only Frances Freeland was smiling and gazing lovingly at dear +Derek, thinking he would be so handsome when he had grown a nice black +moustache. And she said: + +“Yes, dear. What were you going to say?” + +Derek looked up. + +“Do you really want it, Granny?” + +Nedda murmured across the table: “No, Derek.” + +Frances Freeland raised her brows quizzically. She almost looked arch. + +“But of course I do, darling. I want to hear immensely. It's so +interesting.” + +“Derek was going to say, Mother”—every one at once looked at Felix, who +had thus broken in—“that all we West-End people—John and I and Flora and +Stanley, and even you—all we people born in purple and fine linen, are +so accustomed to think we're all that matters, that when we're out of +London there's nobody in it. He meant to say that this is appalling +enough, but that what is still more appalling is the fact that we really +ARE all that matters, and that if people try to disturb us, we can, and +jolly well will, take care they don't disturb us long. Is that what you +meant, Derek?” + +Derek turned a rather startled look on Felix. + +“What he meant to say,” went on Felix, “was, that age and habit, vested +interests, culture and security sit so heavy on this country's chest, +that aspiration may wriggle and squirm but will never get from under. +That, for all we pretend to admire enthusiasm and youth, and the rest of +it, we push it out of us just a little faster than it grows up. Is that +what you meant, Derek?” + +“You'll try to, but you won't succeed!” + +“I'm afraid we shall, and with a smile, too, so that you won't see us +doing it.” + +“I call that devilish.” + +“I call it natural. Look at a man who's growing old; notice how very +gracefully and gradually he does it. Take my hair—your aunt says she +can't tell the difference from month to month. And there it is, or +rather isn't—little by little.” + +Frances Freeland, who during Felix's long speech had almost closed her +eyes, opened them, and looked piercingly at the top of his head. + +“Darling,” she said, “I've got the very thing for it. You must take some +with you when you go tonight. John is going to try it.” + +Checked in the flow of his philosophy, Felix blinked like an owl +surprised. + +“Mother,” he said, “YOU only have the gift of keeping young.” + +“Oh! my dear, I'm getting dreadfully old. I have the greatest difficulty +in keeping awake sometimes when people are talking. But I mean to fight +against it. It's so dreadfully rude, and ugly, too; I catch myself +sometimes with my mouth open.” + +Flora said quietly: “Granny, I have the very best thing for that—quite +new!” + +A sweet but rather rueful smile passed over Frances Freeland's face. +“Now,” she said, “you're chaffing me,” and her eyes looked loving. + +It is doubtful if John understood the drift of Felix's exordium, it is +doubtful if he had quite listened—he having so much to not listen to at +the Home Office that the practice was growing on him. A vested interest +to John was a vested interest, culture was culture, and security was +certainly security—none of them were symbols of age. Further, the social +question—at least so far as it had to do with outbreaks of youth and +enthusiasm—was too familiar to him to have any general significance +whatever. What with women, labor people, and the rest of it, he had no +time for philosophy—a dubious process at the best. A man who had to get +through so many daily hours of real work did not dissipate his energy +in speculation. But, though he had not listened to Felix's remarks, they +had ruffled him. There is no philosophy quite so irritating as that of +a brother! True, no doubt, that the country was in a bad way, but as to +vested interests and security, that was all nonsense! The guilty causes +were free thought and industrialism. + +Having seen them all off to Hampstead, he gave his mother her good-night +kiss. He was proud of her, a wonderful woman, who always put a good face +on everything! Even her funny way of always having some new thing or +other to do you good—even that was all part of her wanting to make the +best of things. She never lost her 'form'! + +John worshipped that kind of stoicism which would die with its head up +rather than live with its tail down. Perhaps the moment of which he was +most proud in all his life was that, when, at the finish of his school +mile, he overheard a vulgar bandsman say: “I like that young ——'s +running; he breathes through his —— nose.” At that moment, if he had +stooped to breathe through his mouth, he must have won; as it was he had +lost in great distress and perfect form. + +When, then, he had kissed Frances Freeland, and watched her ascend the +stairs, breathless because she WOULD breathe through her nose to the +very last step, he turned into his study, lighted his pipe, and sat +down to a couple of hours of a report upon the forces of constabulary +available in the various counties, in the event of any further +agricultural rioting, such as had recently taken place on a mild scale +in one or two districts where there was still Danish blood. He worked +at the numbers steadily, with just that engineer's touch of mechanical +invention which had caused him to be so greatly valued in a department +where the evolution of twelve policemen out of ten was constantly +desired. His mastery of figures was highly prized, for, while it had +not any of that flamboyance which has come from America and the game of +poker, it possessed a kind of English optimism, only dangerous when, as +rarely happened, it was put to the test. He worked two full pipes long, +and looked at the clock. Twelve! No good knocking off just yet! He had +no liking for bed this many a long year, having, from loyalty to memory +and a drier sense of what became one in the Home Department, preserved +his form against temptations of the flesh. Yet, somehow, to-night he +felt no spring, no inspiration, in his handling of county constabulary. +A kind of English stolidity about them baffled him—ten of them remained +ten. And leaning that forehead, whose height so troubled Frances +Freeland, on his neat hand, he fell to brooding. Those young people with +everything before them! Did he envy them? Or was he glad of his own age? +Fifty! Fifty already; a fogey! An official fogey! For all the world like +an umbrella, that every day some one put into a stand and left there +till it was time to take it out again. Neatly rolled, too, with an +elastic and button! And this fancy, which had never come to him before, +surprised him. One day he, too, would wear out, slit all up his seams, +and they would leave him at home, or give him away to the butler. + +He went to the window. A scent of—of May, or something! And nothing in +sight save houses just like his own! He looked up at the strip of sky +privileged to hang just there. He had got a bit rusty with his stars. +There, however, certainly was Venus. And he thought of how he had stood +by the ship's rail on that honeymoon trip of his twenty years ago, +giving his young wife her first lesson in counting the stars. And +something very deep down, very mossed and crusted over in John's heart, +beat and stirred, and hurt him. Nedda—he had caught her looking at that +young fellow just as Anne had once looked at him, John Freeland, now +an official fogey, an umbrella in a stand. There was a policeman! +How ridiculous the fellow looked, putting one foot before the other, +flirting his lantern and trying the area gates! This confounded scent +of hawthorn—could it be hawthorn?—got here into the heart of London! The +look in that girl's eyes! What was he about, to let them make him feel +as though he could give his soul for a face looking up into his own, +for a breast touching his, and the scent of a woman's hair. Hang it! He +would smoke a cigarette and go to bed! He turned out the light and began +to mount the stairs; they creaked abominably—the felt must be wearing +out. A woman about the place would have kept them quiet. Reaching the +landing of the second floor, he paused a moment from habit, to look down +into the dark hall. A voice, thin, sweet, almost young, said: + +“Is that you, darling?” John's heart stood still. What—was that? Then he +perceived that the door of the room that had been his wife's was open, +and remembered that his mother was in there. + +“What! Aren't you asleep, Mother?” + +Frances Freeland's voice answered cheerfully: “Oh, no, dear; I'm never +asleep before two. Come in.” + +John entered. Propped very high on her pillows, in perfect regularity, +his mother lay. Her carved face was surmounted by a piece of fine lace, +her thin, white fingers on the turnover of the sheet moved in continual +interlocking, her lips smiled. + +“There's something you must have,” she said. “I left my door open on +purpose. Give me that little bottle, darling.” + +John took from a small table by the bed a still smaller bottle. Frances +Freeland opened it, and out came three tiny white globules. + +“Now,” she said, “pop them in! You've no idea how they'll send you to +sleep! They're the most splendid things; perfectly harmless. Just let +them rest on the tongue and swallow!” + +John let them rest—they were sweetish—and swallowed. + +“How is it, then,” he said, “that you never go to sleep before two?” + +Frances Freeland corked the little bottle, as if enclosing within it +that awkward question. + +“They don't happen to act with me, darling; but that's nothing. It's the +very thing for any one who has to sit up so late,” and her eyes searched +his face. Yes—they seemed to say—I know you pretend to have work; but if +you only had a dear little wife! + +“I shall leave you this bottle when I go. Kiss me.” + +John bent down, and received one of those kisses of hers that had such +sudden vitality in the middle of them, as if her lips were trying to +get inside his cheek. From the door he looked back. She was smiling, +composed again to her stoic wakefulness. + +“Shall I shut the door, Mother?” + +“Please, darling.” + +With a little lump in his throat John closed the door. + + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +The London which Derek had said should be blown up was at its maximum +of life those May days. Even on this outer rampart of Hampstead, people, +engines, horses, all had a touch of the spring fever; indeed, especially +on this rampart of Hampstead was there increase of the effort to believe +that nature was not dead and embalmed in books. The poets, painters, +talkers who lived up there were at each other all the time in their +great game of make-believe. How could it be otherwise, when there was +veritably blossom on the trees and the chimneys were ceasing to smoke? +How otherwise, when the sun actually shone on the ponds? But the four +young people (for Alan joined in—hypnotized by Sheila) did not stay in +Hampstead. Chiefly on top of tram and 'bus they roamed the wilderness. +Bethnal Green and Leytonstone, Kensington and Lambeth, St. James's and +Soho, Whitechapel, Shoreditch, West Ham, and Piccadilly, they traversed +the whole ant-heap at its most ebullient moment. They knew their Whitman +and their Dostoievsky sufficiently to be aware that they ought to love +and delight in everything—in the gentleman walking down Piccadilly with +a flower in his buttonhole, and in the lady sewing that buttonhole in +Bethnal Green; in the orator bawling himself hoarse close to the Marble +Arch, the coster loading his barrow in Covent Garden; and in Uncle John +Freeland rejecting petitions in Whitehall. All these things, of course, +together with the long lines of little gray houses in Camden Town, long +lines of carts with bobtail horses rattling over Blackfriars' Bridge, +long smells drifting behind taxicabs—all these things were as delightful +and as stimulating to the soul as the clouds that trailed the heavens, +the fronds of the lilac, and Leonardo's Cartoon in the Diploma Gallery. +All were equal manifestations of that energy in flower known as 'Life.' +They knew that everything they saw and felt and smelled OUGHT equally to +make them long to catch creatures to their hearts and cry: Hosanna! And +Nedda and Alan, bred in Hampstead, even knew that to admit that these +things did not all move them in the same way would be regarded as a sign +of anaemia. Nevertheless—most queerly—these four young people confessed +to each other all sorts of sensations besides that 'Hosanna' one. They +even confessed to rage and pity and disgust one moment, and to joy and +dreams the next, and they differed greatly as to what excited which. It +was truly odd! The only thing on which they did seem to agree was that +they were having 'a thundering good time.' A sort of sense of “Blow +everything!” was in their wings, and this was due not to the fact that +they were thinking of and loving and admiring the little gray streets +and the gentleman in Piccadilly—as, no doubt, in accordance with modern +culture, they should have been—but to the fact that they were loving and +admiring themselves, and that entirely without the trouble of thinking +about it at all. The practice, too, of dividing into couples was +distinctly precious to them, for, though they never failed to start out +together, they never failed to come home two by two. In this way +did they put to confusion Whitman and Dostoievsky, and all the other +thinkers in Hampstead. In the daytime they all, save Alan, felt +that London ought to be blown up; but at night it undermined their +philosophies so that they sat silent on the tops of their respective +'buses, with arms twined in each other's. For then a something seemed to +have floated up from that mass of houses and machines, of men and trees, +and to be hovering above them, violet-colored, caught between the stars +and the lights, a spirit of such overpowering beauty that it drenched +even Alan in a kind of awe. After all, the huge creature that sat with +such a giant's weight on the country's chest, the monster that had +spoiled so many fields and robbed so many lives of peace and health, +could fly at night upon blue and gold and purple wings, murmur a +passionate lullaby, and fall into deep sleep! + +One such night they went to the gallery at the opera, to supper at an +oyster-shop, under Alan's pilotage, and then set out to walk back to +Hampstead, timing themselves to catch the dawn. They had not gone twenty +steps up Southampton Row before Alan and Sheila were forty steps in +front. A fellow-feeling had made Derek and Nedda stand to watch an old +man who walked, tortuous, extremely happy, bidding them all come. And +when they moved on, it was very slowly, just keeping sight of the others +across the lumbered dimness of Covent Garden, where tarpaulin-covered +carts and barrows seemed to slumber under the blink of lamps and +watchmen's lanterns. Across Long Acre they came into a street where +there was not a soul save the two others, a long way ahead. Walking with +his arm tightly laced with hers, touching her all down one side, Derek +felt that it would be glorious to be attacked by night-birds in this +dark, lonely street, to have a splendid fight and drive them off, +showing himself to Nedda for a man, and her protector. But nothing save +one black cat came near, and that ran for its life. He bent round and +looked under the blue veil-thing that wrapped Nedda's head. Her +face seemed mysteriously lovely, and her eyes, lifted so quickly, +mysteriously true. She said: + +“Derek, I feel like a hill with the sun on it!” + +“I feel like that yellow cloud with the wind in it.” + +“I feel like an apple-tree coming into blossom.” + +“I feel like a giant.” + +“I feel like a song.” + +“I feel I could sing you.” + +“On a river, floating along.” + +“A wide one, with great plains on each side, and beasts coming down +to drink, and either the sun or a yellow moon shining, and some one +singing, too, far off.” + +“The Red Sarafan.” + +“Let's run!” + +From that yellow cloud sailing in moonlight a spurt of rain had driven +into their faces, and they ran as fast as their blood was flowing, and +the raindrops coming down, jumping half the width of the little dark +streets, clutching each other's arms. And peering round into her face, +so sweet and breathless, into her eyes, so dark and dancing, he felt he +could run all night if he had her there to run beside him through the +dark. Into another street they dashed, and again another, till she +stopped, panting. + +“Where are we now?” + +Neither knew. A policeman put them right for Portland Place. Half past +one! And it would be dawn soon after three! They walked soberly again +now into the outer circle of Regent's Park; talked soberly, too, +discussing sublunary matters, and every now and then, their arms, round +each other, gave little convulsive squeezes. The rain had stopped and +the moon shone clear; by its light the trees and flowers were clothed +in colors whose blood had spilled away; the town's murmur was dying, the +house lights dead already. They came out of the park into a road where +the latest taxis were rattling past; a face, a bare neck, silk hat, or +shirt-front gleamed in the window-squares, and now and then a laugh came +floating through. They stopped to watch them from under the low-hanging +branches of an acacia-tree, and Derek, gazing at her face, still wet +with rain, so young and round and soft, thought: 'And she loves me!' +Suddenly she clutched him round the neck, and their lips met. + +They talked not at all for a long time after that kiss, walking slowly +up the long, empty road, while the whitish clouds sailed across the dark +river of the sky and the moon slowly sank. This was the most delicious +part of all that long walk home, for the kiss had made them feel as +though they had no bodies, but were just two spirits walking side by +side. This is its curious effect sometimes in first love between the +very young.... + +Having sent Flora to bed, Felix was sitting up among his books. There +was no need to do this, for the young folk had latch-keys, but, having +begun the vigil, he went on with it, a volume about Eastern philosophies +on his knee, a bowl of narcissus blooms, giving forth unexpected whiffs +of odor, beside him. And he sank into a long reverie. + +Could it be said—as was said in this Eastern book—that man's life was +really but a dream; could that be said with any more truth than it had +once been said, that he rose again in his body, to perpetual life? Could +anything be said with truth, save that we knew nothing? And was that not +really what had always been said by man—that we knew nothing, but were +just blown over and about the world like soughs of wind, in obedience to +some immortal, unknowable coherence! But had that want of knowledge ever +retarded what was known as the upward growth of man? Had it ever stopped +man from working, fighting, loving, dying like a hero if need were? Had +faith ever been anything but embroidery to an instinctive heroism, so +strong that it needed no such trappings? Had faith ever been anything +but anodyne, or gratification of the aesthetic sense? Or had it really +body and substance of its own? Was it something absolute and solid, that +he—Felix Freeland—had missed? Or again, was it, perhaps, but the natural +concomitant of youth, a naive effervescence with which thought and +brooding had to part? And, turning the page of his book, he noticed that +he could no longer see to read, the lamp had grown too dim, and showed +but a decorative glow in the bright moonlight flooding through the study +window. He got up and put another log on the fire, for these last nights +of May were chilly. + +Nearly three! Where were these young people? Had he been asleep, and +they come in? Sure enough, in the hall Alan's hat and Sheila's cloak—the +dark-red one he had admired when she went forth—were lying on a chair. +But of the other two—nothing! He crept up-stairs. Their doors were open. +They certainly took their time—these young lovers. And the same sore +feeling which had attacked Felix when Nedda first told him of her love +came on him badly in that small of the night when his vitality was +lowest. All the hours she had spent clambering about him, or quietly +resting on his knee with her head tucked in just where his arm and +shoulder met, listening while he read or told her stories, and now and +again turning those clear eyes of hers wide open to his face, to see +if he meant it; the wilful little tugs of her hand when they two went +exploring the customs of birds, or bees, or flowers; all her 'Daddy, I +love yous!' and her rushes to the front door, and long hugs when he came +back from a travel; all those later crookings of her little finger in +his, and the times he had sat when she did not know it, watching her, +and thinking: 'That little creature, with all that's before her, is my +very own daughter to take care of, and share joy and sorrow with....' +Each one of all these seemed to come now and tweak at him, as the songs +of blackbirds tweak the heart of one who lies, unable to get out into +the Spring. His lamp had burned itself quite out; the moon was fallen +below the clump of pines, and away to the north-east something stirred +in the stain and texture of the sky. Felix opened the window. What +peace out there! The chill, scentless peace of night, waiting for dawn's +renewal of warmth and youth. Through that bay window facing north he +could see on one side the town, still wan with the light of its lamps, +on the other the country, whose dark bloom was graying fast. Suddenly +a tiny bird twittered, and Felix saw his two truants coming slowly from +the gate across the grass, his arm round her shoulders, hers round his +waist. With their backs turned to him, they passed the corner of the +house, across where the garden sloped away. There they stood above the +wide country, their bodies outlined against a sky fast growing light, +evidently waiting for the sun to rise. Silent they stood, while the +birds, one by one, twittered out their first calls. And suddenly Felix +saw the boy fling his hand up into the air. The Sun! Far away on the +gray horizon was a flare of red! + + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +The anxieties of the Lady Mallorings of this life concerning the moral +welfare of their humbler neighbors are inclined to march in front of +events. The behavior in Tryst's cottage was more correct than it would +have been in nine out of ten middle or upper class demesnes under +similar conditions. Between the big laborer and 'that woman,' who, +since the epileptic fit, had again come into residence, there had passed +nothing whatever that might not have been witnessed by Biddy and her two +nurslings. For love is an emotion singularly dumb and undemonstrative +in those who live the life of the fields; passion a feeling severely +beneath the thumb of a propriety born of the age-long absence of +excitants, opportunities, and the aesthetic sense; and those two waited, +almost as a matter of course, for the marriage which was forbidden them +in this parish. The most they did was to sit and look at one another. + +On the day of which Felix had seen the dawn at Hampstead, Sir Gerald's +agent tapped on the door of Tryst's cottage, and was answered by Biddy, +just in from school for the midday meal. + +“Your father home, my dear?” + +“No, sir; Auntie's in.” + +“Ask your auntie to come and speak to me.” + +The mother-child vanished up the narrow stairs, and the agent sighed. A +strong-built, leathery-skinned man in a brown suit and leggings, with a +bristly little moustache and yellow whites to his eyes, he did not, as +he had said to his wife that morning, 'like the job a little bit.' And +while he stood there waiting, Susie and Billy emerged from the kitchen +and came to stare at him. The agent returned that stare till a voice +behind him said: “Yes, sir?” + +'That woman' was certainly no great shakes to look at: a fresh, decent, +faithful sort of body! And he said gruffly: “Mornin', miss. Sorry to say +my orders are to make a clearance here. I suppose Tryst didn't think +we should act on it, but I'm afraid I've got to put his things out, you +know. Now, where are you all going; that's the point?” + +“I shall go home, I suppose; but Tryst and the children—we don't know.” + +The agent tapped his leggings with a riding-cane. “So you've been +expecting it!” he said with relief. “That's right.” And, staring down +at the mother-child, he added: “Well, what d'you say, my dear; you look +full of sense, you do!” + +Biddy answered: “I'll go and tell Mr. Freeland, sir.” + +“Ah! You're a bright maid. He'll know where to put you for the time +bein'. Have you had your dinner?” + +“No, sir; it's just ready.” + +“Better have it—better have it first. No hurry. What've you got in the +pot that smells so good?” + +“Bubble and squeak, sir.” + +“Bubble and squeak! Ah!” And with those words the agent withdrew to +where, in a farm wagon drawn up by the side of the road, three men were +solemnly pulling at their pipes. He moved away from them a little, for, +as he expressed it to his wife afterward: “Look bad, you know, look +bad—anybody seeing me! Those three little children—that's where it is! +If our friends at the Hall had to do these jobs for themselves, there +wouldn't be any to do!” + +Presently, from his discreet distance, he saw the mother-child going +down the road toward Tod's, in her blue 'pinny' and corn-colored hair. +Nice little thing! Pretty little thing, too! Pity, great pity! And he +went back to the cottage. On his way a thought struck him so that he +well-nigh shivered. Suppose the little thing brought back that Mrs. +Freeland, the lady who always went about in blue, without a hat! Phew! +Mr. Freeland—he was another sort; a bit off, certainly—harmless, quite +harmless! But that lady! And he entered the cottage. The woman was +washing up; seemed a sensible body. When the two kids cleared off to +school he could go to work and get it over; the sooner the better, +before people came hanging round. A job of this kind sometimes made +nasty blood! His yellowish eyes took in the nature of the task before +him. Funny jam-up they did get about them, to be sure! Every blessed +little thing they'd ever bought, and more, too! Have to take precious +good care nothing got smashed, or the law would be on the other leg! And +he said to the woman: + +“Now, miss, can I begin?” + +“I can't stop you, sir.” + +'No,' he thought, 'you can't stop me, and I blamed well wish you could!' +But he said: “Got an old wagon out here. Thought I'd save him damage by +weather or anything; we'll put everything in that, and run it up into +the empty barn at Marrow and leave it. And there they'll be for him when +he wants 'em.” + +The woman answered: “You're very kind, I'm sure.” + +Perceiving that she meant no irony, the agent produced a sound from +somewhere deep and went out to summon his men. + +With the best intentions, however, it is not possible, even in villages +so scattered that they cannot be said to exist, to do anything without +every one's knowing; and the work of 'putting out' the household goods +of the Tryst family, and placing them within the wagon, was not an hour +in progress before the road in front of the cottage contained its knot +of watchers. Old Gaunt first, alone—for the rogue-girl had gone to Mr. +Cuthcott's and Tom Gaunt was at work. The old man had seen evictions +in his time, and looked on silently, with a faint, sardonic grin. Four +children, so small that not even school had any use for them as yet, +soon gathered round his legs, followed by mothers coming to retrieve +them, and there was no longer silence. Then came two laborers, on their +way to a job, a stone-breaker, and two more women. It was through +this little throng that the mother-child and Kirsteen passed into the +fast-being-gutted cottage. + +The agent was standing by Tryst's bed, keeping up a stream of comment +to two of his men, who were taking that aged bed to pieces. It was his +habit to feel less when he talked more; but no one could have fallen +into a more perfect taciturnity than he when he saw Kirsteen coming up +those narrow stairs. In so small a space as this room, where his head +nearly touched the ceiling, was it fair to be confronted by that lady—he +put it to his wife that same evening—“Was it fair?” He had seen a mother +wild duck look like that when you took away its young—snaky fierce about +the neck, and its dark eye! He had seen a mare, going to bite, look not +half so vicious! “There she stood, and—let me have it?—not a bit! Too +much the lady for that, you know!—Just looked at me, and said very +quiet: 'Ah! Mr. Simmons, and are you really doing this?' and put her +hand on that little girl of his. 'Orders are orders, ma'am!' What could +I say? 'Ah!' she said, 'yes, orders are orders, but they needn't be +obeyed.' 'As to that, ma'am,' I said—mind you, she's a lady; you can't +help feeling that 'I'm a working man, the same as Tryst here; got +to earn my living.' 'So have slave-drivers, Mr. Simmons.' 'Every +profession,' I said, 'has got its dirty jobs, ma'am. And that's a fact.' +'And will have,' she said, 'so long as professional men consent to do +the dirty work of their employers.' 'And where should I be, I should +like to know,' I said, 'if I went on that lay? I've got to take the +rough with the smooth.' 'Well,' she said, 'Mr. Freeland and I will take +Tryst and the little ones in at present.' Good-hearted people, do a lot +for the laborers, in their way. All the same, she's a bit of a vixen. +Picture of a woman, too, standin' there; shows blood, mind you! Once +said, all over—no nagging. She took the little girl off with her. And +pretty small I felt, knowing I'd got to finish that job, and the folk +outside gettin' nastier all the time—not sayin' much, of course, but +lookin' a lot!” The agent paused in his recital and gazed fixedly at +a bluebottle crawling up the windowpane. Stretching out his thumb and +finger, he nipped it suddenly and threw it in the grate. “Blest if that +fellow himself didn't turn up just as I was finishing. I was sorry for +the man, you know. There was his home turned out-o'-doors. Big man, too! +'You blanky-blank!' he says; 'if I'd been here you shouldn't ha' done +this!' Thought he was goin' to hit me. 'Come, Tryst!' I said, 'it's not +my doing, you know!' 'Ah!' he said, 'I know that; and it'll be blanky +well the worse for THEM!' Rough tongue; no class of man at all, he is! +'Yes,' he said, 'let 'em look out; I'll be even with 'em yet!' 'None o' +that!' I told him; 'you know which side the law's buttered. I'm making +it easy for you, too, keeping your things in the wagon, ready to shift +any time!' He gave me a look—he's got very queer eyes, swimmin', sad +sort of eyes, like a man in liquor—and he said: 'I've been here twenty +years,' he said. 'My wife died here.' And all of a sudden he went as +dumb as a fish. Never let his eyes off us, though, while we finished up +the last of it; made me feel funny, seein' him glowering like that all +the time. He'll savage something over this, you mark my words!” Again +the agent paused, and remained as though transfixed, holding that face +of his, whose yellow had run into the whites of the eyes, as still +as wood. “He's got some feeling for the place, I suppose,” he said +suddenly; “or maybe they've put it into him about his rights; there's +plenty of 'em like that. Well, anyhow, nobody likes his private affairs +turned inside out for every one to gape at. I wouldn't myself.” And with +that deeply felt remark the agent put out his leathery-yellow thumb and +finger and nipped a second bluebottle.... + +While the agent was thus recounting to his wife the day's doings, the +evicted Tryst sat on the end of his bed in a ground-floor room of Tod's +cottage. He had taken off his heavy boots, and his feet, in their thick, +soiled socks, were thrust into a pair of Tod's carpet slippers. He sat +without moving, precisely as if some one had struck him a blow in the +centre of the forehead, and over and over again he turned the heavy +thought: 'They've turned me out o' there—I done nothing, and they turned +me out o' there! Blast them—they turned me out o' there!'... + +In the orchard Tod sat with a grave and puzzled face, surrounded by +the three little Trysts. And at the wicket gate Kirsteen, awaiting +the arrival of Derek and Sheila—summoned home by telegram—stood in the +evening glow, her blue-clad figure still as that of any worshipper at +the muezzin-call. + + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +“A fire, causing the destruction of several ricks and an empty cowshed, +occurred in the early morning of Thursday on the home farm of Sir Gerald +Malloring's estate in Worcestershire. Grave suspicions of arson +are entertained, but up to the present no arrest has been made. The +authorities are in doubt whether the occurrence has any relation with +recent similar outbreaks in the eastern counties.” + +So Stanley read at breakfast, in his favorite paper; and the little +leader thereon: + +“The outbreak of fire on Sir Gerald Malloring's Worcestershire property +may or may not have any significance as a symptom of agrarian unrest. We +shall watch the upshot with some anxiety. Certain it is that unless the +authorities are prepared to deal sharply with arson, or other cases of +deliberate damage to the property of landlords, we may bid good-by to +any hope of ameliorating the lot of the laborer” + +—and so on. + +If Stanley had risen and paced the room there would have been a good +deal to be said for him; for, though he did not know as much as Felix of +the nature and sentiments of Tod's children, he knew enough to make any +but an Englishman uneasy. The fact that he went on eating ham, and said +to Clara, “Half a cup!” was proof positive of that mysterious quality +called phlegm which had long enabled his country to enjoy the peace of a +weedy duck-pond. + +Stanley, a man of some intelligence—witness his grasp of the secret +of successful plough-making (none for the home market!)—had often +considered this important proposition of phlegm. People said England +was becoming degenerate and hysterical, growing soft, and nervous, and +towny, and all the rest of it. In his view there was a good deal of bosh +about that! “Look,” he would say, “at the weight that chauffeurs put +on! Look at the House of Commons, and the size of the upper classes!” If +there were growing up little shrill types of working men and Socialists, +and new women, and half-penny papers, and a rather larger crop of +professors and long-haired chaps—all the better for the rest of the +country! The flesh all these skimpy ones had lost, solid people had +put on. The country might be suffering a bit from officialism, and the +tendency of modern thought, but the breed was not changing. John Bull +was there all right under his moustache. Take it off and clap on little +side-whiskers, and you had as many Bulls as you liked, any day. There +would be no social upheaval so long as the climate was what it was! And +with this simple formula, and a kind of very deep-down throaty chuckle, +he would pass to a subject of more immediate importance. There was +something, indeed, rather masterly in his grasp of the fact that rain +might be trusted to put out any fire—give it time. And he kept a special +vessel in a special corner which recorded for him faithfully the number +of inches that fell; and now and again he wrote to his paper to say that +there were more inches in his vessel than there had been “for thirty +years.” His conviction that the country was in a bad way was nothing but +a skin affection, causing him local irritation rather than affecting the +deeper organs of his substantial body. + +He did not readily confide in Clara concerning his own family, having +in a marked degree the truly domestic quality of thinking it superior +to his wife's. She had been a Tomson, not one of THE Tomsons, and it was +quite a question whether he or she were trying to forget that fact the +faster. But he did say to her as he was getting into the car: + +“It's just possible I might go round by Tod's on my way home. I want a +run.” + +She answered: “Be careful what you say to that woman. I don't want her +here by any chance. The young ones were quite bad enough.” + +And when he had put in his day at the works he did turn the nose of his +car toward Tod's. Travelling along grass-bordered roads, the beauty of +this England struck his not too sensitive spirit and made him almost +gasp. It was that moment of the year when the countryside seems to faint +from its own loveliness, from the intoxication of its scents and sounds. +Creamy-white may, splashed here and there with crimson, flooded the +hedges in breaking waves of flower-foam; the fields were all buttercup +glory; every tree had its cuckoo, calling; every bush its blackbird or +thrush in full even-song. Swallows were flying rather low, and the sky, +whose moods they watch, had the slumberous, surcharged beauty of a +long, fine day, with showers not far away. Some orchards were still in +blossom, and the great wild bees, hunting over flowers and grasses warm +to their touch, kept the air deeply murmurous. Movement, light, color, +song, scent, the warm air, and the fluttering leaves were confused, till +one had almost become the other. + +And Stanley thought, for he was not rhapsodic 'Wonderful pretty country! +The way everything's looked after—you never see it abroad!' + +But the car, a creature with little patience for natural beauty, had +brought him to the crossroads and stood, panting slightly, under +the cliff-bank whereon grew Tod's cottage, so loaded now with lilac, +wistaria, and roses that from the road nothing but a peak or two of the +thatched roof could be seen. + +Stanley was distinctly nervous. It was not a weakness his face and +figure were very capable of showing, but he felt that dryness of mouth +and quivering of chest which precede adventures of the soul. Advancing +up the steps and pebbled path, which Clara had trodden once, just +nineteen years ago, and he himself but three times as yet in all, he +cleared his throat and said to himself: 'Easy, old man! What is it, +after all? She won't bite!' And in the very doorway he came upon her. + +What there was about this woman to produce in a man of common sense +such peculiar sensations, he no more knew after seeing her than before. +Felix, on returning from his visit, had said, “She's like a Song of +the Hebrides sung in the middle of a programme of English ballads.” The +remark, as any literary man's might, had conveyed nothing to Stanley, +and that in a far-fetched way. Still, when she said: “Will you come in?” +he felt heavier and thicker than he had ever remembered feeling; as +a glass of stout might feel coming across a glass of claret. It was, +perhaps, the gaze of her eyes, whose color he could not determine, under +eyebrows that waved in the middle and twitched faintly, or a dress that +was blue, with the queerest effect of another color at the back of it, +or perhaps the feeling of a torrent flowing there under a coat of ice, +that might give way in little holes, so that your leg went in but +not the whole of you. Something, anyway, made him feel both small and +heavy—that awkward combination for a man accustomed to associate himself +with cheerful but solid dignity. In seating himself by request at a +table, in what seemed to be a sort of kitchen, he experienced a singular +sensation in the legs, and heard her say, as it might be to the air: + +“Biddy, dear, take Susie and Billy out.” + +And thereupon a little girl with a sad and motherly face came crawling +out from underneath the table, and dropped him a little courtesy. Then +another still smaller girl came out, and a very small boy, staring with +all his eyes. + +All these things were against Stanley, and he felt that if he did not +make it quite clear that he was there he would soon not know where he +was. + +“I came,” he said, “to talk about this business up at Malloring's.” And, +encouraged by having begun, he added: “Whose kids were those?” + +A level voice with a faint lisp answered him: + +“They belong to a man called Tryst; he was turned out of his cottage on +Wednesday because his dead wife's sister was staying with him, so we've +taken them in. Did you notice the look on the face of the eldest?” + +Stanley nodded. In truth, he had noticed something, though what he could +not have said. + +“At nine years old she has to do the housework and be a mother to the +other two, besides going to school. This is all because Lady Malloring +has conscientious scruples about marriage with a deceased wife's +sister.” + +'Certainly'—thought Stanley—'that does sound a bit thick!' And he asked: + +“Is the woman here, too?” + +“No, she's gone home for the present.” + +He felt relief. + +“I suppose Malloring's point is,” he said, “whether or not you're to do +what you like with your own property. For instance, if you had let this +cottage to some one you thought was harming the neighborhood, wouldn't +you terminate his tenancy?” + +She answered, still in that level voice: + +“Her action is cowardly, narrow, and tyrannical, and no amount of +sophistry will make me think differently.” + +Stanley felt precisely as if one of his feet had gone through the ice +into water so cold that it seemed burning hot! Sophistry! In a plain man +like himself! He had always connected the word with Felix. He looked +at her, realizing suddenly that the association of his brother's family +with the outrage on Malloring's estate was probably even nearer than he +had feared. + +“Look here, Kirsteen!” he said, uttering the unlikely name with +resolution, for, after all, she was his sister-in-law: “Did this fellow +set fire to Malloring's ricks?” + +He was aware of a queer flash, a quiver, a something all over her face, +which passed at once back to its intent gravity. + +“We have no reason to suppose so. But tyranny produces revenge, as you +know.” + +Stanley shrugged his shoulders. “It's not my business to go into the +rights and wrongs of what's been done. But, as a man of the world and a +relative, I do ask you to look after your youngsters and see they don't +get into a mess. They're an inflammable young couple—young blood, you +know!” + +Having made this speech, Stanley looked down, with a feeling that it +would give her more chance. + +“You are very kind,” he heard her saying in that quiet, faintly lisping +voice; “but there are certain principles involved.” + +And, suddenly, his curious fear of this woman took shape. Principles! He +had unconsciously been waiting for that word, than which none was more +like a red rag to him. + +“What principles can possibly be involved in going against the law?” + +“And where the law is unjust?” + +Stanley was startled, but he said: “Remember that your principles, as +you call them, may hurt other people besides yourself; Tod and your +children most of all. How is the law unjust, may I ask?” + +She had been sitting at the table opposite, but she got up now and went +to the hearth. For a woman of forty-two—as he supposed she would be—she +was extraordinarily lithe, and her eyes, fixed on him from under those +twitching, wavy brows, had a curious glow in their darkness. The few +silver threads in the mass of her over-fine black hair seemed to give it +extra vitality. The whole of her had a sort of intensity that made him +profoundly uncomfortable. And he thought suddenly: 'Poor old Tod! Fancy +having to go to bed with that woman!' + +Without raising her voice, she began answering his question. + +“These poor people have no means of setting law in motion, no means of +choosing where and how they will live, no means of doing anything except +just what they are told; the Mallorings have the means to set the law in +motion, to choose where and how to live, and to dictate to others. That +is why the law is unjust. With every independent pound a year, this +equal law of yours—varies!” + +“Phew!” said Stanley. “That's a proposition!” + +“I give you a simple case. If I had chosen not to marry Tod but to live +with him in free love, we could have done it without inconvenience. We +have some independent income; we could have afforded to disregard what +people thought or did. We could have bought (as we did buy) our piece of +land and our cottage, out of which we could not have been turned. Since +we don't care for society, it would have made absolutely no difference +to our present position. But Tryst, who does not even want to defy the +law—what happens to him? What happens to hundreds of laborers all over +the country who venture to differ in politics, religion, or morals from +those who own them?” + +'By George!' thought Stanley, 'it's true, in a way; I never looked at it +quite like that.' But the feeling that he had come to persuade her to +be reasonable, and the deeply rooted Englishry of him, conspired to make +him say: + +“That's all very well; but, you see, it's only a necessary incident of +property-holding. You can't interfere with plain rights.” + +“You mean—an evil inherent in property-holding?” + +“If you like; I don't split words. The lesser of two evils. What's +your remedy? You don't want to abolish property; you've confessed that +property gives YOU your independence!” + +Again that curious quiver and flash! + +“Yes; but if people haven't decency enough to see for themselves how the +law favors their independence, they must be shown that it doesn't pay to +do to others as they would hate to be done by.” + +“And you wouldn't try reasoning?” + +“They are not amenable to reason.” + +Stanley took up his hat. + +“Well, I think some of us are. I see your point; but, you know, violence +never did any good; it isn't—isn't English.” + +She did not answer. And, nonplussed thereby, he added lamely: “I should +have liked to have seen Tod and your youngsters. Remember me to them. +Clara sent her regards;” and, looking round the room in a rather lost +way, he held out his hand. + +He had an impression of something warm and dry put into it, with even a +little pressure. + +Back in the car, he said to his chauffeur, “Go home the other way, +Batter, past the church.” + +The vision of that kitchen, with its brick floor, its black oak beams, +bright copper pans, the flowers on the window-sill, the great, open +hearth, and the figure of that woman in her blue dress standing before +it, with her foot poised on a log, clung to his mind's eye with curious +fidelity. And those three kids, popping out like that—proof that the +whole thing was not a rather bad dream! 'Queer business!' he thought; +'bad business! That woman's uncommonly all there, though. Lot in what +she said, too. Where the deuce should we all be if there were many like +her!' And suddenly he noticed, in a field to the right, a number of men +coming along the hedge toward the road—evidently laborers. What were +they doing? He stopped the car. There were fifteen or twenty of them, +and back in the field he could see a girl's red blouse, where a little +group of four still lingered. 'By George!' he thought, 'those must +be the young Tods going it!' And, curious to see what it might mean, +Stanley fixed his attention on the gate through which the men were bound +to come. First emerged a fellow in corduroys tied below the knee, with +long brown moustaches decorating a face that, for all its haggardness, +had a jovial look. Next came a sturdy little red-faced, bow-legged man +in shirt-sleeves rolled up, walking alongside a big, dark fellow with a +cap pushed up on his head, who had evidently just made a joke. Then came +two old men, one of whom was limping, and three striplings. Another big +man came along next, in a little clearance, as it were, between main +groups. He walked heavily, and looked up lowering at the car. The +fellow's eyes were queer, and threatening, and sad—giving Stanley a +feeling of discomfort. Then came a short, square man with an impudent, +loquacious face and a bit of swagger in his walk. He, too, looked up at +Stanley and made some remark which caused two thin-faced fellows with +him to grin sheepishly. A spare old man, limping heavily, with a yellow +face and drooping gray moustaches, walked next, alongside a warped, bent +fellow, with yellowish hair all over his face, whose expression struck +Stanley as half-idiotic. Then two more striplings of seventeen or so, +whittling at bits of sticks; an active, clean-shorn chap with drawn-in +cheeks; and, last of all, a small man by himself, without a cap on +a round head covered with thin, light hair, moving at a 'dot-here, +dot-there' walk, as though he had beasts to drive. + +Stanley noted that all—save the big man with the threatening, sad eyes, +the old, yellow-faced man with a limp, and the little man who came out +last, lost in his imaginary beasts—looked at the car furtively as they +went their ways. And Stanley thought: 'English peasant! Poor devil! Who +is he? What is he? Who'd miss him if he did die out? What's the use of +all this fuss about him? He's done for! Glad I've nothing to do with +him at Becket, anyway! “Back to the land!” “Independent peasantry!” +Not much! Shan't say that to Clara, though; knock the bottom out of her +week-ends!' And to his chauffeur he muttered: + +“Get on, Batter!” + +So, through the peace of that country, all laid down in grass, through +the dignity and loveliness of trees and meadows, this May evening, with +the birds singing under a sky surcharged with warmth and color, he sped +home to dinner. + + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +But next morning, turning on his back as it came dawn, Stanley thought, +with the curious intensity which in those small hours so soon becomes +fear: 'By Jove! I don't trust that woman a yard! I shall wire for +Felix!' And the longer he lay on his back, the more the conviction bored +a hole in him. There was a kind of fever in the air nowadays, that women +seemed to catch, as children caught the measles. What did it all mean? +England used to be a place to live in. One would have thought an +old country like this would have got through its infantile diseases! +Hysteria! No one gave in to that. Still, one must look out! Arson was +about the limit! And Stanley had a vision, suddenly, of his plough-works +in flames. Why not? The ploughs were not for the English market. Who +knew whether these laboring fellows mightn't take that as a grievance, +if trouble began to spread? This somewhat far-fetched notion, having +started to burrow, threw up a really horrid mole-hill on Stanley. And +it was only the habit, in the human mind, of saying suddenly to fears: +Stop! I'm tired of you! that sent him to sleep about half past four. + +He did not, however, neglect to wire to Felix: + +“If at all possible, come down again at once; awkward business at +Joyfields.” + +Nor, on the charitable pretext of employing two old fellows past +ordinary work, did he omit to treble his night-watchman.... + +On Wednesday, the day of which he had seen the dawn rise, Felix had +already been startled, on returning from his constitutional, to discover +his niece and nephew in the act of departure. All the explanation +vouchsafed had been: “Awfully sorry, Uncle Felix; Mother's wired for +us.” Save for the general uneasiness which attended on all actions of +that woman, Felix would have felt relieved at their going. They had +disturbed his life, slipped between him and Nedda! So much so that he +did not even expect her to come and tell him why they had gone, nor +feel inclined to ask her. So little breaks the fine coherence of really +tender ties! The deeper the quality of affection, the more it 'starts +and puffs,' and from sheer sensitive feeling, each for the other, spares +attempt to get back into touch! + +His paper—though he did not apply to it the word 'favorite,' having that +proper literary feeling toward all newspapers, that they took him in +rather than he them—gave him on Friday morning precisely the same news, +of the rick-burning, as it gave to Stanley at breakfast and to John on +his way to the Home Office. To John, less in the know, it merely brought +a knitting of the brow and a vague attempt to recollect the numbers +of the Worcestershire constabulary. To Felix it brought a feeling of +sickness. Men whose work in life demands that they shall daily whip +their nerves, run, as a rule, a little in advance of everything. And +goodness knows what he did not see at that moment. He said no word to +Nedda, but debated with himself and Flora what, if anything, was to be +done. Flora, whose sense of humor seldom deserted her, held the more +comfortable theory that there was nothing to be done as yet. Soon enough +to cry when milk was spilled! He did not agree, but, unable to suggest +a better course, followed her advice. On Saturday, however, receiving +Stanley's wire, he had much difficulty in not saying to her, “I told you +so!” The question that agitated him now was whether or not to take +Nedda with him. Flora said: “Yes. The child will be the best restraining +influence, if there is really trouble brewing!” Some feeling fought +against this in Felix, but, suspecting it to be mere jealousy, he +decided to take her. And, to the girl's rather puzzled delight, they +arrived at Becket that day in time for dinner. It was not too reassuring +to find John there, too. Stanley had also wired to him. The matter must +indeed be serious! + +The usual week-end was in progress. Clara had made one of her greatest +efforts. A Bulgarian had providentially written a book in which he +showed, beyond doubt, that persons fed on brown bread, potatoes, and +margarine, gave the most satisfactory results of all. It was a discovery +of the first value as a topic for her dinner-table—seeming to solve the +whole vexed problem of the laborers almost at one stroke. If they could +only be got to feed themselves on this perfect programme, what a saving +of the situation! On those three edibles, the Bulgarian said—and he +had been well translated—a family of five could be maintained at full +efficiency for a shilling per day. Why! that would leave nearly eight +shillings a week, in many cases more, for rent, firing, insurance, the +man's tobacco, and the children's boots. There would be no more of +that terrible pinching by the mothers, to feed the husband and children +properly, of which one heard so much; no more lamentable deterioration +in our stock! Brown bread, potatoes, margarine—quite a great deal could +be provided for seven shillings! And what was more delicious than a +well-baked potato with margarine of good quality? The carbohydrates—or +was it hybocardrates—ah, yes! the kybohardrates—would be present in +really sufficient quantity! Little else was talked of all through dinner +at her end of the table. Above the flowers which Frances Freeland always +insisted on arranging—and very charmingly—when she was there—over bare +shoulders and white shirt-fronts, those words bombed and rebombed. Brown +bread, potatoes, margarine, carbohydrates, calorific! They mingled with +the creaming sizzle of champagne, with the soft murmur of well-bred +deglutition. White bosoms heaved and eyebrows rose at them. And now +and again some Bigwig versed in science murmured the word 'Fats.' +An agricultural population fed to the point of efficiency without +disturbance of the existing state of things! Eureka! If only into the +bargain they could be induced to bake their own brown bread and cook +their potatoes well! Faces flushed, eyes brightened, and teeth shone. It +was the best, the most stimulating, dinner ever swallowed in that room. +Nor was it until each male guest had eaten, drunk, and talked himself +into torpor suitable to the company of his wife, that the three brothers +could sit in the smoking-room together, undisturbed. + +When Stanley had described his interview with 'that woman,' his glimpse +of the red blouse, and the laborers' meeting, there was a silence before +John said: + +“It might be as well if Tod would send his two youngsters abroad for a +bit.” + +Felix shook his head. + +“I don't think he would, and I don't think they'd go. But we might try +to get those two to see that anything the poor devils of laborers do +is bound to recoil on themselves, fourfold. I suppose,” he added, with +sudden malice, “a laborers' rising would have no chance?” + +Neither John nor Stanley winced. + +“Rising? Why should they rise?” + +“They did in '32.” + +“In '32!” repeated John. “Agriculture had its importance then. Now it +has none. Besides, they've no cohesion, no power, like the miners or +railway men. Rising? No chance, no earthly! Weight of metal's dead +against it.” + +Felix smiled. + +“Money and guns! Guns and money! Confess with me, brethren, that we're +glad of metal.” + +John stared and Stanley drank off his whiskey and potash. Felix really +was a bit 'too thick' sometimes. Then Stanley said: + +“Wonder what Tod thinks of it all. Will you go over, Felix, and advise +that our young friends be more considerate to these poor beggars?” + +Felix nodded. And with 'Good night, old man' all round, and no shaking +of the hands, the three brothers dispersed. + +But behind Felix, as he opened his bedroom door, a voice whispered: + +“Dad!” And there, in the doorway of the adjoining room, was Nedda in her +dressing-gown. + +“Do come in for a minute. I've been waiting up. You ARE late.” + +Felix followed her into her room. The pleasure he would once have had +in this midnight conspiracy was superseded now, and he stood blinking at +her gravely. In that blue gown, with her dark hair falling on its lace +collar and her face so round and childish, she seemed more than ever to +have defrauded him. Hooking her arm in his, she drew him to the window; +and Felix thought: 'She just wants to talk to me about Derek. Dog in the +manger that I am! Here goes to be decent!' So he said: + +“Well, my dear?” + +Nedda pressed his hand with a little coaxing squeeze. + +“Daddy, darling, I do love you!” + +And, though Felix knew that she had grasped what he was feeling, a sort +of warmth spread in him. She had begun counting his fingers with one of +her own, sitting close beside him. The warmth in Felix deepened, but he +thought: 'She must want a good deal out of me!' Then she began: + +“Why did we come down again? I know there's something wrong! It's hard +not to know, when you're anxious.” And she sighed. That little sigh +affected Felix. + +“I'd always rather know the truth, Dad. Aunt Clara said something about +a fire at the Mallorings'.” + +Felix stole a look at her. Yes! There was a lot in this child of his! +Depth, warmth, and strength to hold to things. No use to treat her as a +child! And he answered: + +“My dear, there's really nothing beyond what you know—our young man and +Sheila are hotheads, and things over there are working up a bit. We must +try and smooth them down.” + +“Dad, ought I to back him whatever he does?” + +What a question! The more so that one cannot answer superficially the +questions of those whom one loves. + +“Ah!” he said at last. “I don't know yet. Some things it's not your duty +to do; that's certain. It can't be right to do things simply because he +does them—THAT'S not real—however fond one is.” + +“No; I feel that. Only, it's so hard to know what I do really +think—there's always such a lot trying to make one feel that only what's +nice and cosey is right!” + +And Felix thought: 'I've been brought up to believe that only Russian +girls care for truth. It seems I was wrong. The saints forbid I +should be a stumbling-block to my own daughter searching for it! And +yet—where's it all leading? Is this the same child that told me only the +other night she wanted to know everything? She's a woman now! So much +for love!' And he said: + +“Let's go forward quietly, without expecting too much of ourselves.” + +“Yes, Dad; only I distrust myself so.” + +“No one ever got near the truth who didn't.” + +“Can we go over to Joyfields to-morrow? I don't think I could bear a +whole day of Bigwigs and eating, with this hanging—” + +“Poor Bigwigs! All right! We'll go. And now, bed; and think of nothing!” + +Her whisper tickled his ear: + +“You are a darling to me, Dad!” + +He went out comforted. + +And for some time after she had forgotten everything he leaned out of +his window, smoking cigarettes, and trying to see the body and soul of +night. How quiet she was—night, with her mystery, bereft of moon, in +whose darkness seemed to vibrate still the song of the cuckoos that had +been calling so all day! And whisperings of leaves communed with Felix. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +What Tod thought of all this was, perhaps, as much of an enigma to Tod +as to his three brothers, and never more so than on that Sunday morning +when two police constables appeared at his door with a warrant for the +arrest of Tryst. After regarding them fixedly for full thirty seconds, +he said, “Wait!” and left them in the doorway. + +Kirsteen was washing breakfast things which had a leadless glaze, and +Tryst's three children, extremely tidy, stood motionless at the edge of +the little scullery, watching. + +When she had joined him in the kitchen Tod shut the door. + +“Two policemen,” he said, “want Tryst. Are they to have him?” + +In the life together of these two there had, from the very start, been +a queer understanding as to who should decide what. It had become by now +so much a matter of instinct that combative consultations, which bulk so +large in married lives, had no place in theirs. A frowning tremor passed +over her face. + +“I suppose they must. Derek is out. Leave it to me, Tod, and take the +tinies into the orchard.” + +Tod took the three little Trysts to the very spot where Derek and Nedda +had gazed over the darkening fields in exchanging that first kiss, and, +sitting on the stump of the apple-tree he had cut down, he presented +each of them with an apple. While they ate, he stared. And his dog +stared at him. How far there worked in Tod the feelings of an ordinary +man watching three small children whose only parent the law was just +taking into its charge it would be rash to say, but his eyes were +extremely blue and there was a frown between them. + +“Well, Biddy?” he said at last. + +Biddy did not reply; the habit of being a mother had imposed on her, +together with the gravity of her little, pale, oval face, a peculiar +talent for silence. But the round-cheeked Susie said: + +“Billy can eat cores.” + +After this statement, silence was broken only by munching, till Tod +remarked: + +“What makes things?” + +The children, having the instinct that he had not asked them, but +himself, came closer. He had in his hand a little beetle. + +“This beetle lives in rotten wood; nice chap, isn't he?” + +“We kill beetles; we're afraid of them.” So Susie. + +They were now round Tod so close that Billy was standing on one of his +large feet, Susie leaning her elbows on one of his broad knees, and +Biddy's slender little body pressed against his huge arm. + +“No,” said Tod; “beetles are nice chaps.” + +“The birds eats them,” remarked Billy. + +“This beetle,” said Tod, “eats wood. It eats through trees and the trees +get rotten.” + +Biddy spoke: + +“Then they don't give no more apples.” Tod put the beetle down and Billy +got off his foot to tread on it. When he had done his best the beetle +emerged and vanished in the grass. Tod, who had offered no remonstrance, +stretched out his hand and replaced Billy on his foot. + +“What about my treading on you, Billy?” he said. + +“Why?” + +“I'm big and you're little.” + +On Billy's square face came a puzzled defiance. If he had not been early +taught his station he would evidently have found some poignant retort. +An intoxicated humblebee broke the silence by buzzing into Biddy's +fluffed-out, corn-gold hair. Tod took it off with his hand. + +“Lovely chap, isn't he?” + +The children, who had recoiled, drew close again, while the drunken bee +crawled feebly in the cage of Tod's large hand. + +“Bees sting,” said Biddy; “I fell on a bee and it stang me!” + +“You stang it first,” said Tod. “This chap wouldn't sting—not for +worlds. Stroke it!” + +Biddy put out her little, pale finger but stayed it a couple of inches +from the bee. + +“Go on,” said Tod. + +Opening her mouth a little, Biddy went on and touched the bee. + +“It's soft,” she said. “Why don't it buzz?” + +“I want to stroke it, too,” said Susie. And Billy stamped a little on +Tod's foot. + +“No,” said Tod; “only Biddy.” + +There was perfect silence till the dog, rising, approached its nose, +black with a splash of pinky whiteness on the end of the bridge, as if +to love the bee. + +“No,” said Tod. The dog looked at him, and his yellow-brown eyes were +dark with anxiety. + +“It'll sting the dog's nose,” said Biddy, and Susie and Billy came yet +closer. + +It was at this moment, when the heads of the dog, the bee, Tod, Biddy, +Susie, and Billy might have been contained within a noose three feet in +diameter, that Felix dismounted from Stanley's car and, coming from the +cottage, caught sight of that little idyll under the dappled sunlight, +green, and blossom. It was something from the core of life, out of the +heartbeat of things—like a rare picture or song, the revelation of the +childlike wonder and delight, to which all other things are but the +supernumerary casings—a little pool of simplicity into which fever and +yearning sank and were for a moment drowned. And quite possibly he would +have gone away without disturbing them if the dog had not growled and +wagged his tail. + +But when the children had been sent down into the field he experienced +the usual difficulty in commencing a talk with Tod. How far was his big +brother within reach of mere unphilosophic statements; how far was he +going to attend to facts? + +“We came back yesterday,” he began; “Nedda and I. You know all about +Derek and Nedda, I suppose?” + +Tod nodded. + +“What do you think of it?” + +“He's a good chap.” + +“Yes,” murmured Felix, “but a firebrand. This business at +Malloring's—what's it going to lead to, Tod? We must look out, old man. +Couldn't you send Derek and Sheila abroad for a bit?” + +“Wouldn't go.” + +“But, after all, they're dependent on you.” + +“Don't say that to them; I should never see them again.” + +Felix, who felt the instinctive wisdom of that remark, answered +helplessly: + +“What's to be done, then?” + +“Sit tight.” And Tod's hand came down on Felix's shoulder. + +“But suppose they get into real trouble? Stanley and John don't like +it; and there's Mother.” And Felix added, with sudden heat, “Besides, I +can't stand Nedda being made anxious like this.” + +Tod removed his hand. Felix would have given a good deal to have been +able to see into the brain behind the frowning stare of those blue eyes. + +“Can't help by worrying. What must be, will. Look at the birds!” + +The remark from any other man would have irritated Felix profoundly; +coming from Tod, it seemed the unconscious expression of a really felt +philosophy. And, after all, was he not right? What was this life they +all lived but a ceaseless worrying over what was to come? Was not all +man's unhappiness caused by nervous anticipations of the future? Was +not that the disease, and the misfortune, of the age; perhaps of all the +countless ages man had lived through? + +With an effort he recalled his thoughts from that far flight. What if +Tod had rediscovered the secret of the happiness that belonged to birds +and lilies of the field—such overpowering interest in the moment that +the future did not exist? Why not? Were not the only minutes when he +himself was really happy those when he lost himself in work, or love? +And why were they so few? For want of pressure to the square moment. +Yes! All unhappiness was fear and lack of vitality to live the present +fully. That was why love and fighting were such poignant ecstasies—they +lived their present to the full. And so it would be almost comic to say +to those young people: Go away; do nothing in this matter in which your +interest and your feelings are concerned! Don't have a present, because +you've got to have a future! And he said: + +“I'd give a good deal for your power of losing yourself in the moment, +old boy!” + +“That's all right,” said Tod. He was examining the bark of a tree, which +had nothing the matter with it, so far as Felix could see; while his +dog, who had followed them, carefully examined Tod. Both were obviously +lost in the moment. And with a feeling of defeat Felix led the way back +to the cottage. + +In the brick-floored kitchen Derek was striding up and down; while +around him, in an equilateral triangle, stood the three women, Sheila +at the window, Kirsteen by the open hearth, Nedda against the wall +opposite. Derek exclaimed at once: + +“Why did you let them, Father? Why didn't you refuse to give him up?” + +Felix looked at his brother. In the doorway, where his curly head nearly +touched the wood, Tod's face was puzzled, rueful. He did not answer. + +“Any one could have said he wasn't here. We could have smuggled him +away. Now the brutes have got him! I don't know that, though—” And he +made suddenly for the door. + +Tod did not budge. “No,” he said. + +Derek turned; his mother was at the other door; at the window, the two +girls. + +The comedy of this scene, if there be comedy in the face of grief, was +for the moment lost on Felix. + +'It's come,' he thought. 'What now?' + +Derek had flung himself down at the table and was burying his head in +his hands. Sheila went up to him. + +“Don't be a fool, Derek.” + +However right and natural that remark, it seemed inadequate. + +And Felix looked at Nedda. The blue motor scarf she had worn had slipped +off her dark head; her face was white; her eyes, fixed immovably on +Derek, seemed waiting for him to recognize that she was there. The boy +broke out again: + +“It was treachery! We took him in; and now we've given him up. They +wouldn't have touched US if we'd got him away. Not they!” + +Felix literally heard the breathing of Tod on one side of him and of +Kirsteen on the other. He crossed over and stood opposite his nephew. + +“Look here, Derek,” he said; “your mother was quite right. You might +have put this off for a day or two; but it was bound to come. You don't +know the reach of the law. Come, my dear fellow! It's no good making +a fuss, that's childish—the thing is to see that the man gets every +chance.” + +Derek looked up. Probably he had not yet realized that his uncle was in +the room; and Felix was astonished at his really haggard face; as if the +incident had bitten and twisted some vital in his body. + +“He trusted us.” + +Felix saw Kirsteen quiver and flinch, and understood why they had none +of them felt quite able to turn their backs on that display of passion. +Something deep and unreasoning was on the boy's side; something that +would not fit with common sense and the habits of civilized society; +something from an Arab's tent or a Highland glen. Then Tod came up +behind and put his hands on his son's shoulders. + +“Come!” he said; “milk's spilt.” + +“All right!” said Derek gruffly, and he went to the door. + +Felix made Nedda a sign and she slipped out after him. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +Nedda, her blue head-gear trailing, followed along at the boy's side +while he passed through the orchard and two fields; and when he threw +himself down under an ash-tree she, too, subsided, waiting for him to +notice her. + +“I am here,” she said at last. + +At that ironic little speech Derek sat up. + +“It'll kill him,” he said. + +“But—to burn things, Derek! To light horrible cruel flames, and burn +things, even if they aren't alive!” + +Derek said through his teeth: + +“It's I who did it! If I'd never talked to him he'd have been like the +others. They were taking him in a cart, like a calf.” + +Nedda got possession of his hand and held it tight. + +That was a bitter and frightening hour under the faintly rustling +ash-tree, while the wind sprinkled over her flakes of the may blossom, +just past its prime. Love seemed now so little a thing, seemed to have +lost warmth and power, seemed like a suppliant outside a door. Why did +trouble come like this the moment one felt deeply? + +The church bell was tolling; they could see the little congregation pass +across the churchyard into that weekly dream they knew too well. And +presently the drone emerged, mingling with the voices outside, of +sighing trees and trickling water, of the rub of wings, birds' songs, +and the callings of beasts everywhere beneath the sky. + +In spite of suffering because love was not the first emotion in his +heart, the girl could only feel he was right not to be loving her; that +she ought to be glad of what was eating up all else within him. It was +ungenerous, unworthy, to want to be loved at such a moment. Yet she +could not help it! This was her first experience of the eternal tug +between self and the loved one pulled in the hearts of lovers. Would +she ever come to feel happy when he was just doing what he thought +was right? And she drew a little away from him; then perceived that +unwittingly she had done the right thing, for he at once tried to take +her hand again. And this was her first lesson, too, in the nature of +man. If she did not give her hand, he wanted it! But she was not one of +those who calculate in love; so she gave him her hand at once. That +went to his heart; and he put his arm round her, till he could feel the +emotion under those stays that would not be drawn any closer. In this +nest beneath the ash-tree they sat till they heard the organ wheeze and +the furious sound of the last hymn, and saw the brisk coming-forth with +its air of, 'Thank God! And now, to eat!' till at last there was no +stir again about the little church—no stir at all save that of nature's +ceaseless thanksgiving.... + +Tod, his brown face still rueful, had followed those two out into the +air, and Sheila had gone quickly after him. Thus left alone with his +sister-in-law, Felix said gravely: + +“If you don't want the boy to get into real trouble, do all you can to +show him that the last way in the world to help these poor fellows is +to let them fall foul of the law. It's madness to light flames you can't +put out. What happened this morning? Did the man resist?” + +Her face still showed how bitter had been her mortification, and he was +astonished that she kept her voice so level and emotionless. + +“No. He went with them quite quietly. The back door was open; he could +have walked out. I did not advise him to. I'm glad no one saw his face +except myself. You see,” she added, “he's devoted to Derek, and Derek +knows it; that's why he feels it so, and will feel it more and more. The +boy has a great sense of honour, Felix.” + +Under that tranquillity Felix caught the pain and yearning in her voice. +Yes! This woman really felt and saw. She was not one of those who make +disturbance with their brains and powers of criticism; rebellion leaped +out from the heat in her heart. But he said: + +“Is it right to fan this flame? Do you think any good end is being +served?” Waiting for her answer, he found himself gazing at the ghost +of dark down on her upper lip, wondering that he had never noticed it +before. + +Very low, as if to herself, she said: + +“I would kill myself to-day if I didn't believe that tyranny and +injustice must end.” + +“In our time?” + +“Perhaps not.” + +“Are you content to go on working for an Utopia that you will never +see?” + +“While our laborers are treated and housed more like dogs than human +beings, while the best life under the sun—because life on the soil might +be the best life—is despised and starved, and made the plaything of +people's tongues, neither I nor mine are going to rest.” + +The admiration she inspired in Felix at that moment was mingled with a +kind of pity. He said impressively: + +“Do you know the forces you are up against? Have you looked into the +unfathomable heart of this trouble? Understood the tug of the towns, the +call of money to money; grasped the destructive restlessness of +modern life; the abysmal selfishness of people when you threaten their +interests; the age-long apathy of those you want to help? Have you +grasped all these?” + +“And more!” + +Felix held out his hand. “Then,” he said, “you are truly brave!” + +She shook her head. + +“It got bitten into me very young. I was brought up in the Highlands +among the crofters in their worst days. In some ways the people here are +not so badly off, but they're still slaves.” + +“Except that they can go to Canada if they want, and save old England.” + +She flushed. “I hate irony.” + +Felix looked at her with ever-increasing interest; she certainly was of +the kind that could be relied on to make trouble. + +“Ah!” he murmured. “Don't forget that when we can no longer smile we can +only swell and burst. It IS some consolation to reflect that by the time +we've determined to do something really effectual for the ploughmen of +England there'll be no ploughmen left!” + +“I cannot smile at that.” + +And, studying her face, Felix thought, 'You're right there! You'll get +no help from humor.'... + +Early that afternoon, with Nedda between them, Felix and his nephew were +speeding toward Transham. + +The little town—a hamlet when Edmund Moreton dropped the E from his name +and put up the works which Stanley had so much enlarged—had monopolized +by now the hill on which it stood. Living entirely on its ploughs, it +yet had but little of the true look of a British factory town, having +been for the most part built since ideas came into fashion. With its red +roofs and chimneys, it was only moderately ugly, and here and there an +old white, timbered house still testified to the fact that it had once +been country. On this fine Sunday afternoon the population were in the +streets, and presented all that long narrow-headedness, that twist and +distortion of feature, that perfect absence of beauty in face, figure, +and dress, which is the glory of the Briton who has been for three +generations in a town. 'And my great-grandfather'—thought Felix—'did all +this! God rest his soul!' + +At a rather new church on the very top they halted, and went in to +inspect the Morton memorials. There they were, in dedicated corners. +'Edmund and his wife Catherine'—'Charles Edmund and his wife +Florence'—'Maurice Edmund and his wife Dorothy.' Clara had set her foot +down against 'Stanley and his wife Clara' being in the fourth; her soul +was above ploughs, and she, of course, intended to be buried at Becket, +as Clara, dowager Lady Freeland, for her efforts in regard to the land. +Felix, who had a tendency to note how things affected other people, +watched Derek's inspection of these memorials and marked that they +excited in him no tendency to ribaldry. The boy, indeed, could hardly be +expected to see in them what Felix saw—an epitome of the great, perhaps +fatal, change that had befallen his native country; a record of the +beginning of that far-back fever, whose course ran ever faster, which +had emptied country into town and slowly, surely, changed the whole +spirit of life. When Edmund Moreton, about 1780, took the infection +disseminated by the development of machinery, and left the farming of +his acres to make money, that thing was done which they were all now +talking about trying to undo, with their cries of: “Back to the land! +Back to peace and sanity in the shade of the elms! Back to the simple +and patriarchal state of feeling which old documents disclose. Back to +a time before these little squashed heads and bodies and features jutted +every which way; before there were long squashed streets of gray houses; +long squashed chimneys emitting smoke-blight; long squashed rows of +graves; and long squashed columns of the daily papers. Back to well-fed +countrymen who could not read, with Common rights, and a kindly feeling +for old 'Moretons,' who had a kindly feeling for them!” Back to +all that? A dream! Sirs! A dream! There was nothing for it now, +but—progress! Progress! On with the dance! Let engines rip, and the +little, squash-headed fellows with them! Commerce, literature, religion, +science, politics, all taking a hand; what a glorious chance had money, +ugliness, and ill will! Such were the reflections of Felix before the +brass tablet: + + “IN LOVING MEMORY OF + EDMUND MORTON + AND + HIS DEVOTED WIFE + CATHERINE. + + AT REST IN THE LORD. A.D., 1816.” + + +From the church they went about their proper business, to interview a +Mr. Pogram, of the firm of Pogram & Collet, solicitors, in whose hands +the interests of many citizens of Transham and the country round were +almost securely deposited. He occupied, curiously enough, the house +where Edmund Morton himself had lived, conducting his works on the one +hand and the squirearchy of the parish on the other. Incorporated now +into the line of a long, loose street, it still stood rather apart +from its neighbors, behind some large shrubs and trees of the holmoak +variety. + +Mr. Pogram, who was finishing his Sunday after-lunch cigar, was a short, +clean-shaved man with strong cheeks and those rather lustful gray-blue +eyes which accompany a sturdy figure. He rose when they were introduced, +and, uncrossing his fat little thighs, asked what he could do for them. + +Felix propounded the story of the arrest, so far as might be, in words +of one syllable, avoiding the sentimental aspect of the question, and +finding it hard to be on the side of disorder, as any modern writer +might. There was something, however, about Mr. Pogram that reassured +him. The small fellow looked a fighter—looked as if he would sympathize +with Tryst's want of a woman about him. The tusky but soft-hearted +little brute kept nodding his round, sparsely covered head while he +listened, exuding a smell of lavender-water, cigars, and gutta-percha. +When Felix ceased he said, rather dryly: + +“Sir Gerald Malloring? Yes. Sir Gerald's country agents, I rather think, +are Messrs. Porter of Worcester. Quite so.” + +And a conviction that Mr. Pogram thought they should have been Messrs. +Pogram & Collet of Transham confirmed in Felix the feeling that they had +come to the right man. + +“I gather,” Mr. Pogram said, and he looked at Nedda with a glance from +which he obviously tried to remove all earthly desires, “that you, +sir, and your nephew wish to go and see the man. Mrs. Pogram will be +delighted to show Miss Freeland our garden. Your great-grandfather, sir, +on the mother's side, lived in this house. Delighted to meet you; +often heard of your books; Mrs. Pogram has read one—let me see—'The +Bannister,' was it?” + +“'The Balustrade,'” Felix answered gently. + +Mr. Pogram rang the bell. “Quite so,” he said. “Assizes are just over +so that he can't come up for trial till August or September; pity—great +pity! Bail in cases of arson—for a laborer, very doubtful! Ask your +mistress to come, please.” + +There entered a faded rose of a woman on whom Mr. Pogram in his time +had evidently made a great impression. A vista of two or three little +Pograms behind her was hastily removed by the maid. And they all went +into the garden. + +“Through here,” said Mr. Pogram, coming to a side door in the garden +wall, “we can make a short cut to the police station. As we go along I +shall ask you one or two blunt questions.” And he thrust out his under +lip: + +“For instance, what's your interest in this matter?” + +Before Felix could answer, Derek had broken in: + +“My uncle has come out of kindness. It's my affair, sir. The man has +been tyrannously treated.” + +Mr. Pogram cocked his eye. “Yes, yes; no doubt, no doubt! He's not +confessed, I understand?” + +“No; but—” + +Mr. Pogram laid a finger on his lips. + +“Never say die; that's what we're here for. So,” he went on, “you're +a rebel; Socialist, perhaps. Dear me! Well, we're all of us something, +nowadays—I'm a humanitarian myself. Often say to Mrs. Pogram—humanity's +the thing in this age—and so it is! Well, now, what line shall we take?” +And he rubbed his hands. “Shall we have a try at once to upset what +evidence they've got? We should want a strong alibi. Our friends here +will commit if they can—nobody likes arson. I understand he was sleeping +in your cottage. His room, now? Was it on the ground floor?” + +“Yes; but—” + +Mr. Pogram frowned, as who should say: Ah! Be careful! “He had better +reserve his defence and give us time to turn round,” he said rather +shortly. + +They had arrived at the police station and after a little parley were +ushered into the presence of Tryst. + +The big laborer was sitting on the stool in his cell, leaning back +against the wall, his hands loose and open at his sides. His gaze passed +at once from Felix and Mr. Pogram, who were in advance, to Derek; and +the dumb soul seemed suddenly to look through, as one may see all there +is of spirit in a dog reach out to its master. This was the first time +Felix had seen him who had caused already so much anxiety, and that +broad, almost brutal face, with the yearning fidelity in its tragic +eyes, made a powerful impression on him. It was the sort of face one did +not forget and might be glad of not remembering in dreams. What had +put this yearning spirit into so gross a frame, destroying its +solid coherence? Why could not Tryst have been left by nature just a +beer-loving serf, devoid of grief for his dead wife, devoid of longing +for the nearest he could get to her again, devoid of susceptibility to +this young man's influence? And the thought of all that was before the +mute creature, sitting there in heavy, hopeless patience, stung Felix's +heart so that he could hardly bear to look him in the face. + +Derek had taken the man's thick, brown hand; Felix could see with what +effort the boy was biting back his feelings. + +“This is Mr. Pogram, Bob. A solicitor who'll do all he can for you.” + +Felix looked at Mr. Pogram. The little man was standing with arms +akimbo; his face the queerest mixture of shrewdness and compassion, and +he was giving off an almost needlessly strong scent of gutta-percha. + +“Yes, my man,” he said, “you and I are going to have a talk when these +gentlemen have done with you,” and, turning on his heel, he began to +touch up the points of his little pink nails with a penknife, in front +of the constable who stood outside the cell door, with his professional +air of giving a man a chance. + +Invaded by a feeling, apt to come to him in Zoos, that he was watching +a creature who had no chance to escape being watched, Felix also turned; +but, though his eyes saw not, his ears could not help hearing. + +“Forgive me, Bob! It's I who got you into this!” + +“No, sir; naught to forgive. I'll soon be back, and then they'll see!” + +By the reddening of Mr. Pogram's ears Felix formed the opinion that the +little man, also, could hear. + +“Tell her not to fret, Mr. Derek. I'd like a shirt, in case I've got to +stop. The children needn' know where I be; though I an't ashamed.” + +“It may be a longer job than you think, Bob.” + +In the silence that followed Felix could not help turning. The laborer's +eyes were moving quickly round his cell, as if for the first time he +realized that he was shut up; suddenly he brought those big hands of +his together and clasped them between his knees, and again his gaze ran +round the cell. Felix heard the clearing of a throat close by, and, more +than ever conscious of the scent of gutta-percha, grasped its connection +with compassion in the heart of Mr. Pogram. He caught Derek's muttered, +“Don't ever think we're forgetting you, Bob,” and something that sounded +like, “And don't ever say you did it.” Then, passing Felix and the +little lawyer, the boy went out. His head was held high, but tears were +running down his cheeks. Felix followed. + +A bank of clouds, gray-white, was rising just above the red-tiled roofs, +but the sun still shone brightly. And the thought of the big laborer +sitting there knocked and knocked at Felix's heart mournfully, +miserably. He had a warmer feeling for his young nephew than he had ever +had. Mr. Pogram rejoined them soon, and they walked on together, + +“Well?” said Felix. + +Mr. Pogram answered in a somewhat grumpy voice: + +“Not guilty, and reserve defence. You have influence, young man! Dumb +as a waiter. Poor devil!” And not another word did he say till they had +re-entered his garden. + +Here the ladies, surrounded by many little Pograms, were having tea. And +seated next the little lawyer, whose eyes were fixed on Nedda, Felix was +able to appreciate that in happier mood he exhaled almost exclusively +the scent of lavender-water and cigars. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +On their way back to Becket, after the visit to Tryst, Felix and Nedda +dropped Derek half-way on the road to Joyfields. They found that the +Becket household already knew of the arrest. Woven into a dirge on the +subject of 'the Land,' the last town doings, and adventures on golf +courses, it formed the genial topic of the dinner-table; for the +Bulgarian with his carbohydrates was already a wonder of the past. The +Bigwigs of this week-end were quite a different lot from those of three +weeks ago, and comparatively homogeneous, having only three different +plans for settling the land question, none of which, fortunately, +involved any more real disturbance of the existing state of things than +the potato, brown-bread plan, for all were based on the belief held by +the respectable press, and constructive portions of the community, that +omelette can be made without breaking eggs. On one thing alone, the +whole house party was agreed—the importance of the question. Indeed, a +sincere conviction on this point was like the card one produces before +one is admitted to certain functions. No one came to Becket without it; +or, if he did, he begged, borrowed, or stole it the moment he smelled +Clara's special pot-pourri in the hall; and, though he sometimes threw +it out of the railway-carriage window in returning to town, there was +nothing remarkable about that. The conversational debauch of the first +night's dinner—and, alas! there were only two even at Becket during a +week-end—had undoubtedly revealed the feeling, which had set in of +late, that there was nothing really wrong with the condition of the +agricultural laborer, the only trouble being that the unreasonable +fellow did not stay on the land. It was believed that Henry Wiltram, +in conjunction with Colonel Martlett, was on the point of promoting a +policy for imposing penalties on those who attempted to leave it without +good reason, such reason to be left to the discretion of impartial +district boards, composed each of one laborer, one farmer, and one +landowner, decision going by favor of majority. And though opinion was +rather freely expressed that, since the voting would always be two +to one against, this might trench on the liberty of the subject, many +thought that the interests of the country were so much above this +consideration that something of the sort would be found, after all, to +be the best arrangement. The cruder early notions of resettling the land +by fostering peasant proprietorship, with habitable houses and security +of tenure, were already under a cloud, since it was more than suspected +that they would interfere unduly with the game laws and other soundly +vested interests. Mere penalization of those who (or whose fathers +before them) had at great pains planted so much covert, enclosed so much +common, and laid so much country down in grass was hardly a policy for +statesmen. A section of the guests, and that perhaps strongest because +most silent, distinctly favored this new departure of Henry Wiltram's. +Coupled with his swinging corn tax, it was indubitably a stout platform. + +A second section of the guests spoke openly in favor of Lord Settleham's +policy of good-will. The whole thing, they thought, must be voluntary, +and they did not see any reason why, if it were left to the kindness and +good intentions of the landowner, there should be any land question +at all. Boards would be formed in every county on which such model +landowners as Sir Gerald Malloring, or Lord Settleham himself, would +sit, to apply the principles of goodwill. Against this policy the only +criticism was levelled by Felix. He could have agreed, he said, if he +had not noticed that Lord Settleham, and nearly all landowners, were +thoroughly satisfied with their existing good-will and averse to any +changes in their education that might foster an increase of it. If—he +asked—landowners were so full of good-will, and so satisfied that they +could not be improved in that matter, why had they not already done what +was now proposed, and settled the land question? He himself believed +that the land question, like any other, was only capable of settlement +through improvement in the spirit of all concerned, but he found it a +little difficult to credit Lord Settleham and the rest of the landowners +with sincerity in the matter so long as they were unconscious of any +need for their own improvement. According to him, they wanted it both +ways, and, so far as he could see, they meant to have it! + +His use of the word sincere, in connection with Lord Settleham, was +at once pounced on. He could not know Lord Settleham—one of the most +sincere of men. Felix freely admitted that he did not, and hastened to +explain that he did not question the—er—parliamentary sincerity of Lord +Settleham and his followers. He only ventured to doubt whether they +realized the hold that human nature had on them. His experience, he +said, of the houses where they had been bred, and the seminaries +where they had been trained, had convinced him that there was still a +conspiracy on foot to blind Lord Settleham and those others concerning +all this; and, since they were themselves part of the conspiracy, there +was very little danger of their unmasking it. At this juncture Felix +was felt to have exceeded the limit of fair criticism, and only that +toleration toward literary men of a certain reputation, in country +houses, as persons brought there to say clever and irresponsible things, +prevented people from taking him seriously. + +The third section of the guests, unquestionably more static than the +others, confined themselves to pointing out that, though the land +question was undoubtedly serious, nothing whatever would result from +placing any further impositions upon landowners. For, after all, what +was land? Simply capital invested in a certain way, and very poorly at +that. And what was capital? Simply a means of causing wages to be paid. +And whether they were paid to men who looked after birds and dogs, +loaded your guns, beat your coverts, or drove you to the shoot, or paid +to men who ploughed and fertilized the land, what did it matter? To +dictate to a man to whom he was to pay wages was, in the last degree, +un-English. Everybody knew the fate which had come, or was coming, +upon capital. It was being driven out of the country by leaps and +bounds—though, to be sure, it still perversely persisted in yielding +every year a larger revenue by way of income tax. And it would be +dastardly to take advantage of land just because it was the only sort +of capital which could not fly the country in times of need. Stanley +himself, though—as became a host—he spoke little and argued not at all, +was distinctly of this faction; and Clara sometimes felt uneasy lest her +efforts to focus at Becket all interest in the land question should not +quite succeed in outweighing the passivity of her husband's attitude. +But, knowing that it is bad policy to raise the whip too soon, she +trusted to her genius to bring him 'with one run at the finish,' as they +say, and was content to wait. + +There was universal sympathy with the Mallorings. If a model landlord +like Malloring had trouble with his people, who—who should be immune? +Arson! It was the last word! Felix, who secretly shared Nedda's horror +of the insensate cruelty of flames, listened, nevertheless, to the +jubilation that they had caught the fellow, with profound disturbance. +For the memory of the big laborer seated against the wall, his eyes +haunting round his cell, quarrelled fiercely with his natural abhorrence +of any kind of violence, and his equally natural dislike of what brought +anxiety into his own life—and the life, almost as precious, of his +little daughter. Scarcely a word of the evening's conversation but +gave him in high degree the feeling: How glib all this is, how far from +reality! How fatted up with shell after shell of comfort and security! +What do these people know, what do they realize, of the pressure and +beat of raw life that lies behind—what do even I, who have seen this +prisoner, know? For us it's as simple as killing a rat that eats our +corn, or a flea that sucks our blood. Arson! Destructive brute—lock him +up! And something in Felix said: For order, for security, this may be +necessary. But something also said: Our smug attitude is odious! + +He watched his little daughter closely, and several times marked the +color rush up in her face, and once could have sworn he saw tears in +her eyes. If the temper of this talk were trying to him, hardened at a +hundred dinner-tables, what must it be to a young and ardent creature! +And he was relieved to find, on getting to the drawing-room, that she +had slipped behind the piano and was chatting quietly with her Uncle +John.... + +As to whether this or that man liked her, Nedda perhaps was not more +ignorant than other women; and she had noted a certain warmth and +twinkle in Uncle John's eyes the other evening, a certain rather jolly +tendency to look at her when he should have been looking at the +person to whom he was talking; so that she felt toward him a trustful +kindliness not altogether unmingled with a sense that he was in that +Office which controls the destinies of those who 'get into trouble.' The +motives even of statesmen, they say, are mixed; how much more so, then, +of girls in love! Tucked away behind a Steinway, which instinct told +her was not for use, she looked up under her lashes at her uncle's still +military figure and said softly: + +“It was awfully good of you to come, too, Uncle John.” + +And John, gazing down at that round, dark head, and those slim, pretty, +white shoulders, answered: + +“Not at all—very glad to get a breath of fresh air.” + +And he stealthily tightened his white waistcoat—a rite neglected of +late; the garment seemed to him at the moment unnecessarily loose. + +“You have so much experience, Uncle. Do you think violent rebellion is +ever justifiable?” + +“I do not.” + +Nedda sighed. “I'm glad you think that,” she murmured, “because I +don't think it is, either. I do so want you to like Derek, Uncle John, +because—it's a secret from nearly every one—he and I are engaged.” + +John jerked his head up a little, as though he had received a slight +blow. The news was not palatable. He kept his form, however, and +answered: + +“Oh! Really! Ah!” + +Nedda said still more softly: “Please don't judge him by the other +night; he wasn't very nice then, I know.” + +John cleared his throat. + +Instinct warned her that he agreed, and she said rather sadly: + +“You see, we're both awfully young. It must be splendid to have +experience.” + +Over John's face, with its double line between the brows, its double +line in the thin cheeks, its single firm line of mouth beneath a gray +moustache, there passed a little grimace. + +“As to being young,” he said, “that'll change for the—er—better only too +fast.” + +What was it in this girl that reminded him of that one with whom he had +lived but two years, and mourned fifteen? Was it her youth? Was it +that quick way of lifting her eyes, and looking at him with such clear +directness? Or the way her hair grew? Or what? + +“Do you like the people here, Uncle John?” + +The question caught John, as it were, between wind and water. Indeed, +all her queries seemed to be trying to incite him to those wide efforts +of mind which bring into use the philosophic nerve; and it was long +since he had generalized afresh about either things or people, having +fallen for many years past into the habit of reaching his opinions down +out of some pigeonhole or other. To generalize was a youthful practice +that one took off as one takes certain garments off babies when they +come to years of discretion. But since he seemed to be in for it, he +answered rather shortly: “Not at all.” + +Nedda sighed again. + +“Nor do I. They make me ashamed of myself.” + +John, whose dislike of the Bigwigs was that of the dogged worker of this +life for the dogged talkers, wrinkled his brows: + +“How's that?” + +“They make me feel as if I were part of something heavy sitting on +something else, and all the time talking about how to make things +lighter for the thing it's sitting on.” + +A vague recollection of somebody—some writer, a dangerous one—having +said something of this sort flitted through John. + +“Do YOU think England is done for, Uncle—I mean about 'the Land'?” + +In spite of his conviction that 'the country was in a bad way,' John +was deeply, intimately shocked by that simple little question. Done +for! Never! Whatever might be happening underneath, there must be no +confession of that. No! the country would keep its form. The country +would breathe through its nose, even if it did lose the race. It must +never know, or let others know, even if it were beaten. And he said: + +“What on earth put that into your head?” + +“Only that it seems funny, if we're getting richer and richer, and +yet all the time farther and farther away from the life that every one +agrees is the best for health and happiness. Father put it into my head, +making me look at the little, towny people in Transham this afternoon. I +know I mean to begin at once to learn about farm work.” + +“You?” This pretty young thing with the dark head and the pale, slim +shoulders! Farm work! Women were certainly getting queer. In his +department he had almost daily evidence of that! + +“I should have thought art was more in your line!” + +Nedda looked up at him; and he was touched by that look, so straight and +young. + +“It's this. I don't believe Derek will be able to stay in England. When +you feel very strongly about things it must be awfully difficult to.” + +In bewilderment John answered: + +“Why! I should have said this was the country of all others for +movements, and social work, and—and—cranks—” he paused. + +“Yes; but those are all for curing the skin, and I suppose we're really +dying of heart disease, aren't we? Derek feels that, anyway, and, you +see, he's not a bit wise, not even patient—so I expect he'll have to go. +I mean to be ready, anyway.” + +And Nedda got up. “Only, if he does something rash, don't let them hurt +him, Uncle John, if you can help it.” + +John felt her soft fingers squeezing his almost desperately, as if her +emotions had for the moment got out of hand. And he was moved, though he +knew that the squeeze expressed feeling for his nephew, not for himself. +When she slid away out of the big room all friendliness seemed to go +out with her, and very soon after he himself slipped away to the +smoking-room. There he was alone, and, lighting a cigar, because he +still had on his long-tailed coat which did not go with that pipe he +would so much have preferred, he stepped out of the French window into +the warm, dark night. He walked slowly in his evening pumps up a thin +path between columbines and peonies, late tulips, forget-me-nots, and +pansies peering up in the dark with queer, monkey faces. He had a love +for flowers, rather starved for a long time past, and, strangely, liked +to see them, not in the set and orderly masses that should seemingly +have gone with his character, but in wilder beds, where one never knew +what flower was coming next. Once or twice he stopped and bent down, +ascertaining which kind it was, living its little life down there, then +passed on in that mood of stammering thought which besets men of middle +age who walk at night—a mood caught between memory of aspirations spun +and over, and vision of aspirations that refuse to take shape. Why +should they, any more—what was the use? And turning down another path +he came on something rather taller than himself, that glowed in the +darkness as though a great moon, or some white round body, had floated +to within a few feet of the earth. Approaching, he saw it for what it +was—a little magnolia-tree in the full of its white blossoms. Those +clustering flower-stars, printed before him on the dark coat of the +night, produced in John more feeling than should have been caused by a +mere magnolia-tree; and he smoked somewhat furiously. Beauty, seeking +whom it should upset, seemed, like a girl, to stretch out arms and say: +“I am here!” And with a pang at heart, and a long ash on his cigar, +between lips that quivered oddly, John turned on his heel and retraced +his footsteps to the smoking-room. It was still deserted. Taking up a +Review, he opened it at an article on 'the Land,' and, fixing his eyes +on the first page, did not read it, but thought: 'That child! What +folly! Engaged! H'm! To that young—! Why, they're babes! And what is it +about her that reminds me—reminds me—What is it? Lucky devil, Felix—to +have her for daughter! Engaged! The little thing's got her troubles +before her. Wish I had! By George, yes—wish I had!' And with careful +fingers he brushed off the ash that had fallen on his lapel.... + +The little thing who had her troubles before her, sitting in her bedroom +window, had watched his white front and the glowing point of his cigar +passing down there in the dark, and, though she did not know that they +belonged to him, had thought: 'There's some one nice, anyway, who likes +being out instead of in that stuffy drawing-room, playing bridge, and +talking, talking.' Then she felt ashamed of her uncharitableness. After +all, it was wrong to think of them like that. They did it for rest +after all their hard work; and she—she did not work at all! If only Aunt +Kirsteen would let her stay at Joyfields, and teach her all that Sheila +knew! And lighting her candles, she opened her diary to write. + +“Life,” she wrote, “is like looking at the night. One never knows what's +coming, only suspects, as in the darkness you suspect which trees are +what, and try to see whether you are coming to the edge of anything.... +A moth has just flown into my candle before I could stop it! Has it gone +quite out of the world? If so, why should it be different for us? The +same great Something makes all life and death, all light and dark, all +love and hate—then why one fate for one living thing, and the opposite +for another? But suppose there IS nothing after death—would it make me +say: 'I'd rather not live'? It would only make me delight more in life +of every kind. Only human beings brood and are discontented, and trouble +about future life. While Derek and I were sitting in that field this +morning, a bumblebee flew to the bank and tucked its head into the +grass and went to sleep, just tired out with flying and working at its +flowers; it simply snoozed its head down and went off. We ought to live +every minute to the utmost, and when we're tired out, tuck in our heads +and sleep.... If only Derek is not brooding over that poor man! Poor +man—all alone in the dark, with months of misery before him! Poor soul! +Oh! I am sorry for all the unhappiness of people! I can't bear to think +of it. I simply can't.” And dropping her pen, Nedda went again to her +window and leaned out. So sweet the air smelled that it made her ache +with delight to breathe it in. Each leaf that lived out there, each +flower, each blade of grass, were sworn to conspiracy of perfume. And +she thought: 'They MUST all love each other; it all goes together so +beautifully!' Then, mingled with the incense of the night, she caught +the savor of woodsmoke. It seemed to make the whole scent even more +delicious, but she thought, bewildered: 'Smoke! Cruel fire—burning the +wood that once grew leaves like those. Oh! it IS so mixed!' It was a +thought others have had before her. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +To see for himself how it fared with the big laborer at the hands of +Preliminary Justice, Felix went into Transham with Stanley the following +morning. John having departed early for town, the brothers had not +further exchanged sentiments on the subject of what Stanley called 'the +kick-up at Joyfields.' And just as night will sometimes disperse the +brooding moods of nature, so it had brought to all three the feeling: +'Haven't we made too much of this? Haven't we been a little extravagant, +and aren't we rather bored with the whole subject?' Arson was arson; a +man in prison more or less was a man in prison more or less! This was +especially Stanley's view, and he took the opportunity to say to Felix: +“Look here, old man, the thing is, of course, to see it in proportion.” + +It was with this intention, therefore, that Felix entered the building +where the justice of that neighborhood was customarily dispensed. It was +a species of small hall, somewhat resembling a chapel, with distempered +walls, a platform, and benches for the public, rather well filled +that morning—testimony to the stir the little affair had made. Felix, +familiar with the appearance of London police courts, noted the +efforts that had been made to create resemblance to those models of +administration. The justices of the peace, hastily convoked and four in +number, sat on the platform, with a semicircular backing of high gray +screens and a green baize barrier in front of them, so that their legs +and feet were quite invisible. In this way had been preserved the really +essential feature of all human justice—at whose feet it is well known +one must not look! Their faces, on the contrary, were entirely exposed +to view, and presented that pleasing variety of type and unanimity of +expression peculiar to men keeping an open mind. Below them, with his +face toward the public, was placed a gray-bearded man at a table also +covered with green baize, that emblem of authority. And to the side, at +right angles, raised into the air, sat a little terrier of a man, +with gingery, wired hair, obviously the more articulate soul of these +proceedings. As Felix sat down to worship, he noticed Mr. Pogram at +the green baize table, and received from the little man a nod and the +faintest whiff of lavender and gutta-percha. The next moment he +caught sight of Derek and Sheila, screwed sideways against one of the +distempered walls, looking, with their frowning faces, for all the world +like two young devils just turned out of hell. They did not greet him, +and Felix set to work to study the visages of Justice. They impressed +him, on the whole, more favorably than he had expected. The one to his +extreme left, with a gray-whiskered face, was like a large and sleepy +cat of mature age, who moved not, except to write a word now and then on +the paper before him, or to hand back a document. Next to him, a man +of middle age with bald forehead and dark, intelligent eyes seemed +conscious now and again of the body of the court, and Felix thought: +'You have not been a magistrate long.' The chairman, who sat next, with +the moustache of a heavy dragoon and gray hair parted in the middle, +seemed, on the other hand, oblivious of the public, never once looking +at them, and speaking so that they could not hear him, and Felix +thought: 'You have been a magistrate too long.' Between him and the +terrier man, the last of the four wrote diligently, below a clean, red +face with clipped white moustache and little peaked beard. And Felix +thought: 'Retired naval!' Then he saw that they were bringing in Tryst. +The big laborer advanced between two constables, his broad, unshaven +face held high, and his lowering eyes, through which his strange and +tragical soul seemed looking, turned this way and that. Felix, who, no +more than any one else, could keep his gaze off the trapped creature, +felt again all the sensations of the previous afternoon. + +“Guilty? or, Not guilty?” As if repeating something learned by heart, +Tryst answered: “Not guilty, sir.” And his big hands, at his sides, kept +clenching and unclenching. The witnesses, four in number, began now to +give their testimony. A sergeant of police recounted how he had been +first summoned to the scene of burning, and afterward arrested Tryst; +Sir Gerald's agent described the eviction and threats uttered by the +evicted man; two persons, a stone-breaker and a tramp, narrated that +they had seen him going in the direction of the rick and barn at five +o'clock, and coming away therefrom at five-fifteen. Punctuated by the +barking of the terrier clerk, all this took time, during which there +passed through Felix many thoughts. Here was a man who had done a +wicked, because an antisocial, act; the sort of act no sane person could +defend; an act so barbarous, stupid, and unnatural that the very beasts +of the field would turn noses away from it! How was it, then, that he +himself could not feel incensed? Was it that in habitually delving into +the motives of men's actions he had lost the power of dissociating what +a man did from what he was; had come to see him, with his thoughts, +deeds, and omissions, as a coherent growth? And he looked at Tryst. The +big laborer was staring with all his soul at Derek. And, suddenly, he +saw his nephew stand up—tilt his dark head back against the wall—and +open his mouth to speak. In sheer alarm Felix touched Mr. Pogram on the +arm. The little square man had already turned; he looked at that moment +extremely like a frog. + +“Gentlemen, I wish to say—” + +“Who are you? Sit down!” It was the chairman, speaking for the first +time in a voice that could be heard. + +“I wish to say that he is not responsible. I—” + +“Silence! Silence, sir! Sit down!” + +Felix saw his nephew waver, and Sheila pulling at his sleeve; then, to +his infinite relief, the boy sat down. His sallow face was red; his thin +lips compressed to a white line. And slowly under the eyes of the whole +court he grew deadly pale. + +Distracted by fear that the boy might make another scene, Felix followed +the proceedings vaguely. They were over soon enough: Tryst committed, +defence reserved, bail refused—all as Mr. Pogram had predicted. + +Derek and Sheila had vanished, and in the street outside, idle at this +hour of a working-day, were only the cars of the four magistrates; two +or three little knots of those who had been in court, talking of the +case; and in the very centre of the street, an old, dark-whiskered man, +lame, and leaning on a stick. + +“Very nearly being awkward,” said the voice of Mr. Pogram in his ear. “I +say, do you think—no hand himself, surely no real hand himself?” + +Felix shook his head violently. If the thought had once or twice +occurred to him, he repudiated it with all his force when shaped by +another's mouth—and such a mouth, so wide and rubbery! + +“No, no! Strange boy! Extravagant sense of honour—too sensitive, that's +all!” + +“Quite so,” murmured Mr. Pogram soothingly. “These young people! We live +in a queer age, Mr. Freeland. All sorts of ideas about, nowadays. Young +men like that—better in the army—safe in the army. No ideas there!” + +“What happens now?” said Felix. + +“Wait!” said Mr. Pogram. “Nothing else for it—wait. Three months—twiddle +his thumbs. Bad system! Rotten!” + +“And suppose in the end he's proved innocent?” + +Mr. Pogram shook his little round head, whose ears were very red. + +“Ah!” he said: “Often say to my wife: 'Wish I weren't a humanitarian!' +Heart of india-rubber—excellent thing—the greatest blessing. Well, +good-morning! Anything you want to say at any time, let me know!” And +exhaling an overpowering whiff of gutta-percha, he grasped Felix's +hand and passed into a house on the door of which was printed in brazen +letters: “Edward Pogram, James Collet. Solicitors. Agents.” + +On leaving the little humanitarian, Felix drifted back toward the court. +The cars were gone, the groups dispersed; alone, leaning on his stick, +the old, dark-whiskered man stood like a jackdaw with a broken wing. +Yearning, at that moment, for human intercourse, Felix went up to him. + +“Fine day,” he said. + +“Yes, sir, 'tis fine enough.” And they stood silent, side by side. The +gulf fixed by class and habit between soul and human soul yawned before +Felix as it had never before. Stirred and troubled, he longed to open +his heart to this old, ragged, dark-eyed, whiskered creature with the +game leg, who looked as if he had passed through all the thorns and +thickets of hard and primitive existence; he longed that the old fellow +should lay bare to him his heart. And for the life of him he could not +think of any mortal words which might bridge the unreal gulf between +them. At last he said: + +“You a native here?” + +“No, sir. From over Malvern way. Livin' here with my darter, owin' to my +leg. Her 'usband works in this here factory.” + +“And I'm from London,” Felix said. + +“Thart you were. Fine place, London, they say!” + +Felix shook his head. “Not so fine as this Worcestershire of yours.” + +The old man turned his quick, dark gaze. “Aye!” he said, “people'll be +a bit nervy-like in towns, nowadays. The country be a good place for a +healthy man, too; I don't want no better place than the country—never +could abide bein' shut in.” + +“There aren't so very many like you, judging by the towns.” + +The old man smiled—that smile was the reverse of a bitter tonic coated +with sweet stuff to make it palatable. + +“'Tes the want of a life takes 'em,” he said. “There's not a many like +me. There's not so many as can't do without the smell of the earth. With +these 'ere newspapers—'tesn't taught nowadays. The boys and gells they +goes to school, and 'tes all in favor of the towns there. I can't work +no more; I'm 's good as gone meself; but I feel sometimes I'll 'ave to +go back. I don't like the streets, an' I guess 'tes worse in London.” + +“Ah! Perhaps,” Felix said, “there are more of us like you than you +think.” + +Again the old man turned his dark, quick glance. + +“Well, an' I widden say no to that, neither. I've seen 'em terrible +homesick. 'Tes certain sure there's lots would never go, ef 'twasn't so +mortial hard on the land. 'Tisn't a bare livin', after that. An' they're +put upon, right and left they're put upon. 'Tes only a man here and +there that 'as something in 'im too strong. I widden never 'ave stayed +in the country ef 'twasn't that I couldn't stand the town life. 'Tes +like some breeds o' cattle—you take an' put 'em out o' their own +country, an' you 'ave to take an' put 'em back again. Only some breeds, +though. Others they don' mind where they go. Well, I've seen the country +pass in my time, as you might say; where you used to see three men you +only see one now.” + +“Are they ever going back onto the land?” + +“They tark about it. I read my newspaper reg'lar. In some places I see +they're makin' unions. That an't no good.” + +“Why?” + +The old man smiled again. + +“Why! Think of it! The land's different to anythin' else—that's why! +Different work, different hours, four men's work to-day and one's +to-morrow. Work land wi' unions, same as they've got in this 'ere +factory, wi' their eight hours an' their do this an' don' do that? No! +You've got no weather in factories, an' such-like. On the land 'tes a +matter o' weather. On the land a man must be ready for anythin' at any +time; you can't work it no other way. 'Tes along o' God's comin' into +it; an' no use pullin' this way an' that. Union says to me: You mustn't +work after hours. Hoh! I've 'ad to set up all night wi' ship an' cattle +hundreds o' times, an' no extra for it. 'Tes not that way they'll do any +good to keep people on the land. Oh, no!” + +“How, then?” + +“Well, you'll want new laws, o' course, to prevent farmers an' +landowners takin' their advantage; you want laws to build new cottages; +but mainly 'tes a case of hands together; can't be no other—the land's +so ticklish. If 'tesn't hands together, 'tes nothing. I 'ad a master +once that was never content so long's we wasn't content. That farm was +better worked than any in the parish.” + +“Yes, but the difficulty is to get masters that can see the other side; +a man doesn't care much to look at home.” + +The old man's dark eyes twinkled. + +“No; an' when 'e does, 'tes generally to say: 'Lord, an't I right, an' +an't they wrong, just?' That's powerful customary!” + +“It is,” said Felix; “God bless us all!” + +“Ah! You may well say that, sir; an' we want it, too. A bit more wages +wouldn't come amiss, neither. An' a bit more freedom; 'tes a man's +liberty 'e prizes as well as money.” + +“Did you hear about this arson case?” + +The old man cast a glance this way and that before he answered in a +lower voice: + +“They say 'e was put out of his cottage. I've seen men put out for +votin' Liberal; I've seen 'em put out for free-thinkin'; all sorts o' +things I seen em put out for. 'Tes that makes the bad blood. A man wants +to call 'is soul 'is own, when all's said an' done. An' 'e can't, not in +th' old country, unless 'e's got the dibs.” + +“And yet you never thought of emigrating?” + +“Thart of it—ah! thart of it hundreds o' times; but some'ow cudden never +bring mysel' to the scratch o' not seein' th' Beacon any more. I can +just see it from 'ere, you know. But there's not so many like me, an' +gettin' fewer every day.” + +“Yes,” murmured Felix, “that I believe.” + +“'Tes a 'and-made piece o' goods—the land! You has to be fond of it, +same as of your missis and yer chillen. These poor pitiful +fellows that's workin' in this factory, makin' these here Colonial +ploughs—union's all right for them—'tes all mechanical; but a man on the +land, 'e's got to put the land first, whether 'tes his own or some one +else's, or he'll never do no good; might as well go for a postman, any +day. I'm keepin' of you, though, with my tattle!” + +In truth, Felix had looked at the old man, for the accursed question +had begun to worry him: Ought he or not to give the lame old fellow +something? Would it hurt his feelings? Why could he not say simply: +'Friend, I'm better off than you; help me not to feel so unfairly +favored'? Perhaps he might risk it. And, diving into his trousers +pockets, he watched the old man's eyes. If they followed his hand, he +would risk it. But they did not. Withdrawing his hand, he said: + +“Have a cigar?” + +The old fellow's dark face twinkled. + +“I don' know,” he said, “as I ever smoked one; but I can have a darned +old try!” + +“Take the lot,” said Felix, and shuffled into the other's pocket the +contents of his cigar-case. “If you get through one, you'll want the +rest. They're pretty good.” + +“Ah!” said the old man. “Shuldn' wonder, neither.” + +“Good-by. I hope your leg will soon be better.” + +“Thank 'ee, sir. Good-by, thank 'ee!” + +Looking back from the turning, Felix saw him still standing there in the +middle of the empty street. + +Having undertaken to meet his mother, who was returning this afternoon +to Becket, he had still two hours to put away, and passing Mr. Pogram's +house, he turned into a path across a clover-field and sat down on +a stile. He had many thoughts, sitting at the foot of this little +town—which his great-grandfather had brought about. And chiefly he +thought of the old man he had been talking to, sent there, as it seemed +to him, by Providence, to afford a prototype for his 'The Last of the +Laborers.' Wonderful that the old fellow should talk of loving 'the +Land,' whereon he must have toiled for sixty years or so, at a number +of shillings per week, that would certainly not buy the cigars he had +shovelled into that ragged pocket. Wonderful! And yet, a marvellous +sweet thing, when all was said—this land! Changing its sheen and +texture, the feel of its air, its very scent, from day to day. This +land with myriad offspring of flowers and flying folk; the majestic and +untiring march of seasons: Spring and its wistful ecstasy of saplings, +and its yearning, wild, wind-loosened heart; gleam and song, blossom +and cloud, and the swift white rain; each upturned leaf so little and so +glad to flutter; each wood and field so full of peeping things! Summer! +Ah! Summer, when on the solemn old trees the long days shone and +lingered, and the glory of the meadows and the murmur of life and the +scent of flowers bewildered tranquillity, till surcharge of warmth and +beauty brooded into dark passion, and broke! And Autumn, in mellow haze +down on the fields and woods; smears of gold already on the beeches, +smears of crimson on the rowans, the apple-trees still burdened, and a +flax-blue sky well-nigh merging with the misty air; the cattle browsing +in the lingering golden stillness; not a breath to fan the blue smoke +of the weed-fires—and in the fields no one moving—who would disturb such +mellow peace? And Winter! The long spaces, the long dark; and yet—and +yet, what delicate loveliness of twig tracery; what blur of rose and +brown and purple caught in the bare boughs and in the early sunset sky! +What sharp dark flights of birds in the gray-white firmament! Who cared +what season held in its arms this land that had bred them all! + +Not wonderful that into the veins of those who nursed it, tending, +watching its perpetual fertility, should be distilled a love so deep and +subtle that they could not bear to leave it, to abandon its hills, and +greenness, and bird-songs, and all the impress of their forefathers +throughout the ages. + +Like so many of his fellows—cultured moderns, alien to the larger forms +of patriotism, that rich liquor brewed of maps and figures, commercial +profit, and high-cockalorum, which served so perfectly to swell smaller +heads—Felix had a love of his native land resembling love for a woman, +a kind of sensuous chivalry, a passion based on her charm, on her +tranquillity, on the power she had to draw him into her embrace, to make +him feel that he had come from her, from her alone, and into her alone +was going back. And this green parcel of his native land, from which the +half of his blood came, and that the dearest half, had a potency over +his spirit that he might well be ashamed of in days when the true Briton +was a town-bred creature with a foot of fancy in all four corners of the +globe. There was ever to him a special flavor about the elm-girt fields, +the flowery coppices, of this country of the old Moretons, a special +fascination in its full, white-clouded skies, its grass-edged roads, its +pied and creamy cattle, and the blue-green loom of the Malvern hills. +If God walked anywhere for him, it was surely here. Sentiment! Without +sentiment, without that love, each for his own corner, 'the Land' was +lost indeed! Not if all Becket blew trumpets till kingdom came, would +'the Land' be reformed, if they lost sight of that! To fortify men in +love for their motherland, to see that insecurity, grinding poverty, +interference, petty tyranny, could no longer undermine that love—this +was to be, surely must be, done! Monotony? Was that cry true? What work +now performed by humble men was less monotonous than work on the land? +What work was even a tenth part so varied? Never quite the same from +day to day: Now weeding, now hay, now roots, now hedging; now corn, with +sowing, reaping, threshing, stacking, thatching; the care of beasts, +and their companionship; sheep-dipping, shearing, wood-gathering, +apple-picking, cider-making; fashioning and tarring gates; whitewashing +walls; carting; trenching—never, never two days quite the same! +Monotony! The poor devils in factories, in shops, in mines; poor devils +driving 'busses, punching tickets, cleaning roads; baking; cooking; +sewing; typing! Stokers; machine-tenders; brick-layers; dockers; clerks! +Ah! that great company from towns might well cry out: Monotony! True, +they got their holidays; true, they had more social life—a point that +might well be raised at Becket: Holidays and social life for men on the +soil! But—and suddenly Felix thought of the long, long holiday that +was before the laborer Tryst. 'Twiddle his thumbs'—in the words of the +little humanitarian—twiddle his thumbs in a space twelve feet by seven! +No sky to see, no grass to smell, no beast to bear him company; no +anything—for, what resources in himself had this poor creature? No +anything, but to sit with tragic eyes fixed on the wall before him for +eighty days and eighty nights, before they tried him. And then—not till +then—would his punishment for that moment's blind revenge for grievous +wrong begin! What on this earth of God's was more disproportioned, and +wickedly extravagant, more crassly stupid, than the arrangements of his +most perfect creature, man? What a devil was man, who could yet rise to +such sublime heights of love and heroism! What a ferocious brute, the +most ferocious and cold-blooded brute that lived! Of all creatures +most to be stampeded by fear into a callous torturer! 'Fear'—thought +Felix—'fear! Not momentary panic, such as makes our brother animals do +foolish things; conscious, calculating fear, paralyzing the reason of +our minds and the generosity of our hearts. A detestable thing Tryst has +done, a hateful act; but his punishment will be twentyfold as hateful!' + +And, unable to sit and think of it, Felix rose and walked on through the +fields.... + + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +He was duly at Transham station in time for the London train, and, +after a minute consecrated to looking in the wrong direction, he saw +his mother already on the platform with her bag, an air-cushion, and a +beautifully neat roll. + +'Travelling third!' he thought. 'Why will she do these things?' + +Slightly flushed, she kissed Felix with an air of abstraction. + +“How good of you to meet me, darling!” + +Felix pointed in silence to the crowded carriage from which she had +emerged. Frances Freeland looked a little rueful. “It would have been +delightful,” she said. “There was a dear baby there and, of course, I +couldn't have the window down, so it WAS rather hot.” + +Felix, who could just see the dear baby, said dryly: + +“So that's how you go about, is it? Have you had any lunch?” + +Frances Freeland put her hand under his arm. “Now, don't fuss, darling! +Here's sixpence for the porter. There's only one trunk—it's got a violet +label. Do you know them? They're so useful. You see them at once. I must +get you some.” + +“Let me take those things. You won't want this cushion. I'll let the air +out.” + +“I'm afraid you won't be able, dear. It's quite the best screw I've ever +come across—a splendid thing; I can't get it undone.” + +“Ah!” said Felix. “And now we may as well go out to the car!” + +He was conscious of a slight stoppage in his mother's footsteps and +rather a convulsive squeeze of her hand on his arm. Looking at her +face, he discovered it occupied with a process whose secret he could +not penetrate, a kind of disarray of her features, rapidly and severely +checked, and capped with a resolute smile. They had already reached the +station exit, where Stanley's car was snorting. Frances Freeland looked +at it, then, mounting rather hastily, sat, compressing her lips. + +When they were off, Felix said: + +“Would you like to stop at the church and have a look at the brasses to +your grandfather and the rest of them?” + +His mother, who had slipped her hand under his arm again, answered: + +“No, dear; I've seen them. The church is not at all beautiful. I +like the old church at Becket so much better; it is such a pity your +great-grandfather was not buried there.” + +She had never quite got over the lack of 'niceness' about those ploughs. + +Going, as was the habit of Stanley's car, at considerable speed, Felix +was not at first certain whether the peculiar little squeezes his arm +was getting were due to the bounds of the creature under them or to some +cause more closely connected with his mother, and it was not till they +shaved a cart at the turning of the Becket drive that it suddenly dawned +on him that she was in terror. He discovered it in looking round just as +she drew her smile over a spasm of her face and throat. And, leaning out +of the car, he said: + +“Drive very slowly, Batter; I want to look at the trees.” + +A little sigh rewarded him. Since SHE had said nothing, He said nothing, +and Clara's words in the hall seemed to him singularly tactless: + +“Oh! I meant to have reminded you, Felix, to send the car back and take +a fly. I thought you knew that Mother's terrified of motors.” And at his +mother's answer: + +“Oh! no; I quite enjoyed it, dear,” he thought: 'Bless her heart! She IS +a stoic!' + +Whether or no to tell her of the 'kick-up at Joyfields' exercised his +mind. The question was intricate, for she had not yet been informed +that Nedda and Derek were engaged, and Felix did not feel at liberty to +forestall the young people. That was their business. On the other hand, +she would certainly glean from Clara a garbled understanding of the +recent events at Joyfields, if she were not first told of them by +himself. And he decided to tell her, with the natural trepidation of one +who, living among principles and theories, never quite knew what those, +for whom each fact is unrelated to anything else under the moon, were +going to think. Frances Freeland, he knew well, kept facts and theories +especially unrelated, or, rather, modified her facts to suit her +theories, instead of, like Felix, her theories to suit her facts. +For example, her instinctive admiration for Church and State, her +instinctive theory that they rested on gentility and people who were +nice, was never for a moment shaken when she saw a half-starved baby of +the slums. Her heart would impel her to pity and feed the poor little +baby if she could, but to correlate the creature with millions of other +such babies, and those millions with the Church and State, would not +occur to her. And if Felix made an attempt to correlate them for her +she would look at him and think: 'Dear boy! How good he is! I do wish he +wouldn't let that line come in his forehead; it does so spoil it!' +And she would say: “Yes, darling, I know, it's very sad; only I'm NOT +clever.” And, if a Liberal government chanced to be in power, would add: +“Of course, I do think this Government is dreadful. I MUST show you +a sermon of the dear Bishop of Walham. I cut it out of the 'Daily +Mystery.' He puts things so well—he always has such nice ideas.” + +And Felix, getting up, would walk a little and sit down again +too suddenly. Then, as if entreating him to look over her want of +'cleverness,' she would put out a hand that, for all its whiteness, had +never been idle and smooth his forehead. It had sometimes touched him +horribly to see with what despair she made attempts to follow him in his +correlating efforts, and with what relief she heard him cease enough +to let her say: “Yes, dear; only, I must show you this new kind of +expanding cork. It's simply splendid. It bottles up everything!” And +after staring at her just a moment he would acquit her of irony. Very +often after these occasions he had thought, and sometimes said: “Mother, +you're the best Conservative I ever met.” She would glance at him then, +with a special loving doubtfulness, at a loss as to whether or no he had +designed to compliment her. + +When he had given her half an hour to rest he made his way to the +blue corridor, where a certain room was always kept for her, who never +occupied it long enough at a time to get tired of it. She was lying on a +sofa in a loose gray cashmere gown. The windows were open, and the +light breeze just moved in the folds of the chintz curtains and stirred +perfume from a bowl of pinks—her favorite flowers. There was no bed in +this bedroom, which in all respects differed from any other in Clara's +house, as though the spirit of another age and temper had marched in and +dispossessed the owner. Felix had a sensation that one was by no means +all body here. On the contrary. There was not a trace of the body +anywhere; as if some one had decided that the body was not quite nice. +No bed, no wash-stand, no chest of drawers, no wardrobe, no mirror, not +even a jar of Clara's special pot-pourri. And Felix said: + +“This can't be your bedroom, Mother?” + +Frances Freeland answered, with a touch of deprecating quizzicality: + +“Oh yes, darling. I must show you my arrangements.” And she rose. +“This,” she said, “you see, goes under there, and that under here; and +that again goes under this. Then they all go under that, and then I pull +this. It's lovely.” + +“But why?” said Felix. + +“Oh! but don't you see? It's so nice; nobody can tell. And it doesn't +give any trouble.” + +“And when you go to bed?” + +“Oh! I just pop my clothes into this and open that. And there I am. It's +simply splendid.” + +“I see,” said Felix. “Do you think I might sit down, or shall I go +through?” + +Frances Freeland loved him with her eyes, and said: + +“Naughty boy!” + +And Felix sat down on what appeared to be a window-seat. + +“Well,” he said, with slight uneasiness, for she was hovering, “I think +you're wonderful.” + +Frances Freeland put away an impeachment that she evidently felt to be +too soft. + +“Oh! but it's all so simple, darling.” And Felix saw that she had +something in her hand, and mind. + +“This is my little electric brush. It'll do wonders with your hair. +While you sit there, I'll just try it.” + +A clicking and a whirring had begun to occur close to his ear, and +something darted like a gadfly at his scalp. + +“I came to tell you something serious, Mother.” + +“Yes, darling; it'll be simply lovely to hear it; and you mustn't mind +this, because it really is a first-rate thing—quite new.” + +Now, how is it, thought Felix, that any one who loves the new as she +does, when it's made of matter, will not even look at it when it's +made of mind? And, while the little machine buzzed about his head, he +proceeded to detail to her the facts of the state of things that existed +at Joyfields. + +When he had finished, she said: + +“Now, darling, bend down a little.” + +Felix bent down. And the little machine began severely tweaking the +hairs on the nape of his neck. He sat up again rather suddenly. + +Frances Freeland was contemplating the little machine. + +“How very provoking! It's never done that before!” + +“Quite so!” Felix murmured. “But about Joyfields?” + +“Oh, my dear, it IS such a pity they don't get on with those Mallorings! +I do think it sad they weren't brought up to go to church.” + +Felix stared, not knowing whether to be glad or sorry that his recital +had not roused within her the faintest suspicion of disaster. How he +envied her that single-minded power of not seeing further than was +absolutely needful! And suddenly he thought: 'She really is wonderful! +With her love of church, how it must hurt her that we none of us go, not +even John! And yet she never says a word. There really is width +about her; a power of accepting the inevitable. Never was woman more +determined to make the best of a bad job. It's a great quality!' And he +heard her say: + +“Now, darling, if I give you this, you must promise me to use it every +morning. You'll find you'll soon have a splendid crop of little young +hairs.” + +“I know,” he said gloomily; “but they won't come to anything. Age has +got my head, Mother, just as it's got 'the Land's.'” + +“Oh, nonsense! You must go on with it, that's all!” + +Felix turned so that he could look at her. She was moving round the room +now, meticulously adjusting the framed photographs of her family that +were the only decoration of the walls. How formal, chiselled, and +delicate her face, yet how almost fanatically decisive! How frail and +light her figure, yet how indomitably active! And the memory assailed +him of how, four years ago, she had defeated double pneumonia without +having a doctor, simply by lying on her back. 'She leaves trouble,' he +thought, 'until it's under her nose, then simply tells it that it isn't +there. There's something very English about that.' + +She was chasing a bluebottle now with a little fan made of wire, and, +coming close to Felix, said: + +“Have you seen these, darling? You've only to hit the fly and it kills +him at once.” + +“But do you ever hit the fly?” + +“Oh, yes!” And she waved the fan at the bluebottle, which avoided it +without seeming difficulty. + +“I can't bear hurting them, but I DON'T like flies. There!” + +The bluebottle flew out of the window behind Felix and in at the one +that was not behind him. He rose. + +“You ought to rest before tea, Mother.” + +He felt her searching him with her eyes, as if trying desperately to +find something she might bestow upon or do for him. + +“Would you like this wire—” + +With a feeling that he was defrauding love, he turned and fled. She +would never rest while he was there! And yet there was that in her face +which made him feel a brute to go. + +Passing out of the house, sunk in its Monday hush, no vestige of a +Bigwig left, Felix came to that new-walled mound where the old house +of the Moretons had been burned 'by soldiers from Tewkesbury and +Gloucester,' as said the old chronicles dear to the heart of Clara. And +on the wall he sat him down. Above, in the uncut grass, he could see +the burning blue of a peacock's breast, where the heraldic bird stood +digesting grain in the repose of perfect breeding, and below him +gardeners were busy with the gooseberries. 'Gardeners and the +gooseberries of the great!' he thought. 'Such is the future of our +Land.' And he watched them. How methodically they went to work! How +patient and well-done-for they looked! After all, was it not the ideal +future? Gardeners, gooseberries, and the great! Each of the three +content in that station of life into which—! What more could a country +want? Gardeners, gooseberries, and the great! The phrase had a certain +hypnotic value. Why trouble? Why fuss? Gardeners, gooseberries, and +the great! A perfect land! A land dedicate to the week-end! Gardeners, +goose—! And suddenly he saw that he was not alone. Half hidden by the +angle of the wall, on a stone of the foundations, carefully preserved +and nearly embedded in the nettles which Clara had allowed to grow +because they added age to the appearance, was sitting a Bigwig. One of +the Settleham faction, he had impressed Felix alike by his reticence, +the steady sincerity of his gray eyes, a countenance that, beneath a +simple and delicate urbanity, had still in it something of the best type +of schoolboy. 'How comes he to have stayed?' he mused. 'I thought +they always fed and scattered!' And having received an answer to his +salutation, he moved across and said: + +“I imagined you'd gone.” + +“I've been having a look round. It's very jolly here. My affections are +in the North, but I suppose this is pretty well the heart of England.” + +“Near 'the big song,'” Felix answered. “There'll never be anything +more English than Shakespeare, when all's said and done.” And he took a +steady, sidelong squint at his companion. 'This is another of the +types I've been looking for,' he reflected. The peculiar +'don't-quite-touch-me' accent of the aristocrat—and of those who would +be—had almost left this particular one, as though he secretly aspired +to rise superior and only employed it in the nervousness of his first +greetings. 'Yes,' thought Felix, 'he's just about the very best we can +do among those who sit upon 'the Land.' I would wager there's not a +better landlord nor a better fellow in all his class, than this +one. He's chalks away superior to Malloring, if I know anything of +faces—would never have turned poor Tryst out. If this exception were the +rule! And yet—! Does he, can he, go quite far enough to meet the case? +If not—what hope of regeneration from above? Would he give up his +shooting? Could he give up feeling he's a leader? Would he give up +his town house and collecting whatever it is he collects? Could he +let himself sink down and merge till he was just unseen leaven of +good-fellowship and good-will, working in the common bread?' And +squinting at that sincere, clean, charming, almost fine face, he +answered himself unwillingly: 'He could not!' And suddenly he knew that +he was face to face with the tremendous question which soon or late +confronts all thinkers. Sitting beside him—was the highest product of +the present system! With its charm, humanity, courage, chivalry up to a +point, its culture, and its cleanliness, this decidedly rare flower at +the end of a tall stalk, with dark and tortuous roots and rank foliage, +was in a sense the sole justification of power wielded from above. +And was it good enough? Was it quite good enough? Like so many other +thinkers, Felix hesitated to reply. If only merit and the goods of this +world could be finally divorced! If the reward of virtue were just men's +love and an unconscious self-respect! If only 'to have nothing' were the +highest honour! And yet, to do away with this beside him and put in its +place—What? No kiss-me-quick change had a chance of producing anything +better. To scrap the long growth of man and start afresh was but to say: +'Since in the past the best that man has done has not been good enough, +I have a perfect faith in him for the future!' No! That was a creed for +archangels and other extremists. Safer to work on what we had! And he +began: + +“Next door to this estate I'm told there's ten thousand acres almost +entirely grass and covert, owned by Lord Baltimore, who lives in +Norfolk, London, Cannes, and anywhere else that the whim takes him. He +comes down here twice a year to shoot. The case is extremely common. +Surely it spells paralysis. If land is to be owned at all in such great +lumps, owners ought at least to live on the lumps, and to pass very high +examinations as practical farmers. They ought to be the life and soul, +the radiating sun, of their little universes; or else they ought to be +cleared out. How expect keen farming to start from such an example? +It really looks to me as if the game laws would have to go.” And he +redoubled his scrutiny of the Bigwig's face. A little furrow in its brow +had deepened visibly, but nodding, he said: + +“The absentee landlord is a curse, of course. I'm afraid I'm a bit of a +one myself. And I'm bound to say—though I'm keen on shooting—if the game +laws were abolished, it might do a lot.” + +“YOU wouldn't move in that direction, I suppose?” + +The Bigwig smiled—charming, rather whimsical, that smile. + +“Honestly, I'm not up to it. The spirit, you know, but the flesh—! My +line is housing and wages, of course.” + +'There it is,' thought Felix. 'Up to a point, they'll move—not up to THE +point. It's all fiddling. One won't give up his shooting; another won't +give up his power; a third won't give up her week-ends; a fourth won't +give up his freedom. Our interest in the thing is all lackadaisical, a +kind of bun-fight of pet notions. There's no real steam.' And abruptly +changing the subject, he talked of pictures to the pleasant Bigwig +in the sleepy afternoon. Of how this man could paint, and that man +couldn't. And in the uncut grass the peacock slowly moved, displaying +his breast of burning blue; and below, the gardeners worked among the +gooseberries. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +Nedda, borrowing the bicycle of Clara's maid, Sirrett, had been over to +Joyfields, and only learned on her return of her grandmother's arrival. +In her bath before dinner there came to her one of those strategic +thoughts that even such as are no longer quite children will sometimes +conceive. She hurried desperately into her clothes, and, ready full +twenty minutes before the gong was due to sound, made her way to her +grandmother's room. Frances Freeland had just pulled THIS, and, to +her astonishment, THAT had not gone in properly. She was looking at +it somewhat severely, when she heard Nedda's knock. Drawing a screen +temporarily over the imperfection, she said: “Come in!” + +The dear child looked charming in her white evening dress with one red +flower in her hair; and while she kissed her, she noted that the neck +of her dress was just a little too open to be quite nice, and at once +thought: 'I've got the very thing for that.' + +Going to a drawer that no one could have suspected of being there, she +took from it a little diamond star. Getting delicate but firm hold of +the Mechlin at the top of the frock, she popped it in, so that the neck +was covered at least an inch higher, and said: + +“Now, ducky, you're to keep that as a little present. You've no idea +how perfectly it suits you just like this.” And having satisfied for +the moment her sense of niceness and that continual itch to part with +everything she had, she surveyed her granddaughter, lighted up by that +red flower, and said: + +“How sweet you look!” + +Nedda, looking down past cheeks colored by pleasure at the new little +star on a neck rather browned by her day in the sun, murmured: + +“Oh, Granny! it's much too lovely! You mustn't give it to me!” + +These were moments that Frances Freeland loved best in life; and, with +the untruthfulness in which she only indulged when she gave things away, +or otherwise benefited her neighbors with or without their will, she +added: “It's quite wasted; I never wear it myself.” And, seeing Nedda's +smile, for the girl recollected perfectly having admired it during +dinner at Uncle John's, and at Becket itself, she said decisively, “So +that's that!” and settled her down on the sofa. But just as she was +thinking, 'I have the very thing for the dear child's sunburn,' Nedda +said: “Granny, dear, I've been meaning to tell you—Derek and I are +engaged.” + +For the moment Frances Freeland could do nothing but tremulously +interlace her fingers. + +“Oh, but, darling,” she said very gravely, “have you thought?” + +“I think of nothing else, Granny.” + +“But has he thought?” + +Nedda nodded. + +Frances Freeland sat staring straight before her. Nedda and Derek, Derek +and Nedda! The news was almost unintelligible; those two were still for +her barely more than little creatures to be tucked up at night. Engaged! +Marriage! Between those who were both as near to her, almost, as her own +children had been! The effort was for the moment quite too much for her, +and a sort of pain disturbed her heart. Then the crowning principle of +her existence came a little to her aid. No use in making a fuss; must +put the best face on it, whether it were going to come to anything or +not! And she said: + +“Well, darling, I don't know, I'm sure. I dare say it's very lovely for +you. But do you think you've seen enough of him?” + +Nedda gave her a swift look, then dropped her lashes, so that her eyes +seemed closed. Snuggling up, she said: + +“No, Granny, I do wish I could see more; if only I could go and stay +with them a little!” + +And as she planted that dart of suggestion, the gong sounded. + +In Frances Freeland, lying awake till two, as was her habit, the +suggestion grew. To this growth not only her custom of putting the best +face on things, but her incurable desire to make others happy, and an +instinctive sympathy with love-affairs, all contributed; moreover, Felix +had said something about Derek's having been concerned in something +rash. If darling Nedda were there it would occupy his mind and help to +make him careful. Never dilatory in forming resolutions, she decided to +take the girl over with her on the morrow. Kirsteen had a dear little +spare room, and Nedda should take her bag. It would be a nice surprise +for them all. Accordingly, next morning, not wanting to give any +trouble, she sent Thomas down to the Red Lion, where they had a +comfortable fly, with a very steady, respectable driver, and ordered it +to come at half past two. Then, without saying anything to Clara, she +told Nedda to be ready to pop in her bag, trusting to her powers +of explaining everything to everybody without letting anybody know +anything. Little difficulties of this sort never bunkered her; she was +essentially a woman of action. And on the drive to Joyfields she stilled +the girl's quavering with: + +“It's all right, darling; it'll be very nice for them.” + +She was perhaps the only person in the world who was not just a little +bit afraid of Kirsteen. Indeed, she was constitutionally unable to be +afraid of anything, except motor-cars, and, of course, earwigs, and even +them one must put up with. Her critical sense told her that this woman +in blue was just like anybody else, besides her father had been the +colonel of a Highland regiment, which was quite nice, and one must put +the best face on her. + +In this way, pointing out the beauty of each feature of the scenery, and +not permitting herself or Nedda to think about the bag, they drove until +they came to Joyfields. + +Kirsteen alone was in, and, having sent Nedda into the orchard to look +for her uncle, Frances Freeland came at once to the point. It was so +important, she thought, that darling Nedda should see more of dear +Derek. They were very young, and if she could stay for a few weeks, they +would both know their minds so much better. She had made her bring her +bag, because she knew dear Kirsteen would agree with her; and it would +be so nice for them all. Felix had told her about that poor man who had +done this dreadful thing, and she thought that if Nedda were here it +would be a distraction. She was a very good child, and quite useful in +the house. And while she was speaking she watched Kirsteen, and thought: +'She is very handsome, and altogether ladylike; only it is such a pity +she wears that blue thing in her hair—it makes her so conspicuous.' And +rather unexpectedly she said: + +“Do you know, dear, I believe I know the very thing to keep your hair +from getting loose. It's such lovely hair. And this is quite a new +thing, and doesn't show at all; invented by a very nice hairdresser in +Worcester. It's simplicity itself. Do let me show you!” Quickly going +over, she removed the kingfisher-blue fillet, and making certain passes +with her fingers through the hair, murmured: + +“It's so beautifully fine; it seems such a pity not to show it all, +dear. Now look at yourself!” And from the recesses of her pocket she +produced a little mirror. “I'm sure Tod will simply love it like that. +It'll be such a nice change for him.” + +Kirsteen, with just a faint wrinkling of her lips and eyebrows, waited +till she had finished. Then she said: + +“Yes, Mother, dear, I'm sure he will,” and replaced the fillet. A +patient, half-sad, half-quizzical smile visited Frances Freeland's lips, +as who should say: 'Yes, I know you think that I'm a fuss-box, but it +really is a pity that you wear it so, darling!' + +At sight of that smile, Kirsteen got up and kissed her gravely on the +forehead. + +When Nedda came back from a fruitless search for Tod, her bag was +already in the little spare bedroom and Frances Freeland gone. The +girl had never yet been alone with her aunt, for whom she had a fervent +admiration not unmixed with awe. She idealized her, of course, thinking +of her as one might think of a picture or statue, a symbolic figure, +standing for liberty and justice and the redress of wrong. Her +never-varying garb of blue assisted the girl's fancy, for blue was +always the color of ideals and aspiration—was not blue sky the nearest +one could get to heaven—were not blue violets the flowers of spring? +Then, too, Kirsteen was a woman with whom it would be quite impossible +to gossip or small-talk; with her one could but simply and directly say +what one felt, and only that over things which really mattered. And this +seemed to Nedda so splendid that it sufficed in itself to prevent the +girl from saying anything whatever. She longed to, all the same, feeling +that to be closer to her aunt meant to be closer to Derek. Yet, with +all, she knew that her own nature was very different; this, perhaps, +egged her on, and made her aunt seem all the more exciting. She waited +breathless till Kirsteen said: + +“Yes, you and Derek must know each other better. The worst kind of +prison in the world is a mistaken marriage.” + +Nedda nodded fervently. “It must be. But I think one knows, Aunt +Kirsteen!” + +She felt as if she were being searched right down to the soul before the +answer came: + +“Perhaps. I knew myself. I have seen others who did—a few. I think you +might.” + +Nedda flushed from sheer joy. “I could never go on if I didn't love. I +feel I couldn't, even if I'd started.” + +With another long look through narrowing eyes, Kirsteen answered: + +“Yes. You would want truth. But after marriage truth is an unhappy +thing, Nedda, if you have made a mistake.” + +“It must be dreadful. Awful.” + +“So don't make a mistake, my dear—and don't let him.” + +Nedda answered solemnly: + +“I won't—oh, I won't!” + +Kirsteen had turned away to the window, and Nedda heard her say quietly +to herself: + +“'Liberty's a glorious feast!'” + +Trembling all over with the desire to express what was in her, Nedda +stammered: + +“I would never keep anything that wanted to be free—never, never! I +would never try to make any one do what they didn't want to!” + +She saw her aunt smile, and wondered whether she had said anything +exceptionally foolish. But it was not foolish—surely not—to say what one +really felt. + +“Some day, Nedda, all the world will say that with you. Until then we'll +fight those who won't say it. Have you got everything in your room you +want? Let's come and see.” + +To pass from Becket to Joyfields was really a singular experience. At +Becket you were certainly supposed to do exactly what you liked, but +the tyranny of meals, baths, scents, and other accompaniments of the +'all-body' regime soon annihilated every impulse to do anything but +just obey it. At Joyfields, bodily existence was a kind of perpetual +skirmish, a sort of grudged accompaniment to a state of soul. You might +be alone in the house at any meal-time. You might or might not have +water in your jug. And as to baths, you had to go out to a little +white-washed shed at the back, with a brick floor, where you pumped on +yourself, prepared to shout out, “Halloo! I'm here!” in case any one +else came wanting to do the same. The conditions were in fact almost +perfect for seeing more of one another. Nobody asked where you were +going, with whom going, or how going. You might be away by day or night +without exciting curiosity or comment. And yet you were conscious of +a certain something always there, holding the house together; some +principle of life, or perhaps—just a woman in blue. There, too, was +that strangest of all phenomena in an English home—no game ever played, +outdoors or in. + +The next fortnight, while the grass was ripening, was a wonderful time +for Nedda, given up to her single passion—of seeing more of him who so +completely occupied her heart. She was at peace now with Sheila, whose +virility forbade that she should dispute pride of place with this soft +and truthful guest, so evidently immersed in rapture. Besides, Nedda had +that quality of getting on well with her own sex, found in those women +who, though tenacious, are not possessive; who, though humble, are +secretly very self-respecting; who, though they do not say much about +it, put all their eggs in one basket; above all, who disengage, no +matter what their age, a candid but subtle charm. + +But that fortnight was even more wonderful for Derek, caught between two +passions—both so fervid. For though the passion of his revolt against +the Mallorings did not pull against his passion for Nedda, they both +tugged at him. And this had one curious psychological effect. It made +his love for Nedda more actual, less of an idealization. Now that she +was close to him, under the same roof, he felt the full allurement of +her innocent warmth; he would have been cold-blooded indeed if he had +not taken fire, and, his pride always checking the expression of his +feelings, they glowed ever hotter underneath. + +Yet, over those sunshiny days there hung a shadow, as of something kept +back, not shared between them; a kind of waiting menace. Nedda learned +of Kirsteen and Sheila all the useful things she could; the evenings she +passed with Derek, those long evenings of late May and early June, this +year so warm and golden. They walked generally in the direction of the +hills. A favorite spot was a wood of larches whose green shoots had not +yet quite ceased to smell of lemons. Tall, slender things those trees, +whose stems and dried lower branch-growth were gray, almost sooty, up +to the feathery green of the tops, that swayed and creaked faintly in a +wind, with a soughing of their branches like the sound of the sea. +From the shelter of those Highland trees, rather strange in such +a countryside, they two could peer forth at the last sunlight +gold-powdering the fringed branches, at the sunset flush dyeing the +sky above the Beacon; watch light slowly folding gray wings above +the hay-fields and the elms; mark the squirrels scurry along, and the +pigeons' evening flight. A stream ran there at the edge, and beech-trees +grew beside it. In the tawny-dappled sand bed of that clear water, +and the gray-green dappled trunks of those beeches with their great, +sinuous, long-muscled roots, was that something which man can never tame +or garden out of the land: the strength of unconquerable fertility—the +remote deep life in Nature's heart. Men and women had their spans of +existence; those trees seemed as if there forever! From generation to +generation lovers might come and, looking on this strength and beauty, +feel in their veins the sap of the world. Here the laborer and his +master, hearing the wind in the branches and the water murmuring down, +might for a brief minute grasp the land's unchangeable wild majesty. +And on the far side of that little stream was a field of moon-colored +flowers that had for Nedda a strange fascination. Once the boy jumped +across and brought her back a handkerchief full. They were of two kinds: +close to the water's edge the marsh orchis, and farther back, a small +marguerite. Out of this they made a crown of the alternate flowers, and +a girdle for her waist. That was an evening of rare beauty, and warm +enough already for an early chafer to go blooming in the dusk. An +evening when they wandered with their arms round each other a long time, +silent, stopping to listen to an owl; stopping to point out each star +coming so shyly up in the gray-violet of the sky. And that was the +evening when they had a strange little quarrel, sudden as a white squall +on a blue sea, or the tiff of two birds shooting up in a swift spiral of +attack and then—all over. Would he come to-morrow to see her milking? +He could not. Why? He could not; he would be out. Ah! he never told her +where he went; he never let her come with him among the laborers like +Sheila. + +“I can't; I'm pledged not.” + +“Then you don't trust me!” + +“Of course I trust you; but a promise is a promise. You oughtn't to ask +me, Nedda.” + +“No; but I would never have promised to keep anything from you.” + +“You don't understand.” + +“Oh! yes, I do. Love doesn't mean the same to you that it does to me.” + +“How do you know what it means to me?” + +“I couldn't have a secret from you.” + +“Then you don't count honour.” + +“Honour only binds oneself!” + +“What d'you mean by that?” + +“I include you—you don't include me in yourself, that's all.” + +“I think you're very unjust. I was obliged to promise; it doesn't only +concern myself.” + +Then silent, motionless, a yard apart, they looked fiercely at each +other, their hearts stiff and sore, and in their brains no glimmer of +perception of anything but tragedy. What more tragic than to have +come out of an elysium of warm arms round each other, to this sudden +hostility! And the owl went on hooting, and the larches smelled sweet! +And all around was the same soft dusk wherein the flowers in her hair +and round her waist gleamed white! But for Nedda the world had suddenly +collapsed. Tears rushed into her eyes; she shook her head and turned +away, hiding them passionately.... A full minute passed, each straining +to make no sound and catch the faintest sound from the other, till +in her breathing there was a little clutch. His fingers came stealing +round, touched her cheeks, and were wetted. His arms suddenly squeezed +all breath out of her; his lips fastened on hers. She answered those +lips with her own desperately, bending her head back, shutting her wet +eyes. And the owl hooted, and the white flowers fell into the dusk off +her hair and waist. + +After that, they walked once more enlaced, avoiding with what perfect +care any allusion to the sudden tragedy, giving themselves up to the +bewildering ecstasy that had started throbbing in their blood with that +kiss, longing only not to spoil it. And through the sheltering larch +wood their figures moved from edge to edge, like two little souls in +paradise, unwilling to come forth. + +After that evening love had a poignancy it had not quite had before; at +once deeper, sweeter, tinged for both of them with the rich darkness of +passion, and with discovery that love does not mean a perfect merger +of one within another. For both felt themselves in the right over that +little quarrel. The boy that he could not, must not, resign what was +not his to resign; feeling dimly, without being quite able to shape the +thought even to himself, that a man has a life of action into which a +woman cannot always enter, with which she cannot always be identified. +The girl feeling that she did not want any life into which he did not +enter, so that it was hard that he should want to exclude her from +anything. For all that, she did not try again to move him to let her +into the secret of his plans of revolt and revenge, and disdained +completely to find them out from Sheila or her aunt. + +And the grass went on ripening. Many and various as the breeds of men, +or the trees of a forest, were the stalks that made up that greenish +jungle with the waving, fawn-colored surface; of rye-grass and +brome-grass, of timothy, plantain, and yarrow; of bent-grass and +quake-grass, foxtail, and the green-hearted trefoil; of dandelion, dock, +musk-thistle, and sweet-scented vernal. + +On the 10th of June Tod began cutting his three fields; the whole +family, with Nedda and the three Tryst children, working like slaves. +Old Gaunt, who looked to the harvests to clothe him for the year, came +to do his share of raking, and any other who could find some evening +hours to spare. The whole was cut and carried in three days of glorious +weather. + +The lovers were too tired the last evening of hay harvest to go +rambling, and sat in the orchard watching the moon slide up through the +coppice behind the church. They sat on Tod's log, deliciously weary, in +the scent of the new-mown hay, while moths flitted gray among the blue +darkness of the leaves, and the whitened trunks of the apple-trees +gleamed ghostly. It was very warm; a night of whispering air, opening +all hearts. And Derek said: + +“You'll know to-morrow, Nedda.” + +A flutter of fear overtook her. What would she know? + + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +On the 13th of June Sir Gerald Malloring, returning home to dinner from +the House of Commons, found on his hall table, enclosed in a letter from +his agent, the following paper: + +“We, the undersigned laborers on Sir Gerald Malloring's estate, beg +respectfully to inform him that we consider it unjust that any laborer +should be evicted from his cottage for any reason connected with private +life, or social or political convictions. And we respectfully demand +that, before a laborer receives notice to quit for any such reason, the +case shall be submitted to all his fellow laborers on the estate; and +that in the future he shall only receive such notice if a majority of +his fellow laborers record their votes in favor of the notice being +given. In the event of this demand being refused, we regretfully +decline to take any hand in getting in the hay on Sir Gerald Malloring's +estate.” + +Then followed ninety-three signatures, or signs of the cross with names +printed after them. + +The agent's letter which enclosed this document mentioned that the hay +was already ripe for cutting; that everything had been done to induce +the men to withdraw the demand, without success, and that the farmers +were very much upset. The thing had been sprung on them, the agent +having no notion that anything of the sort was on foot. It had been very +secretly, very cleverly, managed; and, in the agent's opinion, was due +to Mr. Freeland's family. He awaited Sir Gerald's instructions. Working +double tides, with luck and good weather, the farmers and their families +might perhaps save half of the hay. + +Malloring read this letter twice, and the enclosure three times, and +crammed them deep down into his pocket. + +It was pre-eminently one of those moments which bring out the qualities +of Norman blood. And the first thing he did was to look at the +barometer. It was going slowly down. After a month of first-class +weather it would not do that without some sinister intention. An old +glass, he believed in it implicitly. He tapped, and it sank further. He +stood there frowning. Should he consult his wife? General friendliness +said: Yes! A Norman instinct of chivalry, and perhaps the deeper Norman +instinct, that, when it came to the point, women were too violent, +said, No! He went up-stairs three at a time, and came down two. And all +through dinner he sat thinking it over, and talking as if nothing had +happened; so that he hardly spoke. Three-quarters of the hay at stake, +if it rained soon! A big loss to the farmers, a further reduction in +rents already far too low. Should he grin and bear it, and by doing +nothing show these fellows that he could afford to despise their +cowardly device? For it WAS cowardly to let his grass get ripe and play +it this low trick! But if he left things unfought this time, they would +try it on again with the corn—not that there was much of that on the +estate of a man who only believed in corn as a policy. + +Should he make the farmers sack the lot and get in other labor? But +where? Agricultural laborers were made, not born. And it took a deuce +of a lot of making, at that! Should he suspend wages till they withdrew +their demand? That might do—but he would still lose the hay. The hay! +After all, anybody, pretty well, could make hay; it was the least +skilled of all farm work, so long as the farmers were there to drive +the machines and direct. Why not act vigorously? And his jaws set so +suddenly on a piece of salmon that he bit his tongue. The action served +to harden a growing purpose. So do small events influence great! Suspend +those fellows' wages, get down strike-breakers, save the hay! And if +there were a row—well, let there be a row! The constabulary would have +to act. It was characteristic of his really Norman spirit that the +notion of agreeing to the demand, or even considering whether it were +just, never once came into his mind. He was one of those, comprising +nowadays nearly all his class, together with their press, who +habitually referred to his country as a democratic power, a champion of +democracy—but did not at present suspect the meaning of the word; nor, +to say truth, was it likely they ever would. Nothing, however, made him +more miserable than indecision. And so, now that he was on the point +of deciding, and the decision promised vigorous consequences, he felt +almost elated. Closing his jaws once more too firmly, this time on lamb, +he bit his tongue again. It was impossible to confess what he had done, +for two of his children were there, expected to eat with that well-bred +detachment which precludes such happenings; and he rose from dinner with +his mind made up. Instead of going back to the House of Commons, he went +straight to a strike-breaking agency. No grass should grow under the +feet of his decision! Thence he sought the one post-office still open, +despatched a long telegram to his agent, another to the chief constable +of Worcestershire; and, feeling he had done all he could for the moment, +returned to the 'House,' where they were debating the rural housing +question. He sat there, paying only moderate attention to a subject on +which he was acknowledged an authority. To-morrow, in all probability, +the papers would have got hold of the affair! How he loathed people +poking their noses into his concerns! And suddenly he was assailed, very +deep down, by a feeling with which in his firmness he had not reckoned—a +sort of remorse that he was going to let a lot of loafing blackguards +down onto his land, to toss about his grass, and swill their beastly +beer above it. And all the real love he had for his fields and coverts, +all the fastidiousness of an English gentleman, and, to do him justice, +the qualms of a conscience telling him that he owed better things than +this to those born on his estate, assaulted him in force. He sat back +in his seat, driving his long legs hard against the pew in front. His +thick, wavy, still brown hair was beautifully parted above the square +brow that frowned over deep-set eyes and a perfectly straight nose. Now +and again he bit into a side of his straw-colored moustache, or raised a +hand and twisted the other side. Without doubt one of the handsomest and +perhaps the most Norman-looking man in the whole 'House.' There was a +feeling among those round him that he was thinking deeply. And so he +was. But he had decided, and he was not a man who went back on his +decisions. + +Morning brought even worse sensations. Those ruffians that he had +ordered down—the farmers would never consent to put them up! They would +have to camp. Camp on his land! It was then that for two seconds the +thought flashed through him: Ought I to have considered whether I could +agree to that demand? Gone in another flash. If there was one thing +a man could not tolerate, it was dictation! Out of the question! But +perhaps he had been a little hasty about strike-breakers. Was there +not still time to save the situation from that, if he caught the first +train? The personal touch was everything. If he put it to the men on the +spot, with these strike-breakers up his sleeve, surely they must listen! +After all, they were his own people. And suddenly he was overcome with +amazement that they should have taken such a step. What had got into +them? Spiritless enough, as a rule, in all conscience; the sort of +fellows who hadn't steam even to join the miniature rifle-range that he +had given them! And visions of them, as he was accustomed to pass them +in the lanes, slouching along with their straw bags, their hoes, and +their shamefaced greetings, passed before him. Yes! It was all that +fellow Freeland's family! The men had been put up to it—put up to it! +The very wording of their demand showed that! Very bitterly he +thought of the unneighborly conduct of that woman and her cubs. It was +impossible to keep it from his wife! And so he told her. Rather to his +surprise, she had no scruples about the strike-breakers. Of course, +the hay must be saved! And the laborers be taught a lesson! All the +unpleasantness he and she had gone through over Tryst and that Gaunt +girl must not go for nothing! It must never be said or thought that the +Freeland woman and her children had scored over them! If the lesson were +once driven home, they would have no further trouble. + +He admired her firmness, though with a certain impatience. Women +never quite looked ahead; never quite realized all the consequences of +anything. And he thought: 'By George! I'd no idea she was so hard! But, +then, she always felt more strongly about Tryst and that Gaunt girl than +I did.' + +In the hall the glass was still going down. He caught the 9.15, wiring +to his agent to meet him at the station, and to the impresario of the +strike-breakers to hold up their departure until he telegraphed. The +three-mile drive up from the station, fully half of which was through +his own land, put him in possession of all the agent had to tell: Nasty +spirit abroad—men dumb as fishes—the farmers, puzzled and angry, had +begun cutting as best they could. Not a man had budged. He had seen +young Mr. and Miss Freeland going about. The thing had been worked very +cleverly. He had suspected nothing—utterly unlike the laborers as he +knew them. They had no real grievance, either! Yes, they were going on +with all their other work—milking, horses, and that; it was only the hay +they wouldn't touch. Their demand was certainly a very funny one—very +funny—had never heard of anything like it. Amounted almost to security +of tenure. The Tryst affair no doubt had done it! Malloring cut him +short: + +“Till they've withdrawn this demand, Simmons, I can't discuss that or +anything.” + +The agent coughed behind his hand. + +Naturally! Only perhaps there might be a way of wording it that would +satisfy them. Never do to really let them have such decisions in their +hands, of course! + +They were just passing Tod's. The cottage wore its usual air of +embowered peace. And for the life of him Malloring could not restrain a +gesture of annoyance. + +On reaching home he sent gardeners and grooms in all directions with +word that he would be glad to meet the men at four o'clock at the home +farm. Much thought, and interviews with several of the farmers, who +all but one—a shaky fellow at best—were for giving the laborers a sharp +lesson, occupied the interval. Though he had refused to admit the notion +that the men could be chicaned, as his agent had implied, he certainly +did wonder a little whether a certain measure of security might not in +some way be guaranteed, which would still leave him and the farmers a +free hand. But the more he meditated on the whole episode, the more he +perceived how intimately it interfered with the fundamental policy of +all good landowners—of knowing what was good for their people better +than those people knew themselves. + +As four o'clock approached, he walked down to the home farm. The sky was +lightly overcast, and a rather chill, draughty, rustling wind had risen. +Resolved to handle the men with the personal touch, he had discouraged +his agent and the farmers from coming to the conference, and passed the +gate with the braced-up feeling of one who goes to an encounter. In +that very spick-and-span farmyard ducks were swimming leisurely on the +greenish pond, white pigeons strutting and preening on the eaves of the +barn, and his keen eye noted that some tiles were out of order up there. +Four o'clock! Ah, here was a fellow coming! And instinctively he crisped +his hands that were buried in his pockets, and ran over to himself +his opening words. Then, with a sensation of disgust, he saw that the +advancing laborer was that incorrigible 'land lawyer' Gaunt. The +short, square man with the ruffled head and the little bright-gray eyes +saluted, uttered an “Afternoon, Sir Gerald!” in his teasing voice, and +stood still. His face wore the jeering twinkle that had disconcerted +so many political meetings. Two lean fellows, rather alike, with lined +faces and bitten, drooped moustaches, were the next to come through the +yard gate. They halted behind Gaunt, touching their forelocks, shuffling +a little, and looking sidelong at each other. And Malloring waited. Five +past four! Ten past! Then he said: + +“D'you mind telling the others that I'm here?” + +Gaunt answered: + +“If so be as you was waitin' for the meetin', I fancy as 'ow you've got +it, Sir Gerald!” + +A wave of anger surged up in Malloring, dyeing his face brick-red. So! +He had come all that way with the best intentions—to be treated like +this; to meet this 'land lawyer,' who, he could see, was only here to +sharpen his tongue, and those two scarecrow-looking chaps, who had come +to testify, no doubt, to his discomfiture. And he said sharply: + +“So that's the best you can do to meet me, is it?” + +Gaunt answered imperturbably: + +“I think it is, Sir Gerald.” + +“Then you've mistaken your man.” + +“I don't think so, Sir Gerald.” + +Without another look Malloring passed the three by, and walked back to +the house. In the hall was the agent, whose face clearly showed that he +had foreseen this defeat. Malloring did not wait for him to speak. + +“Make arrangements. The strike-breakers will be down by noon to-morrow. +I shall go through with it now, Simmons, if I have to clear the whole +lot out. You'd better go in and see that they're ready to send police if +there's any nonsense. I'll be down again in a day or two.” And, without +waiting for reply, he passed into his study. There, while the car was +being got ready, he stood in the window, very sore; thinking of what he +had meant to do; thinking of his good intentions; thinking of what was +coming to the country, when a man could not even get his laborers to +come and hear what he had to say. And a sense of injustice, of anger, of +bewilderment, harrowed his very soul. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +For the first two days of this new 'kick-up,' that 'fellow Freeland's' +family undoubtedly tasted the sweets of successful mutiny. The fellow +himself alone shook his head. He, like Nedda, had known nothing, and +there was to him something unnatural and rather awful in this conduct +toward dumb crops. + +From the moment he heard of it he hardly spoke, and a perpetual little +frown creased a brow usually so serene. In the early morning of the day +after Malloring went back to town, he crossed the road to a field where +the farmer, aided by his family and one of Malloring's gardeners, was +already carrying the hay; and, taking up a pitchfork, without a word to +anybody, he joined in the work. The action was deeper revelation of his +feeling than any expostulation, and the young people watched it rather +aghast. + +“It's nothing,” Derek said at last; “Father never has understood, and +never will, that you can't get things without fighting. He cares more +for trees and bees and birds than he does for human beings.” + +“That doesn't explain why he goes over to the enemy, when it's only a +lot of grass.” + +Kirsteen answered: + +“He hasn't gone over to the enemy, Sheila. You don't understand your +father; to neglect the land is sacrilege to him. It feeds us—he would +say—we live on it; we've no business to forget that but for the land we +should all be dead.” + +“That's beautiful,” said Nedda quickly; “and true.” + +Sheila answered angrily: + +“It may be true in France with their bread and wine. People don't live +off the land here; they hardly eat anything they grow themselves. +How can we feel like that when we're all brought up on mongrel food? +Besides, it's simply sentimental, when there are real wrongs to fight +about.” + +“Your father is not sentimental, Sheila. It's too deep with him for +that, and too unconscious. He simply feels so unhappy about the waste of +that hay that he can't keep his hands off it.” + +Derek broke in: “Mother's right. And it doesn't matter, except that +we've got to see that the men don't follow his example. They've a funny +feeling about him.” + +Kirsteen shook her head. + +“You needn't be afraid. He's always been too strange to them!” + +“Well, I'm going to stiffen their backs. Coming Sheila?” And they went. + +Left, as she seemed always to be in these days of open mutiny, Nedda +said sadly: + +“What is coming, Aunt Kirsteen?” + +Her aunt was standing in the porch, looking straight before her; a trail +of clematis had drooped over her fine black hair down on to the blue of +her linen dress. She answered, without turning: + +“Have you ever seen, on jubilee nights, bonfire to bonfire, from hill to +hill, to the end of the land? This is the first lighted.” + +Nedda felt something clutch her heart. What was that figure in blue? +Priestess? Prophetess? And for a moment the girl felt herself swept into +the vision those dark glowing eyes were seeing; some violent, exalted, +inexorable, flaming vision. Then something within her revolted, as +though one had tried to hypnotize her into seeing what was not true; +as though she had been forced for the moment to look, not at what was +really there, but at what those eyes saw projected from the soul behind +them. And she said quietly: + +“I don't believe, Aunt Kirsteen. I don't really believe. I think it must +go out.” + +Kirsteen turned. + +“You are like your father,” she said—“a doubter.” + +Nedda shook her head. + +“I can't persuade myself to see what isn't there. I never can, Aunt +Kirsteen.” + +Without reply, save a quiver of her brows, Kirsteen went back into the +house. And Nedda stayed on the pebbled path before the cottage, unhappy, +searching her own soul. Did she fail to see because she was afraid to +see, because she was too dull to see; or because, as she had said, there +was really nothing there—no flames to leap from hill to hill, no +lift, no tearing in the sky that hung over the land? And she thought: +'London—all those big towns, their smoke, the things they make, the +things we want them to make, that we shall always want them to make. +Aren't they there? For every laborer who's a slave Dad says there are +five town workers who are just as much slaves! And all those Bigwigs +with their great houses, and their talk, and their interest in keeping +things where they are! Aren't they there? I don't—I can't believe +anything much can happen, or be changed. Oh! I shall never see visions, +and dream dreams!' And from her heart she sighed. + +In the meantime Derek and Sheila were going their round on bicycles, to +stiffen the backs of the laborers. They had hunted lately, always in +a couple, desiring no complications, having decided that it was less +likely to provoke definite assault and opposition from the farmers. To +their mother was assigned all correspondence; to themselves the verbal +exhortations, the personal touch. It was past noon, and they were +already returning, when they came on the char-a-bancs containing the +head of the strike-breaking column. The two vehicles were drawn up +opposite the gate leading to Marrow Farm, and the agent was detaching +the four men destined to that locality, with their camping-gear. By +the open gate the farmer stood eying his new material askance. Dejected +enough creatures they looked—poor devils picked up at ten pound the +dozen, who, by the mingled apathy and sheepish amusement on their faces, +might never have seen a pitchfork, or smelled a field of clover, in +their lives. + +The two young Freelands rode slowly past; the boy's face scornfully +drawn back into itself; the girl's flaming scarlet. + +“Don't take notice,” Derek said; “we'll soon stop that.” + +And they had gone another mile before he added: + +“We've got to make our round again; that's all.” + +The words of Mr. Pogram, 'You have influence, young man,' were just. +There was about Derek the sort of quality that belongs to the good +regimental officer; men followed and asked themselves why the devil +they had, afterward. And if it be said that no worse leader than a fiery +young fool can be desired for any movement, it may also be said that +without youth and fire and folly there is usually no movement at all. + +Late in the afternoon they returned home, dead beat. That evening +the farmers and their wives milked the cows, tended the horses, did +everything that must be done, not without curses. And next morning the +men, with Gaunt and a big, dark fellow, called Tulley, for spokesmen, +again proffered their demand. The agent took counsel with Malloring by +wire. His answer, “Concede nothing,” was communicated to the men in the +afternoon, and received by Gaunt with the remark: “I thart we should +be hearin' that. Please to thank Sir Gerald. The men concedes their +gratitood....” + +That night it began to rain. Nedda, waking, could hear the heavy drops +pattering on the sweetbrier and clematis thatching her open window. The +scent of rain-cooled leaves came in drifts, and it seemed a shame to +sleep. She got up; put on her dressing-gown, and went to thrust her nose +into that bath of dripping sweetness. Dark as the clouds had made the +night, there was still the faint light of a moon somewhere behind. The +leaves of the fruit-trees joined in the long, gentle hissing, and now +and again rustled and sighed sharply; a cock somewhere, as by accident, +let off a single crow. There were no stars. All was dark and soft as +velvet. And Nedda thought: 'The world is dressed in living creatures! +Trees, flowers, grass, insects, ourselves—woven together—the world is +dressed in life! I understand Uncle Tod's feeling! If only it would rain +till they have to send these strike-breakers back because there's no hay +worth fighting about!' Suddenly her heart beat fast. The wicket gate had +clicked. There was something darker than the darkness coming along the +path! Scared, but with all protective instinct roused, she leaned out, +straining to see. A faint grating sound from underneath came up to her. +A window being opened! And she flew to her door. She neither barred it, +however, nor cried out, for in that second it had flashed across her: +'Suppose it's he! Gone out to do something desperate, as Tryst did!' If +it were, he would come up-stairs and pass her door, going to his room. +She opened it an inch, holding her breath. At first, nothing! Was it +fancy? Or was some one noiselessly rifling the room down-stairs? But +surely no one would steal of Uncle Tod, who, everybody knew, had nothing +valuable. Then came a sound as of bootless feet pressing the stairs +stealthily! And the thought darted through her, 'If it isn't he, what +shall I do?' And then—'What shall I do—if it IS!' + +Desperately she opened the door, clasping her hands on the place whence +her heart had slipped down to her bare feet. But she knew it was he +before she heard him whisper: “Nedda!” and, clutching him by the sleeve, +she drew him in and closed the door. He was wet through, dripping; so +wet that the mere brushing against him made her skin feel moist through +its thin coverings. + +“Where have you been? What have you been doing? Oh, Derek!” + +There was just light enough to see his face, his teeth, the whites of +his eyes. + +“Cutting their tent-ropes in the rain. Hooroosh!” + +It was such a relief that she just let out a little gasping “Oh!” and +leaned her forehead against his coat. Then she felt his wet arms round +her, his wet body pressed to hers, and in a second he was dancing with +her a sort of silent, ecstatic war dance. Suddenly he stopped, went down +on his knees, pressing his face to her waist, and whispering: “What a +brute, what a brute! Making her wet! Poor little Nedda!” + +Nedda bent over him; her hair covered his wet head, her hands trembled +on his shoulders. Her heart felt as if it would melt right out of her; +she longed so to warm and dry him with herself. And, in turn, his wet +arms clutched her close, his wet hands could not keep still on her. Then +he drew back, and whispering: “Oh, Nedda! Nedda!” fled out like a +dark ghost. Oblivious that she was damp from head to foot, Nedda stood +swaying, her eyes closed and her lips just open; then, putting out her +arms, she drew them suddenly in and clasped herself.... + +When she came down to breakfast the next morning, he had gone out +already, and Uncle Tod, too; her aunt was writing at the bureau. Sheila +greeted her gruffly, and almost at once went out. Nedda swallowed +coffee, ate her egg, and bread and honey, with a heavy heart. A +newspaper lay open on the table; she read it idly till these words +caught her eye: + +“The revolt which has paralyzed the hay harvest on Sir Gerald +Malloring's Worcestershire estate and led to the introduction of +strike-breakers, shows no sign of abatement. A very wanton spirit of +mischief seems to be abroad in this neighborhood. No reason can be +ascertained for the arson committed a short time back, nor for this +further outbreak of discontent. The economic condition of the laborers +on this estate is admittedly rather above than below the average.” + +And at once she thought: '“Mischief!” What a shame!' Were people, then, +to know nothing of the real cause of the revolt—nothing of the Tryst +eviction, the threatened eviction of the Gaunts? Were they not to know +that it was on principle, and to protest against that sort of petty +tyranny to the laborers all over the country, that this rebellion had +been started? For liberty! only simple liberty not to be treated as +though they had no minds or souls of their own—weren't the public +to know that? If they were allowed to think that it was all wanton +mischief—that Derek was just a mischief-maker—it would be dreadful! Some +one must write and make this known? Her father? But Dad might think +it too personal—his own relations! Mr. Cuthcott! Into whose household +Wilmet Gaunt had gone. Ah! Mr. Cuthcott who had told her that he was +always at her service! Why not? And the thought that she might really +do something at last to help made her tingle all over. If she borrowed +Sheila's bicycle she could catch the nine-o'clock train to London, see +him herself, make him do something, perhaps even bring him back with +her! She examined her purse. Yes, she had money. She would say nothing, +here, because, of course, he might refuse! At the back of her mind +was the idea that, if a real newspaper took the part of the laborers, +Derek's position would no longer be so dangerous; he would be, as it +were, legally recognized, and that, in itself, would make him more +careful and responsible. Whence she got this belief in the legalizing +power of the press it is difficult to say, unless that, reading +newspapers but seldom, she still took them at their own valuation, and +thought that when they said: “We shall do this,” or “We must do that,” +they really were speaking for the country, and that forty-five millions +of people were deliberately going to do something, whereas, in truth, +as was known to those older than Nedda, they were speaking, and not too +conclusively at that, for single anonymous gentlemen in a hurry who +were not going to do anything. She knew that the press had power, great +power—for she was always hearing that—and it had not occurred to her +as yet to examine the composition of that power so as to discover that, +while the press certainly had a certain monopoly of expression, and +that same 'spirit of body' which makes police constables swear by one +another, it yet contained within its ring fence the sane and advisable +futility of a perfectly balanced contradiction; so that its only +functions, practically speaking, were the dissemination of news, +seven-tenths of which would have been happier in obscurity; +and—'irritation of the Dutch!' Not, of course, that the press realized +this; nor was it probable that any one would tell it, for it had +power—great power. + +She caught her train—glowing outwardly from the speed of her ride, and +inwardly from the heat of adventure and the thought that at last she was +being of some use. + +The only other occupants of her third-class compartment were a friendly +looking man, who might have been a sailor or other wanderer on leave, +and his thin, dried-up, black-clothed cottage woman of an old mother. +They sat opposite each other. The son looked at his mother with beaming +eyes, and she remarked: “An' I says to him, says I, I says, 'What?' I +says; so 'e says to me, he says, 'Yes,' he says; 'that's what I say,' he +says.” And Nedda thought: 'What an old dear! And the son looks nice too; +I do like simple people.' + +They got out at the first stop and she journeyed on alone. Taking a +taxicab from Paddington, she drove toward Gray's Inn. But now that she +was getting close she felt very nervous. How expect a busy man like Mr. +Cuthcott to spare time to come down all that way? It would be something, +though, if she could get him even to understand what was really +happening, and why; so that he could contradict that man in the other +paper. It must be wonderful to be writing, daily, what thousands and +thousands of people read! Yes! It must be a very sacred-feeling life! To +be able to say things in that particularly authoritative way which must +take such a lot of people in—that is, make such a lot of people think +in the same way! It must give a man a terrible sense of responsibility, +make him feel that he simply must be noble, even if he naturally wasn't. +Yes! it must be a wonderful profession, and only fit for the highest! In +addition to Mr. Cuthcott, she knew as yet but three young journalists, +and those all weekly. + +At her timid ring the door was opened by a broad-cheeked girl, +enticingly compact in apron and black frock, whose bright color, thick +lips, and rogue eyes came of anything but London. It flashed across +Nedda that this must be the girl for whose sake she had faced Mr. +Cuthcott at the luncheon-table! And she said: “Are you Wilmet Gaunt?” + +The girl smiled till her eyes almost disappeared, and answered: “Yes, +miss.” + +“I'm Nedda Freeland, Miss Sheila's cousin. I've just come from +Joyfields. How are you getting on?” + +“Fine, thank you, miss. Plenty of life here.” + +Nedda thought: 'That's what Derek said of her. Bursting with life! And +so she is.' And she gazed doubtfully at the girl, whose prim black dress +and apron seemed scarcely able to contain her. + +“Is Mr. Cuthcott in?” + +“No, miss; he'll be down at the paper. Two hundred and five Floodgate +Street.” + +'Oh!' thought Nedda with dismay; 'I shall never venture there!' And +glancing once more at the girl, whose rogue slits of eyes, deep sunk +between check-bones and brow, seemed to be quizzing her and saying: 'You +and Mr. Derek—oh! I know!' she went sadly away. And first she thought +she would go home to Hampstead, then that she would go back to the +station, then: 'After all, why shouldn't I go and try? They can't eat +me. I will!' + +She reached her destination at the luncheon-hour, so that the offices +of the great evening journal were somewhat deserted. Producing her +card, she was passed from hand to hand till she rested in a small bleak +apartment where a young woman was typing fast. She longed to ask her +how she liked it, but did not dare. The whole atmosphere seemed to her +charged with a strenuous solemnity, as though everything said, 'We have +power—great power.' And she waited, sitting by the window which faced +the street. On the buildings opposite she could read the name of another +great evening journal. Why, it was the one which had contained the +paragraph she had read at breakfast! She had bought a copy of it at the +station. Its temperament, she knew, was precisely opposed to that of +Mr. Cuthcott's paper. Over in that building, no doubt there would be the +same strenuously loaded atmosphere, so that if they opened the windows +on both sides little puffs of power would meet in mid-air, above the +heads of the passers-by, as might the broadsides of old three-deckers, +above the green, green sea. + +And for the first time an inkling of the great comic equipoise in +Floodgate Street and human affairs stole on Nedda's consciousness. They +puffed and puffed, and only made smoke in the middle! That must be why +Dad always called them: 'Those fellows!' She had scarcely, however, +finished beginning to think these thoughts when a handbell sounded +sharply in some adjoining room, and the young woman nearly fell into her +typewriter. Readjusting her balance, she rose, and, going to the door, +passed out in haste. Through the open doorway Nedda could see a large +and pleasant room, whose walls seemed covered with prints of men +standing in attitudes such that she was almost sure they were statesmen; +and, at a table in the centre, the back of Mr. Cuthcott in a twiddly +chair, surrounded by sheets of paper reposing on the floor, shining +like autumn leaves on a pool of water. She heard his voice, smothery, +hurried, but still pleasant, say: “Take these, Miss Mayne, take these! +Begin on them, begin! Confound it! What's the time?” And the young +woman's voice: “Half past one, Mr. Cuthcott!” And a noise from Mr. +Cuthcott's throat that sounded like an adjuration to the Deity not to +pass over something. Then the young woman dipped and began gathering +those leaves of paper, and over her comely back Nedda had a clear view +of Mr. Cuthcott hunching one brown shoulder as though warding something +off, and of one of his thin hands ploughing up and throwing back his +brown hair on one side, and heard the sound of his furiously scratching +pen. And her heart pattered; it was so clear that he was 'giving them +one' and had no time for her. And involuntarily she looked at the +windows beyond him to see if there were any puffs of power issuing +therefrom. But they were closed. She saw the young woman rise and come +back toward her, putting the sheets of paper in order; and, as the door +was closing, from the twiddly chair a noise that seemed to couple God +with the condemnation of silly souls. When the young woman was once more +at the typewriter she rose and said: “Have you given him my card yet?” + +The young woman looked at her surprised, as if she had broken some rule +of etiquette, and answered: “No.” + +“Then don't, please. I can see that he's too busy. I won't wait.” + +The young woman abstractedly placed a sheet of paper in her typewriter. + +“Very well,” she said. “Good morning!” + +And before Nedda reached the door she heard the click-click of the +machine, reducing Mr. Cuthcott to legibility. + +'I was stupid to come,' she thought. 'He must be terribly overworked. +Poor man! He does say lovely things!' And, crestfallen, she went along +the passages, and once more out into Floodgate Street. She walked along +it frowning, till a man who was selling newspapers said as she passed: +“Mind ye don't smile, lydy!” + +Seeing that he was selling Mr. Cuthcott's paper, she felt for a coin +to buy one, and, while searching, scrutinized the newsvender's figure, +almost entirely hidden by the words: + + GREAT HOUSING SCHEME + + HOPE FOR THE MILLION! + +on a buff-colored board; while above it, his face, that had not quite +blood enough to be scorbutic, was wrapped in the expression of those +philosophers to whom a hope would be fatal. He was, in fact, just what +he looked—a street stoic. And a dim perception of the great social +truth: “The smell of half a loaf is not better than no bread!” flickered +in Nedda's brain as she passed on. Was that what Derek was doing with +the laborers—giving them half the smell of a liberty that was not there? +And a sudden craving for her father came over her. He—he only, was any +good, because he, only, loved her enough to feel how distracted and +unhappy she was feeling, how afraid of what was coming. So, making for a +Tube station, she took train to Hampstead.... + +It was past two, and Felix, on the point of his constitutional. He had +left Becket the day after Nedda's rather startling removal to Joyfields, +and since then had done his level best to put the whole Tryst affair, +with all its somewhat sinister relevance to her life and his own, out of +his mind as something beyond control. He had but imperfectly succeeded. + +Flora, herself not too present-minded, had in these days occasion to +speak to him about the absent-minded way in which he fulfilled even the +most domestic duties, and Alan was always saying to him, “Buck up, Dad!” +With Nedda's absorption into the little Joyfields whirlpool, the sun +shone but dimly for Felix. And a somewhat febrile attention to 'The Last +of the Laborers' had not brought it up to his expectations. He fluttered +under his buff waistcoat when he saw her coming in at the gate. She +must want something of him! For to this pitch of resignation, as to his +little daughter's love for him, had he come! And if she wanted something +of him, things would be going wrong again down there! Nor did the warmth +of her embrace, and her: “Oh! Dad, it IS nice to see you!” remove that +instinctive conviction; though delicacy, born of love, forbade him to +ask her what she wanted. Talking of the sky and other matters, thinking +how pretty she was looking, he waited for the new, inevitable proof that +youth was first, and a mere father only second fiddle now. A note +from Stanley had already informed him of the strike. The news had been +something of a relief. Strikes, at all events, were respectable and +legitimate means of protest, and to hear that one was in progress had +not forced him out of his laborious attempt to believe the whole affair +only a mole-hill. He had not, however, heard of the strike-breakers, nor +had he seen any newspaper mention of the matter; and when she had shown +him the paragraph; recounted her visit to Mr. Cuthcott, and how she had +wanted to take him back with her to see for himself—he waited a moment, +then said almost timidly: “Should I be of any use, my dear?” She flushed +and squeezed his hand in silence; and he knew he would. + +When he had packed a handbag and left a note for Flora, he rejoined her +in the hall. + +It was past seven when they reached their destination, and, taking the +station 'fly,' drove slowly up to Joyfields, under a showery sky. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +When Felix and Nedda reached Tod's cottage, the three little Trysts, +whose activity could never be quite called play, were all the living +creatures about the house. + +“Where is Mrs. Freeland, Biddy?” + +“We don't know; a man came, and she went.” + +“And Miss Sheila?” + +“She went out in the mornin'. And Mr. Freeland's gone.” + +Susie added: “The dog's gone, too.” + +“Then help me to get some tea.” + +“Yes.” + +With the assistance of the mother-child, and the hindrance of Susie and +Billy, Nedda made and laid tea, with an anxious heart. The absence of +her aunt, who so seldom went outside the cottage, fields, and orchard, +disturbed her; and, while Felix refreshed himself, she fluttered several +times on varying pretexts to the wicket gate. + +At her third visit, from the direction of the church, she saw figures +coming on the road—dark figures carrying something, followed by others +walking alongside. What sun there had been had quite given in to heavy +clouds; the light was dull, the elm-trees dark; and not till they were +within two hundred yards could Nedda make out that these were figures +of policemen. Then, alongside that which they were carrying, she saw her +aunt's blue dress. WHAT were they carrying like that? She dashed down +the steps, and stopped. No! If it were HE they would bring him in! She +rushed back again, distracted. She could see now a form stretched on a +hurdle. It WAS he! + +“Dad! Quick!” + +Felix came, startled at that cry, to find his little daughter on the +path wringing her hands and flying back to the wicket gate. They were +close now. She saw them begin to mount the steps, those behind raising +their arms so that the hurdle should be level. Derek lay on his back, +with head and forehead swathed in wet blue linen, torn from his mother's +skirt; and the rest of his face very white. He lay quite still, his +clothes covered with mud. Terrified, Nedda plucked at Kirsteen's sleeve. + +“What is it?” + +“Concussion!” The stillness of that blue-clothed figure, so calm beside +her, gave her strength to say quietly: + +“Put him in my room, Aunt Kirsteen; there's more air there!” And she +flew up-stairs, flinging wide her door, making the bed ready, snatching +her night things from the pillow; pouring out cold water, sprinkling the +air with eau de cologne. Then she stood still. Perhaps, they would not +bring him there? Yes, they were coming up. They brought him in, and laid +him on the bed. She heard one say: “Doctor'll be here directly, ma'am. +Let him lie quiet.” Then she and his mother were alone beside him. + +“Undo his boots,” said Kirsteen. + +Nedda's fingers trembled, and she hated them for fumbling so, while she +drew off those muddy boots. Then her aunt said softly: “Hold him up, +dear, while I get his things off.” + +And, with a strange rapture that she was allowed to hold him thus, she +supported him against her breast till he was freed and lying back inert. +Then, and only then, she whispered: + +“How long before he—?” + +Kirsteen shook her head; and, slipping her arm round the girl, murmured: +“Courage, Nedda!” + +The girl felt fear and love rush up desperately to overwhelm her. She +choked them back, and said quite quietly: “I will. I promise. Only let +me help nurse him!” + +Kirsteen nodded. And they sat down to wait. + +That quarter of an hour was the longest of her life. To see him thus, +living, yet not living, with the spirit driven from him by a cruel blow, +perhaps never to come back! Curious, how things still got themselves +noticed when all her faculties were centred in gazing at his face. She +knew that it was raining again; heard the swish and drip, and smelled +the cool wet perfume through the scent of the eau de cologne that +she had spilled. She noted her aunt's arm, as it hovered, wetting the +bandage; the veins and rounded whiteness from under the loose blue +sleeve slipped up to the elbow. One of his feet lay close to her at the +bed's edge; she stole her hand beneath the sheet. That foot felt very +cold, and she grasped it tight. If only she could pass life into +him through her hot hand. She heard the ticking of her little +travelling-clock, and was conscious of flies wheeling close up beneath +the white ceiling, of how one by one they darted at each other, making +swift zigzags in the air. And something in her she had not yet known +came welling up, softening her eyes, her face, even the very pose of +her young body—the hidden passion of a motherliness, that yearned so +to 'kiss the place,' to make him well, to nurse and tend, restore and +comfort him. And with all her might she watched the movements of those +rounded arms under the blue sleeves—how firm and exact they were, how +soft and quiet and swift, bathing the dark head! Then from beneath the +bandage she caught sight suddenly of his eyes. And her heart turned +sick. Oh, they were not quite closed! As if he hadn't life enough to +close them! She bit into her lip to stop a cry. It was so terrible to +see them without light. Why did not that doctor come? Over and over and +over again within her the prayer turned: Let him live! Oh, let him live! + +The blackbirds out in the orchard were tuning up for evening. It seemed +almost dreadful they should be able to sing like that. All the world was +going on just the same! If he died, the world would have no more light +for her than there was now in his poor eyes—and yet it would go on the +same! How was that possible? It was not possible, because she would die +too! She saw her aunt turn her head like a startled animal; some one was +coming up the stairs! It was the doctor, wiping his wet face—a young man +in gaiters. How young—dreadfully young! No; there was a little gray at +the sides of his hair! What would he say? And Nedda sat with hands +tight clenched in her lap, motionless as a young crouching sphinx. An +interminable testing, and questioning, and answer! Never smoked—never +drank—never been ill! The blow—ah, here! Just here! Concussion—yes! Then +long staring into the eyes, the eyelids lifted between thumb and finger. +And at last (how could he talk so loud! Yet it was a comfort too—he +would not talk like that if Derek were going to die!)—Hair cut +shorter—ice—watch him like a lynx! This and that, if he came to. Nothing +else to be done. And then those blessed words: + +“But don't worry too much. I think it'll be all right.” She could not +help a little sigh escaping her clenched teeth. + +The doctor was looking at her. His eyes were nice. + +“Sister?” + +“Cousin.” + +“Ah! Well, I'll get back now, and send you out some ice, at once.” + +More talk outside the door. Nedda, alone with her lover, crouched +forward on her knees, and put her lips to his. They were not so cold +as his foot, and the first real hope and comfort came to her. Watch him +like a lynx—wouldn't she? But how had it all happened? And where was +Sheila? and Uncle Tod? + +Her aunt had come back and was stroking her shoulder. There had been +fighting in the barn at Marrow Farm. They had arrested Sheila. Derek had +jumped down to rescue her and struck his head against a grindstone. Her +uncle had gone with Sheila. They would watch, turn and turn about. Nedda +must go now and eat something, and get ready to take the watch from +eight to midnight. + +Following her resolve to make no fuss, the girl went out. The police had +gone. The mother-child was putting her little folk to bed; and in the +kitchen Felix was arranging the wherewithal to eat. He made her sit down +and kept handing things; watching like a cat to see that she put them +in her mouth, in the way from which only Flora had suffered hitherto; he +seemed so anxious and unhappy, and so awfully sweet, that Nedda forced +herself to swallow what she thought would never go down a dry and choky +throat. He kept coming up and touching her shoulder or forehead. Once he +said: + +“It's all right, you know, my pet; concussion often takes two days.” + +Two days with his eyes like that! The consolation was not so vivid as +Felix might have wished; but she quite understood that he was doing his +best to give it. She suddenly remembered that he had no room to sleep +in. He must use Derek's. No! That, it appeared, was to be for her when +she came off duty. Felix was going to have an all-night sitting in the +kitchen. He had been looking forward to an all-night sitting for +many years, and now he had got his chance. It was a magnificent +opportunity—“without your mother, my dear, to insist on my sleeping.” +And staring at his smile, Nedda thought: 'He's like Granny—he comes out +under difficulties. If only I did!' + +The ice arrived by motor-cycle just before her watch began. It was some +comfort to have that definite thing to see to. How timorous and humble +are thoughts in a sick-room, above all when the sick are stretched +behind the muffle of unconsciousness, withdrawn from the watcher by +half-death! And yet, for him or her who loves, there is at least the +sense of being alone with the loved one, of doing all that can be done; +and in some strange way of twining hearts with the exiled spirit. To +Nedda, sitting at his feet, and hardly ever turning eyes away from his +still face, it sometimes seemed that the flown spirit was there beside +her. And she saw into his soul in those hours of watching, as one +looking into a stream sees the leopard-like dapple of its sand and +dark-strewn floor, just reached by sunlight. She saw all his pride, +courage, and impatience, his reserve, and strange unwilling tenderness, +as she had never seen them. And a queer dreadful feeling moved her that +in some previous existence she had looked at that face dead on a field +of battle, frowning up at the stars. That was absurd—there were no +previous existences! Or was it prevision of what would come some day? + +When, at half past nine, the light began to fail, she lighted two +candles in tall, thin, iron candlesticks beside her. They burned without +flicker, those spires of yellow flame, slowly conquering the dying +twilight, till in their soft radiance the room was full of warm dusky +shadows, the night outside ever a deeper black. Two or three times his +mother came, looked at him, asked her if she should stay, and, receiving +a little silent shake of the head, went away again. At eleven o'clock, +when once more she changed the ice-cap, his eyes had still no lustre, +and for a moment her courage failed her utterly. It seemed to her +that he could never win back, that death possessed the room already, +possessed those candle-flames, the ticking of the clock, the dark, +dripping night, possessed her heart. Could he be gone before she had +been his! Gone! Where? She sank down on her knees, covering her eyes. +What good to watch, if he were never coming back! A long time—it seemed +hours—passed thus, with the feeling growing deeper in her that no good +would come while she was watching. And behind the barrier of her hands +she tried desperately to rally courage. If things were—they were! One +must look them in the face! She took her hands away. His eyes! Was it +light in them? Was it? They were seeing—surely they saw. And his lips +made the tiniest movement. In that turmoil of exultation she never knew +how she managed to continue kneeling there, with her hands on his. But +all her soul shone down to him out of her eyes, and drew and drew at +his spirit struggling back from the depths of him. For many minutes that +struggle lasted; then he smiled. It was the feeblest smile that ever was +on lips, but it made the tears pour down Nedda's cheeks and trickle off +on to his hands. Then, with a stoicism that she could not believe in, +so hopelessly unreal it seemed, so utterly the negation of the tumult +within her, she settled back again at his feet to watch and not excite +him. And still his lips smiled that faint smile, and his opened eyes +grew dark and darker with meaning. + +So at midnight Kirsteen found them. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +In the early hours of his all-night sitting Felix had first only +memories, and then Kirsteen for companion. + +“I worry most about Tod,” she said. “He had that look in his face when +he went off from Marrow Farm. He might do something terrible if they +ill-treat Sheila. If only she has sense enough to see and not provoke +them.” + +“Surely she will,” Felix murmured. + +“Yes, if she realizes. But she won't, I'm afraid. Even I have only known +him look like that three times. Tod is so gentle—passion stores itself +in him; and when it comes, it's awful. If he sees cruelty, he goes +almost mad. Once he would have killed a man if I hadn't got between +them. He doesn't know what he's doing at such moments. I wish—I wish he +were back. It's hard one can't pierce through, and see him.” + +Gazing at her eyes so dark and intent, Felix thought: 'If YOU can't +pierce through—none can.' + +He learned the story of the disaster. + +Early that morning Derek had assembled twenty of the strongest laborers, +and taken them a round of the farms to force the strike-breakers +to desist. There had been several fights, in all of which the +strike-breakers had been beaten. Derek himself had fought three times. +In the afternoon the police had come, and the laborers had rushed with +Derek and Sheila, who had joined them, into a barn at Marrow Farm, +barred it, and thrown mangolds at the police, when they tried to force +an entrance. One by one the laborers had slipped away by a rope out of a +ventilation-hole high up at the back, and they had just got Sheila down +when the police appeared on that side, too. Derek, who had stayed to the +last, covering their escape with mangolds, had jumped down twenty feet +when he saw them taking Sheila, and, pitching forward, hit his head +against a grindstone. Then, just as they were marching Sheila and two +of the laborers away, Tod had arrived and had fallen in alongside the +policemen—he and the dog. It was then she had seen that look on his +face. + +Felix, who had never beheld his big brother in Berserk mood, could offer +no consolation; nor had he the heart to adorn the tale, and inflict on +this poor woman his reflection: 'This, you see, is what comes of the +ferment you have fostered. This is the reward of violence!' He longed, +rather, to comfort her; she seemed so lonely and, in spite of all her +stoicism, so distraught and sad. His heart went out, too, to Tod. How +would he himself have felt, walking by the side of policemen whose arms +were twisted in Nedda's! But so mixed are the minds of men that at this +very moment there was born within him the germ of a real revolt against +the entry of his little daughter into this family of hotheads. It +was more now than mere soreness and jealousy; it was fear of a danger +hitherto but sniffed at, but now only too sharply savored. + +When she left him to go up-stairs, Felix stayed consulting the dark +night. As ever, in hours of ebbed vitality, the shapes of fear and doubt +grew clearer and more positive; they loomed huge out there among +the apple-trees, where the drip-drip of the rain made music. But his +thoughts were still nebulous, not amounting to resolve. It was no moment +for resolves—with the boy lying up there between the tides of chance; +and goodness knew what happening to Tod and Sheila. The air grew +sharper; he withdrew to the hearth, where a wood fire still burned, +gray ash, red glow, scent oozing from it. And while he crouched there, +blowing it with bellows, he heard soft footsteps, and saw Nedda standing +behind him transformed. + +But in the midst of all his glad sympathy Felix could not help thinking: +'Better for you, perhaps, if he had never returned from darkness!' + +She came and crouched down by him. + +“Let me sit with you, Dad. It smells so good.” + +“Very well; but you must sleep.” + +“I don't believe I'll ever want to sleep again.” + +And at the glow in her Felix glowed too. What is so infectious as +delight? They sat a long time talking, as they had not talked since the +first fatal visit to Becket. Of how love, and mountains, works of art, +and doing things for others were the only sources of happiness; except +scents, and lying on one's back looking through tree-tops at the sky; +and tea, and sunlight, flowers, and hard exercise; oh, and the sea! Of +how, when things went hard, one prayed—but what did one pray to? Was +it not to something in oneself? It was of no use to pray to the great +mysterious Force that made one thing a cabbage, and the other a king; +for That could obviously not be weak-minded enough to attend. And +gradually little pauses began to creep into their talk; then a big +pause, and Nedda, who would never want to sleep again, was fast asleep. + +Felix watched those long, dark lashes resting on her cheeks; the slow, +soft rise of her breast; the touching look of trust and goodness in that +young face abandoned to oblivion after these hours of stress; watched +the little tired shadows under the eyes, the tremors of the just-parted +lips. And, getting up, stealthy as a cat, he found a light rug, and ever +more stealthily laid it over her. She stirred at that, smiled up at him, +and instantly went off again. And he thought: 'Poor little sweetheart, +she WAS tired!' And a passionate desire to guard her from trials and +troubles came on him. + +At four o'clock Kirsteen slipped in again, and whispered: “She made me +promise to come for her. How pretty she looks, sleeping!” + +“Yes,” Felix answered; “pretty and good!” + +Nedda raised her head, stared up at her aunt, and a delighted smile +spread over her face. “Is it time again? How lovely!” Then, before +either could speak or stop her, she was gone. + +“She is more in love,” Kirsteen murmured, “than I ever saw a girl of her +age.” + +“She is more in love,” Felix answered, “than is good to see.” + +“She is not truer than Derek is.” + +“That may be, but she will suffer from him.” + +“Women who love must always suffer.” + +Her cheeks were sunken, shadowy; she looked very tired. When she had +gone to get some sleep, Felix restored the fire and put on a kettle, +meaning to make himself some coffee. Morning had broken, clear and +sparkling after the long rain, and full of scent and song. What glory +equalled this early morning radiance, the dewy wonder of everything! +What hour of the day was such a web of youth and beauty as this, when +all the stars from all the skies had fallen into the grass! A cold nose +was thrust into his hand, and he saw beside him Tod's dog. The animal +was wet, and lightly moved his white-tipped tail; while his dark-yellow +eyes inquired of Felix what he was going to give a dog to eat. Then +Felix saw his brother coming in. Tod's face was wild and absent as a man +with all his thoughts turned on something painful in the distance. His +ruffled hair had lost its brightness; his eyes looked as if driven back +into his head; he was splashed with mud, and wet from head to foot. He +walked up to the hearth without a word. + +“Well, old man?” said Felix anxiously. + +Tod looked at him, but did not answer. + +“Come,” said Felix; “tell us!” + +“Locked up,” said Tod in a voice unlike his own. “I didn't knock them +down.” + +“Heavens! I should hope not.” + +“I ought to have.” + +Felix put his hand within his brother's arm. + +“They twisted her arms; one of them pushed her from behind. I can't +understand it. How was it I didn't? I can't understand.” + +“I can,” said Felix. “They were the Law. If they had been mere men you'd +have done it, fast enough.” + +“I can't understand,” Tod repeated. “I've been walking ever since.” + +Felix stroked his shoulder. + +“Go up-stairs, old man. Kirsteen's anxious.” + +Tod sat down and took his boots off. + +“I can't understand,” he said once more. Then, without another word, or +even a look at Felix, he went out and up the stairs. + +And Felix thought: 'Poor Kirsteen! Ah, well—they're all about as queer, +one as the other! How to get Nedda out of it?' + +And, with that question gnawing at him, he went out into the orchard. +The grass was drenching wet, so he descended to the road. Two +wood-pigeons were crooning to each other, truest of all sounds of +summer; there was no wind, and the flies had begun humming. In the air, +cleared of dust, the scent of hay was everywhere. What about those poor +devils of laborers, now? They would get the sack for this! and he was +suddenly beset with a feeling of disgust. This world where men, and +women too, held what they had, took what they could; this world of +seeing only one thing at a time; this world of force, and cunning, +of struggle, and primitive appetites; of such good things, too, such +patience, endurance, heroism—and yet at heart so unutterably savage! + +He was very tired; but it was too wet to sit down, so he walked on. Now +and again he passed a laborer going to work; but very few in all those +miles, and they quite silent. 'Did they ever really whistle?' Felix +thought. 'Were they ever jolly ploughmen? Or was that always a fiction? +Surely, if they can't give tongue this morning, they never can!' He +crossed a stile and took a slanting path through a little wood. The +scent of leaves and sap, the dapple of sunlight—all the bright early +glow and beauty struck him with such force that he could have cried out +in the sharpness of sensation. At that hour when man was still abed +and the land lived its own life, how full and sweet and wild that life +seemed, how in love with itself! Truly all the trouble in the world came +from the manifold disharmonies of the self-conscious animal called Man! + +Then, coming out on the road again, he saw that he must be within a mile +or two of Becket; and finding himself suddenly very hungry, determined +to go there and get some breakfast. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +Duly shaved with one of Stanley's razors, bathed, and breakfasted, Felix +was on the point of getting into the car to return to Joyfields when he +received a message from his mother: Would he please go up and see her +before he went? + +He found her looking anxious and endeavoring to conceal it. + +Having kissed him, she drew him to her sofa and said: “Now, darling, +come and sit down here, and tell me all about this DREADFUL business.” +And taking up an odorator she blew over him a little cloud of scent. +“It's quite a new perfume; isn't it delicious?” + +Felix, who dreaded scent, concealed his feelings, sat down, and told +her. And while he told her he was conscious of how pathetically her +fastidiousness was quivering under those gruesome details—fighting with +policemen, fighting with common men, prison—FOR A LADY; conscious too +of her still more pathetic effort to put a good face on it. When he had +finished she remained so perfectly still, with lips so hard compressed, +that he said: + +“It's no good worrying, Mother.” + +Frances Freeland rose, pulled something hard, and a cupboard appeared. +She opened it, and took out a travelling-bag. + +“I must go back with you at once,” she said. + +“I don't think it's in the least necessary, and you'll only knock +yourself up.” + +“Oh, nonsense, darling! I must.” + +Knowing that further dissuasion would harden her determination, Felix +said: “I'm going in the car.” + +“That doesn't matter. I shall be ready in ten minutes. Oh! and do you +know this? It's splendid for taking lines out under the eyes!” She was +holding out a little round box with the lid off. “Just wet your finger +with it, and dab it gently on.” + +Touched by this evidence of her deep desire that he should put as good a +face on it as herself, Felix dabbed himself under the eyes. + +“That's right. Now, wait for me, dear; I shan't be a minute. I've only +to get my things. They'll all go splendidly in this little bag.” + +In a quarter of an hour they had started. During that journey Frances +Freeland betrayed no sign of tremor. She was going into action, and, +therefore, had no patience with her nerves. + +“Are you proposing to stay, Mother?” Felix hazarded; “because I don't +think there's a room for you.” + +“Oh! that's nothing, darling. I sleep beautifully in a chair. It suits +me better than lying down.” Felix cast up his eyes, and made no answer. + +On arriving, they found that the doctor had been there, expressed +his satisfaction, and enjoined perfect quiet. Tod was on the point of +starting back to Transham, where Sheila and the two laborers would +be brought up before the magistrates. Felix and Kirsteen took hurried +counsel. Now that Mother, whose nursing was beyond reproach, had come, +it would be better if they went with Tod. All three started forthwith in +the car. + +Left alone, Frances Freeland took her bag—a noticeably old one, without +any patent clasp whatever, so that she could open it—went noiselessly +upstairs, tapped on Derek's door, and went in. A faint but cheerful +voice remarked: “Halloo, Granny!” + +Frances Freeland went up to the bed, smiled down on him ineffably, laid +a finger on his lips, and said, in the stillest voice: “You mustn't +talk, darling!” Then she sat down in the window with her bag beside +her. Half a tear had run down her nose, and she had no intention that +it should be seen. She therefore opened her bag, and, having taken out a +little bottle, beckoned Nedda. + +“Now, darling,” she whispered, “you must just take one of these. It's +nothing new; they're what my mother used to give me at your age. And for +one hour you must go out and get some fresh air, and then you can come +back.” + +“Must I, Granny?” + +“Yes; you must keep up your strength. Kiss me.” + +Nedda kissed a cheek that seemed extraordinarily smooth and soft, +received a kiss in the middle of her own, and, having stayed a second by +the bed, looking down with all her might, went out. + +Frances Freeland, in the window, wasted no thoughts, but began to run +over in her mind the exact operations necessary to defeat this illness +of darling Derek's. Her fingers continually locked and interlocked +themselves with fresh determinations; her eyes, fixed on imaginary +foods, methods of washing, and ways of keeping him quiet, had an almost +fanatical intensity. Like a good general she marshalled her means of +attack and fixed them in perfect order. Now and then she gazed into her +bag, making quite sure that she had everything, and nothing that was +new-fangled or liable to go wrong. For into action she never brought any +of those patent novelties that delighted her soul in times of peace. For +example, when she herself had pneumonia and no doctor, for two months, +it was well known that she had lain on her back, free from every kind +of remedy, employing only courage, nature, and beef tea, or some such +simple sustenance. + +Having now made her mental dispositions, she got up without sound and +slipped off a petticoat that she suspected of having rustled a little +when she came in; folding and popping it where it could not be suspected +any more, she removed her shoes and put on very old velvet slippers. She +walked in these toward the bed, listening to find out whether she could +hear herself, without success. Then, standing where she could see +when his eyes opened, she began to take stock. That pillow wasn't very +comfortable! A little table was wanted on both sides, instead of on one. +There was no odorator, and she did not see one of those arrangements! +All these things would have to be remedied. + +Absorbed in this reconnoitring, she failed to observe that darling Derek +was looking at her through eyelashes that were always so nice and black. +He said suddenly, in that faint and cheerful voice: + +“All right, Granny; I'm going to get up to-morrow.” + +Frances Freeland, whose principle it was that people should always be +encouraged to believe themselves better than they were, answered. “Yes, +darling, of course; you'll be up in no time. It'll be delightful to see +you in a chair to-morrow. But you mustn't talk.” + +Derek sighed, closed his eyes, and went off into a faint. + +It was in moments such as these that Frances Freeland was herself. Her +face flushed a little and grew terribly determined. Conscious that she +was absolutely alone in the house, she ran to her bag, took out her sal +volatile, applied it vigorously to his nose, and poured a little between +his lips. She did other things to him, and not until she had brought him +round, and the best of it was already made, did she even say to herself: +'It's no use fussing; I must make the best of it.' + +Then, having discovered that he felt quite comfortable—as he said—she +sat down in a chair to fan him and tremble vigorously. She would not +have allowed that movement of her limbs if it had in any way interfered +with the fanning. But since, on the contrary, it seemed to be of +assistance, she certainly felt it a relief; for, whatever age her spirit +might be, her body was seventy-three. + +And while she fanned she thought of Derek as a little, black-haired, +blazing-gray-eyed slip of a sallow boy, all little thin legs and arms +moving funnily like a foal's. He had been such a dear, gentlemanlike +little chap. It was dreadful he should be forgetting himself so, and +getting into such trouble. And her thoughts passed back beyond him to +her own four little sons, among whom she had been so careful not to have +a favorite, but to love them all equally. And she thought of how their +holland suits wore out, especially in the elastic, and got green behind, +almost before they were put on; and of how she used to cut their hairs, +spending at least three-quarters of an hour on each, because she had +never been quick at it, while they sat so good—except Stanley, +and darling Tod, who WOULD move just as she had got into the comb +particularly nice bits of his hair, always so crisp and difficult! And +of how she had cut off Felix's long golden curls when he was four, and +would have cried over it, if crying hadn't always been silly! And of +how beautifully they had all had their measles together, so that she had +been up with them day and night for about a fortnight. And of how it was +a terrible risk with Derek and darling Nedda, not at all a wise match, +she was afraid. And yet, if they really were attached, of course one +must put the best face on it! And how lovely it would be to see another +little baby some day; and what a charming little mother Nedda would +make—if only the dear child would do her hair just a little differently! +And she perceived that Derek was asleep—and one of her own legs, from +the knee down. She would certainly have bad pins and needles if she did +not get up; but, since she would not wake him for the world, she must do +something else to cure it. And she hit upon this plan. She had only to +say, 'Nonsense, you haven't anything of the sort!' and it was sure to go +away. She said this to her leg, but, being a realist, she only made +it feel like a pin-cushion. She knew, however, that she had only to +persevere, because it would never do to give in. She persevered, and +her leg felt as if red-hot needles were being stuck in it. Then, for +the life of her, she could not help saying a little psalm. The sensation +went away and left her leg quite dead. She would have no strength in it +at all when she got up. But that would be easily cured, when she could +get to her bag, with three globules of nux vomica—and darling Derek must +not be waked up for anything! She waited thus till Nedda came back, and +then said, “Sssh!” + +He woke at once, so that providentially she was able to get up, and, +having stood with her weight on one leg for five minutes, so as to be +quite sure she did not fall, she crossed back to the window, took +her nux vomica, and sat down with her tablets to note down the little +affairs she would require, while Nedda took her place beside the bed, to +fan him. Having made her list, she went to Nedda and whispered that +she was going down to see about one or two little things, and while she +whispered she arranged the dear child's hair. If only she would keep +it just like that, it would be so much more becoming! And she went +down-stairs. + +Accustomed to the resources of Stanley's establishment, or at least to +those of John's and Felix's, and of the hotels she stayed at, she felt +for a moment just a little nonplussed at discovering at her disposal +nothing but three dear little children playing with a dog, and one +bicycle. For a few seconds she looked at the latter hard. If only it had +been a tricycle! Then, feeling certain that she could not make it into +one, she knew that she must make the best of it, especially as, in any +case, she could not have used it, for it would never do to leave darling +Nedda alone in the house. She decided therefore to look in every room +to see if she could find the things she wanted. The dog, who had been +attracted by her, left the children and came too, and the children, +attracted by the dog, followed; so they all five went into a room on the +ground floor. It was partitioned into two by a screen; in one portion +was a rough camp bedstead, and in the other two dear little child's +beds, that must once have been Derek's and Sheila's, and one still +smaller, made out of a large packing-case. The eldest of the little +children said: + +“That's where Billy sleeps, Susie sleeps here, and I sleeps there; and +our father sleeped in here before he went to prison.” Frances Freeland +experienced a shock. To prison! The idea of letting these little things +know such a thing as that! The best face had so clearly not been put on +it that she decided to put it herself. + +“Oh, not to prison, dear! Only into a house in the town for a little +while.” + +It seemed to her quite dreadful that they should know the truth—it was +simply necessary to put it out of their heads. That dear little girl +looked so old already, such a little mother! And, as they stood about +her, she gazed piercingly at their heads. They were quite clean. + +The second dear little thing said: + +“We like bein' here; we hope Father won't be comin' back from prison +for a long time, so as we can go on stayin' here. Mr. Freeland gives us +apples.” + +The failure of her attempt to put a nicer idea into their heads +disconcerted Frances Freeland for a moment only. She said: + +“Who told you he was in prison?” + +Biddy answered slowly: “Nobody didn't tell us; we picked it up.” + +“Oh, but you should never pick things up! That's not at all nice. You +don't know what harm they may do you.” + +Billy replied: “We picked up a dead cat yesterday. It didn't scratch a +bit, it didn't.” + +And Biddy added: “Please, what is prison like?” + +Pity seized on Frances Freeland for these little derelicts, whose heads +and pinafores and faces were so clean. She pursed her lips very tight +and said: + +“Hold out your hands, all of you.” + +Three small hands were held out, and three small pairs of gray-blue eyes +looked up at her. From the recesses of her pocket she drew forth her +purse, took from it three shillings, and placed one in the very centre +of each palm. The three small hands closed; two small grave bodies +dipped in little courtesies; the third remained stock-still, but a grin +spread gradually on its face from ear to ear. + +“What do you say?” said Frances Freeland. + +“Thank you.” + +“Thank you—what?” + +“Thank you, ma'am.” + +“That's right. Now run away and play a nice game in the orchard.” + +The three turned immediately and went. A sound of whispering rose +busily outside. Frances Freeland, glancing through the window, saw them +unlatching the wicket gate. Sudden alarm seized her. She put out her +head and called. Biddy came back. + +“You mustn't spend them all at once.” + +Biddy shook her head. + +“No. Once we had a shillin', and we were sick. We're goin' to spend +three pennies out of one shillin' every day, till they're gone.” + +“And aren't you going to put any by for a rainy day?” + +“No.” + +Frances Freeland did not know what to answer. Dear little things! + +The dear little things vanished. + +In Tod's and Kirsteen's room she found a little table and a pillow, and +something that might do, and having devised a contrivance by which +this went into that and that into this and nothing whatever showed, +she conveyed the whole very quietly up near dear Derek's room, and told +darling Nedda to go down-stairs and look for something that she knew +she would not find, for she could not think at the moment of any better +excuse. When the child had gone, she popped this here, and popped that +there. And there she was! And she felt better. It was no use whatever to +make a fuss about that aspect of nursing which was not quite nice. One +just put the best face upon it, quietly did what was necessary, and +pretended that it was not there. Kirsteen had not seen to things quite +as she should have. But then dear Kirsteen was so clever. + +Her attitude, indeed, to that blue bird, who had alighted now twenty-one +years ago in the Freeland nest, had always, after the first few shocks, +been duly stoical. For, however her fastidiousness might jib at neglect +of the forms of things, she was the last woman not to appreciate really +sterling qualities. Though it was a pity dear Kirsteen did expose her +neck and arms so that they had got quite brown, a pity that she never +went to church and had brought up the dear children not to go, and to +have ideas that were not quite right about 'the Land,' still she was +emphatically a lady, and devoted to dear Tod, and very good. And her +features were so regular, and she had such a good color, and was so slim +and straight in the back, that she was always a pleasure to look at. And +if she was not quite so practical as she might have been, that was not +everything; and she would never get stout, as there was every danger of +Clara doing. So that from the first she had always put a good face on +her. Derek's voice interrupted her thoughts: + +“I'm awfully thirsty, Granny.” + +“Yes, darling. Don't move your head; and just let me pop in some of this +delicious lemonade with a spoon.” + +Nedda, returning, found her supporting his head with one hand, while +with the other she kept popping in the spoon, her soul smiling at him +lovingly through her lips and eyes. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +Felix went back to London the afternoon of Frances Freeland's +installation, taking Sheila with him. She had been 'bound over to +keep the peace'—a task which she would obviously be the better able to +accomplish at a distance. And, though to take charge of her would be +rather like holding a burning match till there was no match left, he +felt bound to volunteer. + +He left Nedda with many misgivings; but had not the heart to wrench her +away. + +The recovery of a young man who means to get up to-morrow is not so +rapid when his head, rather than his body, is the seat of trouble. +Derek's temperament was against him. He got up several times in spirit, +to find that his body had remained in bed. And this did not accelerate +his progress. It had been impossible to dispossess Frances Freeland from +command of the sick-room; and, since she was admittedly from experience +and power of paying no attention to her own wants, the fittest person +for the position, there she remained, taking turn and turn about with +Nedda, and growing a little whiter, a little thinner, more resolute in +face, and more loving in her eyes, from day to day. That tragedy of the +old—the being laid aside from life before the spirit is ready to resign, +the feeling that no one wants you, that all those you have borne and +brought up have long passed out on to roads where you cannot follow, +that even the thought-life of the world streams by so fast that you lie +up in a backwater, feebly, blindly groping for the full of the water, +and always pushed gently, hopelessly back; that sense that you are still +young and warm, and yet so furbelowed with old thoughts and fashions +that none can see how young and warm you are, none see how you long to +rub hearts with the active, how you yearn for something real to do +that can help life on, and how no one will give it you! All this—this +tragedy—was for the time defeated. She was, in triumph, doing something +real for those she loved and longed to do things for. She had Sheila's +room. + +For a week at least Derek asked no questions, made no allusion to +the mutiny, not even to the cause of his own disablement. It had +been impossible to tell whether the concussion had driven coherent +recollection from his mind, or whether he was refraining from an +instinct of self-preservation, barring such thoughts as too exciting. +Nedda dreaded every day lest he should begin. She knew that the +questions would fall on her, since no answer could possibly be expected +from Granny except: “It's all right, darling, everything's going on +perfectly—only you mustn't talk!” + +It began the last day of June, the very first day that he got up. + +“They didn't save the hay, did they?” + +Was he fit to hear the truth? Would he forgive her if she did not +tell it? If she lied about this, could she go on lying to his other +questions? When he discovered, later, would not the effect undo the good +of lies now? She decided to lie; but, when she opened her lips, simply +could not, with his eyes on her; and said faintly: “Yes, they did.” + +His face contracted. She slipped down at once and knelt beside his +chair. He said between his teeth: + +“Go on; tell me. Did it all collapse?” + +She could only stroke his hands and bow her head. + +“I see. What's happened to them?” + +Without looking up, she murmured: + +“Some have been dismissed; the others are working again all right.” + +“All right!” + +She looked up then so pitifully that he did not ask her anything more. +But the news put him back a week. And she was in despair. The day he got +up again he began afresh: + +“When are the assizes?” + +“The 7th of August.” + +“Has anybody been to see Bob Tryst?” + +“Yes; Aunt Kirsteen has been twice.” + +Having been thus answered, he was quiet for a long time. She had slipped +again out of her chair to kneel beside him; it seemed the only place +from which she could find courage for her answers. He put his hand, that +had lost its brown, on her hair. At that she plucked up spirit to ask: + +“Would you like me to go and see him?” + +He nodded. + +“Then, I will—to-morrow.” + +“Don't ever tell me what isn't true, Nedda! People do; that's why I +didn't ask before.” + +She answered fervently: + +“I won't! Oh, I won't!” + +She dreaded this visit to the prison. Even to think of those places gave +her nightmare. Sheila's description of her night in a cell had made her +shiver with horror. But there was a spirit in Nedda that went through +with things; and she started early the next day, refusing Kirsteen's +proffered company. + +The look of that battlemented building, whose walls were pierced with +emblems of the Christian faith, turned her heartsick, and she stood +for several minutes outside the dark-green door before she could summon +courage to ring the bell. + +A stout man in blue, with a fringe of gray hair under his peaked cap, +and some keys dangling from a belt, opened, and said: + +“Yes, miss?” + +Being called 'miss' gave her a little spirit, and she produced the card +she had been warming in her hand. + +“I have come to see a man called Robert Tryst, waiting for trial at the +assizes.” + +The stout man looked at the card back and front, as is the way of those +in doubt, closed the door behind her, and said: + +“Just a minute, miss.” + +The shutting of the door behind her sent a little shiver down Nedda's +spine; but the temperature of her soul was rising, and she looked round. +Beyond the heavy arch, beneath which she stood, was a courtyard where +she could see two men, also in blue, with peaked caps. Then, to her +left, she became conscious of a shaven-headed noiseless being in +drab-gray clothes, on hands and knees, scrubbing the end of a corridor. +Her tremor at the stealthy ugliness of this crouching figure yielded +at once to a spasm of pity. The man gave her a look, furtive, yet so +charged with intense penetrating curiosity that it seemed to let her +suddenly into innumerable secrets. She felt as if the whole life of +people shut away in silence and solitude were disclosed to her in the +swift, unutterably alive look of this noiseless kneeling creature, +riving out of her something to feed his soul and body on. That look +seemed to lick its lips. It made her angry, made her miserable, with +a feeling of pity she could hardly bear. Tears, too startled to flow, +darkened her eyes. Poor man! How he must hate her, who was free, and all +fresh from the open world and the sun, and people to love and talk to! +The 'poor man' scrubbed on steadily, his ears standing out from his +shaven head; then, dragging his knee-mat skew-ways, he took the chance +to look at her again. Perhaps because his dress and cap and stubble of +hair and even the color of his face were so drab-gray, those little dark +eyes seemed to her the most terribly living things she had ever seen. +She felt that they had taken her in from top to toe, clothed and +unclothed, taken in the resentment she had felt and the pity she was +feeling; they seemed at once to appeal, to attack, and to possess her +ravenously, as though all the starved instincts in a whole prisoned +world had rushed up and for a second stood outside their bars. Then came +the clank of keys, the eyes left her as swiftly as they had seized her, +and he became again just that stealthy, noiseless creature scrubbing a +stone floor. And, shivering, Nedda thought: + +'I can't bear myself here—me with everything in the world I want—and +these with nothing!' + +But the stout janitor was standing by her again, together with another +man in blue, who said: + +“Now, miss; this way, please!” + +And down that corridor they went. Though she did not turn, she knew well +that those eyes were following, still riving something from her; and she +heaved a sigh of real relief when she was round a corner. Through barred +windows that had no glass she could see another court, where men in the +same drab-gray clothes printed with arrows were walking one behind the +other, making a sort of moving human hieroglyphic in the centre of the +concrete floor. Two warders with swords stood just outside its edge. +Some of those walking had their heads up, their chests expanded, some +slouched along with heads almost resting on their chests; but most had +their eyes fixed on the back of the neck of the man in front; and there +was no sound save the tramp of feet. + +Nedda put her hand to her throat. The warder beside her said in a chatty +voice: + +“That's where the 'ards takes their exercise, miss. You want to see a +man called Tryst, waitin' trial, I think. We've had a woman here to see +him, and a lady in blue, once or twice.” + +“My aunt.” + +“Ah! just so. Laborer, I think—case of arson. Funny thing; never yet +found a farm-laborer that took to prison well.” + +Nedda shivered. The words sounded ominous. Then a little flame lit +itself within her. + +“Does anybody ever 'take to' prison?” + +The warder uttered a sound between a grunt and chuckle. + +“There's some has a better time here than they have out, any day. No +doubt about it—they're well fed here.” + +Her aunt's words came suddenly into Nedda's mind: 'Liberty's a glorious +feast!' But she did not speak them. + +“Yes,” the warder proceeded, “some o' them we get look as if they didn't +have a square meal outside from one year's end to the other. If you'll +just wait a minute, miss, I'll fetch the man down to you.” + +In a bare room with distempered walls, and bars to a window out of which +she could see nothing but a high brick wall, Nedda waited. So rapid +is the adjustment of the human mind, so quick the blunting of human +sensation, that she had already not quite the passion of pitiful feeling +which had stormed her standing under that archway. A kind of numbness +gripped her nerves. There were wooden forms in this room, and a +blackboard, on which two rows of figures had been set one beneath the +other, but not yet added up. + +The silence at first was almost deathly. Then it was broken by a +sound as of a heavy door banged, and the shuffling tramp of marching +men—louder, louder, softer—a word of command—still softer, and it died +away. Dead silence again! Nedda pressed her hands to her breast. Twice +she added up those figures on the blackboard; each time the number was +the same. Ah, there was a fly—two flies! How nice they looked, moving, +moving, chasing each other in the air. Did flies get into the cells? +Perhaps not even a fly came there—nothing more living than walls and +wood! Nothing living except what was inside oneself! How dreadful! Not +even a clock ticking, not even a bird's song! Silent, unliving, worse +than in this room! Something pressed against her leg. She started +violently and looked down. A little cat! Oh, what a blessed thing! A +little sandy, ugly cat! It must have crept in through the door. She was +not locked in, then, anyway! Thus far had nerves carried her already! +Scrattling the little cat's furry pate, she pulled herself together. She +would not tremble and be nervous. It was disloyal to Derek and to her +purpose, which was to bring comfort to poor Tryst. Then the door was +pushed open, and the warder said: + +“A quarter of an hour, miss. I'll be just outside.” + +She saw a big man with unshaven cheeks come in, and stretched out her +hand. + +“I am Mr. Derek's cousin, going to be married to him. He's been ill, +but he's getting well again now. We knew you'd like to hear.” And she +thought: 'Oh! What a tragic face! I can't bear to look at his eyes!' + +He took her hand, said, “Thank you, miss,” and stood as still as ever. + +“Please come and sit down, and we can talk.” + +Tryst moved to a form and took his seat thereon, with his hands between +his knees, as if playing with an imaginary cap. He was dressed in an +ordinary suit of laborer's best clothes, and his stiff, dust-colored +hair was not cut particularly short. The cheeks of his square-cut face +had fallen in, the eyes had sunk back, and the prominence thus given to +his cheek and jawbones and thick mouth gave his face a savage look—only +his dog-like, terribly yearning eyes made Nedda feel so sorry that she +simply could not feel afraid. + +“The children are such dears, Mr. Tryst. Billy seems to grow every +day. They're no trouble at all, and quite happy. Biddy's wonderful with +them.” + +“She's a good maid.” The thick lips shaped the words as though they had +almost lost power of speech. + +“Do they let you see the newspapers we send? Have you got everything you +want?” + +For a minute he did not seem to be going to answer; then, moving his +head from side to side, he said: + +“Nothin' I want, but just get out of here.” + +Nedda murmured helplessly: + +“It's only a month now to the assizes. Does Mr. Pogram come to see you?” + +“Yes, he comes. He can't do nothin'!” + +“Oh, don't despair! Even if they don't acquit you, it'll soon be over. +Don't despair!” And she stole her hand out and timidly touched his arm. +She felt her heart turning over and over, he looked so sad. + +He said in that stumbling, thick voice: + +“Thank you kindly. I must get out. I won't stand long of it—not much +longer. I'm not used to it—always been accustomed to the air, an' bein' +about, that's where 'tis. But don't you tell him, miss. You say I'm +goin' along all right. Don't you tell him what I said. 'Tis no use him +frettin' over me. 'Twon' do me no good.” + +And Nedda murmured: + +“No, no; I won't tell him.” + +Then suddenly came the words she had dreaded: + +“D'you think they'll let me go, miss?” + +“Oh, yes, I think so—I hope so!” But she could not meet his eyes, and +hearing him grit his boot on the floor knew he had not believed her. + +He said slowly: + +“I never meant to do it when I went out that mornin'. It came on me +sudden, lookin' at the straw.” + +Nedda gave a little gasp. Could that man outside hear? + +Tryst went on: “If they don't let me go, I won' stand it. 'Tis too much +for a man. I can't sleep, I can't eat, nor nothin'. I won' stand it. It +don' take long to die, if you put your mind to it.” + +Feeling quite sick with pity, Nedda got up and stood beside him; and, +moved by an uncontrollable impulse, she lifted one of his great hands +and clasped it in both her own. “Oh, try and be brave and look forward! +You're going to be ever so happy some day.” + +He gave her a strange long stare. + +“Yes, I'll be happy some day. Don' you never fret about me.” + +And Nedda saw that the warder was standing in the doorway. + +“Sorry, miss, time's up.” + +Without a word Tryst rose and went out. + +Nedda was alone again with the little sandy cat. Standing under the +high-barred window she wiped her cheeks, that were all wet. Why, why +must people suffer so? Suffer so slowly, so horribly? What were men made +of that they could go on day after day, year after year, watching others +suffer? + +When the warder came back to take her out, she did not trust herself to +speak, or even to look at him. She walked with hands tight clenched, and +eyes fixed on the ground. Outside the prison door she drew a long, long +breath. And suddenly her eyes caught the inscription on the corner of a +lane leading down alongside the prison wall—“Love's Walk”! + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +Peremptorily ordered by the doctor to the sea, but with instructions to +avoid for the present all excitement, sunlight, and color, Derek and +his grandmother repaired to a spot well known to be gray, and Nedda went +home to Hampstead. This was the last week in July. A fortnight spent +in the perfect vacuity of an English watering-place restored the boy +wonderfully. No one could be better trusted than Frances Freeland to +preserve him from looking on the dark side of anything, more specially +when that thing was already not quite nice. Their conversation was +therefore free from allusion to the laborers, the strike, or Bob Tryst. +And Derek thought the more. The approaching trial was hardly ever out +of his mind. Bathing, he would think of it; sitting on the gray jetty +looking over the gray sea, he would think of it. Up the gray cobbled +streets and away on the headlands, he would think of it. And, so as not +to have to think of it, he would try to walk himself to a standstill. +Unfortunately the head will continue working when the legs are at rest. +And when he sat opposite to her at meal-times, Frances Freeland would +gaze piercingly at his forehead and muse: 'The dear boy looks much +better, but he's getting a little line between his brows—it IS such a +pity!' It worried her, too, that the face he was putting on their little +holiday together was not quite as full as she could have wished—though +the last thing in the world she could tolerate were really fat cheeks, +those signs of all that her stoicism abhorred, those truly unforgivable +marks of the loss of 'form.' He struck her as dreadfully silent, too, +and she would rack her brains for subjects that would interest him, +often saying to herself: 'If only I were clever!' It was natural he +should think of dear Nedda, but surely it was not that which gave him +the little line. He must be brooding about those other things. He ought +not to be melancholy like this and let anything prevent the sea from +doing him good. The habit—hard-learned by the old, and especially the +old of her particular sex—of not wishing for the moon, or at all events +of not letting others know that you are wishing for it, had long enabled +Frances Freeland to talk cheerfully on the most indifferent subjects +whether or no her heart were aching. One's heart often did ache, of +course, but it simply didn't do to let it interfere, making things +uncomfortable for others. And once she said to him: “You know, darling, +I think it would be so nice for you to take a little interest in +politics. They're very absorbing when you once get into them. I find my +paper most enthralling. And it really has very good principles.” + +“If politics did anything for those who most need things done, +Granny—but I can't see that they do.” + +She thought a little, then, making firm her lips, said: + +“I don't think that's quite just, darling, there are a great many +politicians who are very much looked up to—all the bishops, for +instance, and others whom nobody could suspect of self-seeking.” + +“I didn't mean that politicians were self-seeking, Granny; I meant that +they're comfortable people, and the things that interest them are those +that interest comfortable people. What have they done for the laborers, +for instance?” + +“Oh, but, darling! they're going to do a great deal. In my paper they're +continually saying that.” + +“Do you believe it?” + +“I'm sure they wouldn't say so if they weren't. There's quite a new +plan, and it sounds most sensible. And so I don't think, darling, that +if I were you I should make myself unhappy about all that kind of thing. +They must know best. They're all so much older than you. And you're +getting quite a little line between your eyes.” + +Derek smiled. + +“All right, Granny; I shall have a big one soon.” + + Frances Freeland smiled, too, but shook her head. + +“Yes; and that's why I really think you ought to take interest in +politics.” + +“I'd rather take interest in you, Granny. You're very jolly to look at.” + +Frances Freeland raised her brows. + +“I? My dear, I'm a perfect fright nowadays.” + +Thus pushing away what her stoicism and perpetual aspiration to an +impossibly good face would not suffer her to admit, she added: + +“Where would you like to drive this afternoon?” + +For they took drives in a small victoria, Frances Freeland holding her +sunshade to protect him from the sun whenever it made the mistake of +being out. + +On August the fourth he insisted that he was well and must go back home. +And, though to bring her attendance on him to an end was a grief, she +humbly admitted that he must be wanting younger company, and, after +one wistful attempt, made no further bones. The following day they +travelled. + +On getting home he found that the police had been to see little Biddy +Tryst, who was to be called as a witness. Tod would take her over on the +morning of the trial. Derek did not wait for this, but on the day before +the assizes repacked his bag and went off to the Royal Charles Hostel at +Worcester. He slept not at all that night, and next morning was early +at the court, for Tryst's case would be the first. Anxiously he sat +watching all the queer and formal happenings that mark the initiation of +the higher justice—the assemblage of the gentlemen in wigs; the sifting, +shifting, settling of clerks, and ushers, solicitors, and the public; +the busy indifference, the cheerful professionalism of it all. He saw +little Mr. Pogram come in, more square and rubbery than ever, and engage +in conclave with one of the bewigged. The smiles, shrugs, even the sharp +expressions on that barrister's face; the way he stood, twisting round, +one hand wrapped in his gown, one foot on the bench behind; it was all +as if he had done it hundreds of times before and cared not the snap of +one of his thin, yellow fingers. Then there was a sudden hush; the +judge came in, bowed, and took his seat. And that, too, seemed so +professional. Haunted by the thought of him to whom this was almost life +and death, the boy was incapable of seeing how natural it was that they +should not all feel as he did. + +The case was called and Tryst brought in. Derek had once more to undergo +the torture of those tragic eyes fixed on him. Round that heavy figure, +that mournful, half-brutal, and half-yearning face, the pleadings, +the questions, the answers buzzed, bringing out facts with damning +clearness, yet leaving the real story of that early morning as hidden as +if the court and all were but gibbering figures of air. The real story +of Tryst, heavy and distraught, rising and turning out from habit into +the early haze on the fields, where his daily work had lain, of Tryst +brooding, with the slow, the wrathful incoherence that centuries +of silence in those lonely fields had passed into the blood of his +forebears and himself. Brooding, in the dangerous disproportion that +enforced continence brings to certain natures, loading the brain with +violence till the storm bursts and there leap out the lurid, dark +insanities of crime. Brooding, while in the air flies chased each other, +insects crawled together in the grass, and the first principle of nature +worked everywhere its sane fulfilment. They might talk and take evidence +as they would, be shrewd and sharp with all the petty sharpness of the +Law; but the secret springs would still lie undisclosed, too natural +and true to bear the light of day. The probings and eloquence of justice +would never paint the picture of that moment of maniacal relief, when, +with jaw hanging loose, eyes bulging in exultation of revenge, he had +struck those matches with his hairy hands and let them flare in the +straw, till the little red flames ran and licked, rustled and licked, +and there was nothing to do but watch them lick and burn. Nor of that +sudden wildness of dumb fear that rushed into the heart of the crouching +creature, changing the madness of his face to palsy. Nor of the recoil +from the burning stack; those moments empty with terror. Nor of how +terror, through habit of inarticulate, emotionless existence, gave place +again to brute stolidity. And so, heavily back across the dewy fields, +under the larks' songs, the cooings of pigeons, the hum of wings, +and all the unconscious rhythm of ageless Nature. No! The probings of +Justice could never reach the whole truth. And even Justice quailed at +its own probings when the mother-child was passed up from Tod's side +into the witness-box and the big laborer was seen to look at her and +she at him. She seemed to have grown taller; her pensive little face and +beautifully fluffed-out corn-brown hair had an eerie beauty, perched up +there in the arid witness-box, as of some small figure from the brush of +Botticelli. + +“Your name, my dear?” + +“Biddy Tryst.” + +“How old?” + +“Ten next month, please.” + +“Do you remember going to live at Mr. Freeland's cottage?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“And do you remember the first night?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Where did you sleep, Biddy?” + +“Please, sir, we slept in a big room with a screen. Billy and Susie and +me; and father behind the screen.” + +“And where was the room?” + +“Down-stairs, sir.” + +“Now, Biddy, what time did you wake up the first morning?” + +“When Father got up.” + +“Was that early or late?” + +“Very early.” + +“Would you know the time?” + +“No, sir.” + +“But it was very early; how did you know that?” + +“It was a long time before we had any breakfast.” + +“And what time did you have breakfast?” + +“Half past six by the kitchen clock.” + +“Was it light when you woke up?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“When Father got up, did he dress or did he go to bed again?” + +“He hadn't never undressed, sir.” + +“Then did he stay with you or did he go out?” + +“Out, sir.” + +“And how long was it before he came back?” + +“When I was puttin' on Billy's boots.” + +“What had you done in between?” + +“Helped Susie and dressed Billy.” + +“And how long does that take you generally?” + +“Half an hour, sir.” + +“I see. What did Father look like when he came in, Biddy?” + +The mother-child paused. For the first time it seemed to dawn on her +that there was something dangerous in these questions. She twisted her +small hands before her and gazed at her father. + +The judge said gently: + +“Well, my child?” + +“Like he does now, sir.” + +“Thank you, Biddy.” + +That was all; the mother-child was suffered to step down and take her +place again by Tod. And in the silence rose the short and rubbery report +of little Mr. Pogram blowing his nose. No evidence given that morning +was so conclusive, actual, terrible as that unconscious: “Like he +does now, sir.” That was why even Justice quailed a little at its own +probings. + +From this moment the boy knew that Tryst's fate was sealed. What did all +those words matter, those professional patterings one way and the other; +the professional jeers: 'My friend has told you this' and 'My friend +will tell you that.' The professional steering of the impartial judge, +seated there above them all; the cold, calculated rhapsodies about the +heinousness of arson; the cold and calculated attack on the characters +of the stone-breaker witness and the tramp witness; the cold and +calculated patter of the appeal not to condemn a father on the evidence +of his little child; the cold and calculated outburst on the right of +every man to be assumed innocent except on overwhelming evidence such +as did not here exist. The cold and calculated balancing of pro and con; +and those minutes of cold calculation veiled from the eyes of the court. +Even the verdict: 'Guilty'; even the judgment: 'Three years' penal +servitude.' All nothing, all superfluity to the boy supporting the +tragic gaze of Tryst's eyes and making up his mind to a desperate +resort. + +“Three years' penal servitude!” The big laborer paid no more attention +to those words than to any others spoken during that hour's settlement +of his fate. True, he received them standing, as is the custom, fronting +the image of Justice, from whose lips they came. But by no single +gesture did he let any one see the dumb depths of his soul. If life had +taught him nothing else, it had taught him never to express himself. +Mute as any bullock led into the slaughtering-house, with something of a +bullock's dulled and helpless fear in his eyes, he passed down and away +between his jailers. And at once the professional noises rose, and the +professional rhapsodists, hunching their gowns, swept that little lot +of papers into their pink tape, and, turning to their neighbors, smiled, +and talked, and jerked their eyebrows. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +The nest on the Spaniard's Road had not been able to contain Sheila +long. There are certain natures, such as that of Felix, to whom the +claims and exercise of authority are abhorrent, who refuse to exercise +it themselves and rage when they see it exercised over others, but +who somehow never come into actual conflict with it. There are other +natures, such as Sheila's, who do not mind in the least exercising +authority themselves, but who oppose it vigorously when they feel +it coming near themselves or some others. Of such is the kingdom of +militancy. Her experience with the police had sunk deep into her soul. +They had not, as a fact, treated her at all badly, which did not prevent +her feeling as if they had outraged in her the dignity of woman. She +arrived, therefore, in Hampstead seeing red even where red was not. And +since, undoubtedly, much real red was to be seen, there was little other +color in the world or in her cheeks those days. Long disagreements with +Alan, to whom she was still a magnet but whose Stanley-like nature stood +firm against the blandishments of her revolting tongue, drove her more +and more toward a decision the seeds of which had, perhaps, been planted +during her former stay among the breezy airs of Hampstead. + +Felix, coming one day into his wife's study—for the house knew not the +word drawing-room—found Flora, with eyebrows lifted up and smiling lips, +listening to Sheila proclaiming the doctrine that it was impossible not +to live 'on one's own.' Nothing else—Felix learned—was compatible with +dignity, or even with peace of mind. She had, therefore, taken a back +room high up in a back street, in which she was going to live perfectly +well on ten shillings a week; and, having thirty-two pounds saved up, +she would be all right for a year, after which she would be able to earn +her living. The principle she purposed to keep before her eyes was that +of committing herself to nothing which would seriously interfere with +her work in life. Somehow, it was impossible to look at this girl, with +her glowing cheeks and her glowing eyes, and her hair frizzy from ardor, +and to distrust her utterances. Yes! She would arrive, if not where she +wanted, at all events somewhere; which, after all, was the great thing. +And in fact she did arrive the very next day in the back room high up +in the back street, and neither Tod's cottage nor the house on the +Spaniard's Road saw more than flying gleams of her, thenceforth. + +Another by-product, this, of that little starting episode, the notice +given to Tryst! Strange how in life one little incident, one little +piece of living stress, can attract and gather round it the feelings, +thoughts, actions of people whose lives run far and wide away therefrom. +But episodes are thus potent only when charged with a significance that +comes from the clash of the deepest instincts. + +During the six weeks which had elapsed between his return home from +Joyfields and the assizes, Felix had much leisure to reflect that if +Lady Malloring had not caused Tryst to be warned that he could not marry +his deceased wife's sister and continue to stay on the estate—the lives +of Felix himself, his daughter, mother, brother, brother's wife, their +son and daughter, and in less degree of his other brothers, would have +been free of a preoccupation little short of ludicrous in proportion to +the face value of the cause. But he had leisure, too, to reflect that +in reality the issue involved in that tiny episode concerned human +existence to its depths—for, what was it but the simple, all-important +question of human freedom? The simple, all-important issue of how far +men and women should try to rule the lives of others instead of trying +only to rule their own, and how far those others should allow their +lives to be so ruled? This it was which gave that episode its power +of attracting and affecting the thoughts, feelings, actions of so many +people otherwise remote. And though Felix was paternal enough to say to +himself nearly all the time, 'I can't let Nedda get further into this +mess!' he was philosopher enough to tell himself, in the unfatherly +balance of his hours, that the mess was caused by the fight best of all +worth fighting—of democracy against autocracy, of a man's right to do as +he likes with his life if he harms not others; of 'the Land' against the +fetterers of 'the Land.' And he was artist enough to see how from that +little starting episode the whole business had sprung—given, of course, +the entrance of the wilful force called love. But a father, especially +when he has been thoroughly alarmed, gives the artist and philosopher in +him short shrift. + +Nedda came home soon after Sheila went, and to the eyes of Felix she +came back too old and thoughtful altogether. How different a girl from +the Nedda who had so wanted 'to know everything' that first night of +May! What was she brooding over, what planning, in that dark, round, +pretty head? At what resolve were those clear eyes so swiftly raised +to look? What was going on within, when her breast heaved so, without +seeming cause, and the color rushed up in her cheeks at a word, as +though she had been so far away that the effort of recall was alone +enough to set all her veins throbbing. And yet Felix could devise no +means of attack on her infatuation. For a man cannot cultivate the habit +of never interfering and then suddenly throw it over; least of all when +the person to be interfered with is his pet and only daughter. + +Flora, not of course in the swim of those happenings at Joyflelds, +could not be got to take the matter very seriously. In fact—beyond +what concerned Felix himself and poetry—the matter that she did take +seriously had yet to be discovered. Hers was one of those semi-detached +natures particularly found in Hampstead. When exhorted to help tackle +the question, she could only suggest that Felix should take them all +abroad when he had finished 'The Last of the Laborers.' A tour, for +instance, in Norway and Sweden, where none of them had ever been, and +perhaps down through Finland into Russia. + +Feeling like one who squirts on a burning haystack with a garden +syringe, Felix propounded this scheme to his little daughter. She +received it with a start, a silence, a sort of quivering all over, as +of an animal who scents danger. She wanted to know when, and being +told—'not before the middle of August', relapsed into her preoccupation +as if nothing had been said. Felix noted on the hall table one afternoon +a letter in her handwriting, addressed to a Worcester newspaper, and +remarked thereafter that she began to receive this journal daily, +obviously with a view to reports of the coming assizes. Once he tried to +break through into her confidence. It was August Bank Holiday, and they +had gone out on to the heath together to see the people wonderfully +assembled. Coming back across the burnt-up grass, strewn with paper +bags, banana peel, and the cores of apples, he hooked his hand into her +arm. + +“What is to be done with a child that goes about all day thinking and +thinking and not telling anybody what she is thinking?” + +She smiled round at him and answered: + +“I know, Dad. She IS a pig, isn't she?” + +This comparison with an animal of proverbial stubbornness was not +encouraging. Then his hand was squeezed to her side and he heard her +murmur: + +“I wonder if all daughters are such beasts!” + +He understood well that she had meant: 'There is only one thing I +want—one thing I mean to have—one thing in the world for me now!' + +And he said soberly: + +“We can't expect anything else.” + +“Oh, Daddy!” she answered, but nothing more. + +Only four days later she came to his study with a letter, and a face so +flushed and troubled that he dropped his pen and got up in alarm. + +“Read this, Dad! It's impossible! It's not true! It's terrible! Oh! What +am I to do?” + +The letter ran thus, in a straight, boyish handwriting: + +“ROYAL CHARLES HOSTEL, + +“WORCESTER, Aug. 7th. + +“MY NEDDA, + +“I have just seen Bob tried. They have given him three years' penal. +It was awful to sit there and watch him. He can never stand it. It was +awful to watch him looking at ME. It's no good. I'm going to give myself +up. I must do it. I've got everything ready; they'll have to believe me +and squash his sentence. You see, but for me it would never have been +done. It's a matter of honour. I can't let him suffer any more. This +isn't impulse. I've been meaning to do it for some time, if they found +him guilty. So in a way, it's an immense relief. I'd like to have seen +you first, but it would only distress you, and I might not have been +able to go through with it after. Nedda, darling, if you still love me +when I get out, we'll go to New Zealand, away from this country where +they bully poor creatures like Bob. Be brave! I'll write to-morrow, if +they let me. + +“Your + +“Derek.” + +The first sensation in Felix on reading this effusion was poignant +recollection of the little lawyer's look after Derek had made the scene +at Tryst's committal and of his words: 'Nothing in it, is there?' His +second thought: 'Is this the cutting of the knot that I've been looking +for?' His third, which swept all else away: 'My poor little darling! +What business has that boy to hurt her again like this!' + +He heard her say: + +“Tryst told me himself he did it, Dad! He told me when I went to see him +in the prison. Honour doesn't demand what isn't true! Oh, Dad, help me!” + +Felix was slow in getting free from the cross currents of reflection. +“He wrote this last night,” he said dismally. “He may have done it +already. We must go and see John.” + +Nedda clasped her hands. “Ah! Yes!” + +And Felix had not the heart to add what he was thinking: 'Not that I +see what good he can do!' But, though sober reason told him this, it was +astonishingly comforting to be going to some one who could be relied on +to see the facts of the situation without any of that 'flimflam' with +which imagination is accustomed to surround them. “And we'll send Derek +a wire for what it's worth.” + +They went at once to the post-office, Felix composing this message on +the way: 'Utterly mistaken chivalry you have no right await our arrival +Felix Freeland.' He handed it to her to read, and passed it under the +brass railing to the clerk, not without the feeling of shame due from +one who uses the word chivalry in a post-office. + +On the way to the Tube station he held her arm tightly, but whether to +impart courage or receive it he could not have said, so strung-up in +spirit did he feel her. With few words exchanged they reached Whitehall. +Marking their card 'Urgent,' they were received within ten minutes. + +John was standing in a high, white room, smelling a little of papers +and tobacco, and garnished solely by five green chairs, a table, and a +bureau with an immense number of pigeonholes, whereat he had obviously +been seated. Quick to observe what concerned his little daughter, Felix +noted how her greeting trembled up at her uncle and how a sort of warmth +thawed for the moment the regularity of his brother's face. When they +had taken two of the five green chairs and John was back at his bureau, +Felix handed over the letter. John read it and looked at Nedda. Then +taking a pipe out of his pocket, which he had evidently filled before +they came in, he lighted it and re-read the letter. Then, looking very +straight at Nedda, he said: + +“Nothing in it? Honour bright, my dear!” + +“No, Uncle John, nothing. Only that he fancies his talk about injustice +put it into Tryst's head.” + +John nodded; the girl's face was evidence enough for him. + +“Any proof?” + +“Tryst himself told me in the prison that he did it. He said it came on +him suddenly, when he saw the straw.” + +A pause followed before John said: + +“Good! You and I and your father will go down and see the police.” + +Nedda lifted her hands and said breathlessly: + +“But, Uncle! Dad! Have I the right? He says—honour. Won't it be +betraying him?” + +Felix could not answer, but with relief he heard John say: + +“It's not honorable to cheat the law.” + +“No; but he trusted me or he wouldn't have written.” + +John answered slowly: + +“I think your duty's plain, my dear. The question for the police will be +whether or not to take notice of this false confession. For us to keep +the knowledge that it's false from them, under the circumstances, is +clearly not right. Besides being, to my mind, foolish.” + +For Felix to watch this mortal conflict going on in the soul of his +daughter—that soul which used to seem, perhaps even now seemed, part of +himself; to know that she so desperately wanted help for her decision, +and to be unable to give it, unable even to trust himself to be +honest—this was hard for Felix. There she sat, staring before her; +and only her tight-clasped hands, the little movements of her lips and +throat, showed the struggle going on in her. + +“I couldn't, without seeing him; I MUST see him first, Uncle!” + +John got up and went over to the window; he, too, had been affected by +her face. + +“You realize,” he said, “that you risk everything by that. If he's given +himself up, and they've believed him, he's not the sort to let it fall +through. You cut off your chance if he won't let you tell. Better for +your father and me to see him first, anyway.” And Felix heard a mutter +that sounded like: 'Confound him!' + +Nedda rose. “Can we go at once, then, Uncle?” + +With a solemnity that touched Felix, John put a hand on each side of her +face, raised it, and kissed her on the forehead. + +“All right!” he said. “Let's be off!” + +A silent trio sought Paddington in a taxi-cab, digesting this desperate +climax of an affair that sprang from origins so small. + +In Felix, contemplating his daughter's face, there was profound +compassion, but also that family dismay, that perturbation of +self-esteem, which public scandal forces on kinsmen, even the most +philosophic. He felt exasperation against Derek, against Kirsteen, +almost even against Tod, for having acquiesced passively in the +revolutionary bringing-up which had brought on such a disaster. War +against injustice; sympathy with suffering; chivalry! Yes! But not quite +to the point whence they recoiled on his daughter, his family, himself! +The situation was impossible! He was fast resolving that, whether or no +they saved Derek from this quixotry, the boy should not have Nedda. And +already his eyes found difficulty in meeting hers. + +They secured a compartment to themselves and, having settled down in +corners, began mechanically unfolding evening journals. For after all, +whatever happens, one must read the papers! Without that, life would +indeed be insupportable! Felix had bought Mr. Cuthcott's, but, though +he turned and turned the sheets, they seemed to have no sense till these +words caught his eyes: “Convict's tragic death! Yesterday afternoon at +Worcester, while being conveyed from the assize court back to prison, +a man named Tryst, sentenced to three years' penal servitude for arson, +suddenly attacked the warders in charge of him and escaped. He ran down +the street, hotly pursued, and, darting out into the traffic, threw +himself under a motor-car going at some speed. The car struck him on the +head, and the unfortunate man was killed on the spot. No reason whatever +can be assigned for this desperate act. He is known, however, to have +suffered from epilepsy, and it is thought an attack may have been coming +on him at the time.” + +When Felix had read these words he remained absolutely still, holding +that buff-colored paper before his face, trying to decide what he must +do now. What was the significance—exactly the significance of this? Now +that Tryst was dead, Derek's quixotic action had no meaning. But had he +already 'confessed'? It seemed from this account that the suicide was +directly after the trial; even before the boy's letter to Nedda had +been written. He must surely have heard of it since and given up his +mad idea! He leaned over, touched John on the knee, and handed him the +paper. John read the paragraph, handed it back; and the two brothers +stared fixedly at each other. Then Felix made the faintest movement of +his head toward his daughter, and John nodded. Crossing to Nedda, Felix +hooked his arm in hers and said: + +“Just look at this, my child.” + +Nedda read, started to her feet, sank back, and cried out: + +“Poor, poor man! Oh, Dad! Poor man!” + +Felix felt ashamed. Though Tryst's death meant so much relief to her, +she felt first this rush of compassion; he himself, to whom it meant so +much less relief, had felt only that relief. + +“He said he couldn't stand it; he told me that. But I never thought—Oh! +Poor man!” And, burying her face against his arm, she gave way. + +Petrified, and conscious that John at the far end of the carriage was +breathing rather hard, Felix could only stroke her arm till at last she +whispered: + +“There's nobody now for Derek to save. Oh, if you'd seen that poor man +in prison, Dad!” + +And the only words of comfort Felix could find were: + +“My child, there are thousands and thousands of poor prisoners and +captives!” + +In a truce to agitation they spent the rest of that three hours' +journey, while the train rattled and rumbled through the quiet, +happy-looking land. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +It was tea-time when they reached Worcester, and at once went up to the +Royal Charles Hostel. A pretty young woman in the office there informed +them that the young gentleman had paid his bill and gone out about ten +o'clock; but had left his luggage. She had not seen him come in. His +room was up that little staircase at the end of the passage. There was +another entrance that he might have come in at. The 'Boots' would take +them. + +Past the hall stuffed with furniture and decorated with the stags' heads +and battle-prints common to English county-town hotels, they followed +the 'Boots' up five red-carpeted steps, down a dingy green corridor, +to a door at the very end. There was no answer to their knock. The dark +little room, with striped walls, and more battle-prints, looked out on +a side street and smelled dusty. On a shiny leather sofa an old valise, +strapped-up ready for departure, was reposing with Felix's telegram, +unopened, deposited thereon. Writing on his card, “Have come down with +Nedda. F. F.,” and laying it on the telegram, in case Derek should come +in by the side entrance, Felix and Nedda rejoined John in the hall. + +To wait in anxiety is perhaps the hardest thing in life; tea, tobacco, +and hot baths perhaps the only anodynes. These, except the baths, they +took. Without knowing what had happened, neither John nor Felix liked to +make inquiry at the police station, nor did they care to try and glean +knowledge from the hotel people by questions that might lead to gossip. +They could but kick their heels till it became reasonably certain +that Derek was not coming back. The enforced waiting increased Felix's +exasperation. Everything Derek did seemed designed to cause Nedda pain. +To watch her sitting there, trying resolutely to mask her anxiety, +became intolerable. At last he got up and said to John: + +“I think we'd better go round there,” and, John nodding, he added: “Wait +here, my child. One of us'll come back at once and tell you anything we +hear.” + +She gave them a grateful look and the two brothers went out. They had +not gone twenty yards when they met Derek striding along, pale, wild, +unhappy-looking. When Felix touched him on the arm, he started and +stared blankly at his uncle. + +“We've seen about Tryst,” Felix said: “You've not done anything?” + +Derek shook his head. + +“Good! John, tell Nedda that, and stay with her a bit. I want to talk to +Derek. We'll go in the other way.” He put his hand under the boy's arm +and turned him down into the side street. When they reached the gloomy +little bedroom Felix pointed to the telegram. + +“From me. I suppose the news of his death stopped you?” + +“Yes.” Derek opened the telegram, dropped it, and sat down beside his +valise on the shiny sofa. He looked positively haggard. + +Taking his stand against the chest of drawers, Felix said quietly: + +“I'm going to have it out with you, Derek. Do you understand what all +this means to Nedda? Do you realize how utterly unhappy you're making +her? I don't suppose you're happy yourself—” + +The boy's whole figure writhed. + +“Happy! When you've killed some one you don't think much of +happiness—your own or any one's!” + +Startled in his turn, Felix said sharply: + +“Don't talk like that. It's monomania.” + +Derek laughed. “Bob Tryst's dead—through me! I can't get out of that.” + +Gazing at the boy's tortured face, Felix grasped the gruesome fact that +this idea amounted to obsession. + +“Derek,” he said, “you've dwelt on this till you see it out of all +proportion. If we took to ourselves the remote consequences of all our +words we should none of us survive a week. You're overdone. You'll see +it differently to-morrow.” + +Derek got up to pace the room. + +“I swear I would have saved him. I tried to do it when they committed +him at Transham.” He looked wildly at Felix. “Didn't I? You were there; +you heard!” + +“Yes, yes; I heard.” + +“They wouldn't let me then. I thought they mightn't find him guilty +here—so I let it go on. And now he's dead. You don't know how I feel!” + +His throat was working, and Felix said with real compassion: + +“My dear boy! Your sense of honour is too extravagant altogether. A +grown man like poor Tryst knew perfectly what he was doing.” + +“No. He was like a dog—he did what he thought was expected of him. I +never meant him to burn those ricks.” + +“Exactly! No one can blame you for a few wild words. He might have been +the boy and you the man by the way you take it! Come!” + +Derek sat down again on the shiny sofa and buried his head in his hands. + +“I can't get away from him. He's been with me all day. I see him all the +time.” + +That the boy was really haunted was only too apparent. How to attack +this mania? If one could make him feel something else! And Felix said: + +“Look here, Derek! Before you've any right to Nedda you've got to find +ballast. That's a matter of honour, if you like.” + +Derek flung up his head as if to escape a blow. Seeing that he had +riveted him, Felix pressed on, with some sternness: + +“A man can't serve two passions. You must give up this championing the +weak and lighting flames you can't control. See what it leads to! You've +got to grow and become a man. Until then I don't trust my daughter to +you.” + +The boy's lips quivered; a flush darkened his face, ebbed, and left him +paler than ever. + +Felix felt as if he had hit that face. Still, anything was better than +to leave him under this gruesome obsession! Then, to his consternation, +Derek stood up and said: + +“If I go and see his body at the prison, perhaps he'll leave me alone a +little!” + +Catching at that, as he would have caught at anything, Felix said: + +“Good! Yes! Go and see the poor fellow; we'll come, too.” + +And he went out to find Nedda. + +By the time they reached the street Derek had already started, and they +could see him going along in front. Felix racked his brains to decide +whether he ought to prepare her for the state the boy was in. Twice he +screwed himself up to take the plunge, but her face—puzzled, as though +wondering at her lover's neglect of her—stopped him. Better say nothing! + +Just as they reached the prison she put her hand on his arm: + +“Look, Dad!” + +And Felix read on the corner of the prison lane those words: 'Love's +Walk'! + +Derek was waiting at the door. After some difficulty they were admitted +and taken down the corridor where the prisoner on his knees had stared +up at Nedda, past the courtyard where those others had been pacing +out their living hieroglyphic, up steps to the hospital. Here, in a +white-washed room on a narrow bed, the body of the big laborer lay, +wrapped in a sheet. + +“We bury him Friday, poor chap! Fine big man, too!” And at the warder's +words a shudder passed through Felix. The frozen tranquillity of that +body! + +As the carved beauty of great buildings, so is the graven beauty of +death, the unimaginable wonder of the abandoned thing lying so quiet, +marvelling at its resemblance to what once lived! How strange this +thing, still stamped by all that it had felt, wanted, loved, and hated, +by all its dumb, hard, commonplace existence! This thing with the calm, +pathetic look of one who asks of his own fled spirit: Why have you +abandoned me? + +Death! What more wonderful than a dead body—that still perfect work of +life, for which life has no longer use! What more mysterious than this +sight of what still is, yet is not! + +Below the linen swathing the injured temples, those eyes were closed +through which such yearning had looked forth. From that face, where the +hair had grown faster than if it had been alive, death's majesty had +planed away the aspect of brutality, removed the yearning, covering all +with wistful acquiescence. Was his departed soul coherent? Where was it? +Did it hover in this room, visible still to the boy? Did it stand +there beside what was left of Tryst the laborer, that humblest of all +creatures who dared to make revolt—serf, descendant of serfs, who, since +the beginning, had hewn wood, drawn water, and done the will of others? +Or was it winged, and calling in space to the souls of the oppressed? + +This body would go back to the earth that it had tended, the wild grass +would grow over it, the seasons spend wind and rain forever above it. +But that which had held this together—the inarticulate, lowly spirit, +hardly asking itself why things should be, faithful as a dog to those +who were kind to it, obeying the dumb instinct of a violence that in his +betters would be called 'high spirit,' where—Felix wondered—where was +it? + +And what were they thinking—Nedda and that haunted boy—so motionless? +Nothing showed on their faces, nothing but a sort of living +concentration, as if they were trying desperately to pierce through +and see whatever it was that held this thing before them in such awful +stillness. Their first glimpse of death; their first perception of that +terrible remoteness of the dead! No wonder they seemed to be conjured +out of the power of thought and feeling! + +Nedda was first to turn away. Walking back by her side, Felix was +surprised by her composure. The reality of death had not been to her +half so harrowing as the news of it. She said softly: + +“I'm glad to have seen him like that; now I shall think of him—at peace; +not as he was that other time.” + +Derek rejoined them, and they went in silence back to the hotel. But at +the door she said: + +“Come with me to the cathedral, Derek; I can't go in yet!” + +To Felix's dismay the boy nodded, and they turned to go. Should he stop +them? Should he go with them? What should a father do? And, with a heavy +sigh, he did nothing but retire into the hotel. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +It was calm, with a dark-blue sky, and a golden moon, and the lighted +street full of people out for airing. The great cathedral, cutting the +heavens with its massive towers, was shut. No means of getting in; and +while they stood there looking up the thought came into Nedda's mind: +Where would they bury poor Tryst who had killed himself? Would they +refuse to bury that unhappy one in a churchyard? Surely, the more +unhappy and desperate he was, the kinder they ought to be to him! + +They turned away down into a little lane where an old, white, timbered +cottage presided ghostly at the corner. Some church magnate had his +garden back there; and it was quiet, along the waving line of a high +wall, behind which grew sycamores spreading close-bunched branches, +whose shadows, in the light of the corner lamps, lay thick along the +ground this glamourous August night. A chafer buzzed by, a small black +cat played with its tail on some steps in a recess. Nobody passed. + +The girl's heart was beating fast. Derek's face was so strange and +strained. And he had not yet said one word to her. All sorts of fears +and fancies beset her till she was trembling all over. + +“What is it?” she said at last. “You haven't—you haven't stopped loving +me, Derek?” + +“No one could stop loving you.” + +“What is it, then? Are you thinking of poor Tryst?” + +With a catch in his throat and a sort of choked laugh he answered: + +“Yes.” + +“But it's all over. He's at peace.” + +“Peace!” Then, in a queer, dead voice, he added: “I'm sorry, Nedda. It's +beastly for you. But I can't help it.” + +What couldn't he help? Why did he keep her suffering like this—not +telling her? What was this something that seemed so terribly between +them? She walked on silently at his side, conscious of the rustling of +the sycamores, of the moonlit angle of the church magnate's house, of +the silence in the lane, and the gliding of their own shadows along the +wall. What was this in his face, his thoughts, that she could not reach! +And she cried out: + +“Tell me! Oh, tell me, Derek! I can go through anything with you!” + +“I can't get rid of him, that's all. I thought he'd go when I'd seen him +there. But it's no good!” + +Terror got hold of her then. She peered at his face—very white and +haggard. There seemed no blood in it. They were going down-hill now, +along the blank wall of a factory; there was the river in front, with +the moonlight on it and boats drawn up along the bank. From a chimney a +scroll of black smoke was flung out across the sky, and a lighted bridge +glowed above the water. They turned away from that, passing below the +dark pile of the cathedral. Here couples still lingered on benches along +the river-bank, happy in the warm night, under the August moon! And on +and on they walked in that strange, miserable silence, past all those +benches and couples, out on the river-path by the fields, where the +scent of hay-stacks, and the freshness from the early stubbles and the +grasses webbed with dew, overpowered the faint reek of the river mud. +And still on and on in the moonlight that haunted through the willows. +At their footsteps the water-rats scuttled down into the water with tiny +splashes; a dog barked somewhere a long way off; a train whistled; a +frog croaked. From the stubbles and second crops of sun-baked clover +puffs of warm air kept stealing up into the chillier air beneath the +willows. Such moonlit nights never seem to sleep. And there was a kind +of triumph in the night's smile, as though it knew that it ruled the +river and the fields, ruled with its gleams the silent trees that had +given up all rustling. Suddenly Derek said: + +“He's walking with us! Look! Over there!” + +And for a second there did seem to Nedda a dim, gray shape moving square +and dogged, parallel with them at the stubble edges. Gasping out: + +“Oh, no; don't frighten me! I can't bear it tonight!” She hid her face +against his shoulder like a child. He put his arm round her and she +pressed her face deep into his coat. This ghost of Bob Tryst holding him +away from her! This enemy! This uncanny presence! She pressed closer, +closer, and put her face up to his. It was wonderfully lonely, silent, +whispering, with the moongleams slipping through the willow boughs into +the shadow where they stood. And from his arms warmth stole through her! +Closer and closer she pressed, not quite knowing what she did, not quite +knowing anything but that she wanted him never to let her go; wanted his +lips on hers, so that she might feel his spirit pass, away from what was +haunting it, into hers, never to escape. But his lips did not come to +hers. They stayed drawn back, trembling, hungry-looking, just above her +lips. And she whispered: + +“Kiss me!” + +She felt him shudder in her arms, saw his eyes darken, his lips quiver +and quiver, as if he wanted them to, but they would not. What was it? +Oh, what was it? Wasn't he going to kiss her—not to kiss her? And while +in that unnatural pause they stood, their heads bent back among the +moongleams and those willow shadows, there passed through Nedda such +strange trouble as she had never known. Not kiss her! Not kiss her! Why +didn't he? When in her blood and in the night all round, in the feel +of his arms, the sight of his hungry lips, was something unknown, +wonderful, terrifying, sweet! And she wailed out: + +“I want you—I don't care—I want you!” She felt him sway, reel, and +clutch her as if he were going to fall, and all other feeling vanished +in the instinct of the nurse she had already been to him. He was ill +again! Yes, he was ill! And she said: + +“Derek—don't! It's all right. Let's walk on quietly!” + +She got his arm tightly in hers and drew him along toward home. By the +jerking of that arm, the taut look on his face, she could feel that he +did not know from step to step whether he could stay upright. But she +herself was steady and calm enough, bent on keeping emotion away, and +somehow getting him back along the river-path, abandoned now to the moon +and the bright, still spaces of the night and the slow-moving, whitened +water. Why had she not felt from the first that he was overwrought and +only fit for bed? + +Thus, very slowly, they made their way up by the factory again into +the lane by the church magnate's garden, under the branches of the +sycamores, past the same white-faced old house at the corner, to the +high street where some few people were still abroad. + +At the front door of the hotel stood Felix, looking at his watch, +disconsolate as an old hen. To her great relief he went in quickly +when he saw them coming. She could not bear the thought of talk and +explanation. The one thing was to get Derek to bed. All the time he had +gone along with that taut face; and now, when he sat down on the shiny +sofa in the little bedroom, he shivered so violently that his teeth +chattered. She rang for a hot bottle and brandy and hot water. When he +had drunk he certainly shivered less, professed himself all right, and +would not let her stay. She dared not ask, but it did seem as if the +physical collapse had driven away, for the time at all events, +that ghostly visitor, and, touching his forehead with her lips—very +motherly—so that he looked up and smiled at her—she said in a +matter-of-fact voice: + +“I'll come back after a bit and tuck you up,” and went out. + +Felix was waiting in the hall, at a little table on which stood a bowl +of bread and milk. He took the cover off it for her without a word. And +while she supped he kept glancing at her, trying to make up his mind to +words. But her face was sealed. And all he said was: + +“Your uncle's gone to Becket for the night. I've got you a room next +mine, and a tooth-brush, and some sort of comb. I hope you'll be able to +manage, my child.” + +Nedda left him at the door of his room and went into her own. After +waiting there ten minutes she stole out again. It was all quiet, and she +went resolutely back down the stairs. She did not care who saw her or +what they thought. Probably they took her for Derek's sister; but even +if they didn't she would not have cared. It was past eleven, the light +nearly out, and the hall in the condition of such places that await a +morning's renovation. His corridor, too, was quite dark. She opened the +door without sound and listened, till his voice said softly: + +“All right, little angel; I'm not asleep.” + +And by a glimmer of moonlight, through curtains designed to keep out +nothing, she stole up to the bed. She could just see his face, and eyes +looking up at her with a sort of adoration. She put her hand on his +forehead and whispered: “Are you comfy?” + +He murmured back: “Yes, quite comfy.” + +Kneeling down, she laid her face beside his on the pillow. She could not +help doing that; it made everything seem holy, cuddley, warm. His lips +touched her nose. Her eyes, for just that instant, looked up into his, +that were very dark and soft; then she got up. + +“Would you like me to stay till you're asleep?” + +“Yes; forever. But I shouldn't exactly sleep. Would you?” + +In the darkness Nedda vehemently shook her head. Sleep! No! She would +not sleep! + +“Good night, then!” + +“Good night, little dark angel!” + +“Good night!” With that last whisper she slipped back to the door and +noiselessly away. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + +It was long before she closed her eyes, spending the hours in fancy +where still less she would have slept. But when she did drop off she +dreamed that he and she were alone upon a star, where all the trees were +white, the water, grass, birds, everything, white, and they were walking +arm in arm, among white flowers. And just as she had stooped to pick +one—it was no flower, but—Tryst's white-banded face! She woke with a +little cry. + +She was dressed by eight and went at once to Derek's room. There was no +answer to her knock, and in a flutter of fear she opened the door. He +had gone—packed, and gone. She ran back to the hall. There was a note +for her in the office, and she took it out of sight to read. It said: + +“He came back this morning. I'm going home by the first train. He seems +to want me to do something. + +“DEREK.” + +Came back! That thing—that gray thing that she, too, had seemed to see +for a moment in the fields beside the river! And he was suffering again +as he had suffered yesterday! It was awful. She waited miserably till +her father came down. To find that he, too, knew of this trouble was +some relief. He made no objection when she begged that they should +follow on to Joyfields. Directly after breakfast they set out. Once on +her way to Derek again, she did not feel so frightened. But in the train +she sat very still, gazing at her lap, and only once glanced up from +under those long lashes. + +“Can you understand it, Dad?” + +Felix, not much happier than she, answered: + +“The man had something queer about him. Besides Derek's been ill, don't +forget that. But it's too bad for you, Nedda. I don't like it; I don't +like it.” + +“I can't be parted from him, Dad. That's impossible.” + +Felix was silenced by the vigor of those words. + +“His mother can help, perhaps,” he said. + +Ah! If his mother would help—send him away from the laborers, and all +this! + +Up from the station they took the field paths, which cut off quite a +mile. The grass and woods were shining brightly, peacefully in the sun; +it seemed incredible that there should be heartburnings about a land +so smiling, that wrongs and miseries should haunt those who lived and +worked in these bright fields. Surely in this earthly paradise the +dwellers were enviable, well-nourished souls, sleek and happy as the +pied cattle that lifted their inquisitive muzzles! Nedda tried to stroke +the nose of one—grayish, blunt, moist. But the creature backed away from +her hand, snuffling, and its cynical, soft eyes with chestnut lashes +seemed warning the girl that she belonged to the breed that might be +trusted to annoy. + +In the last fields before the Joyfields crossroads they came up with a +little, square, tow-headed man, without coat or cap, who had just driven +some cattle in and was returning with his dog, at a 'dot-here dot-there' +walk, as though still driving them. He gave them a look rather like that +of the bullock Nedda had tried to stroke. She knew he must be one of the +Malloring men, and longed to ask him questions; but he, too, looked shy +and distrustful, as if he suspected that they wanted something out of +him. She summoned up courage, however, to say: “Did you see about poor +Bob Tryst?” + +“I 'eard tell. 'E didn' like prison. They say prison takes the 'eart out +of you. 'E didn' think o' that.” And the smile that twisted the little +man's lips seemed to Nedda strange and cruel, as if he actually found +pleasure in the fate of his fellow. All she could find to answer was: + +“Is that a good dog?” + +The little man looked down at the dog trotting alongside with drooped +tail, and shook his head: + +“'E's no good wi' beasts—won't touch 'em!” Then, looking up sidelong, he +added surprisingly: + +“Mast' Freeland 'e got a crack on the head, though!” Again there was +that satisfied resentment in his voice and the little smile twisting his +lips. Nedda felt more lost than ever. + +They parted at the crossroads and saw him looking back at them as +they went up the steps to the wicket gate. Amongst a patch of early +sunflowers, Tod, in shirt and trousers, was surrounded by his dog and +the three small Trysts, all apparently engaged in studying the biggest +of the sunflowers, where a peacock-butterfly and a bee were feeding, one +on a gold petal, the other on the black heart. Nedda went quickly up to +them and asked: + +“Has Derek come, Uncle Tod?” + +Tod raised his eyes. He did not seem in the least surprised to see her, +as if his sky were in the habit of dropping his relatives at ten in the +morning. + +“Gone out again,” he said. + +Nedda made a sign toward the children. + +“Have you heard, Uncle Tod?” + +Tod nodded and his blue eyes, staring above the children's heads, +darkened. + +“Is Granny still here?” + +Again Tod nodded. + +Leaving Felix in the garden, Nedda stole upstairs and tapped on Frances +Freeland's door. + +She, whose stoicism permitted her the one luxury of never coming down to +breakfast, had just made it for herself over a little spirit-lamp. She +greeted Nedda with lifted eyebrows. + +“Oh, my darling! Where HAVE you come from? You must have my nice cocoa! +Isn't this the most perfect lamp you ever saw? Did you ever see such a +flame? Watch!” + +She touched the spirit-lamp and what there was of flame died out. + +“Now, isn't that provoking? It's really a splendid thing, quite a new +kind. I mean to get you one. Now, drink your cocoa; it's beautifully +hot.” + +“I've had breakfast, Granny.” + +Frances Freeland gazed at her doubtfully, then, as a last resource, +began to sip the cocoa, of which, in truth, she was badly in want. + +“Granny, will you help me?” + +“Of course, darling. What is it?” + +“I do so want Derek to forget all about this terrible business.” + +Frances Freeland, who had unscrewed the top of a little canister, +answered: + +“Yes, dear, I quite agree. I'm sure it's best for him. Open your mouth +and let me pop in one of these delicious little plasmon biscuits. +They're perfect after travelling. Only,” she added wistfully, “I'm +afraid he won't pay any attention to me.” + +“No, but you could speak to Aunt Kirsteen; it's for her to stop him.” + +One of her most pathetic smiles came over Frances Freeland's face. + +“Yes, I could speak to her. But, you see, I don't count for anything. +One doesn't when one gets old.” + +“Oh, Granny, you do! You count for a lot; every one admires you so. You +always seem to have something that—that other people haven't got. And +you're not a bit old in spirit.” + +Frances Freeland was fingering her rings; she slipped one off. + +“Well,” she said, “it's no good thinking about that, is it? I've wanted +to give you this for ages, darling; it IS so uncomfortable on my finger. +Now, just let me see if I can pop it on!” + +Nedda recoiled. + +“Oh, Granny!” she said. “You ARE—!” and vanished. + +There was still no one in the kitchen, and she sat down to wait for her +aunt to finish her up-stairs duties. + +Kirsteen came down at last, in her inevitable blue dress, betraying +her surprise at this sudden appearance of her niece only by a little +quivering of her brows. And, trembling with nervousness, Nedda took her +plunge, pouring out the whole story—of Derek's letter; their journey +down; her father's talk with him; the visit to Tryst's body; their +walk by the river; and of how haunted and miserable he was. Showing the +little note he had left that morning, she clasped her hands and said: + +“Oh, Aunt Kirsteen, make him happy again! Stop that awful haunting and +keep him from all this!” + +Kirsteen had listened, with one foot on the hearth in her favorite +attitude. When the girl had finished she said quietly: + +“I'm not a witch, Nedda!” + +“But if it wasn't for you he would never have started. And now that poor +Tryst's dead he would leave it alone. I'm sure only you can make him +lose that haunted feeling.” + +Kirsteen shook her head. + +“Listen, Nedda!” she said slowly, as though weighing each word. “I +should like you to understand. There's a superstition in this country +that people are free. Ever since I was a girl your age I've known that +they are not; no one is free here who can't pay for freedom. It's one +thing to see, another to feel this with your whole being. When, like me, +you have an open wound, which something is always inflaming, you can't +wonder, can you, that fever escapes into the air. Derek may have caught +the infection of my fever—that's all! But I shall never lose that fever, +Nedda—never!” + +“But, Aunt Kirsteen, this haunting is dreadful. I can't bear to see it.” + +“My dear, Derek is very highly strung, and he's been ill. It's in my +family to see things. That'll go away.” + +Nedda said passionately: + +“I don't believe he'll ever lose it while he goes on here, tearing his +heart out. And they're trying to get me away from him. I know they are!” + +Kirsteen turned; her eyes seemed to blaze. + +“They? Ah! Yes! You'll have to fight if you want to marry a rebel, +Nedda!” + +Nedda put her hands to her forehead, bewildered. “You see, Nedda, +rebellion never ceases. It's not only against this or that injustice, +it's against all force and wealth that takes advantage of its force and +wealth. That rebellion goes on forever. Think well before you join in.” + +Nedda turned away. Of what use to tell her to think when 'I won't—I +can't be parted from him!' kept every other thought paralyzed. And she +pressed her forehead against the cross-bar of the window, trying to find +better words to make her appeal again. Out there above the orchard the +sky was blue, and everything light and gay, as the very butterflies that +wavered past. A motor-car seemed to have stopped in the road close by; +its whirring and whizzing was clearly audible, mingled with the cooings +of pigeons and a robin's song. And suddenly she heard her aunt say: + +“You have your chance, Nedda! Here they are!” + +Nedda turned. There in the doorway were her Uncles John and Stanley +coming in, followed by her father and Uncle Tod. + +What did this mean? What had they come for? And, disturbed to the heart, +she gazed from one to the other. They had that curious look of people +not quite knowing what their reception will be like, yet with something +resolute, almost portentous, in their mien. She saw John go up to her +aunt and hold out his hand. + +“I dare say Felix and Nedda have told you about yesterday,” he said. +“Stanley and I thought it best to come over.” Kirsteen answered: + +“Tod, will you tell Mother who's here?” + +Then none of them seemed to know quite what to say, or where to look, +till Frances Freeland, her face all pleased and anxious, came in. +When she had kissed them they all sat down. And Nedda, at the window, +squeezed her hands tight together in her lap. + +“We've come about Derek,” John said. + +“Yes,” broke in Stanley. “For goodness' sake, Kirsteen, don't let's have +any more of this! Just think what would have happened yesterday if that +poor fellow hadn't providentially gone off the hooks!” + +“Providentially!” + +“Well, it was. You see to what lengths Derek was prepared to go. Hang it +all! We shouldn't have been exactly proud of a felon in the family.” + +Frances Freeland, who had been lacing and unlacing her fingers, suddenly +fixed her eyes on Kirsteen. + +“I don't understand very well, darling, but I am sure that whatever +dear John says will be wise and right. You must remember that he is the +eldest and has a great deal of experience.” + +Kirsteen bent her head. If there was irony in the gesture, it was not +perceived by Frances Freeland. + +“It can't be right for dear Derek, or any gentleman, to go against the +law of the land or be mixed up with wrong-doing in any way. I haven't +said anything, but I HAVE felt it very much. Because—it's all been not +quite nice, has it?” + +Nedda saw her father wince. Then Stanley broke in again: + +“Now that the whole thing's done with, do, for Heaven's sake, let's have +a little peace!” + +At that moment her aunt's face seemed wonderful to Nedda; so quiet, yet +so burningly alive. + +“Peace! There is no peace in this world. There is death, but no peace!” +And, moving nearer to Tod, she rested her hand on his shoulder, looking, +as it seemed to Nedda, at something far away, till John said: + +“That's hardly the point, is it? We should be awfully glad to know that +there'll be no more trouble. All this has been very worrying. And now +the cause seems to be—removed.” + +There was always a touch of finality in John's voice. Nedda saw that all +had turned to Kirsteen for her answer. + +“If those up and down the land who profess belief in liberty will cease +to filch from the helpless the very crust of it, the cause will be +removed.” + +“Which is to say—never!” + +At those words from Felix, Frances Freeland, gazing first at him and +then at Kirsteen, said in a pained voice: + +“I don't think you ought to talk like that, Kirsteen, dear. Nobody who's +at all nice means to be unkind. We're all forgetful sometimes. I know I +often forget to be sympathetic. It vexes me dreadfully!” + +“Mother, don't defend tyranny!” + +“I'm sure it's often from the best motives, dear.” + +“So is rebellion.” + +“Well, I don't understand about that, darling. But I do think, with dear +John, it's a great pity. It will be a dreadful drawback to Derek if +he has to look back on something that he regrets when he's older. It's +always best to smile and try to look on the bright side of things and +not be grumbly-grumbly!” + +After that little speech of Frances Freeland's there was a silence that +Nedda thought would last forever, till her aunt, pressing close to Tod's +shoulder, spoke. + +“You want me to stop Derek. I tell you all what I've just told Nedda. I +don't attempt to control Derek; I never have. For myself, when I see a +thing I hate I can't help fighting against it. I shall never be able to +help that. I understand how you must dislike all this; I know it must +be painful to you, Mother. But while there is tyranny in this land, to +laborers, women, animals, anything weak and helpless, so long will there +be rebellion against it, and things will happen that will disturb you.” + +Again Nedda saw her father wince. But Frances Freeland, bending forward, +fixed her eyes piercingly on Kirsteen's neck, as if she were noticing +something there more important than that about tyranny! + +Then John said very gravely: + +“You seem to think that we approve of such things being done to the +helpless!” + +“I know that you disapprove.” + +“With the masterly inactivity,” Felix said suddenly, in a voice more +bitter than Nedda had ever heard from him, “of authority, money, +culture, and philosophy. With the disapproval that lifts +no finger—winking at tyrannies lest worse befall us. Yes, +WE—brethren—we—and so we shall go on doing. Quite right, Kirsteen!” + +“No. The world is changing, Felix, changing!” + +But Nedda had started up. There at the door was Derek. + + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + +Derek, who had slept the sleep of the dead, having had none for two +nights, woke thinking of Nedda hovering above him in the dark; of her +face laid down beside him on the pillow. And then, suddenly, up started +that thing, and stood there, haunting him! Why did it come? What did it +want of him? After writing the little note to Nedda, he hurried to +the station and found a train about to start. To see and talk with the +laborers; to do something, anything to prove that this tragic companion +had no real existence! He went first to the Gaunts' cottage. The door, +there, was opened by the rogue-girl, comely and robust as ever, in a +linen frock, with her sleeves rolled up, and smiling broadly at his +astonishment. + +“Don't be afraid, Mr. Derek; I'm only here for the week-end, just to +tiddy up a bit. 'Tis all right in London. I wouldn't come back here, I +wouldn't—not if you was to give me—” and she pouted her red lips. + +“Where's your father, Wilmet?” + +“Over in Willey's Copse cuttin' stakes. I hear you've been ill, Mr. +Derek. You do look pale. Were you very bad?” And her eyes opened as +though the very thought of illness was difficult for her to grasp. “I +saw your young lady up in London. She's very pretty. Wish you happiness, +Mr. Derek. Grandfather, here's Mr. Derek!” + +The face of old Gaunt, carved, cynical, yellow, appeared above her +shoulder. There he stood, silent, giving Derek no greeting. And with a +sudden miserable feeling the boy said: + +“I'll go and find him. Good-by, Wilmet!” + +“Good-by, Mr. Derek. 'Tis quiet enough here now; there's changes.” + +Her rogue face twinkled again, and, turning her chin, she rubbed it on +her plump shoulder, as might a heifer, while from behind her Grandfather +Gaunt's face looked out with a faint, sardonic grin. + +Derek, hurrying on to Willey's Copse, caught sight, along a far hedge, +of the big dark laborer, Tulley, who had been his chief lieutenant in +the fighting; but, whether the man heard his hail or no, he continued +along the hedgeside without response and vanished over a stile. The +field dipped sharply to a stream, and at the crossing Derek came +suddenly on the little 'dot-here dot-there' cowherd, who, at Derek's +greeting, gave him an abrupt “Good day!” and went on with his occupation +of mending a hurdle. Again that miserable feeling beset the boy, and +he hastened on. A sound of chopping guided him. Near the edge of the +coppice Tom Gaunt was lopping at some bushes. At sight of Derek he +stopped and stood waiting, his loquacious face expressionless, his +little, hard eye cocked. + +“Good morning, Tom. It's ages since I saw you.” + +“Ah, 'tis a proper long time! You 'ad a knock.” + +Derek winced; it was said as if he had been disabled in an affair in +which Gaunt had neither part nor parcel. Then, with a great effort, the +boy brought out his question: + +“You've heard about poor Bob?” + +“Yaas; 'tis the end of HIM.” + +Some meaning behind those words, the unsmiling twist of that hard-bitten +face, the absence of the 'sir' that even Tom Gaunt generally gave him, +all seemed part of an attack. And, feeling as if his heart were being +squeezed, Derek looked straight into his face. + +“What's the matter, Tom?” + +“Matter! I don' know as there's anything the matter, ezactly!” + +“What have I done? Tell me!” + +Tom Gaunt smiled; his little, gray eyes met Derek's full. + +“'Tisn't for a gentleman to be held responsible.” + +“Come!” Derek cried passionately. “What is it? D'you think I deserted +you, or what? Speak out, man!” + +Abating nothing of his stare and drawl, Gaunt answered: + +“Deserted? Oh, dear no! Us can't afford to do no more dyin' for +you—that's all!” + +“For me! Dying! My God! D'you think I wouldn't have—? Oh! Confound you!” + +“Aye! Confounded us you 'ave! Hope you're satisfied!” + +Pale as death and quivering all over, Derek answered: + +“So you think I've just been frying fish of my own?” + +Tom Gaunt, emitted a little laugh. + +“I think you've fried no fish at all. That's what I think. And no one +else does, neither, if you want to know—except poor Bob. You've fried +his fish, sure enough!” + +Stung to the heart, the boy stood motionless. A pigeon was cooing; the +sappy scent from the lopped bushes filled all the sun-warmed air. + +“I see!” he said. “Thanks, Tom; I'm glad to know.” + +Without moving a muscle, Tom Gaunt answered: + +“Don't mention it!” and resumed his lopping. + +Derek turned and walked out of the little wood. But when he had put a +field between him and the sound of Gaunt's bill-hook, he lay down and +buried his face in the grass, chewing at its green blades, scarce dry +of dew, and with its juicy sweetness tasting the full of bitterness. And +the gray shade stalked out again, and stood there in the warmth of the +August day, with its scent and murmur of full summer, while the pigeons +cooed and dandelion fluff drifted by.... + +When, two hours later, he entered the kitchen at home, of the company +assembled Frances Freeland alone retained equanimity enough to put up +her face to be kissed. + +“I'm so thankful you've come back in time to see your uncles, darling. +Your Uncle John thinks, and we all agree, that to encourage those poor +laborers to do things which are not nice is—is—you know what I mean, +darling!” + +Derek gave a bitter little laugh. + +“Criminal, Granny! Yes, and puppyish! I've learned all that.” + +The sound of his voice was utterly unlike his own, and Kirsteen, +starting forward, put her arm round him. + +“It's all right, Mother. They've chucked me.” + +At that moment, when all, save his mother, wanted so to express their +satisfaction, Frances Freeland alone succeeded. + +“I'm so glad, darling!” + +Then John rose and, holding out his hand to his nephew, said: + +“That's the end of the trouble, then, Derek?” + +“Yes. And I beg your pardon, Uncle John; and all—Uncle Stanley, Uncle +Felix; you, Dad; Granny.” + +They had all risen now. The boy's face gave them—even John, even +Stanley—a choke in the throat. Frances Freeland suddenly took their arms +and went to the door; her other two sons followed. And quietly they all +went out. + +Derek, who had stayed perfectly still, staring past Nedda into a corner +of the room, said: + +“Ask him what he wants, Mother.” + +Nedda smothered down a cry. But Kirsteen, tightening her clasp of him +and looking steadily into that corner, answered: + +“Nothing, my boy. He's quite friendly. He only wants to be with you for +a little.” + +“But I can't do anything for him.” + +“He knows that.” + +“I wish he wouldn't, Mother. I can't be more sorry than I have been.” + +Kirsteen's face quivered. + +“My dear, it will go quite soon. Love Nedda! See! She wants you!” + +Derek answered in the same quiet voice: + +“Yes, Nedda is the comfort. Mother, I want to go away—away out of +England—right away.” + +Nedda rushed and flung her arms round him. + +“I, too, Derek; I, too!” + +That evening Felix came out to the old 'fly,' waiting to take him from +Joyfields to Becket. What a sky! All over its pale blue a far-up wind +had drifted long, rosy clouds, and through one of them the half-moon +peered, of a cheese-green hue; and, framed and barred by the elm-trees, +like some roseate, stained-glass window, the sunset blazed. In a corner +of the orchard a little bonfire had been lighted, and round it he could +see the three small Trysts dropping armfuls of leaves and pointing +at the flames leaping out of the smoulder. There, too, was Tod's big +figure, motionless, and his dog sitting on its haunches, with head poked +forward, staring at those red tongues of flame. Kirsteen had come with +him to the wicket gate. He held her hand long in his own and pressed +it hard. And while that blue figure, turned to the sunset, was still +visible, he screwed himself back to look. + +They had been in painful conclave, as it seemed to Felix, all day, +coming to the decision that those two young things should have their +wish, marry, and go out to New Zealand. The ranch of Cousin Alick Morton +(son of that brother of Frances Freeland, who, absorbed in horses, had +wandered to Australia and died in falling from them) had extended +a welcome to Derek. Those two would have a voyage of happiness—see +together the red sunsets in the Mediterranean, Pompeii, and the dark +ants of men swarming in endless band up and down with their coal-sacks +at Port Said; smell the cinnamon gardens of Colombo; sit up on deck at +night and watch the stars.... Who could grudge it them? Out there youth +and energy would run unchecked. For here youth had been beaten! + +On and on the old 'fly' rumbled between the shadowy fields. 'The world +is changing, Felix—changing!' Was that defeat of youth, then, nothing? +Under the crust of authority and wealth, culture and philosophy—was the +world really changing; was liberty truly astir, under that sky in the +west all blood; and man rising at long last from his knees before the +God of force? The silent, empty fields darkened, the air gathered dewy +thickness, and the old 'fly' rumbled and rolled as slow as fate. Cottage +lamps were already lighted for the evening meal. No laborer abroad at +this hour! And Felix thought of Tryst, the tragic fellow—the moving, +lonely figure; emanation of these solitary fields, shade of the +departing land! One might well see him as that boy saw him, silent, +dogged, in a gray light such as this now clinging above the hedgerows +and the grass! + +The old 'fly' turned into the Becket drive. It had grown dark now, save +for the half-moon; the last chafer was booming by, and a bat flitting, +a little, blind, eager bat, through the quiet trees. He got out to walk +the last few hundred yards. A lovely night, silent below her stars—cool +and dark, spread above field after field, wood on wood, for hundreds of +miles on every side. Night covering his native land. The same silence +had reigned out there, the same perfume stolen up, the same star-shine +fallen, for millions of years in the past, and would for millions of +years to come. Close to where the half-moon floated, a slow, narrow, +white cloud was passing—curiously shaped. At one end of it Felix could +see distinctly the form of a gleaming skull, with dark sky showing +through its eyeholes, cheeks, and mouth. A queer phenomenon; +fascinating, rather ghastly! It grew sharper in outline, more distinct. +One of those sudden shudders, that seize men from the crown of the head +to the very heels, passed down his back. He shut his eyes. And, instead, +there came up before him Kirsteen's blue-clothed figure turned to the +sunset glow. Ah! Better to see that than this skull above the land! +Better to believe her words: 'The world is changing, Felix—changing!' + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Freelands, by John Galsworthy + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FREELANDS *** + +***** This file should be named 2309-0.txt or 2309-0.zip ***** This and +all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/2/3/0/2309/ + +Produced by Donald Lainson; David Widger + +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. 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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: The Freelands + +Author: John Galsworthy + +Release Date: June 14, 2006 [EBook #2309] +Last Updated: February 18, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FREELANDS *** + + + + +Produced by Donald Lainson; David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE FREELANDS + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By John Galsworthy + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PROL"> <b>PROLOGUE</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XXXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER XXXII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER XXXIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0034"> CHAPTER XXXIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0035"> CHAPTER XXXV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0036"> CHAPTER XXXVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0037"> CHAPTER XXXVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0038"> CHAPTER XXXVIII </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + “Liberty's a glorious feast.”—Burns. + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PROL" id="link2H_PROL"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + PROLOGUE + </h2> + <p> + One early April afternoon, in a Worcestershire field, the only field in + that immediate landscape which was not down in grass, a man moved slowly + athwart the furrows, sowing—a big man of heavy build, swinging his + hairy brown arm with the grace of strength. He wore no coat or hat; a + waistcoat, open over a blue-checked cotton shirt, flapped against belted + corduroys that were somewhat the color of his square, pale-brown face and + dusty hair. His eyes were sad, with the swimming yet fixed stare of + epileptics; his mouth heavy-lipped, so that, but for the yearning eyes, + the face would have been almost brutal. He looked as if he suffered from + silence. The elm-trees bordering the field, though only just in leaf, + showed dark against a white sky. A light wind blew, carrying already a + scent from the earth and growth pushing up, for the year was early. The + green Malvern hills rose in the west; and not far away, shrouded by trees, + a long country house of weathered brick faced to the south. Save for the + man sowing, and some rooks crossing from elm to elm, no life was visible + in all the green land. And it was quiet—with a strange, a brooding + tranquillity. The fields and hills seemed to mock the scars of road and + ditch and furrow scraped on them, to mock at barriers of hedge and wall—between + the green land and white sky was a conspiracy to disregard those small + activities. So lonely was it, so plunged in a ground-bass of silence; so + much too big and permanent for any figure of man. + </p> + <p> + Across and across the brown loam the laborer doggedly finished out his + task; scattered the few last seeds into a corner, and stood still. + Thrushes and blackbirds were just beginning that even-song whose + blitheness, as nothing else on earth, seems to promise youth forever to + the land. He picked up his coat, slung it on, and, heaving a straw bag + over his shoulder, walked out on to the grass-bordered road between the + elms. + </p> + <p> + “Tryst! Bob Tryst!” + </p> + <p> + At the gate of a creepered cottage amongst fruit-trees, high above the + road, a youth with black hair and pale-brown face stood beside a girl with + frizzy brown hair and cheeks like poppies. + </p> + <p> + “Have you had that notice?” + </p> + <p> + The laborer answered slowly: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mr. Derek. If she don't go, I've got to.” + </p> + <p> + “What a d—d shame!” + </p> + <p> + The laborer moved his head, as though he would have spoken, but no words + came. + </p> + <p> + “Don't do anything, Bob. We'll see about that.” + </p> + <p> + “Evenin', Mr. Derek. Evenin', Miss Sheila,” and the laborer moved on. + </p> + <p> + The two at the wicket gate also turned away. A black-haired woman dressed + in blue came to the wicket gate in their place. There seemed no purpose in + her standing there; it was perhaps an evening custom, some ceremony such + as Moslems observe at the muezzin-call. And any one who saw her would have + wondered what on earth she might be seeing, gazing out with her dark + glowing eyes above the white, grass-bordered roads stretching empty this + way and that between the elm-trees and green fields; while the blackbirds + and thrushes shouted out their hearts, calling all to witness how hopeful + and young was life in this English countryside.... + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I + </h2> + <p> + Mayday afternoon in Oxford Street, and Felix Freeland, a little late, on + his way from Hampstead to his brother John's house in Porchester Gardens. + Felix Freeland, author, wearing the very first gray top hat of the season. + A compromise, that—like many other things in his life and works—between + individuality and the accepted view of things, aestheticism and fashion, + the critical sense and authority. After the meeting at John's, to discuss + the doings of the family of his brother Morton Freeland—better known + as Tod—he would perhaps look in on the caricatures at the English + Gallery, and visit one duchess in Mayfair, concerning the George Richard + Memorial. And so, not the soft felt hat which really suited authorship, + nor the black top hat which obliterated personality to the point of pain, + but this gray thing with narrowish black band, very suitable, in truth, to + a face of a pale buff color, to a moustache of a deep buff color streaked + with a few gray hairs, to a black braided coat cut away from a + buff-colored waistcoat, to his neat boots—not patent leather—faintly + buffed with May-day dust. Even his eyes, Freeland gray, were a little + buffed over by sedentary habit, and the number of things that he was + conscious of. For instance, that the people passing him were distressingly + plain, both men and women; plain with the particular plainness of those + quite unaware of it. It struck him forcibly, while he went along, how very + queer it was that with so many plain people in the country, the population + managed to keep up even as well as it did. To his wonderfully keen sense + of defect, it seemed little short of marvellous. A shambling, shoddy crew, + this crowd of shoppers and labor demonstrators! A conglomeration of + hopelessly mediocre visages! What was to be done about it? Ah! what + indeed!—since they were evidently not aware of their own dismal + mediocrity. Hardly a beautiful or a vivid face, hardly a wicked one, never + anything transfigured, passionate, terrible, or grand. Nothing Greek, + early Italian, Elizabethan, not even beefy, beery, broad old Georgian. + Something clutched-in, and squashed-out about it all—on that + collective face something of the look of a man almost comfortably and + warmly wrapped round by a snake at the very beginning of its squeeze. It + gave Felix Freeland a sort of faint excitement and pleasure to notice + this. For it was his business to notice things, and embalm them afterward + in ink. And he believed that not many people noticed it, so that it + contributed in his mind to his own distinction, which was precious to him. + Precious, and encouraged to be so by the press, which—as he well + knew—must print his name several thousand times a year. And yet, as + a man of culture and of principle, how he despised that kind of fame, and + theoretically believed that a man's real distinction lay in his oblivion + of the world's opinion, particularly as expressed by that flighty + creature, the Fourth Estate. But here again, as in the matter of the gray + top hat, he had instinctively compromised, taking in press cuttings which + described himself and his works, while he never failed to describe those + descriptions—good, bad, and indifferent—as 'that stuff,' and + their writers as 'those fellows.' + </p> + <p> + Not that it was new to him to feel that the country was in a bad way. On + the contrary, it was his established belief, and one for which he was + prepared to furnish due and proper reasons. In the first place he traced + it to the horrible hold Industrialism had in the last hundred years laid + on the nation, draining the peasantry from 'the Land'; and in the second + place to the influence of a narrow and insidious Officialism, sapping the + independence of the People. + </p> + <p> + This was why, in going to a conclave with his brother John, high in + Government employ, and his brother Stanley, a captain of industry, + possessor of the Morton Plough Works, he was conscious of a certain + superiority in that he, at all events, had no hand in this paralysis which + was creeping on the country. + </p> + <p> + And getting more buff-colored every minute, he threaded his way on, till, + past the Marble Arch, he secured the elbow-room of Hyde Park. Here groups + of young men, with chivalrous idealism, were jeering at and chivying the + broken remnants of a suffrage meeting. Felix debated whether he should + oppose his body to their bodies, his tongue to theirs, or whether he + should avert his consciousness and hurry on; but, that instinct which + moved him to wear the gray top hat prevailing, he did neither, and stood + instead, looking at them in silent anger, which quickly provoked + endearments—such as: “Take it off,” or “Keep it on,” or “What cheer, + Toppy!” but nothing more acute. And he meditated: Culture! Could culture + ever make headway among the blind partisanships, the hand-to-mouth + mentality, the cheap excitements of this town life? The faces of these + youths, the tone of their voices, the very look of their bowler hats, + said: No! You could not culturalize the impermeable texture of their + vulgarity. And they were the coming manhood of the nation—this + inexpressibly distasteful lot of youths! The country had indeed got too + far away from 'the Land.' And this essential towny commonness was not + confined to the classes from which these youths were drawn. He had even + remarked it among his own son's school and college friends—an + impatience of discipline, an insensibility to everything but excitement + and having a good time, a permanent mental indigestion due to a permanent + diet of tit-bits. What aspiration they possessed seemed devoted to + securing for themselves the plums of official or industrial life. His boy + Alan, even, was infected, in spite of home influences and the atmosphere + of art in which he had been so sedulously soaked. He wished to enter his + Uncle Stanley's plough works, seeing in it a 'soft thing.' + </p> + <p> + But the last of the woman-baiters had passed by now, and, conscious that + he was really behind time, Felix hurried on.... + </p> + <p> + In his study—a pleasant room, if rather tidy—John Freeland was + standing before the fire smoking a pipe and looking thoughtfully at + nothing. He was, in fact, thinking, with that continuity characteristic of + a man who at fifty has won for himself a place of permanent importance in + the Home Office. Starting life in the Royal Engineers, he still preserved + something of a military look about his figure, and grave visage with + steady eyes and drooping moustache (both a shade grayer than those of + Felix), and a forehead bald from justness and knowing where to lay his + hand on papers. His face was thinner, his head narrower, than his + brother's, and he had acquired a way of making those he looked at doubt + themselves and feel the sudden instability of all their facts. He was—as + has been said—thinking. His brother Stanley had wired to him that + morning: “Am motoring up to-day on business; can you get Felix to come at + six o'clock and talk over the position at Tod's?” What position at Tod's? + He had indeed heard something vague—of those youngsters of Tod's, + and some fuss they were making about the laborers down there. He had not + liked it. Too much of a piece with the general unrest, and these new + democratic ideas that were playing old Harry with the country! For in his + opinion the country was in a bad way, partly owing to Industrialism, with + its rotting effect upon physique; partly to this modern analytic + Intellectualism, with its destructive and anarchic influence on morals. It + was difficult to overestimate the mischief of those two factors; and in + the approaching conference with his brothers, one of whom was the head of + an industrial undertaking, and the other a writer, whose books, extremely + modern, he never read, he was perhaps vaguely conscious of his own cleaner + hands. Hearing a car come to a halt outside, he went to the window and + looked out. Yes, it was Stanley!... + </p> + <p> + Stanley Freeland, who had motored up from Becket—his country place, + close to his plough works in Worcestershire—stood a moment on the + pavement, stretching his long legs and giving directions to his chauffeur. + He had been stopped twice on the road for not-exceeding the limit as he + believed, and was still a little ruffled. Was it not his invariable + principle to be moderate in speed as in all other things? And his feeling + at the moment was stronger even than usual, that the country was in a bad + way, eaten up by officialism, with its absurd limitations of speed and the + liberty of the subject, and the advanced ideas of these new writers and + intellectuals, always talking about the rights and sufferings of the poor. + There was no progress along either of those roads. He had it in his heart, + as he stood there on the pavement, to say something pretty definite to + John about interference with the liberty of the subject, and he wouldn't + mind giving old Felix a rap about his precious destructive doctrines, and + continual girding at the upper classes, vested interests, and all the rest + of it. If he had something to put in their place that would be another + matter. Capital and those who controlled it were the backbone of the + country—what there was left of the country, apart from these d—d + officials and aesthetic fellows! And with a contraction of his straight + eyebrows above his straight gray eyes, straight blunt nose, blunter + moustaches, and blunt chin, he kept a tight rein on his blunt tongue, not + choosing to give way even to his own anger. + </p> + <p> + Then, perceiving Felix coming—'in a white topper, by Jove!'—he + crossed the pavement to the door; and, tall, square, personable, rang the + bell. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II + </h2> + <p> + “Well, what's the matter at Tod's?” + </p> + <p> + And Felix moved a little forward in his chair, his eyes fixed with + interest on Stanley, who was about to speak. + </p> + <p> + “It's that wife of his, of course. It was all very well so long as she + confined herself to writing, and talk, and that Land Society, or whatever + it was she founded, the one that snuffed out the other day; but now she's + getting herself and those two youngsters mixed up in our local broils, and + really I think Tod's got to be spoken to.” + </p> + <p> + “It's impossible for a husband to interfere with his wife's principles.” + So Felix. + </p> + <p> + “Principles!” The word came from John. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly! Kirsteen's a woman of great character; revolutionary by + temperament. Why should you expect her to act as you would act + yourselves?” + </p> + <p> + When Felix had said that, there was a silence. + </p> + <p> + Then Stanley muttered: “Poor old Tod!” + </p> + <p> + Felix sighed, lost for a moment in his last vision of his youngest + brother. It was four years ago now, a summer evening—Tod standing + between his youngsters Derek and Sheila, in a doorway of his white, + black-timbered, creepered cottage, his sunburnt face and blue eyes the + serenest things one could see in a day's march! + </p> + <p> + “Why 'poor'?” he said. “Tod's much happier than we are. You've only to + look at him.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Stanley suddenly. “D'you remember him at Father's funeral?—without + his hat, and his head in the clouds. Fine-lookin' chap, old Tod—pity + he's such a child of Nature.” + </p> + <p> + Felix said quietly: + </p> + <p> + “If you'd offered him a partnership, Stanley—it would have been the + making of him.” + </p> + <p> + “Tod in the plough works? My hat!” + </p> + <p> + Felix smiled. At sight of that smile, Stanley grew red, and John refilled + his pipe. It is always the devil to have a brother more sarcastic than + oneself! + </p> + <p> + “How old are those two?” John said abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “Sheila's twenty, Derek nineteen.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought the boy was at an agricultural college?” + </p> + <p> + “Finished.” + </p> + <p> + “What's he like?” + </p> + <p> + “A black-haired, fiery fellow, not a bit like Tod.” + </p> + <p> + John muttered: “That's her Celtic blood. Her father, old Colonel Moray, + was just that sort; by George, he was a regular black Highlander. What's + the trouble exactly?” + </p> + <p> + It was Stanley who answered: “That sort of agitation business is all very + well until it begins to affect your neighbors; then it's time it stopped. + You know the Mallorings who own all the land round Tod's. Well, they've + fallen foul of the Mallorings over what they call injustice to some + laborers. Questions of morality involved. I don't know all the details. A + man's got notice to quit over his deceased wife's sister; and some girl or + other in another cottage has kicked over—just ordinary country + incidents. What I want is that Tod should be made to see that his family + mustn't quarrel with his nearest neighbors in this way. We know the + Mallorings well, they're only seven miles from us at Becket. It doesn't + do; sooner or later it plays the devil all round. And the air's full of + agitation about the laborers and 'the Land,' and all the rest of it—only + wants a spark to make real trouble.” + </p> + <p> + And having finished this oration, Stanley thrust his hands deep into his + pockets, and jingled the money that was there. + </p> + <p> + John said abruptly: + </p> + <p> + “Felix, you'd better go down.” + </p> + <p> + Felix was sitting back, his eyes for once withdrawn from his brothers' + faces. + </p> + <p> + “Odd,” he said, “really odd, that with a perfectly unique person like Tod + for a brother, we only see him once in a blue moon.” + </p> + <p> + “It's because he IS so d—d unique.” + </p> + <p> + Felix got up and gravely extended his hand to Stanley. + </p> + <p> + “By Jove,” he said, “you've spoken truth.” And to John he added: “Well, I + WILL go, and let you know the upshot.” + </p> + <p> + When he had departed, the two elder brothers remained for some moments + silent, then Stanley said: + </p> + <p> + “Old Felix is a bit tryin'! With the fuss they make of him in the papers, + his head's swelled!” + </p> + <p> + John did not answer. One could not in so many words resent one's own + brother being made a fuss of, and if it had been for something real, such + as discovering the source of the Black River, conquering Bechuanaland, + curing Blue-mange, or being made a Bishop, he would have been the first + and most loyal in his appreciation; but for the sort of thing Felix made + up—Fiction, and critical, acid, destructive sort of stuff, + pretending to show John Freeland things that he hadn't seen before—as + if Felix could!—not at all the jolly old romance which one could + read well enough and enjoy till it sent you to sleep after a good day's + work. No! that Felix should be made a fuss of for such work as that really + almost hurt him. It was not quite decent, violating deep down one's sense + of form, one's sense of health, one's traditions. Though he would not have + admitted it, he secretly felt, too, that this fuss was dangerous to his + own point of view, which was, of course, to him the only real one. And he + merely said: + </p> + <p> + “Will you stay to dinner, Stan?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III + </h2> + <p> + If John had those sensations about Felix, so—when he was away from + John—had Felix about himself. He had never quite grown out of the + feeling that to make himself conspicuous in any way was bad form. In + common with his three brothers he had been through the mills of gentility—those + unique grinding machines of education only found in his native land. Tod, + to be sure, had been publicly sacked at the end of his third term, for + climbing on to the headmaster's roof and filling up two of his chimneys + with football pants, from which he had omitted to remove his name. Felix + still remembered the august scene—the horrid thrill of it, the + ominous sound of that: “Freeland minimus!” the ominous sight of poor + little Tod emerging from his obscurity near the roof of the Speech Room, + and descending all those steps. How very small and rosy he had looked, his + bright hair standing on end, and his little blue eyes staring up very hard + from under a troubled frown. And the august hand holding up those sooty + pants, and the august voice: “These appear to be yours, Freeland minimus. + Were you so good as to put them down my chimneys?” And the little piping, + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “May I ask why, Freeland minimus?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “You must have had some reason, Freeland minimus?” + </p> + <p> + “It was the end of term, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! You must not come back here, Freeland minimus. You are too dangerous, + to yourself, and others. Go to your place.” + </p> + <p> + And poor little Tod ascending again all those steps, cheeks more terribly + rosy than ever, eyes bluer, from under a still more troubled frown; little + mouth hard set; and breathing so that you could hear him six forms off. + True, the new Head had been goaded by other outrages, the authors of which + had not omitted to remove their names; but the want of humor, the amazing + want of humor! As if it had not been a sign of first-rate stuff in Tod! + And to this day Felix remembered with delight the little bubbling hiss + that he himself had started, squelched at once, but rippling out again + along the rows like tiny scattered lines of fire when a conflagration is + suppressed. Expulsion had been the salvation of Tod! Or—his + damnation? Which? God would know, but Felix was not certain. Having + himself been fifteen years acquiring 'Mill' philosophy, and another + fifteen years getting rid of it, he had now begun to think that after all + there might be something in it. A philosophy that took everything, + including itself, at face value, and questioned nothing, was sedative to + nerves too highly strung by the continual examination of the insides of + oneself and others, with a view to their alteration. Tod, of course, + having been sent to Germany after his expulsion, as one naturally would + be, and then put to farming, had never properly acquired 'Mill' manner, + and never sloughed it off; and yet he was as sedative a man as you could + meet. + </p> + <p> + Emerging from the Tube station at Hampstead, he moved toward home under a + sky stranger than one might see in a whole year of evenings. Between the + pine-trees on the ridge it was opaque and colored like pinkish stone, and + all around violent purple with flames of the young green, and white spring + blossom lit against it. Spring had been dull and unimaginative so far, but + this evening it was all fire and gathered torrents; Felix wondered at the + waiting passion of that sky. + </p> + <p> + He reached home just as those torrents began to fall. + </p> + <p> + The old house, beyond the Spaniard's Road, save for mice and a faint + underlying savor of wood-rot in two rooms, well satisfied the aesthetic + sense. Felix often stood in his hall, study, bedroom, and other + apartments, admiring the rich and simple glow of them—admiring the + rarity and look of studied negligence about the stuffs, the flowers, the + books, the furniture, the china; and then quite suddenly the feeling would + sweep over him: “By George, do I really own all this, when my ideal is + 'bread and water, and on feast days a little bit of cheese'?” True, he was + not to blame for the niceness of his things—Flora did it; but still—there + they were, a little hard to swallow for an epicurean. It might, of course, + have been worse, for if Flora had a passion for collecting, it was a very + chaste one, and though what she collected cost no little money, it always + looked as if it had been inherited, and—as everybody knows—what + has been inherited must be put up with, whether it be a coronet or a + cruet-stand. + </p> + <p> + To collect old things, and write poetry! It was a career; one would not + have one's wife otherwise. She might, for instance, have been like + Stanley's wife, Clara, whose career was wealth and station; or John's + wife, Anne, whose career had been cut short; or even Tod's wife, Kirsteen, + whose career was revolution. No—a wife who had two, and only two + children, and treated them with affectionate surprise, who was never out + of temper, never in a hurry, knew the points of a book or play, could cut + your hair at a pinch; whose hand was dry, figure still good, verse + tolerable, and—above all—who wished for no better fate than + Fate had given her—was a wife not to be sneezed at. And Felix never + had. He had depicted so many sneezing wives and husbands in his books, and + knew the value of a happy marriage better perhaps than any one in England. + He had laid marriage low a dozen times, wrecked it on all sorts of rocks, + and had the greater veneration for his own, which had begun early, + manifested every symptom of ending late, and in the meantime walked down + the years holding hands fast, and by no means forgetting to touch lips. + </p> + <p> + Hanging up the gray top hat, he went in search of her. He found her in his + dressing-room, surrounded by a number of little bottles, which she was + examining vaguely, and putting one by one into an 'inherited' waste-paper + basket. Having watched her for a little while with a certain pleasure, he + said: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + Noticing his presence, and continuing to put bottles into the basket, she + answered: + </p> + <p> + “I thought I must—they're what dear Mother's given us.” + </p> + <p> + There they lay—little bottles filled with white and brown fluids, + white and blue and brown powders; green and brown and yellow ointments; + black lozenges; buff plasters; blue and pink and purple pills. All + beautifully labelled and corked. + </p> + <p> + And he said in a rather faltering voice: + </p> + <p> + “Bless her! How she does give her things away! Haven't we used ANY?” + </p> + <p> + “Not one. And they have to be cleared away before they're stale, for fear + we might take one by mistake.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor Mother!” + </p> + <p> + “My dear, she's found something newer than them all by now.” + </p> + <p> + Felix sighed. + </p> + <p> + “The nomadic spirit. I have it, too!” + </p> + <p> + And a sudden vision came to him of his mother's carved ivory face, kept + free of wrinkles by sheer will-power, its firm chin, slightly aquiline + nose, and measured brows; its eyes that saw everything so quickly, so + fastidiously, its compressed mouth that smiled sweetly, with a resolute + but pathetic acceptation. Of the piece of fine lace, sometimes black, + sometimes white, over her gray hair. Of her hands, so thin now, always + moving a little, as if all the composure and care not to offend any eye by + allowing Time to ravage her face, were avenging themselves in that + constant movement. Of her figure, that was short but did not seem so, + still quick-moving, still alert, and always dressed in black or gray. A + vision of that exact, fastidious, wandering spirit called Frances Fleeming + Freeland—that spirit strangely compounded of domination and + humility, of acceptation and cynicism; precise and actual to the point of + desert dryness; generous to a point that caused her family to despair; and + always, beyond all things, brave. + </p> + <p> + Flora dropped the last little bottle, and sitting on the edge of the bath + let her eyebrows rise. How pleasant was that impersonal humor which made + her superior to other wives! + </p> + <p> + “You—nomadic? How?” + </p> + <p> + “Mother travels unceasingly from place to place, person to person, thing + to thing. I travel unceasingly from motive to motive, mind to mind; my + native air is also desert air—hence the sterility of my work.” + </p> + <p> + Flora rose, but her eyebrows descended. + </p> + <p> + “Your work,” she said, “is not sterile.” + </p> + <p> + “That, my dear,” said Felix, “is prejudice.” And perceiving that she was + going to kiss him, he waited without annoyance. For a woman of forty-two, + with two children and three books of poems—and not knowing which had + taken least out of her—with hazel-gray eyes, wavy eyebrows darker + than they should have been, a glint of red in her hair; wavy figure and + lips; quaint, half-humorous indolence, quaint, half-humorous warmth—was + she not as satisfactory a woman as a man could possibly have married! + </p> + <p> + “I have got to go down and see Tod,” he said. “I like that wife of his; + but she has no sense of humor. How much better principles are in theory + than in practice!” + </p> + <p> + Flora repeated softly, as if to herself: + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad I have none.” She was at the window leaning out, and Felix took + his place beside her. The air was full of scent from wet leaves, alive + with the song of birds thanking the sky. Suddenly he felt her arm round + his ribs; either it or they—which, he could not at the moment tell—seemed + extraordinarily soft.... + </p> + <p> + Between Felix and his young daughter, Nedda, there existed the only kind + of love, except a mother's, which has much permanence—love based on + mutual admiration. Though why Nedda, with her starry innocence, should + admire him, Felix could never understand, not realizing that she read his + books, and even analyzed them for herself in the diary which she kept + religiously, writing it when she ought to have been asleep. He had + therefore no knowledge of the way his written thoughts stimulated the + ceaseless questioning that was always going on within her; the thirst to + know why this was and that was not. Why, for instance, her heart ached so + some days and felt light and eager other days? Why, when people wrote and + talked of God, they seemed to know what He was, and she never did? Why + people had to suffer; and the world be black to so many millions? Why one + could not love more than one man at a time? Why—a thousand things? + Felix's books supplied no answers to these questions, but they were + comforting; for her real need as yet was not for answers, but ever for + more questions, as a young bird's need is for opening its beak without + quite knowing what is coming out or going in. When she and her father + walked, or sat, or went to concerts together, their talk was neither + particularly intimate nor particularly voluble; they made to each other no + great confidences. Yet each was certain that the other was not bored—a + great thing; and they squeezed each other's little fingers a good deal—very + warming. Now with his son Alan, Felix had a continual sensation of having + to keep up to a mark and never succeeding—a feeling, as in his + favorite nightmare, of trying to pass an examination for which he had + neglected to prepare; of having to preserve, in fact, form proper to the + father of Alan Freeland. With Nedda he had a sense of refreshment; the + delight one has on a spring day, watching a clear stream, a bank of + flowers, birds flying. And Nedda with her father—what feeling had + she? To be with him was like a long stroking with a touch of tickle in it; + to read his books, a long tickle with a nice touch of stroking now and + then when one was not expecting it. + </p> + <p> + That night after dinner, when Alan had gone out and Flora into a dream, + she snuggled up alongside her father, got hold of his little finger, and + whispered: + </p> + <p> + “Come into the garden, Dad; I'll put on goloshes. It's an awfully nice + moon.” + </p> + <p> + The moon indeed was palest gold behind the pines, so that its radiance was + a mere shower of pollen, just a brushing of white moth-down over the reeds + of their little dark pond, and the black blur of the flowering currant + bushes. And the young lime-trees, not yet in full leaf, quivered + ecstatically in that moon-witchery, still letting fall raindrops of the + past spring torrent, with soft hissing sounds. A real sense in the garden, + of God holding his breath in the presence of his own youth swelling, + growing, trembling toward perfection! Somewhere a bird—a thrush, + they thought—mixed in its little mind as to night and day, was + queerly chirruping. And Felix and his daughter went along the dark wet + paths, holding each other's arms, not talking much. For, in him, very + responsive to the moods of Nature, there was a flattered feeling, with + that young arm in his, of Spring having chosen to confide in him this + whispering, rustling hour. And in Nedda was so much of that night's + unutterable youth—no wonder she was silent! Then, somehow—neither + responsible—they stood motionless. How quiet it was, but for a + distant dog or two, and the stilly shivering-down of the water drops, and + the far vibration of the million-voiced city! How quiet and soft and + fresh! Then Nedda spoke: + </p> + <p> + “Dad, I do so want to know everything.” + </p> + <p> + Not rousing even a smile, with its sublime immodesty, that aspiration + seemed to Felix infinitely touching. What less could youth want in the + very heart of Spring? And, watching her face put up to the night, her + parted lips, and the moon-gleam fingering her white throat, he answered: + </p> + <p> + “It'll all come soon enough, my pretty!” + </p> + <p> + To think that she must come to an end like the rest, having found out + almost nothing, having discovered just herself, and the particle of God + that was within her! But he could not, of course, say this. + </p> + <p> + “I want to FEEL. Can't I begin?” + </p> + <p> + How many millions of young creatures all the world over were sending up + that white prayer to climb and twine toward the stars, and—fall to + earth again! And nothing to be answered, but: + </p> + <p> + “Time enough, Nedda!” + </p> + <p> + “But, Dad, there are such heaps of things, such heaps of people, and + reasons, and—and life; and I know nothing. Dreams are the only + times, it seems to me, that one finds out anything.” + </p> + <p> + “As for that, my child, I am exactly in your case. What's to be done for + us?” + </p> + <p> + She slid her hand through his arm again. + </p> + <p> + “Don't laugh at me!” + </p> + <p> + “Heaven forbid! I meant it. You're finding out much quicker than I. It's + all folk-music to you still; to me Strauss and the rest of the tired + stuff. The variations my mind spins—wouldn't I just swap them for + the tunes your mind is making?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't seem making tunes at all. I don't seem to have anything to make + them of. Take me down to see 'the Tods,' Dad!” + </p> + <p> + Why not? And yet—! Just as in this spring night Felix felt so much, + so very much, lying out there behind the still and moony dark, such + marvellous holding of breath and waiting sentiency, so behind this + innocent petition, he could not help the feeling of a lurking fatefulness. + That was absurd. And he said: “If you wish it, by all means. You'll like + your Uncle Tod; as to the others, I can't say, but your aunt is an + experience, and experiences are what you want, it seems.” + </p> + <p> + Fervently, without speech, Nedda squeezed his arm. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV + </h2> + <p> + Stanley Freeland's country house, Becket, was almost a show place. It + stood in its park and pastures two miles from the little town of Transham + and the Morton Plough Works; close to the ancestral home of the Moretons, + his mother's family—that home burned down by Roundheads in the Civil + War. The site—certain vagaries in the ground—Mrs. Stanley had + caused to be walled round, and consecrated so to speak with a stone + medallion on which were engraved the aged Moreton arms—arrows and + crescent moons in proper juxtaposition. Peacocks, too—that bird + 'parlant,' from the old Moreton crest—were encouraged to dwell there + and utter their cries, as of passionate souls lost in too comfortable + surroundings. + </p> + <p> + By one of those freaks of which Nature is so prodigal, Stanley—owner + of this native Moreton soil—least of all four Freeland brothers, had + the Moreton cast of mind and body. That was why he made so much more money + than the other three put together, and had been able, with the aid of + Clara's undoubted genius for rank and station, to restore a strain of + Moreton blood to its rightful position among the county families of + Worcestershire. Bluff and without sentiment, he himself set little store + by that, smiling up his sleeve—for he was both kindly and prudent—at + his wife who had been a Tomson. It was not in Stanley to appreciate the + peculiar flavor of the Moretons, that something which in spite of their + naivete and narrowness, had really been rather fine. To him, such Moretons + as were left were 'dry enough sticks, clean out of it.' They were of a + breed that was already gone, the simplest of all country gentlemen, dating + back to the Conquest, without one solitary conspicuous ancestor, save the + one who had been physician to a king and perished without issue—marrying + from generation to generation exactly their own equals; living simple, + pious, parochial lives; never in trade, never making money, having a + tradition and a practice of gentility more punctilious than the so-called + aristocracy; constitutionally paternal and maternal to their dependents, + constitutionally so convinced that those dependents and all indeed who + were not 'gentry,' were of different clay, that they were entirely simple + and entirely without arrogance, carrying with them even now a sort of + Early atmosphere of archery and home-made cordials, lavender and love of + clergy, together with frequent use of the word 'nice,' a peculiar + regularity of feature, and a complexion that was rather parchmenty. High + Church people and Tories, naturally, to a man and woman, by sheer inbred + absence of ideas, and sheer inbred conviction that nothing else was nice; + but withal very considerate of others, really plucky in bearing their own + ills; not greedy, and not wasteful. + </p> + <p> + Of Becket, as it now was, they would not have approved at all. By what + chance Edmund Moreton (Stanley's mother's grandfather), in the middle of + the eighteenth century, had suddenly diverged from family feeling and + ideals, and taken that 'not quite nice' resolution to make ploughs and + money, would never now be known. The fact remained, together with the + plough works. A man apparently of curious energy and character, + considering his origin, he had dropped the E from his name, and—though + he continued the family tradition so far as to marry a Fleeming of + Worcestershire, to be paternal to his workmen, to be known as Squire, and + to bring his children up in the older Moreton 'niceness'—he had yet + managed to make his ploughs quite celebrated, to found a little town, and + die still handsome and clean-shaved at the age of sixty-six. Of his four + sons, only two could be found sufficiently without the E to go on making + ploughs. Stanley's grandfather, Stuart Morton, indeed, had tried hard, but + in the end had reverted to the congenital instinct for being just a + Moreton. An extremely amiable man, he took to wandering with his family, + and died in France, leaving one daughter—Frances, Stanley's mother—and + three sons, one of whom, absorbed in horses, wandered to Australia and was + killed by falling from them; one of whom, a soldier, wandered to India, + and the embraces of a snake; and one of whom wandered into the embraces of + the Holy Roman Church. + </p> + <p> + The Morton Plough Works were dry and dwindling when Stanley's father, + seeking an opening for his son, put him and money into them. From that + moment they had never looked back, and now brought Stanley, the sole + proprietor, an income of full fifteen thousand pounds a year. He wanted + it. For Clara, his wife, had that energy of aspiration which before now + has raised women to positions of importance in the counties which are not + their own, and caused, incidentally, many acres to go out of cultivation. + Not one plough was used on the whole of Becket, not even a Morton plough—these + indeed were unsuitable to English soil and were all sent abroad. It was + the corner-stone of his success that Stanley had completely seen through + the talked-of revival of English agriculture, and sedulously cultivated + the foreign market. This was why the Becket dining-room could contain + without straining itself large quantities of local magnates and + celebrities from London, all deploring the condition of 'the Land,' and + discussing without end the regrettable position of the agricultural + laborer. Except for literary men and painters, present in small quantities + to leaven the lump, Becket was, in fact, a rallying point for the advanced + spirits of Land Reform—one of those places where they were sure of + being well done at week-ends, and of congenial and even stimulating talk + about the undoubted need for doing something, and the designs which were + being entertained upon 'the Land' by either party. This very heart of + English country that the old Moretons in their paternal way had so + religiously farmed, making out of its lush grass and waving corn a simple + and by no means selfish or ungenerous subsistence, was now entirely lawns, + park, coverts, and private golf course, together with enough grass to + support the kine which yielded that continual stream of milk necessary to + Clara's entertainments and children, all female, save little Francis, and + still of tender years. Of gardeners, keepers, cow-men, chauffeurs, + footmen, stablemen—full twenty were supported on those fifteen + hundred acres that formed the little Becket demesne. Of agricultural + laborers proper—that vexed individual so much in the air, so + reluctant to stay on 'the Land,' and so difficult to house when he was + there, there were fortunately none, so that it was possible for Stanley, + whose wife meant him to 'put up' for the Division, and his guests, who + were frequently in Parliament, to hold entirely unbiassed and impersonal + views upon the whole question so long as they were at Becket. + </p> + <p> + It was beautiful there, too, with the bright open fields hedged with great + elms, and that ever-rich serenity of its grass and trees. The white house, + timbered with dark beams in true Worcestershire fashion, and added-to from + time to time, had preserved, thanks to a fine architect, an old-fashioned + air of spacious presidency above its gardens and lawns. On the long + artificial lake, with innumerable rushy nooks and water-lilies and + coverture of leaves floating flat and bright in the sun, the half-tame + wild duck and shy water-hens had remote little worlds, and flew and + splashed when all Becket was abed, quite as if the human spirit, with its + monkey-tricks and its little divine flame, had not yet been born. + </p> + <p> + Under the shade of a copper-beech, just where the drive cut through into + its circle before the house, an old lady was sitting that afternoon on a + campstool. She was dressed in gray alpaca, light and cool, and had on her + iron-gray hair a piece of black lace. A number of Hearth and Home and a + little pair of scissors, suspended by an inexpensive chain from her waist, + rested on her knee, for she had been meaning to cut out for dear Felix a + certain recipe for keeping the head cool; but, as a fact, she sat without + doing so, very still, save that, now and then, she compressed her pale + fine lips, and continually moved her pale fine hands. She was evidently + waiting for something that promised excitement, even pleasure, for a + little rose-leaf flush had quavered up into a face that was colored like + parchment; and her gray eyes under regular and still-dark brows, very far + apart, between which there was no semblance of a wrinkle, seemed noting + little definite things about her, almost unwillingly, as an Arab's or a + Red Indian's eyes will continue to note things in the present, however + their minds may be set on the future. So sat Frances Fleeming Freeland + (nee Morton) waiting for the arrival of her son Felix and her + grandchildren Alan and Nedda. + </p> + <p> + She marked presently an old man limping slowly on a stick toward where the + drive debouched, and thought at once: “He oughtn't to be coming this way. + I expect he doesn't know the way round to the back. Poor man, he's very + lame. He looks respectable, too.” She got up and went toward him, + remarking that his face with nice gray moustaches was wonderfully regular, + almost like a gentleman's, and that he touched his dusty hat with quite + old-fashioned courtesy. And smiling—her smile was sweet but critical—she + said: “You'll find the best way is to go back to that little path, and + past the greenhouses. Have you hurt your leg?” + </p> + <p> + “My leg's been like that, m'm, fifteen year come Michaelmas.” + </p> + <p> + “How did it happen?” + </p> + <p> + “Ploughin'. The bone was injured; an' now they say the muscle's dried up + in a manner of speakin'.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you do for it? The very best thing is this.” + </p> + <p> + From the recesses of a deep pocket, placed where no one else wore such a + thing, she brought out a little pot. + </p> + <p> + “You must let me give it you. Put it on when you go to bed, and rub it + well in; you'll find it act splendidly.” + </p> + <p> + The old man took the little pot with dubious reverence. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, m'm,” he said; “thank you, m'm.” + </p> + <p> + “What is your name?” + </p> + <p> + “Gaunt.” + </p> + <p> + “And where do you live?” + </p> + <p> + “Over to Joyfields, m'm.” + </p> + <p> + “Joyfields—another of my sons lives there—Mr. Morton Freeland. + But it's seven miles.” + </p> + <p> + “I got a lift half-way.” + </p> + <p> + “And have you business at the house?” The old man was silent; the + downcast, rather cynical look of his lined face deepened. And Frances + Freeland thought: 'He's overtired. They must give him some tea and an egg. + What can he want, coming all this way? He's evidently not a beggar.' + </p> + <p> + The old man who was not a beggar spoke suddenly: + </p> + <p> + “I know the Mr. Freeland at Joyfields. He's a good gentleman, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he is. I wonder I don't know you.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not much about, owin' to my leg. It's my grand-daughter in service + here, I come to see.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes! What is her name?” + </p> + <p> + “Gaunt her name is.” + </p> + <p> + “I shouldn't know her by her surname.” + </p> + <p> + “Alice.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! in the kitchen; a nice, pretty girl. I hope you're not in trouble.” + </p> + <p> + Again the old man was silent, and again spoke suddenly: + </p> + <p> + “That's as you look at it, m'm,” he said. “I've got a matter of a few + words to have with her about the family. Her father he couldn't come, so I + come instead.” + </p> + <p> + “And how are you going to get back?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll have to walk, I expect, without I can pick up with a cart.” + </p> + <p> + Frances Freeland compressed her lips. “With that leg you should have come + by train.” + </p> + <p> + The old man smiled. + </p> + <p> + “I hadn't the fare like,” he said. “I only gets five shillin's a week, + from the council, and two o' that I pays over to my son.” + </p> + <p> + Frances Freeland thrust her hand once more into that deep pocket, and as + she did so she noticed that the old man's left boot was flapping open, and + that there were two buttons off his coat. Her mind was swiftly + calculating: “It is more than seven weeks to quarter day. Of course I + can't afford it, but I must just give him a sovereign.” + </p> + <p> + She withdrew her hand from the recesses of her pocket and looked at the + old man's nose. It was finely chiselled, and the same yellow as his face. + “It looks nice, and quite sober,” she thought. In her hand was her purse + and a boot-lace. She took out a sovereign. + </p> + <p> + “Now, if I give you this,” she said, “you must promise me not to spend any + of it in the public-house. And this is for your boot. And you must go back + by train. And get those buttons sewn on your coat. And tell cook, from me, + please, to give you some tea and an egg.” And noticing that he took the + sovereign and the boot-lace very respectfully, and seemed altogether very + respectable, and not at all coarse or beery-looking, she said: + </p> + <p> + “Good-by; don't forget to rub what I gave you into your leg every night + and every morning,” and went back to her camp-stool. Sitting down on it + with the scissors in her hand, she still did not cut out that recipe, but + remained as before, taking in small, definite things, and feeling with an + inner trembling that dear Felix and Alan and Nedda would soon be here; and + the little flush rose again in her cheeks, and again her lips and hands + moved, expressing and compressing what was in her heart. And close behind + her, a peacock, straying from the foundations of the old Moreton house, + uttered a cry, and moved slowly, spreading its tail under the low-hanging + boughs of the copper-beeches, as though it knew those dark burnished + leaves were the proper setting for its 'parlant' magnificence. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V + </h2> + <p> + The day after the little conference at John's, Felix had indeed received + the following note: + </p> + <p> + “DEAR FELIX: + </p> + <p> + “When you go down to see old Tod, why not put up with us at Becket? Any + time will suit, and the car can take you over to Joyfields when you like. + Give the pen a rest. Clara joins in hoping you'll come, and Mother is + still here. No use, I suppose, to ask Flora. + </p> + <p> + “Yours ever, + </p> + <p> + “STANLEY.” + </p> + <p> + During the twenty years of his brother's sojourn there Felix had been down + to Becket perhaps once a year, and latterly alone; for Flora, having + accompanied him the first few times, had taken a firm stand. + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” she said, “I feel all body there.” + </p> + <p> + Felix had rejoined: + </p> + <p> + “No bad thing, once in a way.” + </p> + <p> + But Flora had remained firm. Life was too short! She did not get on well + with Clara. Neither did Felix feel too happy in his sister-in-law's + presence; but the gray top-hat instinct had kept him going there, for one + ought to keep in touch with one's brothers. + </p> + <p> + He replied to Stanley: + </p> + <p> + “DEAR STANLEY: + </p> + <p> + “Delighted; if I may bring my two youngsters. We'll arrive to-morrow at + four-fifty. + </p> + <p> + “Yours affectionately, + </p> + <p> + “FELIX.” + </p> + <p> + Travelling with Nedda was always jolly; one could watch her eyes noting, + inquiring, and when occasion served, have one's little finger hooked in + and squeezed. Travelling with Alan was convenient, the young man having a + way with railways which Felix himself had long despaired of acquiring. + Neither of the children had ever been at Becket, and though Alan was + seldom curious, and Nedda too curious about everything to be specially so + about this, yet Felix experienced in their company the sensations of a new + adventure. + </p> + <p> + Arrived at Transham, that little town upon a hill which the Morton Plough + Works had created, they were soon in Stanley's car, whirling into the + sleepy peace of a Worcestershire afternoon. Would this young bird nestling + up against him echo Flora's verdict: 'I feel all body there!' or would she + take to its fatted luxury as a duck to water? And he said: “By the way, + your aunt's 'Bigwigs' set in on a Saturday. Are you for staying and seeing + the lions feed, or do we cut back?” + </p> + <p> + From Alan he got the answer he expected: + </p> + <p> + “If there's golf or something, I suppose we can make out all right.” From + Nedda: “What sort of Bigwigs are they, Dad?” + </p> + <p> + “A sort you've never seen, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I should like to stay. Only, about dresses?” + </p> + <p> + “What war paint have you?” + </p> + <p> + “Only two white evenings. And Mums gave me her Mechlin.” + </p> + <p> + “'Twill serve.” + </p> + <p> + To Felix, Nedda in white 'evenings' was starry and all that man could + desire. + </p> + <p> + “Only, Dad, do tell me about them, beforehand.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear, I will. And God be with you. This is where Becket begins.” + </p> + <p> + The car had swerved into a long drive between trees not yet full-grown, + but decorously trying to look more than their twenty years. To the right, + about a group of older elms, rooks were in commotion, for Stanley's three + keepers' wives had just baked their annual rook pies, and the birds were + not yet happy again. Those elms had stood there when the old Moretons + walked past them through corn-fields to church of a Sunday. Away on the + left above the lake, the little walled mound had come in view. Something + in Felix always stirred at sight of it, and, squeezing Nedda's arm, he + said: + </p> + <p> + “See that silly wall? Behind there Granny's ancients lived. Gone now—new + house—new lake—new trees—new everything.” + </p> + <p> + But he saw from his little daughter's calm eyes that the sentiment in him + was not in her. + </p> + <p> + “I like the lake,” she said. “There's Granny—oh, and a peacock!” + </p> + <p> + His mother's embrace, with its frail energy, and the pressure of her soft, + dry lips, filled Felix always with remorse. Why could he not give the + simple and direct expression to his feeling that she gave to hers? He + watched those lips transferred to Nedda, heard her say: “Oh, my darling, + how lovely to see you! Do you know this for midge-bites?” A hand, diving + deep into a pocket, returned with a little silver-coated stick having a + bluish end. Felix saw it rise and hover about Nedda's forehead, and + descend with two little swift dabs. “It takes them away at once.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but Granny, they're not midge-bites; they're only from my hat!” + </p> + <p> + “It doesn't matter, darling; it takes away anything like that.” + </p> + <p> + And he thought: 'Mother is really wonderful!' + </p> + <p> + At the house the car had already disgorged their luggage. Only one man, + but he absolutely the butler, awaited them, and they entered, at once + conscious of Clara's special pot-pourri. Its fragrance steamed from blue + china, in every nook and crevice, a sort of baptism into luxury. Clara + herself, in the outer morning-room, smelled a little of it. Quick and dark + of eye, capable, comely, perfectly buttoned, one of those women who know + exactly how not to be superior to the general taste of the period. In + addition to that great quality she was endowed with a fine nose, an + instinct for co-ordination not to be excelled, and a genuine love of + making people comfortable; so that it was no wonder that she had risen in + the ranks of hostesses, till her house was celebrated for its ease, even + among those who at their week-ends liked to feel 'all body.' In regard to + that characteristic of Becket, not even Felix in his ironies had ever + stood up to Clara; the matter was too delicate. Frances Freeland, indeed—not + because she had any philosophic preconceptions on the matter, but because + it was 'not nice, dear, to be wasteful' even if it were only of + rose-leaves, or to 'have too much decoration,' such as Japanese prints in + places where they hum—sometimes told her daughter-in-law frankly + what was wrong, without, however, making the faintest impression upon + Clara, for she was not sensitive, and, as she said to Stanley, it was + 'only Mother.' + </p> + <p> + When they had drunk that special Chinese tea, all the rage, but which no + one really liked, in the inner morning, or afternoon room—for the + drawing-rooms were too large to be comfortable except at week-ends—they + went to see the children, a special blend of Stanley and Clara, save the + little Francis, who did not seem to be entirely body. Then Clara took them + to their rooms. She lingered kindly in Nedda's, feeling that the girl + could not yet feel quite at home, and looking in the soap-dish lest she + might not have the right verbena, and about the dressing-table to see that + she had pins and scent, and plenty of 'pot-pourri,' and thinking: 'The + child is pretty—a nice girl, not like her mother.' Explaining + carefully how, because of the approaching week-end, she had been obliged + to put her in 'a very simple room' where she would be compelled to cross + the corridor to her bath, she asked her if she had a quilted + dressing-gown, and finding that she had not, left her saying she would + send one—and could she do her frocks up, or should Sirrett come? + </p> + <p> + Abandoned, the girl stood in the middle of the room, so far more 'simple' + than she had ever slept in, with its warm fragrance of rose-leaves and + verbena, its Aubusson carpet, white silk-quilted bed, sofa, cushioned + window-seat, dainty curtains, and little nickel box of biscuits on little + spindly table. There she stood and sniffed, stretched herself, and + thought: 'It's jolly—only, it smells too much!' and she went up to + the pictures, one by one. They seemed to go splendidly with the room, and + suddenly she felt homesick. Ridiculous, of course! Yet, if she had known + where her father's room was, she would have run out to it; but her memory + was too tangled up with stairs and corridors—to find her way down to + the hall again was all she could have done. + </p> + <p> + A maid came in now with a blue silk gown very thick and soft. Could she do + anything for Miss Freeland? No, thanks, she could not; only, did she know + where Mr. Freeland's room was? + </p> + <p> + “Which Mr. Freeland, miss, the young or the old?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the old!” Having said which, Nedda felt unhappy; her Dad was not old! + “No, miss; but I'll find out. It'll be in the walnut wing!” But with a + little flutter at the thought of thus setting people to run about wings, + Nedda murmured: “Oh! thanks, no; it doesn't matter.” + </p> + <p> + She settled down now on the cushion of the window-seat, to look out and + take it all in, right away to that line of hills gone blue in the haze of + the warm evening. That would be Malvern; and there, farther to the south, + the 'Tods' lived. 'Joyfields!' A pretty name! And it was lovely country + all round; green and peaceful, with its white, timbered houses and + cottages. People must be very happy, living here—happy and quiet + like the stars and the birds; not like the crowds in London thronging + streets and shops and Hampstead Heath; not like the people in all those + disgruntled suburbs that led out for miles where London ought to have + stopped but had not; not like the thousands and thousands of those poor + creatures in Bethnal Green, where her slum work lay. The natives here must + surely be happy. Only, were there any natives? She had not seen any. Away + to the right below her window were the first trees of the fruit garden; + for many of them Spring was over, but the apple-trees had just come into + blossom, and the low sun shining through a gap in some far elms was + slanting on their creamy pink, christening them—Nedda thought—with + drops of light; and lovely the blackbirds' singing sounded in the perfect + hush! How wonderful to be a bird, going where you would, and from high up + in the air seeing everything; flying down a sunbeam, drinking a raindrop, + sitting on the very top of a tall tree, running in grass so high that you + were hidden, laying little perfect blue-green eggs, or pure-gray speckly + ones; never changing your dress, yet always beautiful. Surely the spirit + of the world was in the birds and the clouds, roaming, floating, and in + the flowers and trees that never smelled anything but sweet, never looked + anything but lovely, and were never restless. Why was one restless, + wanting things that did not come—wanting to feel and know, wanting + to love, and be loved? And at that thought which had come to her so + unexpectedly—a thought never before shaped so definitely—Nedda + planted her arms on the window-sill, with sleeves fallen down, and let her + hands meet cup-shaped beneath her chin. Love! To have somebody with whom + she could share everything—some one to whom and for whom she could + give up—some one she could protect and comfort—some one who + would bring her peace. Peace, rest—from what? Ah! that she could not + make clear, even to herself. Love! What would love be like? Her father + loved her, and she loved him. She loved her mother; and Alan on the whole + was jolly to her—it was not that. What was it—where was it—when + would it come and wake her, and kiss her to sleep, all in one? Come and + fill her as with the warmth and color, the freshness, light, and shadow of + this beautiful May evening, flood her as with the singing of those birds, + and the warm light sunning the apple blossoms. And she sighed. Then—as + with all young things whose attention after all is but as the hovering of + a butterfly—her speculation was attracted to a thin, high-shouldered + figure limping on a stick, away from the house, down one of the paths + among the apple-trees. He wavered, not knowing, it seemed, his way. And + Nedda thought: 'Poor old man, how lame he is!' She saw him stoop, + screened, as he evidently thought, from sight, and take something very + small from his pocket. He gazed, rubbed it, put it back; what it was she + could not see. Then pressing his hand down, he smoothed and stretched his + leg. His eyes seemed closed. So a stone man might have stood! Till very + slowly he limped on, passing out of sight. And turning from the window, + Nedda began hurrying into her evening things. + </p> + <p> + When she was ready she took a long time to decide whether to wear her + mother's lace or keep it for the Bigwigs. But it was so nice and creamy + that she simply could not take it off, and stood turning and turning + before the glass. To stand before a glass was silly and old-fashioned; but + Nedda could never help it, wanting so badly to be nicer to look at than + she was, because of that something that some day was coming! + </p> + <p> + She was, in fact, pretty, but not merely pretty—there was in her + face something alive and sweet, something clear and swift. She had still + that way of a child raising its eyes very quickly and looking straight at + you with an eager innocence that hides everything by its very wonder; and + when those eyes looked down they seemed closed—their dark lashes + were so long. Her eyebrows were wide apart, arching with a slight angle, + and slanting a little down toward her nose. Her forehead under its + burnt-brown hair was candid; her firm little chin just dimpled. + Altogether, a face difficult to take one's eyes off. But Nedda was far + from vain, and her face seemed to her too short and broad, her eyes too + dark and indeterminate, neither gray nor brown. The straightness of her + nose was certainly comforting, but it, too, was short. Being creamy in the + throat and browning easily, she would have liked to be marble-white, with + blue dreamy eyes and fair hair, or else like a Madonna. And was she tall + enough? Only five foot five. And her arms were too thin. The only things + that gave her perfect satisfaction were her legs, which, of course, she + could not at the moment see; they really WERE rather jolly! Then, in a + panic, fearing to be late, she turned and ran out, fluttering into the + maze of stairs and corridors. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI + </h2> + <p> + Clara, Mrs. Stanley Freeland, was not a narrow woman either in mind or + body; and years ago, soon indeed after she married Stanley, she had + declared her intention of taking up her sister-in-law, Kirsteen, in spite + of what she had heard were the woman's extraordinary notions. Those were + the days of carriages, pairs, coachmen, grooms, and, with her usual + promptitude, ordering out the lot, she had set forth. It is safe to say + she had never forgotten that experience. + </p> + <p> + Imagine an old, white, timbered cottage with a thatched roof, and no + single line about it quite straight. A cottage crazy with age, buried up + to the thatch in sweetbrier, creepers, honeysuckle, and perched high above + crossroads. A cottage almost unapproachable for beehives and their bees—an + insect for which Clara had an aversion. Imagine on the rough, pebbled + approach to the door of this cottage (and Clara had on thin shoes) a + peculiar cradle with a dark-eyed baby that was staring placidly at two + bees sleeping on a coverlet made of a rough linen such as Clara had never + before seen. Imagine an absolutely naked little girl of three, sitting in + a tub of sunlight in the very doorway. Clara had turned swiftly and closed + the wicket gate between the pebbled pathway and the mossed steps that led + down to where her coachman and her footman were sitting very still, as was + the habit of those people. She had perceived at once that she was making + no common call. Then, with real courage she had advanced, and, looking + down at the little girl with a fearful smile, had tickled the door with + the handle of her green parasol. A woman younger than herself, a girl, + indeed, appeared in a low doorway. She had often told Stanley since that + she would never forget her first sight (she had not yet had another) of + Tod's wife. A brown face and black hair, fiery gray eyes, eyes all light, + under black lashes, and “such a strange smile;” bare, brown, shapely arms + and neck in a shirt of the same rough, creamy linen, and, from under a + bright blue skirt, bare, brown, shapely ankles and feet! A voice so soft + and deadly that, as Clara said: “What with her eyes, it really gave me the + shivers. And, my dear,” she had pursued, “white-washed walls, bare brick + floors, not a picture, not a curtain, not even a fire-iron. Clean—oh, + horribly! They must be the most awful cranks. The only thing I must say + that was nice was the smell. Sweetbrier, and honey, coffee, and baked + apples—really delicious. I must try what I can do with it. But that + woman—girl, I suppose she is—stumped me. I'm sure she'd have + cut my head off if I'd attempted to open my mouth on ordinary topics. The + children were rather ducks; but imagine leaving them about like that + amongst the bees. 'Kirsteen!' She looked it. Never again! And Tod I didn't + see at all; I suppose he was mooning about amongst his creatures.” + </p> + <p> + It was the memory of this visit, now seventeen years ago, that had made + her smile so indulgently when Stanley came back from the conference. She + had said at once that they must have Felix to stay, and for her part she + would be only too glad to do anything she could for those poor children of + Tod's, even to asking them to Becket, and trying to civilize them a + little.... “But as for that woman, there'll be nothing to be done with + her, I can assure you. And I expect Tod is completely under her thumb.” + </p> + <p> + To Felix, who took her in to dinner, she spoke feelingly and in a low + voice. She liked Felix, in spite of his wife, and respected him—he + had a name. Lady Malloring—she told him—the Mallorings owned, + of course, everything round Joyfields—had been telling her that of + late Tod's wife had really become quite rabid over the land question. 'The + Tods' were hand in glove with all the cottagers. She, Clara, had nothing + to say against any one who sympathized with the condition of the + agricultural laborer; quite the contrary. Becket was almost, as Felix knew—though + perhaps it wasn't for her to say so—the centre of that movement; but + there were ways of doing things, and one did so deprecate women like this + Kirsteen—what an impossibly Celtic name!—putting her finger + into any pie that really was of national importance. Nothing could come of + anything done that sort of way. If Felix had any influence with Tod it + would be a mercy to use it in getting those poor young creatures away from + home, to mix a little with people who took a sane view of things. She + would like very much to get them over to Becket, but with their notions it + was doubtful whether they had evening clothes! She had, of course, never + forgotten that naked mite in the tub of sunlight, nor the poor baby with + its bees and its rough linen. Felix replied deferentially—he was + invariably polite, and only just ironic enough, in the houses of others—that + he had the very greatest respect for Tod, and that there could be nothing + very wrong with the woman to whom Tod was so devoted. As for the children, + his own young people would get at them and learn all about what was going + on in a way that no fogey like himself could. In regard to the land + question, there were, of course, many sides to that, and he, for one, + would not be at all sorry to observe yet another. After all, the Tods were + in real contact with the laborers, and that was the great thing. It would + be very interesting. + </p> + <p> + Yes, Clara quite saw all that, but—and here she sank her voice so + that there was hardly any left—as Felix was going over there, she + really must put him au courant with the heart of this matter. Lady + Malloring had told her the whole story. It appeared there were two cases: + A family called Gaunt, an old man, and his son, who had two daughters—one + of them, Alice, quite a nice girl, was kitchen-maid here at Becket, but + the other sister—Wilmet—well! she was one of those girls that, + as Felix must know, were always to be found in every village. She was + leading the young men astray, and Lady Malloring had put her foot down, + telling her bailiff to tell the farmer for whom Gaunt worked that he and + his family must go, unless they sent the girl away somewhere. That was one + case. And the other was of a laborer called Tryst, who wanted to marry his + deceased wife's sister. Of course, whether Mildred Malloring was not + rather too churchy and puritanical—now that a deceased wife's sister + was legal—Clara did not want to say; but she was undoubtedly within + her rights if she thought it for the good of the village. This man, Tryst, + was a good workman, and his farmer had objected to losing him, but Lady + Malloring had, of course, not given way, and if he persisted he would get + put out. All the cottages about there were Sir Gerald Malloring's, so that + in both cases it would mean leaving the neighborhood. In regard to village + morality, as Felix knew, the line must be drawn somewhere. + </p> + <p> + Felix interrupted quietly: + </p> + <p> + “I draw it at Lady Malloring.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I won't argue that with you. But it really is a scandal that Tod's + wife should incite her young people to stir up the villagers. Goodness + knows where that mayn't lead! Tod's cottage and land, you see, are + freehold, the only freehold thereabouts; and his being a brother of + Stanley's makes it particularly awkward for the Mallorings.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite so!” murmured Felix. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but my dear Felix, when it comes to infecting those simple people + with inflated ideas of their rights, it's serious, especially in the + country. I'm told there's really quite a violent feeling. I hear from + Alice Gaunt that the young Tods have been going about saying that dogs are + better off than people treated in this fashion, which, of course, is all + nonsense, and making far too much of a small matter. Don't you think so?” + </p> + <p> + But Felix only smiled his peculiar, sweetish smile, and answered: + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad to have come down just now.” + </p> + <p> + Clara, who did not know that when Felix smiled like that he was angry, + agreed. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said; “you're an observer. You will see the thing in right + perspective.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall endeavor to. What does Tod say?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Tod never seems to say anything. At least, I never hear of it.” + </p> + <p> + Felix murmured: + </p> + <p> + “Tod is a well in the desert.” + </p> + <p> + To which deep saying Clara made no reply, not indeed understanding in the + least what it might signify. + </p> + <p> + That evening, when Alan, having had his fill of billiards, had left the + smoking-room and gone to bed, Felix remarked to Stanley: + </p> + <p> + “I say, what sort of people are these Mallorings?” + </p> + <p> + Stanley, who was settling himself for the twenty minutes of whiskey, + potash, and a Review, with which he commonly composed his mind before + retiring, answered negligently: + </p> + <p> + “The Mallorings? Oh! about the best type of landowner we've got.” + </p> + <p> + “What exactly do you mean by that?” + </p> + <p> + Stanley took his time to answer, for below his bluff good-nature he had + the tenacious, if somewhat slow, precision of an English man of business, + mingled with a certain mistrust of 'old Felix.' + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said at last, “they build good cottages, yellow brick, d—d + ugly, I must say; look after the character of their tenants; give 'em + rebate of rent if there's a bad harvest; encourage stock-breedin', and + machinery—they've got some of my ploughs, but the people don't like + 'em, and, as a matter of fact, they're right—they're not made for + these small fields; set an example goin' to church; patronize the Rifle + Range; buy up the pubs when they can, and run 'em themselves; send out + jelly, and let people over their place on bank holidays. Dash it all, I + don't know what they don't do. Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Are they liked?” + </p> + <p> + “Liked? No, I should hardly think they were liked; respected, and all + that. Malloring's a steady fellow, keen man on housing, and a gentleman; + she's a bit too much perhaps on the pious side. They've got one of the + finest Georgian houses in the country. Altogether they're what you call + 'model.'” + </p> + <p> + “But not human.” + </p> + <p> + Stanley slightly lowered the Review and looked across it at his brother. + It was evident to him that 'old Felix' was in one of his free-thinking + moods. + </p> + <p> + “They're domestic,” he said, “and fond of their children, and pleasant + neighbors. I don't deny that they've got a tremendous sense of duty, but + we want that in these days.” + </p> + <p> + “Duty to what?” + </p> + <p> + Stanley raised his level eyebrows. It was a stumper. Without great care he + felt that he would be getting over the border into the uncharted land of + speculation and philosophy, wandering on paths that led him nowhere. + </p> + <p> + “If you lived in the country, old man,” he said, “you wouldn't ask that + sort of question.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't imagine,” said Felix, “that you or the Mallorings live in the + country? Why, you landlords are every bit as much town dwellers as I am—thought, + habit, dress, faith, souls, all town stuff. There IS no 'country' in + England now for us of the 'upper classes.' It's gone. I repeat: Duty to + what?” + </p> + <p> + And, rising, he went over to the window, looking out at the moonlit lawn, + overcome by a sudden aversion from more talk. Of what use were words from + a mind tuned in one key to a mind tuned in another? And yet, so ingrained + was his habit of discussion, that he promptly went on: + </p> + <p> + “The Mallorings, I've not the slightest doubt, believe it their duty to + look after the morals of those who live on their property. There are three + things to be said about that: One—you can't make people moral by + adopting the attitude of the schoolmaster. Two—it implies that they + consider themselves more moral than their neighbors. Three—it's a + theory so convenient to their security that they would be exceptionally + good people if they did not adopt it; but, from your account, they are not + so much exceptionally as just typically good people. What you call their + sense of duty, Stanley, is really their sense of self-preservation coupled + with their sense of superiority.” + </p> + <p> + “H'm!” said Stanley; “I don't know that I quite follow you.” + </p> + <p> + “I always hate an odor of sanctity. I'd prefer them to say frankly: 'This + is my property, and you'll jolly well do what I tell you, on it.'” + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear chap, after all, they really ARE superior.” + </p> + <p> + “That,” said Felix, “I emphatically question. Put your Mallorings to earn + their living on fifteen to eighteen shillings a week, and where would they + be? The Mallorings have certain virtues, no doubt, natural to their + fortunate environment, but of the primitive virtues of patience, + hardihood, perpetual, almost unconscious self-sacrifice, and cheerfulness + in the face of a hard fate, they are no more the equals of the people they + pretend to be superior to than I am your equal as a man of business.” + </p> + <p> + “Hang it!” was Stanley's answer, “what a d—d old heretic you are!” + </p> + <p> + Felix frowned. “Am I? Be honest! Take the life of a Malloring and take it + at its best; see how it stands comparison in the ordinary virtues with + those of an averagely good specimen of a farm-laborer. Your Malloring is + called with a cup of tea, at, say, seven o'clock, out of a nice, clean, + warm bed; he gets into a bath that has been got ready for him; into + clothes and boots that have been brushed for him; and goes down to a room + where there's a fire burning already if it's a cold day, writes a few + letters, perhaps, before eating a breakfast of exactly what he likes, + nicely prepared for him, and reading the newspaper that best comforts his + soul; when he has eaten and read, he lights his cigar or his pipe and + attends to his digestion in the most sanitary and comfortable fashion; + then in his study he sits down to steady direction of other people, either + by interview or by writing letters, or what not. In this way, between + directing people and eating what he likes, he passes the whole day, except + that for two or three hours, sometimes indeed seven or eight hours, he + attends to his physique by riding, motoring, playing a game, or indulging + in a sport that he has chosen for himself. And, at the end of all that, he + probably has another bath that has been made ready for him, puts on clean + clothes that have been put out for him, goes down to a good dinner that + has been cooked for him, smokes, reads, learns, and inwardly digests, or + else plays cards, billiards, and acts host till he is sleepy, and so to + bed, in a clean, warm bed, in a clean, fresh room. Is that exaggerated?” + </p> + <p> + “No; but when you talk of his directing other people, you forget that he + is doing what they couldn't.” + </p> + <p> + “He may be doing what they couldn't; but ordinary directive ability is not + born in a man; it's acquired by habit and training. Suppose fortune had + reversed them at birth, the Gaunt or Tryst would by now have it and the + Malloring would not. The accident that they were not reversed at birth has + given the Malloring a thousandfold advantage.” + </p> + <p> + “It's no joke directing things,” muttered Stanley. + </p> + <p> + “No work is any joke; but I just put it to you: Simply as work, without + taking in the question of reward, would you dream for a minute of swapping + your work with the work of one of your workmen? No. Well, neither would a + Malloring with one of his Gaunts. So that, my boy, for work which is + intrinsically more interesting and pleasurable, the Malloring gets a + hundred to a thousand times more money.” + </p> + <p> + “All this is rank socialism, my dear fellow.” + </p> + <p> + “No; rank truth. Now, to take the life of a Gaunt. He gets up summer and + winter much earlier out of a bed that he cannot afford time or money to + keep too clean or warm, in a small room that probably has not a large + enough window; into clothes stiff with work and boots stiff with clay; + makes something hot for himself, very likely brings some of it to his wife + and children; goes out, attending to his digestion crudely and without + comfort; works with his hands and feet from half past six or seven in the + morning till past five at night, except that twice he stops for an hour or + so and eats simple things that he would not altogether have chosen to eat + if he could have had his will. He goes home to a tea that has been got + ready for him, and has a clean-up without assistance, smokes a pipe of + shag, reads a newspaper perhaps two days old, and goes out again to work + for his own good, in his vegetable patch, or to sit on a wooden bench in + an atmosphere of beer and 'baccy.' And so, dead tired, but not from + directing other people, he drowses himself to early lying again in his + doubtful bed. Is that exaggerated?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose not, but he—” + </p> + <p> + “Has his compensations: Clean conscience—freedom from worry—fresh + air, all the rest of it! I know. Clean conscience granted, but so has your + Malloring, it would seem. Freedom from worry—yes, except when a pair + of boots is wanted, or one of the children is ill; then he has to make up + for lost time with a vengeance. Fresh air—and wet clothes, with a + good chance of premature rheumatism. Candidly, which of those two lives + demands more of the virtues on which human life is founded—courage + and patience, hardihood and self-sacrifice? And which of two men who have + lived those two lives well has most right to the word 'superior'?” + </p> + <p> + Stanley dropped the Review and for fully a minute paced the room without + reply. Then he said: + </p> + <p> + “Felix, you're talking flat revolution.” + </p> + <p> + Felix, who, faintly smiling, had watched him up and down, up and down the + Turkey carpet, answered: + </p> + <p> + “Not so. I am by no means a revolutionary person, because with all the + good-will in the world I have been unable to see how upheavals from the + bottom, or violence of any sort, is going to equalize these lives or do + any good. But I detest humbug, and I believe that so long as you and your + Mallorings go on blindly dosing yourselves with humbug about duty and + superiority, so long will you see things as they are not. And until you + see things as they are, purged of all that sickening cant, you will none + of you really move to make the conditions of life more and ever more just. + For, mark you, Stanley, I, who do not believe in revolution from the + bottom, the more believe that it is up to us in honour to revolutionize + things from the top!” + </p> + <p> + “H'm!” said Stanley; “that's all very well; but the more you give the more + they want, till there's no end to it.” + </p> + <p> + Felix stared round that room, where indeed one was all body. + </p> + <p> + “By George,” he said, “I've yet to see a beginning. But, anyway, if you + give in a grudging spirit, or the spirit of a schoolmaster, what can you + expect? If you offer out of real good-will, so it is taken.” And suddenly + conscious that he had uttered a constructive phrase, Felix cast down his + eyes, and added: + </p> + <p> + “I am going to my clean, warm bed. Good night, old man!” + </p> + <p> + When his brother had taken up his candlestick and gone, Stanley, uttering + a dubious sound, sat down on the lounge, drank deep out of his tumbler, + and once more took up his Review. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII + </h2> + <p> + The next day Stanley's car, fraught with Felix and a note from Clara, + moved swiftly along the grass-bordered roads toward Joyfields. Lying back + on the cushioned seat, the warm air flying at his face, Felix contemplated + with delight his favorite countryside. Certainly this garden of England + was very lovely, its greenness, trees, and large, pied, lazy cattle; its + very emptiness of human beings even was pleasing. + </p> + <p> + Nearing Joyfields he noted the Mallorings' park and their long Georgian + house, carefully fronting south. There, too, was the pond of what village + there was, with the usual ducks on it; and three well-remembered cottages + in a row, neat and trim, of the old, thatched sort, but evidently + restored. Out of the door of one of them two young people had just + emerged, going in the same direction as the car. Felix passed them and + turned to look. Yes, it was they! He stopped the car. They were walking, + with eyes straight before them, frowning. And Felix thought: 'Nothing of + Tod in either of them; regular Celts!' + </p> + <p> + The girl's vivid, open face, crisp, brown, untidy hair, cheeks brimful of + color, thick lips, eyes that looked up and out as a Skye terrier's eyes + look out of its shagginess—indeed, her whole figure struck Felix as + almost frighteningly vital; and she walked as if she despised the ground + she covered. The boy was even more arresting. What a strange, pale-dark + face, with its black, uncovered hair, its straight black brows; what a + proud, swan's-eyed, thin-lipped, straight-nosed young devil, marching like + a very Highlander; though still rather run-up, from sheer youthfulness! + They had come abreast of the car by now, and, leaning out, he said: + </p> + <p> + “You don't remember me, I'm afraid!” The boy shook his head. Wonderful + eyes he had! But the girl put out her hand. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, Derek; it's Uncle Felix.” + </p> + <p> + They both smiled now, the girl friendly, the boy rather drawn back into + himself. And feeling strangely small and ill at ease, Felix murmured: + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to see your father. Can I give you a lift home?” + </p> + <p> + The answer came as he expected: + </p> + <p> + “No, thanks.” Then, as if to tone it down, the girl added: + </p> + <p> + “We've got something to do first. You'll find him in the orchard.” + </p> + <p> + She had a ringing voice, full of warmth. Lifting his hat, Felix passed on. + They WERE a couple! Strange, attractive, almost frightening. Kirsteen had + brought his brother a formidable little brood. + </p> + <p> + Arriving at the cottage, he went up its mossy stones and through the + wicket gate. There was little change, indeed, since the days of Clara's + visit, save that the beehives had been moved farther out. Nor did any one + answer his knock; and mindful of the girl's words, “You'll find him in the + orchard,” he made his way out among the trees. The grass was long and + starred with petals. Felix wandered over it among bees busy with the + apple-blossom. At the very end he came on his brother, cutting down a + pear-tree. Tod was in shirt-sleeves, his brown arms bare almost to the + shoulders. How tremendous the fellow was! What resounding and terrific + blows he was dealing! Down came the tree, and Tod drew his arm across his + brow. This great, burnt, curly-headed fellow was more splendid to look + upon than even Felix had remembered, and so well built that not a movement + of his limbs was heavy. His cheek-bones were very broad and high; his + brows thick and rather darker than his bright hair, so that his deep-set, + very blue eyes seemed to look out of a thicket; his level white teeth + gleamed from under his tawny moustache, and his brown, unshaven cheeks and + jaw seemed covered with gold powder. Catching sight of Felix, he came + forward. + </p> + <p> + “Fancy,” he said, “old Gladstone spending his leisure cutting down trees—of + all melancholy jobs!” + </p> + <p> + Felix did not quite know what to answer, so he put his arm within his + brother's. Tod drew him toward the tree. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down!” he said. Then, looking sorrowfully at the pear-tree, he + murmured: + </p> + <p> + “Seventy years—and down in seven minutes. Now we shall burn it. + Well, it had to go. This is the third year it's had no blossom.” + </p> + <p> + His speech was slow, like that of a man accustomed to think aloud. Felix + admired him askance. “I might live next door,” he thought, “for all the + notice he's taken of my turning up!” + </p> + <p> + “I came over in Stanley's car,” he said. “Met your two coming along—fine + couple they are!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Tod. And there was something in the way he said it that was + more than a mere declaration of pride or of affection. Then he looked at + Felix. + </p> + <p> + “What have you come for, old man?” + </p> + <p> + Felix smiled. Quaint way to put it! + </p> + <p> + “For a talk.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Tod, and he whistled. + </p> + <p> + A largish, well-made dog with a sleek black coat, white underneath, and a + black tail white-tipped, came running up, and stood before Tod, with its + head rather to one side and its yellow-brown eyes saying: 'I simply must + get at what you're thinking, you know.' + </p> + <p> + “Go and tell your mistress to come—Mistress!” + </p> + <p> + The dog moved his tail, lowered it, and went off. + </p> + <p> + “A gypsy gave him to me,” said Tod; “best dog that ever lived.” + </p> + <p> + “Every one thinks that of his own dog, old man.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Tod; “but this IS.” + </p> + <p> + “He looks intelligent.” + </p> + <p> + “He's got a soul,” said Tod. “The gypsy said he didn't steal him, but he + did.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you always know when people aren't speaking the truth, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + At such a monstrous remark from any other man, Felix would have smiled; + but seeing it was Tod, he only asked: “How?” + </p> + <p> + “People who aren't speaking the truth look you in the face and never move + their eyes.” + </p> + <p> + “Some people do that when they are speaking the truth.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but when they aren't, you can see them struggling to keep their eyes + straight. A dog avoids your eye when he's something to conceal; a man + stares at you. Listen!” + </p> + <p> + Felix listened and heard nothing. + </p> + <p> + “A wren;” and, screwing up his lips, Tod emitted a sound: “Look!” + </p> + <p> + Felix saw on the branch of an apple-tree a tiny brown bird with a little + beak sticking out and a little tail sticking up. And he thought: 'Tod's + hopeless!' + </p> + <p> + “That fellow,” said Tod softly, “has got his nest there just behind us.” + Again he emitted the sound. Felix saw the little bird move its head with a + sort of infinite curiosity, and hop twice on the branch. + </p> + <p> + “I can't get the hen to do that,” Tod murmured. + </p> + <p> + Felix put his hand on his brother's arm—what an arm! + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said; “but look here, old man—I really want to talk to + you.” + </p> + <p> + Tod shook his head. “Wait for her,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Felix waited. Tod was getting awfully eccentric, living this queer, + out-of-the-way life with a cranky woman year after year; never reading + anything, never seeing any one but tramps and animals and villagers. And + yet, sitting there beside his eccentric brother on that fallen tree, he + had an extraordinary sense of rest. It was, perhaps, but the beauty and + sweetness of the day with its dappling sunlight brightening the + apple-blossoms, the wind-flowers, the wood-sorrel, and in the blue sky + above the fields those clouds so unimaginably white. All the tiny noises + of the orchard, too, struck on his ear with a peculiar meaning, a strange + fulness, as if he had never heard such sounds before. Tod, who was looking + at the sky, said suddenly: + </p> + <p> + “Are you hungry?” + </p> + <p> + And Felix remembered that they never had any proper meals, but, when + hungry, went to the kitchen, where a wood-fire was always burning, and + either heated up coffee, and porridge that was already made, with boiled + eggs and baked potatoes and apples, or devoured bread, cheese, jam, honey, + cream, tomatoes, butter, nuts, and fruit, that were always set out there + on a wooden table, under a muslin awning; he remembered, too, that they + washed up their own bowls and spoons and plates, and, having finished, + went outside and drew themselves a draught of water. Queer life, and + deuced uncomfortable—almost Chinese in its reversal of everything + that every one else was doing. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said, “I'm not.” + </p> + <p> + “I am. Here she is.” + </p> + <p> + Felix felt his heart beating—Clara was not alone in being frightened + of this woman. She was coming through the orchard with the dog; a + remarkable-looking woman—oh, certainly remarkable! She greeted him + without surprise and, sitting down close to Tod, said: “I'm glad to see + you.” + </p> + <p> + Why did this family somehow make him feel inferior? The way she sat there + and looked at him so calmly! Still more the way she narrowed her eyes and + wrinkled her lips, as if rather malicious thoughts were rising in her + soul! Her hair, as is the way of fine, soft, almost indigo-colored hair, + was already showing threads of silver; her whole face and figure thinner + than he had remembered. But a striking woman still—with wonderful + eyes! Her dress—Felix had scanned many a crank in his day—was + not so alarming as it had once seemed to Clara; its coarse-woven, + deep-blue linen and needle-worked yoke were pleasing to him, and he could + hardly take his gaze from the kingfisher-blue band or fillet that she wore + round that silver-threaded black hair. + </p> + <p> + He began by giving her Clara's note, the wording of which he had himself + dictated: + </p> + <p> + “DEAR KIRSTEEN: + </p> + <p> + “Though we have not seen each other for so long, I am sure you will + forgive my writing. It would give us so much pleasure if you and the two + children would come over for a night or two while Felix and his young folk + are staying with us. It is no use, I fear, to ask Tod; but of course if he + would come, too, both Stanley and myself would be delighted. + </p> + <p> + “Yours cordially, + </p> + <p> + “CLARA FREELAND.” + </p> + <p> + She read it, handed it to Tod, who also read it and handed it to Felix. + Nobody said anything. It was so altogether simple and friendly a note that + Felix felt pleased with it, thinking: 'I expressed that well!' + </p> + <p> + Then Tod said: “Go ahead, old man! You've got something to say about the + youngsters, haven't you?” + </p> + <p> + How on earth did he know that? But then Tod HAD a sort of queer + prescience. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he brought out with an effort, “don't you think it's a pity to + embroil your young people in village troubles? We've been hearing from + Stanley—” + </p> + <p> + Kirsteen interrupted in her calm, staccato voice with just the faintest + lisp: + </p> + <p> + “Stanley would not understand.” + </p> + <p> + She had put her arm through Tod's, but never removed her eyes from her + brother-in-law's face. + </p> + <p> + “Possibly,” said Felix, “but you must remember that Stanley, John, and + myself represent ordinary—what shall we say—level-headed + opinion.” + </p> + <p> + “With which we have nothing in common, I'm afraid.” + </p> + <p> + Felix glanced from her to Tod. The fellow had his head on one side and + seemed listening to something in the distance. And Felix felt a certain + irritation. + </p> + <p> + “It's all very well,” he said, “but I think you really have got to look at + your children's future from a larger point of view. You don't surely want + them to fly out against things before they've had a chance to see life for + themselves.” + </p> + <p> + She answered: + </p> + <p> + “The children know more of life than most young people. They've seen it + close to, they've seen its realities. They know what the tyranny of the + countryside means.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” said Felix, “but youth is youth.” + </p> + <p> + “They are not too young to know and feel the truth.” + </p> + <p> + Felix was impressed. How those narrowing eyes shone! What conviction in + that faintly lisping voice! + </p> + <p> + 'I am a fool for my pains,' he thought, and only said: + </p> + <p> + “Well, what about this invitation, anyway?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; it will be just the thing for them at the moment.” + </p> + <p> + The words had to Felix a somewhat sinister import. He knew well enough + that she did not mean by them what others would have meant. But he said: + “When shall we expect them? Tuesday, I suppose, would be best for Clara, + after her weekend. Is there no chance of you and Tod?” + </p> + <p> + She quaintly wrinkled her lips into not quite a smile, and answered: + </p> + <p> + “Tod shall say. Do you hear, Tod?” + </p> + <p> + “In the meadow. It was there yesterday—first time this year.” + </p> + <p> + Felix slipped his arm through his brother's. + </p> + <p> + “Quite so, old man.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” said Tod. “Ah! let's go in. I'm awfully hungry....” + </p> + <p> + Sometimes out of a calm sky a few drops fall, the twigs rustle, and far + away is heard the muttering of thunder; the traveller thinks: 'A storm + somewhere about.' Then all once more is so quiet and peaceful that he + forgets he ever had that thought, and goes on his way careless. + </p> + <p> + So with Felix returning to Becket in Stanley's car. That woman's face, + those two young heathens—the unconscious Tod! + </p> + <p> + There was mischief in the air above that little household. But once more + the smooth gliding of the cushioned car, the soft peace of the meadows so + permanently at grass, the churches, mansions, cottages embowered among + their elms, the slow-flapping flight of the rooks and crows lulled Felix + to quietude, and the faint far muttering of that thunder died away. + </p> + <p> + Nedda was in the drive when he returned, gazing at a nymph set up there by + Clara. It was a good thing, procured from Berlin, well known for + sculpture, and beginning to green over already, as though it had been + there a long time—a pretty creature with shoulders drooping, eyes + modestly cast down, and a sparrow perching on her head. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Dad?” + </p> + <p> + “They're coming.” + </p> + <p> + “When?” + </p> + <p> + “On Tuesday—the youngsters, only.” + </p> + <p> + “You might tell me a little about them.” + </p> + <p> + But Felix only smiled. His powers of description faltered before that + task; and, proud of those powers, he did not choose to subject them to + failure. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII + </h2> + <p> + Not till three o'clock that Saturday did the Bigwigs begin to come. Lord + and Lady Britto first from Erne by car; then Sir Gerald and Lady + Malloring, also by car from Joyfields; an early afternoon train brought + three members of the Lower House, who liked a round of golf—Colonel + Martlett, Mr. Sleesor, and Sir John Fanfar—with their wives; also + Miss Bawtrey, an American who went everywhere; and Moorsome, the + landscape-painter, a short, very heavy man who went nowhere, and that in + almost perfect silence, which he afterward avenged. By a train almost sure + to bring no one else came Literature in Public Affairs, alone, Henry + Wiltram, whom some believed to have been the very first to have ideas + about the land. He was followed in the last possible train by Cuthcott, + the advanced editor, in his habitual hurry, and Lady Maude Ughtred in her + beauty. Clara was pleased, and said to Stanley, while dressing, that + almost every shade of opinion about the land was represented this + week-end. She was not, she said, afraid of anything, if she could keep + Henry Wiltram and Cuthcott apart. The House of Commons men would, of + course, be all right. Stanley assented: “They'll be 'fed up' with talk. + But how about Britto—he can sometimes be very nasty, and Cuthcott's + been pretty rough on him, in his rag.” + </p> + <p> + Clara had remembered that, and she was putting Lady Maude on one side of + Cuthcott, and Moorsome on the other, so that he would be quite safe at + dinner, and afterward—Stanley must look out! + </p> + <p> + “What have you done with Nedda?” Stanley asked. + </p> + <p> + “Given her to Colonel Martlett, with Sir John Fanfar on the other side; + they both like something fresh.” She hoped, however, to foster a + discussion, so that they might really get further this week-end; the + opportunity was too good to throw away. + </p> + <p> + “H'm!” Stanley murmured. “Felix said some very queer things the other + night. He, too, might make ructions.” + </p> + <p> + Oh, no!—Clara persisted—Felix had too much good taste. She + thought that something might be coming out of this occasion, something as + it were national, that would bear fruit. And watching Stanley buttoning + his braces, she grew enthusiastic. For, think how splendidly everything + was represented! Britto, with his view that the thing had gone too far, + and all the little efforts we might make now were no good, with Canada and + those great spaces to outbid anything we could do; though she could not + admit that he was right, there was a lot in what he said; he had great + gifts—and some day might—who knew? Then there was Sir John—Clara + pursued—who was almost the father of the new Tory policy: Assist the + farmers to buy their own land. And Colonel Martlett, representing the + older Tory policy of: What the devil would happen to the landowners if + they did? Secretly (Clara felt sure) he would never go into a lobby to + support that. He had said to her: 'Look at my brother James's property; if + we bring this policy in, and the farmers take advantage, his house might + stand there any day without an acre round it.' Quite true—it might. + The same might even happen to Becket. + </p> + <p> + Stanley grunted. + </p> + <p> + Exactly!—Clara went on: And that was the beauty of having got the + Mallorings; theirs was such a steady point of view, and she was not sure + that they weren't right, and the whole thing really a question of model + proprietorship. + </p> + <p> + “H'm!” Stanley muttered. “Felix will have his knife into that.” + </p> + <p> + Clara did not think that mattered. The thing was to get everybody's + opinion. Even Mr. Moorsome's would be valuable—if he weren't so + terrifically silent, for he must think a lot, sitting all day, as he did, + painting the land. + </p> + <p> + “He's a heavy ass,” said Stanley. + </p> + <p> + Yes; but Clara did not wish to be narrow. That was why it was so splendid + to have got Mr. Sleesor. If anybody knew the Radical mind he did, and he + could give full force to what one always felt was at the bottom of it—that + the Radicals' real supporters were the urban classes; so that their policy + must not go too far with 'the Land,' for fear of seeming to neglect the + towns. For, after all, in the end it was out of the pockets of the towns + that 'the Land' would have to be financed, and nobody really could expect + the towns to get anything out of it. Stanley paused in the adjustment of + his tie; his wife was a shrewd woman. + </p> + <p> + “You've hit it there,” he said. “Wiltram will give it him hot on that, + though.” + </p> + <p> + Of course, Clara assented. And it was magnificent that they had got Henry + Wiltram, with his idealism and his really heavy corn tax; not caring what + happened to the stunted products of the towns—and they truly were + stunted, for all that the Radicals and the half-penny press said—till + at all costs we could grow our own food. There was a lot in that. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” Stanley muttered, “and if he gets on to it, shan't I have a jolly + time of it in the smoking-room? I know what Cuthcott's like with his shirt + out.” + </p> + <p> + Clara's eyes brightened; she was very curious herself to see Mr. Cuthcott + with his—that is, to hear him expound the doctrine he was always + writing up, namely, that 'the Land' was gone and, short of revolution, + there was nothing for it but garden cities. She had heard he was so + cutting and ferocious that he really did seem as if he hated his + opponents. She hoped he would get a chance—perhaps Felix could + encourage him. + </p> + <p> + “What about the women?” Stanley asked suddenly. “Will they stand a + political powwow? One must think of them a bit.” + </p> + <p> + Clara had. She was taking a farewell look at herself in the far-away + mirror through the door into her bedroom. It was a mistake—she added—to + suppose that women were not interested in 'the Land.' Lady Britto was most + intelligent, and Mildred Malloring knew every cottage on her estate. + </p> + <p> + “Pokes her nose into 'em often enough,” Stanley muttered. + </p> + <p> + Lady Fanfar again, and Mrs. Sleesor, and even Hilda Martlett, were + interested in their husbands, and Miss Bawtrey, of course, interested in + everything. As for Maude Ughtred, all talk would be the same to her; she + was always week-ending. Stanley need not worry—it would be all + right; some real work would get done, some real advance be made. So + saying, she turned her fine shoulders twice, once this way and once that, + and went out. She had never told even Stanley her ambition that at Becket, + under her aegis, should be laid the foundation-stone of the real scheme, + whatever it might be, that should regenerate 'the Land.' Stanley would + only have laughed; even though it would be bound to make him Lord Freeland + when it came to be known some day.... + </p> + <p> + To the eyes and ears of Nedda that evening at dinner, all was new indeed, + and all wonderful. It was not that she was unaccustomed to society or to + conversation, for to their house at Hampstead many people came, uttering + many words, but both the people and the words were so very different. + After the first blush, the first reconnaissance of the two Bigwigs between + whom she sat, her eyes WOULD stray and her ears would only half listen to + them. Indeed, half her ears, she soon found out, were quite enough to deal + with Colonel Martlett and Sir John Fanfar. Across the azaleas she let her + glance come now and again to anchor on her father's face, and exchanged + with him a most enjoyable blink. She tried once or twice to get through to + Alan, but he was always eating; he looked very like a young Uncle Stanley + this evening. + </p> + <p> + What was she feeling? Short, quick stabs of self-consciousness as to how + she was looking; a sort of stunned excitement due to sheer noise and the + number of things offered to her to eat and drink; keen pleasure in the + consciousness that Colonel Martlett and Sir John Fanfar and other men, + especially that nice one with the straggly moustache who looked as if he + were going to bite, glanced at her when they saw she wasn't looking. If + only she had been quite certain that it was not because they thought her + too young to be there! She felt a sort of continual exhilaration, that + this was the great world—the world where important things were said + and done, together with an intense listening expectancy, and a sense most + unexpected and almost frightening, that nothing important was being said + or would be done. But this she knew to be impudent. On Sunday evenings at + home people talked about a future existence, about Nietzsche, Tolstoy, + Chinese pictures, post-impressionism, and would suddenly grow hot and + furious about peace, and Strauss, justice, marriage, and De Maupassant, + and whether people were losing their souls through materialism, and + sometimes one of them would get up and walk about the room. But to-night + the only words she could catch were the names of two politicians whom + nobody seemed to approve of, except that nice one who was going to bite. + Once very timidly she asked Colonel Martlett whether he liked Strauss, and + was puzzled by his answer: “Rather; those 'Tales of Hoffmann' are rippin', + don't you think? You go to the opera much?” She could not, of course, know + that the thought which instantly rose within her was doing the governing + classes a grave injustice—almost all of whom save Colonel Martlett + knew that the 'Tales of Hoffmann' were by one Offenbach. But beyond all + things she felt she would never, never learn to talk as they were all + talking—so quickly, so continuously, so without caring whether + everybody or only the person they were talking to heard what they said. + She had always felt that what you said was only meant for the person you + said it to, but here in the great world she must evidently not say + anything that was not meant for everybody, and she felt terribly that she + could not think of anything of that sort to say. And suddenly she began to + want to be alone. That, however, was surely wicked and wasteful, when she + ought to be learning such a tremendous lot; and yet, what was there to + learn? And listening just sufficiently to Colonel Martlett, who was + telling her how great a man he thought a certain general, she looked + almost despairingly at the one who was going to bite. He was quite silent + at that moment, gazing at his plate, which was strangely empty. And Nedda + thought: 'He has jolly wrinkles about his eyes, only they might be heart + disease; and I like the color of his face, so nice and yellow, only that + might be liver. But I DO like him—I wish I'd been sitting next to + him; he looks real.' From that thought, of the reality of a man whose name + she did not know, she passed suddenly into the feeling that nothing else + of this about her was real at all, neither the talk nor the faces, not + even the things she was eating. It was all a queer, buzzing dream. Nor did + that sensation of unreality cease when her aunt began collecting her + gloves, and they trooped forth to the drawing-room. There, seated between + Mrs. Sleesor and Lady Britto, with Lady Malloring opposite, and Miss + Bawtrey leaning over the piano toward them, she pinched herself to get rid + of the feeling that, when all these were out of sight of each other, they + would become silent and have on their lips a little, bitter smile. Would + it be like that up in their bedrooms, or would it only be on her (Nedda's) + own lips that this little smile would come? It was a question she could + not answer; nor could she very well ask it of any of these ladies. She + looked them over as they sat there talking and felt very lonely. And + suddenly her eyes fell on her grandmother. Frances Freeland was seated + halfway down the long room in a sandalwood chair, somewhat insulated by a + surrounding sea of polished floor. She sat with a smile on her lips, quite + still, save for the continual movement of her white hands on her black + lap. To her gray hair some lace of Chantilly was pinned with a little + diamond brooch, and hung behind her delicate but rather long ears. And + from her shoulders was depended a silvery garment, of stuff that looked + like the mail shirt of a fairy, reaching the ground on either side. A + tacit agreement had evidently been come to, that she was incapable of + discussing 'the Land' or those other subjects such as the French murder, + the Russian opera, the Chinese pictures, and the doings of one, L—— + , whose fate was just then in the air, so that she sat alone. + </p> + <p> + And Nedda thought: 'How much more of a lady she looks than anybody here! + There's something deep in her to rest on that isn't in the Bigwigs; + perhaps it's because she's of a different generation.' And, getting up, + she went over and sat down beside her on a little chair. + </p> + <p> + Frances Freeland rose at once and said: + </p> + <p> + “Now, my darling, you can't be comfortable in that tiny chair. You must + take mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, Granny; please!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes; but you must! It's so comfortable, and I've simply been longing + to sit in the chair you're in. Now, darling, to please me!” + </p> + <p> + Seeing that a prolonged struggle would follow if she did not get up, Nedda + rose and changed chairs. + </p> + <p> + “Do you like these week-ends, Granny?” + </p> + <p> + Frances Freeland seemed to draw her smile more resolutely across her face. + With her perfect articulation, in which there was, however, no trace of + bigwiggery, she answered: + </p> + <p> + “I think they're most interesting, darling. It's so nice to see new + people. Of course you don't get to know them, but it's very amusing to + watch, especially the head-dresses!” And sinking her voice: “Just look at + that one with the feather going straight up; did you ever see such a guy?” + and she cackled with a very gentle archness. Gazing at that almost + priceless feather, trying to reach God, Nedda felt suddenly how completely + she was in her grandmother's little camp; how entirely she disliked + bigwiggery. + </p> + <p> + Frances Freeland's voice brought her round. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know, darling, I've found the most splendid thing for eyebrows? + You just put a little on every night and it keeps them in perfect order. I + must give you my little pot.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't like grease, Granny.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! but this isn't grease, darling. It's a special thing; and you only + put on just the tiniest touch.” + </p> + <p> + Diving suddenly into the recesses of something, she produced an exiguous + round silver box. Prizing it open, she looked over her shoulder at the + Bigwigs, then placed her little finger on the contents of the little box, + and said very softly: + </p> + <p> + “You just take the merest touch, and you put it on like that, and it keeps + them together beautifully. Let me! Nobody'll see!” + </p> + <p> + Quite well understanding that this was all part of her grandmother's + passion for putting the best face upon things, and having no belief in her + eyebrows, Nedda bent forward; but in a sudden flutter of fear lest the + Bigwigs might observe the operation, she drew back, murmuring: “Oh, + Granny, darling! Not just now!” + </p> + <p> + At that moment the men came in, and, under cover of the necessary + confusion, she slipped away into the window. + </p> + <p> + It was pitch-black outside, with the moon not yet up. The bloomy, peaceful + dark out there! Wistaria and early roses, clustering in, had but the ghost + of color on their blossoms. Nedda took a rose in her fingers, feeling with + delight its soft fragility, its coolness against her hot palm. Here in her + hand was a living thing, here was a little soul! And out there in the + darkness were millions upon millions of other little souls, of little + flame-like or coiled-up shapes alive and true. + </p> + <p> + A voice behind her said: + </p> + <p> + “Nothing nicer than darkness, is there?” + </p> + <p> + She knew at once it was the one who was going to bite; the voice was + proper for him, having a nice, smothery sound. And looking round + gratefully, she said: + </p> + <p> + “Do you like dinner-parties?” + </p> + <p> + It was jolly to watch his eyes twinkle and his thin cheeks puff out. He + shook his head and muttered through that straggly moustache: + </p> + <p> + “You're a niece, aren't you? I know your father. He's a big man.” + </p> + <p> + Hearing those words spoken of her father, Nedda flushed. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he is,” she said fervently. + </p> + <p> + Her new acquaintance went on: + </p> + <p> + “He's got the gift of truth—can laugh at himself as well as others; + that's what makes him precious. These humming-birds here to-night couldn't + raise a smile at their own tomfoolery to save their silly souls.” + </p> + <p> + He spoke still in that voice of smothery wrath, and Nedda thought: 'He IS + nice!' + </p> + <p> + “They've been talking about 'the Land'”—he raised his hands and ran + them through his palish hair—“'the Land!' Heavenly Father! 'The + Land!' Why! Look at that fellow!” + </p> + <p> + Nedda looked and saw a man, like Richard Coeur de Lion in the history + books, with a straw-colored moustache just going gray. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Gerald Malloring—hope he's not a friend of yours! Divine right + of landowners to lead 'the Land' by the nose! And our friend Britto!” + </p> + <p> + Nedda, following his eyes, saw a robust, quick-eyed man with a suave + insolence in his dark, clean-shaved face. + </p> + <p> + “Because at heart he's just a supercilious ruffian, too cold-blooded to + feel, he'll demonstrate that it's no use to feel—waste of valuable + time—ha! valuable!—to act in any direction. And that's a man + they believe things of. And poor Henry Wiltram, with his pathetic: 'Grow + our own food—maximum use of the land as food-producer, and let the + rest take care of itself!' As if we weren't all long past that feeble + individualism; as if in these days of world markets the land didn't stand + or fall in this country as a breeding-ground of health and stamina and + nothing else. Well, well!” + </p> + <p> + “Aren't they really in earnest, then?” asked Nedda timidly. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Freeland, this land question is a perfect tragedy. Bar one or two, + they all want to make the omelette without breaking eggs; well, by the + time they begin to think of breaking them, mark me—there'll be no + eggs to break. We shall be all park and suburb. The real men on the land, + what few are left, are dumb and helpless; and these fellows here for one + reason or another don't mean business—they'll talk and tinker and + top-dress—that's all. Does your father take any interest in this? He + could write something very nice.” + </p> + <p> + “He takes interest in everything,” said Nedda. “Please go on, Mr.—Mr.—” + She was terribly afraid he would suddenly remember that she was too young + and stop his nice, angry talk. + </p> + <p> + “Cuthcott. I'm an editor, but I was brought up on a farm, and know + something about it. You see, we English are grumblers, snobs to the + backbone, want to be something better than we are; and education nowadays + is all in the direction of despising what is quiet and humdrum. We never + were a stay-at-home lot, like the French. That's at the back of this + business—they may treat it as they like, Radicals or Tories, but if + they can't get a fundamental change of opinion into the national mind as + to what is a sane and profitable life; if they can't work a revolution in + the spirit of our education, they'll do no good. There'll be lots of talk + and tinkering, tariffs and tommy-rot, and, underneath, the land-bred men + dying, dying all the time. No, madam, industrialism and vested interests + have got us! Bar the most strenuous national heroism, there's nothing for + it now but the garden city!” + </p> + <p> + “Then if we WERE all heroic, 'the Land' could still be saved?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cuthcott smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Of course we might have a European war or something that would shake + everything up. But, short of that, when was a country ever consciously and + homogeneously heroic—except China with its opium? When did it ever + deliberately change the spirit of its education, the trend of its ideas; + when did it ever, of its own free will, lay its vested interests on the + altar; when did it ever say with a convinced and resolute heart: 'I will + be healthy and simple before anything. I will not let the love of sanity + and natural conditions die out of me!' When, Miss Freeland, when?” + </p> + <p> + And, looking so hard at Nedda that he almost winked, he added: + </p> + <p> + “You have the advantage of me by thirty years. You'll see what I shall not—the + last of the English peasant. Did you ever read 'Erewhon,' where the people + broke up their machines? It will take almost that sort of national heroism + to save what's left of him, even.” + </p> + <p> + For answer, Nedda wrinkled her brows horribly. Before her there had come a + vision of the old, lame man, whose name she had found out was Gaunt, + standing on the path under the apple-trees, looking at that little + something he had taken from his pocket. Why she thought of him thus + suddenly she had no idea, and she said quickly: + </p> + <p> + “It's awfully interesting. I do so want to hear about 'the Land.' I only + know a little about sweated workers, because I see something of them.” + </p> + <p> + “It's all of a piece,” said Mr. Cuthcott; “not politics at all, but + religion—touches the point of national self-knowledge and faith, the + point of knowing what we want to become and of resolving to become it. + Your father will tell you that we have no more idea of that at present + than a cat of its own chemical composition. As for these good people here + to-night—I don't want to be disrespectful, but if they think they're + within a hundred miles of the land question, I'm a—I'm a Jingo—more + I can't say.” + </p> + <p> + And, as if to cool his head, he leaned out of the window. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing is nicer than darkness, as I said just now, because you can only + see the way you MUST go instead of a hundred and fifty ways you MIGHT. In + darkness your soul is something like your own; in daylight, lamplight, + moonlight, never.” + </p> + <p> + Nedda's spirit gave a jump; he seemed almost at last to be going to talk + about the things she wanted, above all, to find out. Her cheeks went hot, + she clenched her hands and said resolutely: + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Cuthcott, do you believe in God?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cuthcott made a queer, deep little noise; it was not a laugh, however, + and it seemed as if he knew she could not bear him to look at her just + then. + </p> + <p> + “H'm!” he said. “Every one does that—according to their natures. + Some call God IT, some HIM, some HER, nowadays—that's all. You might + as well ask—do I believe that I'm alive?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Nedda, “but which do YOU call God?” + </p> + <p> + As she asked that, he gave a wriggle, and it flashed through her: 'He must + think me an awful enfant terrible!' His face peered round at her, queer + and pale and puffy, with nice, straight eyes; and she added hastily: + </p> + <p> + “It isn't a fair question, is it? Only you talked about darkness, and the + only way—so I thought—” + </p> + <p> + “Quite a fair question. My answer is, of course: 'All three'; but the + point is rather: Does one wish to make even an attempt to define God to + oneself? Frankly, I don't! I'm content to feel that there is in one some + kind of instinct toward perfection that one will still feel, I hope, when + the lights are going out; some kind of honour forbidding one to let go and + give up. That's all I've got; I really don't know that I want more.” + </p> + <p> + Nedda clasped her hands. + </p> + <p> + “I like that,” she said; “only—what is perfection, Mr. Cuthcott?” + </p> + <p> + Again he emitted that deep little sound. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” he repeated, “what is perfection? Awkward, that—isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Is it”—Nedda rushed the words out—“is it always to be + sacrificing yourself, or is it—is it always to be—to be + expressing yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “To some—one; to some—the other; to some—half one, half + the other.” + </p> + <p> + “But which is it to me?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! that you've got to find out for yourself. There's a sort of metronome + inside us—wonderful, sell-adjusting little machine; most delicate + bit of mechanism in the world—people call it conscience—that + records the proper beat of our tempos. I guess that's all we have to go + by.” + </p> + <p> + Nedda said breathlessly: + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and it's frightfully hard, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly,” Mr. Cuthcott answered. “That's why people devised religions and + other ways of having the thing done second-hand. We all object to trouble + and responsibility if we can possibly avoid it. Where do you live?” + </p> + <p> + “In Hampstead.” + </p> + <p> + “Your father must be a stand-by, isn't he?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes; Dad's splendid; only, you see, I AM a good deal younger than he. + There was just one thing I was going to ask you. Are these very Bigwigs?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cuthcott turned to the room and let his screwed-up glance wander. He + looked just then particularly as if he were going to bite. + </p> + <p> + “If you take 'em at their own valuation: Yes. If at the country's: So-so. + If at mine: Ha! I know what you'd like to ask: Should I be a Bigwig in + THEIR estimation? Not I! As you knock about, Miss Freeland, you'll find + out one thing—all bigwiggery is founded on: Scratch my back, and + I'll scratch yours. Seriously, these are only tenpenny ones; but the + mischief is, that in the matter of 'the Land,' the men who really are in + earnest are precious scarce. Nothing short of a rising such as there was + in 1832 would make the land question real, even for the moment. Not that I + want to see one—God forbid! Those poor doomed devils were treated + worse than dogs, and would be again.” + </p> + <p> + Before Nedda could pour out questions about the rising in 1832, Stanley's + voice said: + </p> + <p> + “Cuthcott, I want to introduce you!” + </p> + <p> + Her new friend screwed his eyes up tighter and, muttering something, put + out his hand to her. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you for our talk. I hope we shall meet again. Any time you want to + know anything—I'll be only too glad. Good night!” + </p> + <p> + She felt the squeeze of his hand, warm and dry, but rather soft, as of a + man who uses a pen too much; saw him following her uncle across the room, + with his shoulders a little hunched, as if preparing to inflict, and ward + off, blows. And with the thought: 'He must be jolly when he gives them + one!' she turned once more to the darkness, than which he had said there + was nothing nicer. It smelled of new-mown grass, was full of little + shiverings of leaves, and all colored like the bloom of a black grape. And + her heart felt soothed. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX + </h2> + <p> + “...When I first saw Derek I thought I should never feel anything but shy + and hopeless. In four days, only in four days, the whole world is + different.... And yet, if it hadn't been for that thunder-storm, I + shouldn't have got over being shy in time. He has never loved anybody—nor + have I. It can't often be like that—it makes it solemn. There's a + picture somewhere—not a good one, I know—of a young Highlander + being taken away by soldiers from his sweetheart. Derek is fiery and wild + and shy and proud and dark—like the man in that picture. That last + day along the hills—along and along—with the wind in our + faces, I could have walked forever; and then Joyfields at the end! Their + mother's wonderful; I'm afraid of her. But Uncle Tod is a perfect dear. I + never saw any one before who noticed so many things that I didn't, and + nothing that I did. I am sure he has in him what Mr. Cuthcott said we were + all losing—the love of simple, natural conditions. And then, THE + moment, when I stood with Derek at the end of the orchard, to say good-by. + The field below covered with those moony-white flowers, and the cows all + dark and sleepy; the holy feeling down there was wonderful, and in the + branches over our heads, too, and the velvety, starry sky, and the + dewiness against one's face, and the great, broad silence—it was all + worshipping something, and I was worshipping—worshipping happiness. + I WAS happy, and I think HE was. Perhaps I shall never be so happy again. + When he kissed me I didn't think the whole world had so much happiness in + it. I know now that I'm not cold a bit; I used to think I was. I believe I + could go with him anywhere, and do anything he wanted. What would Dad + think? Only the other day I was saying I wanted to know everything. One + only knows through love. It's love that makes the world all beautiful—makes + it like those pictures that seem to be wrapped in gold, makes it like a + dream—no, not like a dream—like a wonderful tune. I suppose + that's glamour—a goldeny, misty, lovely feeling, as if my soul were + wandering about with his—not in my body at all. I want it to go on + and on wandering—oh! I don't want it back in my body, all hard and + inquisitive and aching! I shall never know anything so lovely as loving + him and being loved. I don't want anything more—nothing! Stay with + me, please—Happiness! Don't go away and leave me!... They frighten + me, though; he frightens me—their idealism; wanting to do great + things, and fight for justice. If only I'd been brought up more like that—but + everything's been so different. It's their mother, I think, even more than + themselves. I seem to have grown up just looking on at life as at a show; + watching it, thinking about it, trying to understand—not living it + at all. I must get over that; I will. I believe I can tell the very moment + I began to love him. It was in the schoolroom the second evening. Sheila + and I were sitting there just before dinner, and he came, in a rage, + looking splendid. 'That footman put out everything just as if I were a + baby—asked me for suspenders to fasten on my socks; hung the things + on a chair in order, as if I couldn't find out for myself what to put on + first; turned the tongues of my shoes out!—curled them over!' Then + Derek looked at me and said: 'Do they do that for you?—And poor old + Gaunt, who's sixty-six and lame, has three shillings a week to buy him + everything. Just think of that! If we had the pluck of flies—' And + he clenched his fists. But Sheila got up, looked hard at me, and said: + 'That'll do, Derek.' Then he put his hand on my arm and said: 'It's only + Cousin Nedda!' I began to love him then; and I believe he saw it, because + I couldn't take my eyes away. But it was when Sheila sang 'The Red + Sarafan,' after dinner, that I knew for certain. 'The Red Sarafan'—it's + a wonderful song, all space and yearning, and yet such calm—it's the + song of the soul; and he was looking at me while she sang. How can he love + me? I am nothing—no good for anything! Alan calls him a 'run-up kid, + all legs and wings.' Sometimes I hate Alan; he's conventional and stodgy—the + funny thing is that he admires Sheila. She'll wake him up; she'll stick + pins into him. No, I don't want Alan hurt—I want every one in the + world to be happy, happy—as I am.... The next day was the + thunder-storm. I never saw lightning so near—and didn't care a bit. + If he were struck I knew I should be; that made it all right. When you + love, you don't care, if only the something must happen to you both. When + it was over, and we came out from behind the stack and walked home through + the fields, all the beasts looked at us as if we were new and had never + been seen before; and the air was ever so sweet, and that long, red line + of cloud low down in the purple, and the elm-trees so heavy and almost + black. He put his arm round me, and I let him.... It seems an age to wait + till they come to stay with us next week. If only Mother likes them, and I + can go and stay at Joyfields. Will she like them? It's all so different to + what it would be if they were ordinary. But if he were ordinary I + shouldn't love him; it's because there's nobody like him. That isn't a + loverish fancy—you only have to look at him against Alan or Uncle + Stanley or even Dad. Everything he does is so different; the way he walks, + and the way he stands drawn back into himself, like a stag, and looks out + as if he were burning and smouldering inside; even the way he smiles. Dad + asked me what I thought of him! That was only the second day. I thought he + was too proud, then. And Dad said: 'He ought to be in a Highland regiment; + pity—great pity!' He is a fighter, of course. I don't like fighting, + but if I'm not ready to, he'll stop loving me, perhaps. I've got to learn. + O Darkness out there, help me! And Stars, help me! O God, make me brave, + and I will believe in you forever! If you are the spirit that grows in + things in spite of everything, until they're like the flowers, so perfect + that we laugh and sing at their beauty, grow in me, too; make me beautiful + and brave; then I shall be fit for him, alive or dead; and that's all I + want. Every evening I shall stand in spirit with him at the end of that + orchard in the darkness, under the trees above the white flowers and the + sleepy cows, and perhaps I shall feel him kiss me again.... I'm glad I saw + that old man Gaunt; it makes what they feel more real to me. He showed me + that poor laborer Tryst, too, the one who mustn't marry his wife's sister, + or have her staying in the house without marrying her. Why should people + interfere with others like that? It does make your blood boil! Derek and + Sheila have been brought up to be in sympathy with the poor and oppressed. + If they had lived in London they would have been even more furious, I + expect. And it's no use my saying to myself 'I don't know the laborer, I + don't know his hardships,' because he is really just the country half of + what I do know and see, here in London, when I don't hide my eyes. One + talk showed me how desperately they feel; at night, in Sheila's room, when + we had gone up, just we four. Alan began it; they didn't want to, I could + see; but he was criticising what some of those Bigwigs had said—the + 'Varsity makes boys awfully conceited. It was such a lovely night; we were + all in the big, long window. A little bat kept flying past; and behind the + copper-beech the moon was shining on the lake. Derek sat in the + windowsill, and when he moved he touched me. To be touched by him gives me + a warm shiver all through. I could hear him gritting his teeth at what + Alan said—frightfully sententious, just like a newspaper: 'We can't + go into land reform from feeling, we must go into it from reason.' Then + Derek broke out: 'Walk through this country as we've walked; see the + pigsties the people live in; see the water they drink; see the tiny + patches of ground they have; see the way their roofs let in the rain; see + their peeky children; see their patience and their hopelessness; see them + working day in and day out, and coming on the parish at the end! See all + that, and then talk about reason! Reason! It's the coward's excuse, and + the rich man's excuse, for doing nothing. It's the excuse of the man who + takes jolly good care not to see for fear that he may come to feel! Reason + never does anything, it's too reasonable. The thing is to act; then + perhaps reason will be jolted into doing something.' But Sheila touched + his arm, and he stopped very suddenly. She doesn't trust us. I shall + always be being pushed away from him by her. He's just twenty, and I shall + be eighteen in a week; couldn't we marry now at once? Then, whatever + happened, I couldn't be cut off from him. If I could tell Dad, and ask him + to help me! But I can't—it seems desecration to talk about it, even + to Dad. All the way up in the train to-day, coming back home, I was + struggling not to show anything; though it's hateful to keep things from + Dad. Love alters everything; it melts up the whole world and makes it + afresh. Love is the sun of our spirits, and it's the wind. Ah, and the + rain, too! But I won't think of that!... I wonder if he's told Aunt + Kirsteen!...” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X + </h2> + <p> + While Nedda sat, long past midnight, writing her heart out in her little, + white, lilac-curtained room of the old house above the Spaniard's Road, + Derek, of whom she wrote, was walking along the Malvern hills, hurrying + upward in the darkness. The stars were his companions; though he was no + poet, having rather the fervid temper of the born swordsman, that + expresses itself in physical ecstasies. He had come straight out from a + stormy midnight talk with Sheila. What was he doing—had been the + burden of her cry—falling in love just at this moment when they + wanted all their wits and all their time and strength for this struggle + with the Mallorings? It was foolish, it was weak; and with a sweet, soft + sort of girl who could be no use. Hotly he had answered: What business was + it of hers? As if one fell in love when one wished! She didn't know—her + blood didn't run fast enough! Sheila had retorted, “I've more blood in my + big toe than Nedda in all her body! A lot of use you'll be, with your + heart mooning up in London!” And crouched together on the end of her bed, + gazing fixedly up at him through her hair, she had chanted mockingly: + “Here we go gathering wool and stars—wool and stars—wool and + stars!” + </p> + <p> + He had not deigned to answer, but had gone out, furious with her, striding + over the dark fields, scrambling his way through the hedges toward the + high loom of the hills. Up on the short grass in the cooler air, with + nothing between him and those swarming stars, he lost his rage. It never + lasted long—hers was more enduring. With the innate lordliness of a + brother he already put it down to jealousy. Sheila was hurt that he should + want any one but her; as if his love for Nedda would make any difference + to their resolution to get justice for Tryst and the Gaunts, and show + those landed tyrants once for all that they could not ride roughshod. + </p> + <p> + Nedda! with her dark eyes, so quick and clear, so loving when they looked + at him! Nedda, soft and innocent, the touch of whose lips had turned his + heart to something strange within him, and wakened such feelings of + chivalry! Nedda! To see whom for half a minute he felt he would walk a + hundred miles. + </p> + <p> + This boy's education had been administered solely by his mother till he + was fourteen, and she had brought him up on mathematics, French, and + heroism. His extensive reading of history had been focussed on the + personality of heroes, chiefly knights errant, and revolutionaries. He had + carried the worship of them to the Agricultural College, where he had + spent four years; and a rather rough time there had not succeeded in + knocking romance out of him. He had found that you could not have such + beliefs comfortably without fighting for them, and though he ended his + career with the reputation of a rebel and a champion of the weak, he had + had to earn it. To this day he still fed himself on stories of rebellions + and fine deeds. The figures of Spartacus, Montrose, Hofer, Garibaldi, + Hampden, and John Nicholson, were more real to him than the people among + whom he lived, though he had learned never to mention—especially not + to the matter-of-fact Sheila—his encompassing cloud of heroes; but, + when he was alone, he pranced a bit with them, and promised himself that + he too would reach the stars. So you may sometimes see a little, grave boy + walking through a field, unwatched as he believes, suddenly fling his feet + and his head every which way. An active nature, romantic, without being + dreamy and book-loving, is not too prone to the attacks of love; such a + one is likely to survive unscathed to a maturer age. But Nedda had seduced + him, partly by the appeal of her touchingly manifest love and admiration, + and chiefly by her eyes, through which he seemed to see such a loyal, and + loving little soul looking. She had that indefinable something which + lovers know that they can never throw away. And he had at once made of + her, secretly, the crown of his active romanticism—the lady waiting + for the spoils of his lance. Queer is the heart of a boy—strange its + blending of reality and idealism! + </p> + <p> + Climbing at a great pace, he reached Malvern Beacon just as it came dawn, + and stood there on the top, watching. He had not much aesthetic sense; but + he had enough to be impressed by the slow paling of the stars over space + that seemed infinite, so little were its dreamy confines visible in the + May morning haze, where the quivering crimson flags and spears of sunrise + were forging up in a march upon the sky. That vision of the English land + at dawn, wide and mysterious, hardly tallied with Mr. Cuthcott's view of a + future dedicate to Park and Garden City. While Derek stood there gazing, + the first lark soared up and began its ecstatic praise. Save for that + song, silence possessed all the driven dark, right out to the Severn and + the sea, and the fastnesses of the Welsh hills, and the Wrekin, away in + the north, a black point in the gray. For a moment dark and light hovered + and clung together. Would victory wing back into night or on into day? + Then, as a town is taken, all was over in one overmastering rush, and + light proclaimed. Derek tightened his belt and took a bee-line down over + the slippery grass. He meant to reach the cottage of the laborer Tryst + before that early bird was away to the fields. He meditated as he went. + Bob Tryst was all right! If they only had a dozen or two like him! A dozen + or two whom they could trust, and who would trust each other and stand + firm to form the nucleus of a strike, which could be timed for hay + harvest. What slaves these laborers still were! If only they could be + relied on, if only they would stand together! Slavery! It WAS slavery; so + long as they could be turned out of their homes at will in this fashion. + His rebellion against the conditions of their lives, above all against the + manifold petty tyrannies that he knew they underwent, came from use of his + eyes and ears in daily contact with a class among whom he had been more or + less brought up. In sympathy with, and yet not of them, he had the queer + privilege of feeling their slights as if they were his own, together with + feelings of protection, and even of contempt that they should let + themselves be slighted. He was near enough to understand how they must + feel; not near enough to understand why, feeling as they did, they did not + act as he would have acted. In truth, he knew them no better than he + should. + </p> + <p> + He found Tryst washing at his pump. In the early morning light the big + laborer's square, stubborn face, with its strange, dog-like eyes, had a + sodden, hungry, lost look. Cutting short ablutions that certainly were + never protracted, he welcomed Derek, and motioned him to pass into the + kitchen. The young man went in, and perched himself on the window-sill + beside a pot of Bridal Wreath. The cottage was one of the Mallorings', and + recently repaired. A little fire was burning, and a teapot of stewed tea + sat there beside it. Four cups and spoons and some sugar were put out on a + deal table, for Tryst was, in fact, brewing the morning draught of himself + and children, who still lay abed up-stairs. The sight made Derek shiver + and his eyes darken. He knew the full significance of what he saw. + </p> + <p> + “Did you ask him again, Bob?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I asked 'im.” + </p> + <p> + “What did he say?” + </p> + <p> + “Said as orders was plain. 'So long as you lives there,' he says, 'along + of yourself alone, you can't have her come back.'” + </p> + <p> + “Did you say the children wanted looking after badly? Did you make it + clear? Did you say Mrs. Tryst wished it, before she—” + </p> + <p> + “I said that.” + </p> + <p> + “What did he say then?” + </p> + <p> + “'Sorry for you, m'lad, but them's m'lady's orders, an' I can't go + contrary. I don't wish to go into things,' he says; 'you know better'n I + how far 'tis gone when she was 'ere before; but seein' as m'lady don't + never give in to deceased wife's sister marryin', if she come back 'tis + certain to be the other thing. So, as that won't do neither, you go + elsewhere,' he says.” + </p> + <p> + Having spoken thus at length, Tryst lifted the teapot and poured out the + dark tea into the three cups. + </p> + <p> + “Will 'ee have some, sir?” + </p> + <p> + Derek shook his head. + </p> + <p> + Taking the cups, Tryst departed up the narrow stairway. And Derek remained + motionless, staring at the Bridal Wreath, till the big man came down again + and, retiring into a far corner, sat sipping at his own cup. + </p> + <p> + “Bob,” said the boy suddenly, “do you LIKE being a dog; put to what + company your master wishes?” + </p> + <p> + Tryst set his cup down, stood up, and crossed his thick arms—the + swift movement from that stolid creature had in it something sinister; but + he did not speak. + </p> + <p> + “Do you like it, Bob?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll not say what I feels, Mr. Derek; that's for me. What I does'll be + for others, p'raps.” + </p> + <p> + And he lifted his strange, lowering eyes to Derek's. For a full minute the + two stared, then Derek said: + </p> + <p> + “Look out, then; be ready!” and, getting off the sill, he went out. + </p> + <p> + On the bright, slimy surface of the pond three ducks were quietly + revelling in that hour before man and his damned soul, the dog, rose to + put the fear of God into them. In the sunlight, against the green + duckweed, their whiteness was truly marvellous; difficult to believe that + they were not white all through. Passing the three cottages, in the last + of which the Gaunts lived, he came next to his own home, but did not turn + in, and made on toward the church. It was a very little one, very old, and + had for him a curious fascination, never confessed to man or beast. To his + mother, and Sheila, more intolerant, as became women, that little, + lichened, gray stone building was the very emblem of hypocrisy, of a creed + preached, not practised; to his father it was nothing, for it was not + alive, and any tramp, dog, bird, or fruit-tree meant far more. But in + Derek it roused a peculiar feeling, such as a man might have gazing at the + shores of a native country, out of which he had been thrown for no fault + of his own—a yearning deeply muffled up in pride and resentment. Not + infrequently he would come and sit brooding on the grassy hillock just + above the churchyard. Church-going, with its pageantry, its tradition, + dogma, and demand for blind devotion, would have suited him very well, if + only blind devotion to his mother had not stood across that threshold; he + could not bring himself to bow to that which viewed his rebellious mother + as lost. And yet the deep fibres of heredity from her papistic Highland + ancestors, and from old pious Moretons, drew him constantly to this spot + at times when no one would be about. It was his enemy, this little church, + the fold of all the instincts and all the qualities against which he had + been brought up to rebel; the very home of patronage and property and + superiority; the school where his friends the laborers were taught their + place! And yet it had that queer, ironical attraction for him. In some + such sort had his pet hero Montrose rebelled, and then been drawn despite + himself once more to the side of that against which he had taken arms. + </p> + <p> + While he leaned against the rail, gazing at that ancient edifice, he saw a + girl walk into the churchyard at the far end, sit down on a gravestone, + and begin digging a little hole in the grass with the toe of her boot. She + did not seem to see him, and at his ease he studied her face, one of those + broad, bright English country faces with deep-set rogue eyes and red, + thick, soft lips, smiling on little provocation. In spite of her disgrace, + in spite of the fact that she was sitting on her mother's grave, she did + not look depressed. And Derek thought: 'Wilmet Gaunt is the jolliest of + them all! She isn't a bit a bad girl, as they say; it's only that she must + have fun. If they drive her out of here, she'll still want fun wherever + she is; she'll go to a town and end up like those girls I saw in Bristol.' + And the memory of those night girls, with their rouged faces and cringing + boldness, came back to him with horror. + </p> + <p> + He went across the grass toward her. + </p> + <p> + She looked round as he came, and her face livened. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Wilmet?” + </p> + <p> + “You're an early bird, Mr. Derek.” + </p> + <p> + “Haven't been to bed.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” + </p> + <p> + “Been up Malvern Beacon to see the sun rise.” + </p> + <p> + “You're tired, I expect!” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Must be fine up there. You'd see a long ways from there; near to London I + should think. Do you know London, Mr. Derek?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “They say 'tis a funny place, too.” Her rogue eyes gleamed from under a + heavy frown. “It'd not be all 'Do this' an' 'Do that'; an' 'You bad girl' + an' 'You little hussy!' in London. They say there's room for more'n one + sort of girl there.” + </p> + <p> + “All towns are beastly places, Wilmet.” + </p> + <p> + Again her rogue's eyes gleamed. “I don' know so much about that, Mr. + Derek. I'm going where I won't be chivied about and pointed at, like what + I am here.” + </p> + <p> + “Your dad's stuck to you; you ought to stick to him.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Dad! He's losin' his place for me, but that don't stop his tongue at + home. 'Tis no use to nag me—nag me. Suppose one of m'lady's + daughters had a bit of fun—they say there's lots as do—I've + heard tales—there'd be none comin' to chase her out of her home. + 'No, my girl, you can't live here no more, endangerin' the young men. You + go away. Best for you's where they'll teach you to be'ave. Go on! Out with + you! I don't care where you go; but you just go!' 'Tis as if girls were + all pats o' butter—same square, same pattern on it, same weight, an' + all.” + </p> + <p> + Derek had come closer; he put his hand down and gripped her arm. Her + eloquence dried up before the intentness of his face, and she just stared + up at him. + </p> + <p> + “Now, look here, Wilmet; you promise me not to scoot without letting us + know. We'll get you a place to go to. Promise.” + </p> + <p> + A little sheepishly the rogue-girl answered: + </p> + <p> + “I promise; only, I'm goin'.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly she dimpled and broke into her broad smile. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Derek, d'you know what they say—they say you're in love. You + was seen in th' orchard. Ah! 'tis all right for you and her! But if any + one kiss and hug ME, I got to go!” + </p> + <p> + Derek drew back among the graves, as if he had been struck with a whip. + </p> + <p> + She looked up at him with coaxing sweetness. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you mind me, Mr. Derek, and don't you stay here neither. If they + saw you here with me, they'd say: 'Aw—look! Endangerin' another + young man—poor young man!' Good mornin', Mr. Derek!” + </p> + <p> + The rogue eyes followed him gravely, then once more began examining the + grass, and the toe of her boot again began kicking a little hole. But + Derek did not look back. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI + </h2> + <p> + It is in the nature of men and angels to pursue with death such birds as + are uncommon, such animals as are rare; and Society had no use for one + like Tod, so uncut to its pattern as to be practically unconscious of its + existence. Not that he had deliberately turned his back on anything; he + had merely begun as a very young man to keep bees. The better to do that + he had gone on to the cultivation of flowers and fruit, together with just + enough farming as kept his household in vegetables, milk, butter, and + eggs. Living thus amongst insects, birds, cows, and the peace of trees, he + had become queer. His was not a very reflective mind, it distilled but + slowly certain large conclusions, and followed intently the minute + happenings of his little world. To him a bee, a bird, a flower, a tree was + well-nigh as interesting as a man; yet men, women, and especially children + took to him, as one takes to a Newfoundland dog, because, though capable + of anger, he seemed incapable of contempt, and to be endowed with a sort + of permanent wonder at things. Then, too, he was good to look at, which + counts for more than a little in the scales of our affections; indeed, the + slight air of absence in his blue eyes was not chilling, as is that which + portends a wandering of its owner on his own business. People recognized + that it meant some bee or other in that bonnet, or elsewhere, some sound + or scent or sight of life, suddenly perceived—always of life! He had + often been observed gazing with peculiar gravity at a dead flower, bee, + bird, or beetle, and, if spoken to at such a moment, would say, “Gone!” + touching a wing or petal with his finger. To conceive of what happened + after death did not apparently come within the few large conclusions of + his reflective powers. That quaint grief of his in the presence of the + death of things that were not human had, more than anything, fostered a + habit among the gentry and clergy of the neighborhood of drawing up the + mouth when they spoke of him, and slightly raising the shoulders. For the + cottagers, to be sure, his eccentricity consisted rather in his being a + 'gentleman,' yet neither eating flesh, drinking wine, nor telling them how + they ought to behave themselves, together with the way he would sit down + on anything and listen to what they had to tell him, without giving them + the impression that he was proud of himself for doing so. In fact, it was + the extraordinary impression he made of listening and answering without + wanting anything either for himself or for them, that they could not + understand. How on earth it came about that he did not give them advice + about their politics, religion, morals, or monetary states, was to them a + never-ending mystery; and though they were too well bred to shrug their + shoulders, there did lurk in their dim minds the suspicion that 'the good + gentleman,' as they called him, was 'a tiddy-bit off.' He had, of course, + done many practical little things toward helping them and their beasts, + but always, as it seemed, by accident, so that they could never make up + their minds afterward whether he remembered having done them, which, in + fact, he probably did not; and this seemed to them perhaps the most + damning fact of all about his being—well, about his being—not + quite all there. Another worrying habit he had, too, that of apparently + not distinguishing between them and any tramps or strangers who might + happen along and come across him. This was, in their eyes, undoubtedly a + fault; for the village was, after all, their village, and he, as it were, + their property. To crown all, there was a story, full ten years old now, + which had lost nothing in the telling, of his treatment of a + cattle-drover. To the village it had an eerie look, that windmill-like + rage let loose upon a man who, after all, had only been twisting a + bullock's tail and running a spiked stick into its softer parts, as any + drover might. People said—the postman and a wagoner had seen the + business, raconteurs born, so that the tale had perhaps lost nothing—that + he had positively roared as he came leaping down into the lane upon the + man, a stout and thick-set fellow, taken him up like a baby, popped him + into a furzebush, and held him there. People said that his own bare arms + had been pricked to the very shoulder from pressing the drover down into + that uncompromising shrub, and the man's howls had pierced the very + heavens. The postman, to this day, would tell how the mere recollection of + seeing it still made him sore all over. Of the words assigned to Tod on + this occasion, the mildest and probably most true were: “By the Lord God, + if you treat a beast like that again, I'll cut your liver out, you + hell-hearted sweep!” + </p> + <p> + The incident, which had produced a somewhat marked effect in regard to the + treatment of animals all round that neighborhood, had never been + forgotten, nor in a sense forgiven. In conjunction with the extraordinary + peace and mildness of his general behavior, it had endowed Tod with + mystery; and people, especially simple folk, cannot bring themselves to + feel quite at home with mystery. Children only—to whom everything is + so mysterious that nothing can be—treated him as he treated them, + giving him their hands with confidence. But children, even his own, as + they grew up, began to have a little of the village feeling toward Tod; + his world was not theirs, and what exactly his world was they could not + grasp. Possibly it was the sense that they partook of his interest and + affection too much on a level with any other kind of living thing that + might happen to be about, which discomfited their understanding. They held + him, however, in a certain reverence. + </p> + <p> + That early morning he had already done a good two hours' work in + connection with broad beans, of which he grew, perhaps, the best in the + whole county, and had knocked off for a moment, to examine a spider's web. + This marvellous creation, which the dew had visited and clustered over, as + stars over the firmament, was hung on the gate of the vegetable garden, + and the spider, a large and active one, was regarding Tod with the + misgiving natural to its species. Intensely still Tod stood, absorbed in + contemplation of that bright and dusty miracle. Then, taking up his hoe + again, he went back to the weeds that threatened his broad beans. Now and + again he stopped to listen, or to look at the sky, as is the way of + husbandmen, thinking of nothing, enjoying the peace of his muscles. + </p> + <p> + “Please, sir, father's got into a fit again.” + </p> + <p> + Two little girls were standing in the lane below. The elder, who had + spoken in that small, anxious voice, had a pale little face with pointed + chin; her hair, the color of over-ripe corn, hung fluffy on her thin + shoulders, her flower-like eyes, with something motherly in them already, + were the same hue as her pale-blue, almost clean, overall. She had her + smaller, chubbier sister by the hand, and, having delivered her message, + stood still, gazing up at Tod, as one might at God. Tod dropped his hoe. + </p> + <p> + “Biddy come with me; Susie go and tell Mrs. Freeland, or Miss Sheila.” + </p> + <p> + He took the frail little hand of the elder Tryst and ran. They ran at the + child's pace, the one so very massive, the other such a whiff of flesh and + blood. + </p> + <p> + “Did you come at once, Biddy?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Where was he taken?” + </p> + <p> + “In the kitchen—just as I was cookin' breakfast.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Is it a bad one?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, awful bad—he's all foamy.” + </p> + <p> + “What did you do for it?” + </p> + <p> + “Susie and me turned him over, and Billy's seein' he don't get his tongue + down his throat—like what you told us, and we ran to you. Susie was + frightened, he hollered so.” + </p> + <p> + Past the three cottages, whence a woman at a window stared in amaze to see + that queer couple running, past the pond where the ducks, whiter than ever + in the brightening sunlight, dived and circled carelessly, into the Tryst + kitchen. There on the brick floor lay the distressful man, already + struggling back out of epilepsy, while his little frightened son sat + manfully beside him. + </p> + <p> + “Towels, and hot water, Biddy!” + </p> + <p> + With extraordinary calm rapidity the small creature brought what might + have been two towels, a basin, and the kettle; and in silence she and Tod + steeped his forehead. + </p> + <p> + “Eyes look better, Biddy?” + </p> + <p> + “He don't look so funny now, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Picking up that form, almost as big as his own, Tod carried it up + impossibly narrow stairs and laid it on a dishevelled bed. + </p> + <p> + “Phew! Open the window, Biddy.” + </p> + <p> + The small creature opened what there was of window. + </p> + <p> + “Now, go down and heat two bricks and wrap them in something, and bring + them up.” + </p> + <p> + Tryst's boots and socks removed, Tod rubbed the large, warped feet. While + doing this he whistled, and the little boy crept up-stairs and squatted in + the doorway, to watch and listen. The morning air overcame with its + sweetness the natural odor of that small room, and a bird or two went + flirting past. The small creature came back with the bricks, wrapped in + petticoats of her own, and, placing them against the soles of her father's + feet, she stood gazing at Tod, for all the world like a little mother dog + with puppies. + </p> + <p> + “You can't go to school to-day, Biddy.” + </p> + <p> + “Is Susie and Billy to go?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; there's nothing to be frightened of now. He'll be nearly all right + by evening. But some one shall stay with you.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment Tryst lifted his hand, and the small creature went and + stood beside him, listening to the whispering that emerged from his thick + lips. + </p> + <p> + “Father says I'm to thank you, please.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Have you had your breakfasts?” + </p> + <p> + The small creature and her smaller brother shook their heads. + </p> + <p> + “Go down and get them.” + </p> + <p> + Whispering and twisting back, they went, and by the side of the bed Tod + sat down. In Tryst's eyes was that same look of dog-like devotion he had + bent on Derek earlier that morning. Tod stared out of the window and gave + the man's big hand a squeeze. Of what did he think, watching a lime-tree + outside, and the sunlight through its foliage painting bright the room's + newly whitewashed wall, already gray-spotted with damp again; watching the + shadows of the leaves playing in that sunlight? Almost cruel, that lovely + shadow game of outside life so full and joyful, so careless of man and + suffering; too gay almost, too alive! Of what did he think, watching the + chase and dart of shadow on shadow, as of gray butterflies fluttering + swift to the sack of flowers, while beside him on the bed the big laborer + lay?... + </p> + <p> + When Kirsteen and Sheila came to relieve him of that vigil he went + down-stairs. There in the kitchen Biddy was washing up, and Susie and + Billy putting on their boots for school. They stopped to gaze at Tod + feeling in his pockets, for they knew that things sometimes happened after + that. To-day there came out two carrots, some lumps of sugar, some cord, a + bill, a pruning knife, a bit of wax, a bit of chalk, three flints, a pouch + of tobacco, two pipes, a match-box with a single match in it, a six-pence, + a necktie, a stick of chocolate, a tomato, a handkerchief, a dead bee, an + old razor, a bit of gauze, some tow, a stick of caustic, a reel of cotton, + a needle, no thimble, two dock leaves, and some sheets of yellowish paper. + He separated from the rest the sixpence, the dead bee, and what was + edible. And in delighted silence the three little Trysts gazed, till Biddy + with the tip of one wet finger touched the bee. + </p> + <p> + “Not good to eat, Biddy.” + </p> + <p> + At those words, one after the other, cautiously, the three little Trysts + smiled. Finding that Tod smiled too, they broadened, and Billy burst into + chuckles. Then, clustering in the doorway, grasping the edibles and the + sixpence, and consulting with each other, they looked long after his big + figure passing down the road. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII + </h2> + <p> + Still later, that same morning, Derek and Sheila moved slowly up the + Mallorings' well-swept drive. Their lips were set, as though they had + spoken the last word before battle, and an old cock pheasant, running into + the bushes close by, rose with a whir and skimmed out toward his covert, + scared, perhaps, by something uncompromising in the footsteps of those + two. + </p> + <p> + Only when actually under the shelter of the porch, which some folk thought + enhanced the old Greek-temple effect of the Mallorings' house, Derek broke + through that taciturnity: + </p> + <p> + “What if they won't?” + </p> + <p> + “Wait and see; and don't lose your head, Derek.” The man who stood there + when the door opened was tall, grave, wore his hair in powder, and waited + without speech. + </p> + <p> + “Will you ask Sir Gerald and Lady Malloring if Miss Freeland and Mr. Derek + Freeland could see them, please; and will you say the matter is urgent?” + </p> + <p> + The man bowed, left them, and soon came back. + </p> + <p> + “My lady will see you, miss; Sir Gerald is not in. This way.” + </p> + <p> + Past the statuary, flowers, and antlers of the hall, they traversed a + long, cool corridor, and through a white door entered a white room, not + very large, and very pretty. Two children got up as they came in and + flapped out past them like young partridges, and Lady Malloring rose from + her writing-table and came forward, holding out her hand. The two young + Freelands took it gravely. For all their hostility they could not + withstand the feeling that she would think them terrible young prigs if + they simply bowed. And they looked steadily at one with whom they had + never before been at quite such close quarters. Lady Malloring, who had + originally been the Honorable Mildred Killory, a daughter of Viscount + Silport, was tall, slender, and not very striking, with very fair hair + going rather gray; her expression in repose was pleasant, a little + anxious; only by her eyes was the suspicion awakened that she was a woman + of some character. They had that peculiar look of belonging to two worlds, + so often to be met with in English eyes, a look of self-denying + aspiration, tinctured with the suggestion that denial might not be + confined to self. + </p> + <p> + In a quite friendly voice she said: + </p> + <p> + “Can I do anything for you?” And while she waited for an answer her glance + travelled from face to face of the two young people, with a certain + curiosity. After a silence of several seconds, Sheila answered: + </p> + <p> + “Not for us, thank you; for others, you can.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Malloring's eyebrows rose a little, as if there seemed to her + something rather unjust in those words—'for others.' + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” she said. + </p> + <p> + Sheila, whose hands were clenched, and whose face had been fiery red, grew + suddenly almost white. + </p> + <p> + “Lady Malloring, will you please let the Gaunts stay in their cottage and + Tryst's wife's sister come to live with the children and him?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Malloring raised one hand; the motion, quite involuntary, ended at + the tiny cross on her breast. She said quietly: + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid you don't understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Sheila, still very pale, “we understand quite well. We + understand that you are acting in what you believe to be the interests of + morality. All the same, won't you? Do!” + </p> + <p> + “I'm very sorry, but I can't.” + </p> + <p> + “May we ask why?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Malloring started, and transferred her glance to Derek. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” she said with a smile, “that I am obliged to account for + my actions to you two young people. Besides, you must know why, quite + well.” + </p> + <p> + Sheila put out her hand. + </p> + <p> + “Wilmet Gaunt will go to the bad if you turn them out.” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid I think she has gone to the bad already, and I do not mean + her to take others there with her. I am sorry for poor Tryst, and I wish + he could find some nice woman to marry; but what he proposes is + impossible.” + </p> + <p> + The blood had flared up again in Sheila's cheeks; she was as red as the + comb of a turkey-cock. + </p> + <p> + “Why shouldn't he marry his wife's sister? It's legal, now, and you've no + right to stop it.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Malloring bit her lips; she looked straight and hard at Sheila. + </p> + <p> + “I do not stop it; I have no means of stopping it. Only, he cannot do it + and live in one of our cottages. I don't think we need discuss this + further.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon—” + </p> + <p> + The words had come from Derek. Lady Malloring paused in her walk toward + the bell. With his peculiar thin-lipped smile the boy went on: + </p> + <p> + “We imagined you would say no; we really came because we thought it fair + to warn you that there may be trouble.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Malloring smiled. + </p> + <p> + “This is a private matter between us and our tenants, and we should be so + glad if you could manage not to interfere.” + </p> + <p> + Derek bowed, and put his hand within his sister's arm. But Sheila did not + move; she was trembling with anger. + </p> + <p> + “Who are you,” she suddenly burst out, “to dispose of the poor, body and + soul? Who are you, to dictate their private lives? If they pay their rent, + that should be enough for you.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Malloring moved swiftly again toward the bell. She paused with her + hand on it, and said: + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry for you two; you have been miserably brought up!” + </p> + <p> + There was a silence; then Derek said quietly: + </p> + <p> + “Thank you; we shall remember that insult to our people. Don't ring, + please; we're going.” + </p> + <p> + In a silence if anything more profound than that of their approach, the + two young people retired down the drive. They had not yet learned—most + difficult of lessons—how to believe that people could in their bones + differ from them. It had always seemed to them that if only they had a + chance of putting directly what they thought, the other side must at heart + agree, and only go on saying they didn't out of mere self-interest. They + came away, therefore, from this encounter with the enemy a little dazed by + the discovery that Lady Malloring in her bones believed that she was + right. It confused them, and heated the fires of their anger. + </p> + <p> + They had shaken off all private dust before Sheila spoke. + </p> + <p> + “They're all like that—can't see or feel—simply certain + they're superior! It makes—it makes me hate them! It's terrible, + ghastly.” And while she stammered out those little stabs of speech, tears + of rage rolled down her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + Derek put his arm round her waist. + </p> + <p> + “All right! No good groaning; let's think seriously what to do.” + </p> + <p> + There was comfort to the girl in that curiously sudden reversal of their + usual attitudes. + </p> + <p> + “Whatever's done,” he went on, “has got to be startling. It's no good + pottering and protesting, any more.” And between his teeth he muttered: + “'Men of England, wherefore plough?'...” + </p> + <p> + In the room where the encounter had taken place Mildred Malloring was + taking her time to recover. From very childhood she had felt that the + essence of her own goodness, the essence of her duty in life, was the + doing of 'good' to others; from very childhood she had never doubted that + she was in a position to do this, and that those to whom she did good, + although they might kick against it as inconvenient, must admit that it + WAS their 'good.' The thought: 'They don't admit that I am superior!' had + never even occurred to her, so completely was she unselfconscious, in her + convinced superiority. It was hard, indeed, to be flung against such + outspoken rudeness. It shook her more than she gave sign of, for she was + not by any means an insensitive woman—shook her almost to the point + of feeling that there was something in the remonstrance of those dreadful + young people. Yet, how could there be, when no one knew better than she + that the laborers on the Malloring estate were better off than those on + nine out of ten estates; better paid and better housed, and—better + looked after in their morals. Was she to give up that?—when she knew + that she WAS better able to tell what was good for them than they were + themselves. After all, without stripping herself naked of every thought, + experience, and action since her birth, how could she admit that she was + not better able? And slowly, in the white room with the moss-green carpet, + she recovered, till there was only just a touch of soreness left, at the + injustice implicit in their words. Those two had been 'miserably brought + up,' had never had a chance of finding their proper place, of + understanding that they were just two callow young things, for whom Life + had some fearful knocks in store. She could even feel now that she had + meant that saying: 'I am sorry for you two!' She WAS sorry for them, sorry + for their want of manners and their point of view, neither of which they + could help, of course, with a mother like that. For all her gentleness and + sensibility, there was much practical directness about Mildred Malloring; + for her, a page turned was a page turned, an idea absorbed was never + disgorged; she was of religious temperament, ever trimming her course down + the exact channel marked out with buoys by the Port Authorities, and + really incapable of imagining spiritual wants in others that could not be + satisfied by what satisfied herself. And this pathetic strength she had in + common with many of her fellow creatures in every class. Sitting down at + the writing-table from which she had been disturbed, she leaned her thin, + rather long, gentle, but stubborn face on her hand, thinking. These Gaunts + were a source of irritation in the parish, a kind of open sore. It would + be better if they could be got rid of before quarter day, up to which she + had weakly said they might remain. Far better for them to go at once, if + it could be arranged. As for the poor fellow Tryst, thinking that by + plunging into sin he could improve his lot and his poor children's, it was + really criminal of those Freelands to encourage him. She had refrained + hitherto from seriously worrying Gerald on such points of village policy—his + hands were so full; but he must now take his part. And she rang the bell. + </p> + <p> + “Tell Sir Gerald I'd like to see him, please, as soon as he gets back.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Gerald has just come in, my lady.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, then!” + </p> + <p> + Gerald Malloring—an excellent fellow, as could be seen from his face + of strictly Norman architecture, with blue stained-glass windows rather + deep set in—had only one defect: he was not a poet. Not that this + would have seemed to him anything but an advantage, had he been aware of + it. His was one of those high-principled natures who hold that breadth is + synonymous with weakness. It may be said without exaggeration that the few + meetings of his life with those who had a touch of the poet in them had + been exquisitely uncomfortable. Silent, almost taciturn by nature, he was + a great reader of poetry, and seldom went to sleep without having digested + a page or two of Wordsworth, Milton, Tennyson, or Scott. Byron, save such + poems as 'Don Juan' or 'The Waltz,' he could but did not read, for fear of + setting a bad example. Burns, Shelley, and Keats he did not care for. + Browning pained him, except by such things as: 'How They Brought the Good + News from Ghent to Aix' and the 'Cavalier Tunes'; while of 'Omar Khayyam' + and 'The Hound of Heaven' he definitely disapproved. For Shakespeare he + had no real liking, though he concealed this, from humility in the face of + accepted opinion. His was a firm mind, sure of itself, but not + self-assertive. His points were so good, and he had so many of them, that + it was only when he met any one touched with poetry that his limitations + became apparent; it was rare, however, and getting more so every year, for + him to have this unpleasant experience. + </p> + <p> + When summoned by his wife, he came in with a wrinkle between his straight + brows; he had just finished a morning's work on a drainage scheme, like + the really good fellow that he was. She greeted him with a little special + smile. Nothing could be friendlier than the relations between these two. + Affection and trust, undeviating undemonstrativeness, identity of feeling + as to religion, children, property; and, in regard to views on the + question of sex, a really strange unanimity, considering that they were + man and woman. + </p> + <p> + “It's about these Gaunts, Gerald. I feel they must go at once. They're + only creating bad feeling by staying till quarter day. I have had the + young Freelands here.” + </p> + <p> + “Those young pups!” + </p> + <p> + “Can't it be managed?” + </p> + <p> + Malloring did not answer hastily. He had that best point of the good + Englishman, a dislike to being moved out of a course of conduct by + anything save the appeal of his own conscience. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” he said, “why we should alter what we thought was just. + Must give him time to look round and get a job elsewhere.” + </p> + <p> + “I think the general state of feeling demands it. It's not fair to the + villagers to let the Freelands have such a handle for agitating. Labor's + badly wanted everywhere; he can't have any difficulty in getting a place, + if he likes.” + </p> + <p> + “No. Only, I rather admire the fellow for sticking by his girl, though he + is such a 'land-lawyer.' I think it's a bit harsh to move him suddenly.” + </p> + <p> + “So did I, till I saw from those young furies what harm it's doing. They + really do infect the cottagers. You know how discontent spreads. And Tryst—they're + egging him on, too.” + </p> + <p> + Malloring very thoughtfully filled a pipe. He was not an alarmist; if + anything, he erred on the side of not being alarmed until it was all over + and there was no longer anything to be alarmed at! His imagination would + then sometimes take fire, and he would say that such and such, or so and + so, was dangerous. + </p> + <p> + “I'd rather go and have a talk with Freeland,” he said. “He's queer, but + he's not at all a bad chap.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Malloring rose, and took one of his real-leather buttons in her hand. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Gerald, Mr. Freeland doesn't exist.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't know about that; a man can always come to life, if he likes, in his + own family.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Malloring was silent. It was true. For all their unanimity of thought + and feeling, for all the latitude she had in domestic and village affairs, + Gerald had a habit of filling his pipe with her decisions. Quite honestly, + she had no objection to their becoming smoke through HIS lips, though she + might wriggle just a little. To her credit, she did entirely carry out in + her life her professed belief that husbands should be the forefronts of + their wives. For all that, there burst from her lips the words: + </p> + <p> + “That Freeland woman! When I think of the mischief she's always done here, + by her example and her irreligion—I can't forgive her. I don't + believe you'll make any impression on Mr. Freeland; he's entirely under + her thumb.” + </p> + <p> + Smoking slowly, and looking just over the top of his wife's head, + Malioring answered: + </p> + <p> + “I'll have a try; and don't you worry!” + </p> + <p> + Lady Malloring turned away. Her soreness still wanted salve. + </p> + <p> + “Those two young people,” she murmured, “said some very unpleasant things + to me. The boy, I believe, might have some good in him, but the girl is + simply terrible.” + </p> + <p> + “H'm! I think just the reverse, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “They'll come to awful grief if they're not brought up sharp. They ought + to be sent to the colonies to learn reality.” + </p> + <p> + Malloring nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Come out, Mildred, and see how they're getting on with the new vinery.” + And they went out together through the French window. + </p> + <p> + The vinery was of their own designing, and of extraordinary interest. In + contemplation of its lofty glass and aluminium-cased pipes the feeling of + soreness left her. It was very pleasant, standing with Gerald, looking at + what they had planned together; there was a soothing sense of reality + about that visit, after the morning's happening, with its disappointment, + its reminder of immorality and discontent, and of folk ungrateful for what + was done for their good. And, squeezing her husband's arm, she murmured: + </p> + <p> + “It's really exactly what we thought it would be, Gerald!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII + </h2> + <p> + About five o'clock of that same afternoon, Gerald Malloring went to see + Tod. An open-air man himself, who often deplored the long hours he was + compelled to spend in the special atmosphere of the House of Commons, he + rather envied Tod his existence in this cottage, crazed from age, and + clothed with wistaria, rambler roses, sweetbrier, honeysuckle, and + Virginia creeper. Freeland had, in his opinion, quite a jolly life of it—the + poor fellow not being able, of course, to help having a cranky wife and + children like that. He pondered, as he went along, over a talk at Becket, + when Stanley, still under the influence of Felix's outburst, had uttered + some rather queer sayings. For instance, he had supposed that they + (meaning, apparently, himself and Malloring) WERE rather unable to put + themselves in the position of these Trysts and Gaunts. He seemed to speak + of them as one might speak generically of Hodge, which had struck + Malloring as singular, it not being his habit to see anything in common + between an individual case, especially on his own estate, and the ethics + of a general proposition. The place for general propositions was + undoubtedly the House of Commons, where they could be supported one way or + the other, out of blue books. He had little use for them in private life, + where innumerable things such as human nature and all that came into play. + He had stared rather hard at his host when Stanley had followed up that + first remark with: “I'm bound to say, I shouldn't care to have to get up + at half past five, and go out without a bath!” What that had to do with + the land problem or the regulation of village morality Malloring had been + unable to perceive. It all depended on what one was accustomed to; and in + any case threw no light on the question, as to whether or not he was to + tolerate on his estate conduct of which his wife and himself distinctly + disapproved. At the back of national life there was always this problem of + individual conduct, especially sexual conduct—without regularity in + which, the family, as the unit of national life, was gravely threatened, + to put it on the lowest ground. And he did not see how to bring it home to + the villagers that they had got to be regular, without making examples now + and then. + </p> + <p> + He had hoped very much to get through his call without coming across + Freeland's wife and children, and was greatly relieved to find Tod, seated + on a window-sill in front of his cottage, smoking, and gazing apparently + at nothing. In taking the other corner of the window-sill, the thought + passed through his mind that Freeland was really a very fine-looking + fellow. Tod was, indeed, about Malloring's own height of six feet one, + with the same fairness and straight build of figure and feature. But Tod's + head was round and massive, his hair crisp and uncut; Malloring's head + long and narrow, his hair smooth and close-cropped. Tod's eyes, blue and + deep-set, seemed fixed on the horizon, Malloring's, blue and deep-set, on + the nearest thing they could light on. Tod smiled, as it were, without + knowing; Malloring seemed to know what he was smiling at almost too well. + It was comforting, however, that Freeland was as shy and silent as + himself, for this produced a feeling that there could not be any real + difference between their points of view. Perceiving at last that if he did + not speak they would continue sitting there dumb till it was time for him + to go, Malloring said: + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Freeland; about my wife and yours and Tryst and the Gaunts, + and all the rest of it! It's a pity, isn't it? This is a small place, you + know. What's your own feeling?” + </p> + <p> + Tod answered: + </p> + <p> + “A man has only one life.” + </p> + <p> + Malloring was a little puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “In this world. I don't follow.” + </p> + <p> + “Live and let live.” + </p> + <p> + A part of Malloring undoubtedly responded to that curt saying, a part of + him as strongly rebelled against it; and which impulse he was going to + follow was not at first patent. + </p> + <p> + “You see, YOU keep apart,” he said at last. “You couldn't say that so + easily if you had, like us, to take up the position in which we find + ourselves.” + </p> + <p> + “Why take it up?” + </p> + <p> + Malloring frowned. “How would things go on?” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” said Tod. + </p> + <p> + Malloring got up from the sill. This was 'laisser-faire' with a vengeance! + Such philosophy had always seemed to him to savor dangerously of + anarchism. And yet twenty years' experience as a neighbor had shown him + that Tod was in himself perhaps the most harmless person in + Worcestershire, and held in a curious esteem by most of the people about. + He was puzzled, and sat down again. + </p> + <p> + “I've never had a chance to talk things over with you,” he said. “There + are a good few people, Freeland, who can't behave themselves; we're not + bees, you know!” + </p> + <p> + He stopped, having an uncomfortable suspicion that his hearer was not + listening. + </p> + <p> + “First I've heard this year,” said Tod. + </p> + <p> + For all the rudeness of that interruption, Malloring felt a stir of + interest. He himself liked birds. Unfortunately, he could hear nothing but + the general chorus of their songs. + </p> + <p> + “Thought they'd gone,” murmured Tod. + </p> + <p> + Malloring again got up. “Look here, Freeland,” he said, “I wish you'd give + your mind to this. You really ought not to let your wife and children make + trouble in the village.” + </p> + <p> + Confound the fellow! He was smiling; there was a sort of twinkle in his + smile, too, that Malloring found infectious! + </p> + <p> + “No, seriously,” he said, “you don't know what harm you mayn't do.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever watched a dog looking at a fire?” asked Tod. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, often; why?” + </p> + <p> + “He knows better than to touch it.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean you're helpless? But you oughtn't to be.” + </p> + <p> + The fellow was smiling again! + </p> + <p> + “Then you don't mean to do anything?” + </p> + <p> + Tod shook his head. + </p> + <p> + Malloring flushed. “Now, look here, Freeland,” he said, “forgive my saying + so, but this strikes me as a bit cynical. D'you think I enjoy trying to + keep things straight?” + </p> + <p> + Tod looked up. + </p> + <p> + “Birds,” he said, “animals, insects, vegetable life—they all eat + each other more or less, but they don't fuss about it.” + </p> + <p> + Malloring turned abruptly and went down the path. Fuss! He never fussed. + Fuss! The word was an insult, addressed to him! If there was one thing he + detested more than another, whether in public or private life, it was + 'fussing.' Did he not belong to the League for Suppression of Interference + with the Liberty of the Subject? Was he not a member of the party + notoriously opposed to fussy legislation? Had any one ever used the word + in connection with conduct of his, before? If so, he had never heard them. + Was it fussy to try and help the Church to improve the standard of morals + in the village? Was it fussy to make a simple decision and stick to it? + The injustice of the word really hurt him. And the more it hurt him, the + slower and more dignified and upright became his march toward his drive + gate. + </p> + <p> + 'Wild geese' in the morning sky had been forerunners; very heavy clouds + were sweeping up from the west, and rain beginning to fall. He passed an + old man leaning on the gate of a cottage garden and said: “Good evening!” + </p> + <p> + The old man touched his hat but did not speak. + </p> + <p> + “How's your leg, Gaunt?” + </p> + <p> + “'Tis much the same, Sir Gerald.” + </p> + <p> + “Rain coming makes it shoot, I expect.” + </p> + <p> + “It do.” + </p> + <p> + Malloring stood still. The impulse was on him to see if, after all, the + Gaunts' affair could not be disposed of without turning the old fellow and + his son out. + </p> + <p> + “Look here!” he said; “about this unfortunate business. Why don't you and + your son make up your minds without more ado to let your granddaughter go + out to service? You've been here all your lives; I don't want to see you + go.” + </p> + <p> + The least touch of color invaded the old man's carved and grayish face. + </p> + <p> + “Askin' your pardon,” he said, “my son sticks by his girl, and I sticks by + my son!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! very well; you know your own business, Gaunt. I spoke for your good.” + </p> + <p> + A faint smile curled the corners of old Gaunt's mouth downward beneath his + gray moustaches. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you kindly,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Malloring raised a finger to his cap and passed on. Though he felt a + longing to stride his feelings off, he did not increase his pace, knowing + that the old man's eyes were following him. But how pig-headed they were, + seeing nothing but their own point of view! Well, he could not alter his + decision. They would go at the June quarter—not a day before, nor + after. + </p> + <p> + Passing Tryst's cottage, he noticed a 'fly' drawn up outside, and its + driver talking to a woman in hat and coat at the cottage doorway. She + avoided his eye. + </p> + <p> + 'The wife's sister again!' he thought. 'So that fellow's going to be an + ass, too? Hopeless, stubborn lot!' And his mind passed on to his scheme + for draining the bottom fields at Cantley Bromage. This village trouble + was too small to occupy for long the mind of one who had so many + duties.... + </p> + <p> + Old Gaunt remained at the gate watching till the tall figure passed out of + sight, then limped slowly down the path and entered his son's cottage. Tom + Gaunt, not long in from work, was sitting in his shirtsleeves, reading the + paper—a short, thick-set man with small eyes, round, ruddy cheeks, + and humorous lips indifferently concealed by a ragged moustache. Even in + repose there was about him something talkative and disputatious. He was + clearly the kind of man whose eyes and wit would sparkle above a pewter + pot. A good workman, he averaged out an income of perhaps eighteen + shillings a week, counting the two shillings' worth of vegetables that he + grew. His erring daughter washed for two old ladies in a bungalow, so that + with old Gaunt's five shillings from the parish, the total resources of + this family of five, including two small boys at school, was seven and + twenty shillings a week. Quite a sum! His comparative wealth no doubt + contributed to the reputation of Tom Gaunt, well known as local wag and + disturber of political meetings. His method with these gatherings, whether + Liberal or Tory, had a certain masterly simplicity. By interjecting + questions that could not be understood, and commenting on the answers + received, he insured perpetual laughter, with the most salutary effects on + the over-consideration of any political question, together with a tendency + to make his neighbors say: “Ah! Tom Gaunt, he's a proper caution, he is!” + An encomium dear to his ears. What he seriously thought about anything in + this world, no one knew; but some suspected him of voting Liberal, because + he disturbed their meetings most. His loyalty to his daughter was not + credited to affection. It was like Tom Gaunt to stick his toes in and kick—the + Quality, for choice. To look at him and old Gaunt, one would not have + thought they could be son and father, a relationship indeed ever dubious. + As for his wife, she had been dead twelve years. Some said he had joked + her out of life, others that she had gone into consumption. He was a + reader—perhaps the only one in all the village, and could whistle + like a blackbird. To work hard, but without too great method, to drink + hard, but with perfect method, and to talk nineteen to the dozen anywhere + except at home—was his mode of life. In a word, he was a + 'character.' + </p> + <p> + Old Gaunt sat down in a wooden rocking-chair, and spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Gerald 'e've a-just passed.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Gerald 'e can goo to hell. They'll know un there, by 'is little + ears.” + </p> + <p> + “'E've a-spoke about us stoppin'; so as Mettie goes out to sarvice.” + </p> + <p> + “'E've a-spoke about what 'e don't know 'bout, then. Let un do what they + like, they can't put Tom Gaunt about; he can get work anywhere—Tom + Gaunt can, an' don't you forget that, old man.” + </p> + <p> + The old man, placing his thin brown hands on his knees, was silent. And + thoughts passed through and through him. 'If so be as Tom goes, there'll + be no one as'll take me in for less than three bob a week. Two bob a week, + that's what I'll 'ave to feed me—Two bob a week—two bob a + week! But if so be's I go with Tom, I'll 'ave to reg'lar sit down under he + for me bread and butter.' And he contemplated his son. + </p> + <p> + “Where are you goin', then?” he said. + </p> + <p> + Tom Gaunt rustled the greenish paper he was reading, and his little, hard + gray eyes fixed his father. + </p> + <p> + “Who said I was going?” + </p> + <p> + Old Gaunt, smoothing and smoothing the lined, thin cheeks of the + parchmenty, thin-nosed face that Frances Freeland had thought to be almost + like a gentleman's, answered: “I thart you said you was goin'.” + </p> + <p> + “You think too much, then—that's what 'tis. You think too much, old + man.” + </p> + <p> + With a slight deepening of the sardonic patience in his face, old Gaunt + rose, took a bowl and spoon down from a shelf, and very slowly proceeded + to make himself his evening meal. It consisted of crusts of bread soaked + in hot water and tempered with salt, pepper, onion, and a touch of butter. + And while he waited, crouched over the kettle, his son smoked his grayish + clay and read his greenish journal; an old clock ticked and a little cat + purred without provocation on the ledge of the tight-closed window. Then + the door opened and the rogue-girl appeared. She shook her shoulders as + though to dismiss the wetting she had got, took off her turn-down, + speckly, straw hat, put on an apron, and rolled up her sleeves. Her arms + were full and firm and red; the whole of her was full and firm. From her + rosy cheeks to her stout ankles she was superabundant with vitality, the + strangest contrast to her shadowy, thin old grandfather. About the + preparation of her father's tea she moved with a sort of brooding + stolidity, out of which would suddenly gleam a twinkle of rogue-sweetness, + as when she stopped to stroke the little cat or to tickle the back of her + grandfather's lean neck in passing. Having set the tea, she stood by the + table and said slowly: “Tea's ready, father. I'm goin' to London.” + </p> + <p> + Tom Gaunt put down his pipe and journal, took his seat at the table, + filled his mouth with sausage, and said: “You're goin' where I tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm goin' to London.” + </p> + <p> + Tom Gaunt stayed the morsel in one cheek and fixed her with his little, + wild boar's eye. + </p> + <p> + “Ye're goin' to catch the stick,” he said. “Look here, my girl, Tom + Gaunt's been put about enough along of you already. Don't you make no + mistake.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm goin' to London,” repeated the rogue-girl stolidly. “You can get + Alice to come over.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Can I? Ye're not goin' till I tell you. Don't you think it!” + </p> + <p> + “I'm goin'. I saw Mr. Derek this mornin'. They'll get me a place there.” + </p> + <p> + Tom Gaunt remained with his fork as it were transfixed. The effort of + devising contradiction to the chief supporters of his own rebellion was + for the moment too much for him. He resumed mastication. + </p> + <p> + “You'll go where I want you to go; and don't you think you can tell me + where that is.” + </p> + <p> + In the silence that ensued the only sound was that of old Gaunt supping at + his crusty-broth. Then the rogue-girl went to the window and, taking the + little cat on her breast, sat looking out into the rain. Having finished + his broth, old Gaunt got up, and, behind his son's back, he looked at his + granddaughter and thought: + </p> + <p> + 'Goin' to London! 'Twud be best for us all. WE shudn' need to be movin', + then. Goin' to London!' But he felt desolate. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV + </h2> + <p> + When Spring and first love meet in a girl's heart, then the birds sing. + </p> + <p> + The songs that blackbirds and dusty-coated thrushes flung through Nedda's + window when she awoke in Hampstead those May mornings seemed to have been + sung by herself all night. Whether the sun were flashing on the leaves, or + rain-drops sieving through on a sou'west wind, the same warmth glowed up + in her the moment her eyes opened. Whether the lawn below were a field of + bright dew, or dry and darkish in a shiver of east wind, her eyes never + grew dim all day; and her blood felt as light as ostrich feathers. + </p> + <p> + Stormed by an attack of his cacoethes scribendi, after those few blank + days at Becket, Felix saw nothing amiss with his young daughter. The great + observer was not observant of things that other people observed. Neither + he nor Flora, occupied with matters of more spiritual importance, could + tell, offhand, for example, on which hand a wedding-ring was worn. They + had talked enough of Becket and the Tods to produce the impression on + Flora's mind that one day or another two young people would arrive in her + house on a visit; but she had begun a poem called 'Dionysus at the Well,' + and Felix himself had plunged into a satiric allegory entitled 'The Last + of the Laborers.' Nedda, therefore, walked alone; but at her side went + always an invisible companion. In that long, imaginary walking-out she + gave her thoughts and the whole of her heart, and to be doing this never + surprised her, who, before, had not given them whole to anything. A bee + knows the first summer day and clings intoxicated to its flowers; so did + Nedda know and cling. She wrote him two letters and he wrote her one. It + was not poetry; indeed, it was almost all concerned with Wilmet Gaunt, + asking Nedda to find a place in London where the girl could go; but it + ended with the words: + </p> + <p> + “Your lover, + </p> + <p> + “DEREK.” + </p> + <p> + This letter troubled Nedda. She would have taken it at once to Felix or to + Flora if it had not been for the first words, “Dearest Nedda,” and those + last three. Except her mother, she instinctively distrusted women in such + a matter as that of Wilmet Gaunt, feeling they would want to know more + than she could tell them, and not be too tolerant of what they heard. + Casting about, at a loss, she thought suddenly of Mr. Cuthcott. + </p> + <p> + At dinner that day she fished round carefully. Felix spoke of him almost + warmly. What Cuthcott could have been doing at Becket, of all places, he + could not imagine—the last sort of man one expected to see there; a + good fellow, rather desperate, perhaps, as men of his age were apt to get + if they had too many women, or no woman, about them. + </p> + <p> + Which, said Nedda, had Mr. Cuthcott? + </p> + <p> + Oh! None. How had he struck Nedda? And Felix looked at his little daughter + with a certain humble curiosity. He always felt that the young + instinctively knew so much more than he did. + </p> + <p> + “I liked him awfully. He was like a dog.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Felix, “he IS like a dog—very honest; he grins and runs + about the city, and might be inclined to bay the moon.” + </p> + <p> + 'I don't mind that,' Nedda thought, 'so long as he's not “superior.”' + </p> + <p> + “He's very human,” Felix added. + </p> + <p> + And having found out that he lived in Gray's Inn, Nedda thought: 'I will; + I'll ask him.' + </p> + <p> + To put her project into execution, she wrote this note: + </p> + <p> + “DEAR MR. CUTHCOTT: + </p> + <p> + “You were so kind as to tell me you wouldn't mind if I bothered you about + things. I've got a very bothery thing to know what to do about, and I + would be so glad of your advice. It so happens that I can't ask my father + and mother. I hope you won't think me very horrible, wasting your time. + And please say no, if you'd rather. + </p> + <p> + “Yours sincerely, + </p> + <p> + “NEDDA FREELAND.” + </p> + <p> + The answer came: + </p> + <p> + “DEAR MISS FREELAND: + </p> + <p> + “Delighted. But if very bothery, better save time and ink, and have a + snack of lunch with me to-morrow at the Elgin restaurant, close to the + British Museum. Quiet and respectable. No flowers by request. One o'clock. + </p> + <p> + “Very truly yours, + </p> + <p> + “GILES CUTHCOTT.” + </p> + <p> + Putting on 'no flowers' and with a fast-beating heart, Nedda, went on her + first lonely adventure. To say truth she did not know in the least how + ever she was going to ask this almost strange man about a girl of doubtful + character. But she kept saying to herself: 'I don't care—he has nice + eyes.' And her spirit would rise as she got nearer, because, after all, + she was going to find things out, and to find things out was jolly. The + new warmth and singing in her heart had not destroyed, but rather + heightened, her sense of the extraordinary interest of all things that be. + And very mysterious to her that morning was the kaleidoscope of Oxford + Street and its innumerable girls, and women, each going about her + business, with a life of her own that was not Nedda's. For men she had + little use just now, they had acquired a certain insignificance, not + having gray-black eyes that smoked and flared, nor Harris tweed suits that + smelled delicious. Only once on her journey from Oxford Circus she felt + the sense of curiosity rise in her, in relation to a man, and this was + when she asked a policeman at Tottenham Court Road, and he put his head + down fully a foot to listen to her. So huge, so broad, so red in the face, + so stolid, it seemed wonderful to her that he paid her any attention! If + he were a human being, could she really be one, too? But that, after all, + was no more odd than everything. Why, for instance, the spring flowers in + that woman's basket had been born; why that high white cloud floated over; + why and what was Nedda Freeland? + </p> + <p> + At the entrance of the little restaurant she saw Mr. Cuthcott waiting. In + a brown suit, with his pale but freckled face, and his gnawed-at, sandy + moustache, and his eyes that looked out and beyond, he was certainly no + beauty. But Nedda thought: 'He's even nicer than I remembered, and I'm + sure he knows a lot.' + </p> + <p> + At first, to be sitting opposite to him, in front of little plates + containing red substances and small fishes, was so exciting that she + simply listened to his rapid, rather stammering voice mentioning that the + English had no idea of life or cookery, that God had so made this country + by mistake that everything, even the sun, knew it. What, however, would + she drink? Chardonnet? It wasn't bad here. + </p> + <p> + She assented, not liking to confess that she did not know what Chardonnet + might be, and hoping it was some kind of sherbet. She had never yet drunk + wine, and after a glass felt suddenly extremely strong. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Mr. Cuthcott, and his eyes twinkled, “what's your + botheration? I suppose you want to strike out for yourself. MY daughters + did that without consulting me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Have you got daughters?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—funny ones; older than you.” + </p> + <p> + “That's why you understand, then.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cuthcott smiled. “They WERE a liberal education!” + </p> + <p> + And Nedda thought: 'Poor Dad, I wonder if I am!' + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” Mr. Cuthcott murmured, “who would think a gosling would ever become + a goose?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Nedda eagerly, “isn't it wonderful how things grow?” + </p> + <p> + She felt his eyes suddenly catch hold of hers. + </p> + <p> + “You're in love!” he said. + </p> + <p> + It seemed to her a great piece of luck that he had found that out. It made + everything easy at once, and her words came out pell-mell. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and I haven't told my people yet. I don't seem able. He's given me + something to do, and I haven't much experience.” + </p> + <p> + A funny little wriggle passed over Mr. Cuthcott's face. “Yes, yes; go on! + Tell us about it.” + </p> + <p> + She took a sip from her glass, and the feeling that he had been going to + laugh passed away. + </p> + <p> + “It's about the daughter of a laborer, down there in Worcestershire, where + he lives, not very far from Becket. He's my cousin, Derek, the son of my + other uncle at Joyfields. He and his sister feel most awfully strongly + about the laborers.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Mr. Cuthcott, “the laborers! Queer how they're in the air, all + of a sudden.” + </p> + <p> + “This girl hasn't been very good, and she has to go from the village, or + else her family have. He wants me to find a place for her in London.” + </p> + <p> + “I see; and she hasn't been very good?” + </p> + <p> + “Not very.” She knew that her cheeks were flushing, but her eyes felt + steady, and seeing that his eyes never moved, she did not mind. She went + on: + </p> + <p> + “It's Sir Gerald Malloring's estate. Lady Malloring—won't—” + </p> + <p> + She heard a snap. Mr. Cuthcott's mouth had closed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” he said, “say no more!” + </p> + <p> + 'He CAN bite nicely!' she thought. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cuthcott, who had begun lightly thumping the little table with his + open hand, broke out suddenly: + </p> + <p> + “That petty bullying in the country! I know it! My God! Those prudes, + those prisms! They're the ruination of half the girls on the—” He + looked at Nedda and stopped short. “If she can do any kind of work, I'll + find her a place. In fact, she'd better come, for a start, under my old + housekeeper. Let your cousin know; she can turn up any day. Name? Wilmet + Gaunt? Right you are!” He wrote it on his cuff. + </p> + <p> + Nedda rose to her feet, having an inclination to seize his hand, or stroke + his head, or something. She subsided again with a fervid sigh, and sat + exchanging with him a happy smile. At last she said: + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Cuthcott, is there any chance of things like that changing?” + </p> + <p> + “Changing?” He certainly had grown paler, and was again lightly thumping + the table. “Changing? By gum! It's got to change! This d—d + pluto-aristocratic ideal! The weed's so grown up that it's choking us. + Yes, Miss Freeland, whether from inside or out I don't know yet, but + there's a blazing row coming. Things are going to be made new before + long.” + </p> + <p> + Under his thumps the little plates had begun to rattle and leap. And Nedda + thought: 'I DO like him.' + </p> + <p> + But she said anxiously: + </p> + <p> + “You believe there's something to be done, then? Derek is simply full of + it; I want to feel like that, too, and I mean to.” + </p> + <p> + His face grew twinkly; he put out his hand. And wondering a little whether + he meant her to, Nedda timidly stretched forth her own and grasped it. + </p> + <p> + “I like you,” he said. “Love your cousin and don't worry.” + </p> + <p> + Nedda's eyes slipped into the distance. + </p> + <p> + “But I'm afraid for him. If you saw him, you'd know.” + </p> + <p> + “One's always afraid for the fellows that are worth anything. There was + another young Freeland at your uncle's the other night—” + </p> + <p> + “My brother Alan!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! your brother? Well, I wasn't afraid for him, and it seemed a pity. + Have some of this; it's about the only thing they do well here.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thank you, no. I've had a lovely lunch. Mother and I generally have + about nothing.” And clasping her hands she added: + </p> + <p> + “This is a secret, isn't it, Mr. Cuthcott?” + </p> + <p> + “Dead.” + </p> + <p> + He laughed and his face melted into a mass of wrinkles. Nedda laughed also + and drank up the rest of her wine. She felt blissful. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Mr. Cuthcott, “there's nothing like loving. How long have you + been at it?” + </p> + <p> + “Only five days, but it's everything.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cuthcott sighed. “That's right. When you can't love, the only thing is + to hate.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said Nedda. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cuthcott again began banging on the little table. “Look at them, look + at them!” His eyes wandered angrily about the room, wherein sat some few + who had passed though the mills of gentility. “What do they know of life? + Where are their souls and sympathies? They haven't any. I'd like to see + their blood flow, the silly brutes.” + </p> + <p> + Nedda looked at them with alarm and curiosity. They seemed to her somewhat + like everybody she knew. She said timidly: “Do you think OUR blood ought + to flow, too?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cuthcott relapsed into twinkles. “Rather! Mine first!” + </p> + <p> + 'He IS human!' thought Nedda. And she got up: “I'm afraid I ought to go + now. It's been awfully nice. Thank you so very much. Good-by!” + </p> + <p> + He shook her firm little hand with his frail thin one, and stood smiling + till the restaurant door cut him off from her view. + </p> + <p> + The streets seemed so gorgeously full of life now that Nedda's head swam. + She looked at it all with such absorption that she could not tell one + thing from another. It seemed rather long to the Tottenham Court Road, + though she noted carefully the names of all the streets she passed, and + was sure she had not missed it. She came at last to one called POULTRY. + 'Poultry!' she thought; 'I should have remembered that—Poultry?' And + she laughed. It was so sweet and feathery a laugh that the driver of an + old four-wheeler stopped his horse. He was old and anxious-looking, with a + gray beard and deep folds in his red cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “Poultry!” she said. “Please, am I right for the Tottenham Court Road?” + </p> + <p> + The old man answered: “Glory, no, miss; you're goin' East!” + </p> + <p> + 'East!' thought Nedda; 'I'd better take him.' And she got in. She sat in + the four-wheeler, smiling. And how far this was due to Chardonnet she did + not consider. She was to love and not worry. It was wonderful! In this + mood she was put down, still smiling, at the Tottenham Court Road Tube, + and getting out her purse she prepared to pay the cabman. The fare would + be a shilling, but she felt like giving him two. He looked so anxious and + worn, in spite of his red face. He took them, looked at her, and said: + “Thank you, miss; I wanted that.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” murmured Nedda, “then please take this, too. It's all I happen to + have, except my Tube fare.” + </p> + <p> + The old man took it, and water actually ran along his nose. + </p> + <p> + “God bless yer!” he said. And taking up his whip, he drove off quickly. + </p> + <p> + Rather choky, but still glowing, Nedda descended to her train. It was not + till she was walking to the Spaniard's Road that a cloud seemed to come + over her sky, and she reached home dejected. + </p> + <p> + In the garden of the Freelands' old house was a nook shut away by berberis + and rhododendrons, where some bees were supposed to make honey, but, + knowing its destination, and belonging to a union, made no more than they + were obliged. In this retreat, which contained a rustic bench, Nedda was + accustomed to sit and read; she went there now. And her eyes began filling + with tears. Why must the poor old fellow who had driven her look so + anxious and call on God to bless her for giving him that little present? + Why must people grow old and helpless, like that Grandfather Gaunt she had + seen at Becket? Why was there all the tyranny that made Derek and Sheila + so wild? And all the grinding poverty that she herself could see when she + went with her mother to their Girls' Club, in Bethnal Green? What was the + use of being young and strong if nothing happened, nothing was really + changed, so that one got old and died seeing still the same things as + before? What was the use even of loving, if love itself had to yield to + death? The trees! How they grew from tiny seeds to great and beautiful + things, and then slowly, slowly dried and decayed away to dust. What was + the good of it all? What comfort was there in a God so great and universal + that he did not care to keep her and Derek alive and loving forever, and + was not interested enough to see that the poor old cab-driver should not + be haunted day and night with fear of the workhouse for himself and an old + wife, perhaps? Nedda's tears fell fast, and how far THIS was Chardonnet no + one could tell. + </p> + <p> + Felix, seeking inspiration from the sky in regard to 'The Last of the + Laborers,' heard a noise like sobbing, and, searching, found his little + daughter sitting there and crying as if her heart would break. The sight + was so unusual and so utterly disturbing that he stood rooted, quite + unable to bring her help. Should he sneak away? Should he go for Flora? + What should he do? Like many men whose work keeps them centred within + themselves, he instinctively avoided everything likely to pain or trouble + him; for this reason, when anything did penetrate those mechanical + defences he became almost strangely tender. Loath, for example, to believe + that any one was ill, if once convinced of it, he made so good a nurse + that Flora, at any rate, was in the habit of getting well with suspicious + alacrity. Thoroughly moved now, he sat down on the bench beside Nedda, and + said: + </p> + <p> + “My darling!” + </p> + <p> + She leaned her forehead against his arm and sobbed the more. + </p> + <p> + Felix waited, patting her far shoulder gently. + </p> + <p> + He had often dealt with such situations in his books, and now that one had + come true was completely at a loss. He could not even begin to remember + what was usually said or done, and he only made little soothing noises. + </p> + <p> + To Nedda this tenderness brought a sudden sharp sense of guilt and + yearning. She began: + </p> + <p> + “It's not because of that I'm crying, Dad, but I want you to know that + Derek and I are in love.” + </p> + <p> + The words: 'You! What! In those few days!' rose, and got as far as Felix's + teeth; he swallowed them and went on patting her shoulder. Nedda in love! + He felt blank and ashy. That special feeling of owning her more than any + one else, which was so warming and delightful, so really precious—it + would be gone! What right had she to take it from him, thus, without + warning! Then he remembered how odious he had always said the elderly + were, to spoke the wheels of youth, and managed to murmur: + </p> + <p> + “Good luck to you, my pretty!” + </p> + <p> + He said it, conscious that a father ought to be saying: + </p> + <p> + 'You're much too young, and he's your cousin!' But what a father ought to + say appeared to him just then both sensible and ridiculous. Nedda rubbed + her cheek against his hand. + </p> + <p> + “It won't make any difference, Dad, I promise you!” + </p> + <p> + And Felix thought: 'Not to you, only to me!' But he said: + </p> + <p> + “Not a scrap, my love! What WERE you crying about?” + </p> + <p> + “About the world; it seems so heartless.” + </p> + <p> + And she told him about the water that had run along the nose of the old + four-wheeler man. + </p> + <p> + But while he seemed to listen, Felix thought: 'I wish to God I were made + of leather; then I shouldn't feel as if I'd lost the warmth inside me. I + mustn't let her see. Fathers ARE queer—I always suspected that. + There goes my work for a good week!' Then he answered: + </p> + <p> + “No, my dear, the world is not heartless; it's only arranged according to + certain necessary contraries: No pain, no pleasure; no dark, no light, and + the rest of it. If you think, it couldn't be arranged differently.” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke a blackbird came running with a chuckle from underneath the + berberis, looked at them with alarm, and ran back. Nedda raised her face. + </p> + <p> + “Dad, I mean to do something with my life!” + </p> + <p> + Felix answered: + </p> + <p> + “Yes. That's right.” + </p> + <p> + But long after Nedda had fallen into dreams that night, he lay awake, with + his left foot enclosed between Floras', trying to regain that sense of + warmth which he knew he must never confess to having lost. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV + </h2> + <p> + Flora took the news rather with the air of a mother-dog that says to her + puppy: “Oh, very well, young thing! Go and stick your teeth in it and find + out for yourself!” Sooner or later this always happened, and generally + sooner nowadays. Besides, she could not help feeling that she would get + more of Felix, to her a matter of greater importance than she gave sign + of. But inwardly the news had given her a shock almost as sharp as that + felt by him. Was she really the mother of one old enough to love? Was the + child that used to cuddle up to her in the window-seat to be read to, gone + from her; that used to rush in every morning at all inconvenient moments + of her toilet; that used to be found sitting in the dark on the stairs, + like a little sleepy owl, because, for-sooth, it was so 'cosey'? + </p> + <p> + Not having seen Derek, she did not as yet share her husband's anxiety on + that score, though his description was dubious: + </p> + <p> + “Upstanding young cockerel, swinging his sporran and marching to pipes—a + fine spurn about him! Born to trouble, if I know anything, trying to sweep + the sky with his little broom!” + </p> + <p> + “Is he a prig?” + </p> + <p> + “No-o. There's simplicity about his scorn, and he seems to have been + brought up on facts, not on literature, like most of these young monkeys. + The cousinship I don't think matters; Kirsteen brings in too strong an + out-strain. He's HER son, not Tod's. But perhaps,” he added, sighing, “it + won't last.” + </p> + <p> + Flora shook her head. “It will last!” she said; “Nedda's deep.” + </p> + <p> + And if Nedda held, so would Fate; no one would throw Nedda over! They + naturally both felt that. 'Dionysus at the Well,' no less than 'The Last + of the Laborers,' had a light week of it. + </p> + <p> + Though in a sense relieved at having parted with her secret, Nedda yet + felt that she had committed desecration. Suppose Derek should mind her + people knowing! + </p> + <p> + On the day that he and Sheila were to come, feeling she could not trust + herself to seem even reasonably calm, she started out, meaning to go to + the South Kensington Museum and wander the time away there; but once + out-of-doors the sky seemed what she wanted, and, turning down the hill on + the north side, she sat down under a gorse bush. Here tramps, coming in to + London, passed the night under the stars; here was a vision, however dim, + of nature. And nature alone could a little soothe her ecstatic nerves. + </p> + <p> + How would he greet her? Would he be exactly as he was when they stood at + the edge of Tod's orchard, above the dreamy, darkening fields, joining + hands and lips, moved as they had never been moved before? + </p> + <p> + May blossom was beginning to come out along the hedge of the private + grounds that bordered that bit of Cockney Common, and from it, warmed by + the sun, the scent stole up to her. Familiar, like so many children of the + cultured classes, with the pagan and fairy-tales of nature, she forgot + them all the moment she was really by herself with earth and sky. In their + breadth, their soft and stirring continuity, they rejected bookish fancy, + and woke in her rapture and yearning, a sort of long delight, a + never-appeased hunger. Crouching, hands round knees, she turned her face + to get the warmth of the sun, and see the white clouds go slowly by, and + catch all the songs that the birds sang. And every now and then she drew a + deep breath. It was true what Dad had said: There was no real + heartlessness in nature. It was warm, beating, breathing. And if things + ate each other, what did it matter? They had lived and died quickly, + helping to make others live. The sacred swing and circle of it went on + forever, full and harmonious under the lighted sky, under the friendly + stars. It was wonderful to be alive! And all done by love. Love! More, + more, more love! And then death, if it must come! For, after all, to Nedda + death was so far away, so unimaginably dim and distant, that it did not + really count. + </p> + <p> + While she sat, letting her fingers, that were growing slowly black, + scrabble the grass and fern, a feeling came on her of a Presence, a + creature with wings above and around, that seemed to have on its face a + long, mysterious smile of which she, Nedda, was herself a tiny twinkle. + She would bring Derek here. They two would sit together and let the clouds + go over them, and she would learn all that he really thought, and tell him + all her longings and fears; they would be silent, too, loving each other + too much to talk. She made elaborate plans of what they were to do and + see, beginning with the East End and the National Gallery, and ending with + sunrise from Parliament Hill; but she somehow knew that nothing would + happen as she had designed. If only the first moment were not different + from what she hoped! + </p> + <p> + She sat there so long that she rose quite stiff, and so hungry that she + could not help going home and stealing into the kitchen. It was three + o'clock, and the old cook, as usual, asleep in an armchair, with her apron + thrown up between her face and the fire. What would Cookie say if she + knew? In that oven she had been allowed to bake in fancy perfect little + doll loaves, while Cookie baked them in reality. Here she had watched the + mysterious making of pink cream, had burned countless 'goes' of toffy, and + cocoanut ice; and tasted all kinds of loveliness. Dear old Cookie! + Stealing about on tiptoe, seeking what she might devour, she found four + small jam tarts and ate them, while the cook snored softly. Then, by the + table, that looked so like a great loaf-platter, she stood contemplating + cook. Old darling, with her fat, pale, crumply face! Hung to the dresser, + opposite, was a little mahogany looking-glass tilted forward. Nedda could + see herself almost down to her toes. 'I mean to be prettier than I am!' + she thought, putting her hands on her waist. 'I wonder if I can pull them + in a bit!' Sliding her fingers under her blouse, she began to pull at + certain strings. They would not budge. They were loose, yes, really too + comfortable. She would have to get the next size smaller! And dropping her + chin, she rubbed it on the lace edging of her chest, where it felt warm + and smelled piny. Had Cookie ever been in love? Her gray hairs were + coming, poor old duck! The windows, where a protection of wire gauze kept + out the flies, were opened wide, and the sun shone in and dimmed the fire. + The kitchen clock ticked like a conscience; a faint perfume of frying-pan + and mint scented the air. And, for the first time since this new sensation + of love had come to her, Nedda felt as if a favorite book, read through + and done with, were dropping from her hands. The lovely times in that + kitchen, in every nook of that old house and garden, would never come + again! Gone! She felt suddenly cast down to sadness. They HAD been lovely + times! To be deserting in spirit all that had been so good to her—it + seemed like a crime! She slid down off the table and, passing behind the + cook, put her arms round those substantial sides. Without meaning to, out + of sheer emotion, she pressed them somewhat hard, and, as from a + concertina emerges a jerked and drawn-out chord, so from the cook came a + long, quaking sound; her apron fell, her body heaved, and her drowsy, + flat, soft voice, greasy from pondering over dishes, murmured: + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Miss Nedda! it's you, my dear! Bless your pretty 'eart.” + </p> + <p> + But down Nedda's cheeks, behind her, rolled two tears. + </p> + <p> + “Cookie, oh, Cookie!” And she ran out.... + </p> + <p> + And the first moment? It was like nothing she had dreamed of. Strange, + stiff! One darting look, and then eyes down; one convulsive squeeze, then + such a formal shake of hot, dry hands, and off he had gone with Felix to + his room, and she with Sheila to hers, bewildered, biting down + consternation, trying desperately to behave 'like a little lady,' as her + old nurse would have put it—before Sheila, especially, whose + hostility she knew by instinct she had earned. All that evening, furtive + watching, formal talk, and underneath a ferment of doubt and fear and + longing. All a mistake! An awful mistake! Did he love her? Heaven! If he + did not, she could never face any one again. He could not love her! His + eyes were like those of a swan when its neck is drawn up and back in + anger. Terrible—having to show nothing, having to smile at Sheila, + at Dad, and Mother! And when at last she got to her room, she stood at the + window and at first simply leaned her forehead against the glass and + shivered. What had she done? Had she dreamed it all—dreamed that + they had stood together under those boughs in the darkness, and through + their lips exchanged their hearts? She must have dreamed it! Dreamed that + most wonderful, false dream! And the walk home in the thunder-storm, and + his arm round her, and her letters, and his letter—dreamed it all! + And now she was awake! From her lips came a little moan, and she sank down + huddled, and stayed there ever so long, numb and chilly. Undress—go + to bed? Not for the world. By the time the morning came she had got to + forget that she had dreamed. For very shame she had got to forget that; no + one should see. Her cheeks and ears and lips were burning, but her body + felt icy cold. Then—what time she did not know at all—she felt + she must go out and sit on the stairs. They had always been her + comforters, those wide, shallow, cosey stairs. Out and down the passage, + past all their rooms—his the last—to the dark stairs, eerie at + night, where the scent of age oozed out of the old house. All doors below, + above, were closed; it was like looking down into a well, to sit with her + head leaning against the banisters. And silent, so silent—just those + faint creakings that come from nowhere, as it might be the breathing of + the house. She put her arms round a cold banister and hugged it hard. It + hurt her, and she embraced it the harder. The first tears of self-pity + came welling up, and without warning a great sob burst out of her. Alarmed + at the sound, she smothered her mouth with her arm. No good; they came + breaking out! A door opened; all the blood rushed to her heart and away + from it, and with a little dreadful gurgle she was silent. Some one was + listening. How long that terrible listening lasted she had no idea; then + footsteps, and she was conscious that it was standing in the dark behind + her. A foot touched her back. She gave a little gasp. Derek's voice + whispered hoarsely: + </p> + <p> + “What? Who are you?” + </p> + <p> + And, below her breath, she answered: “Nedda.” + </p> + <p> + His arms wrenched her away from the banister, his voice in her ear said: + </p> + <p> + “Nedda, darling, Nedda!” + </p> + <p> + But despair had sunk too deep; she could only quiver and shake and try to + drive sobbing out of her breath. Then, most queer, not his words, nor the + feel of his arms, comforted her—any one could pity!—but the + smell and the roughness of his Norfolk jacket. So he, too, had not been in + bed; he, too, had been unhappy! And, burying her face in his sleeve, she + murmured: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Derek! Why?” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't want them all to see. I can't bear to give it away. Nedda, come + down lower and let's love each other!” + </p> + <p> + Softly, stumbling, clinging together, they went down to the last turn of + the wide stairs. How many times had she not sat there, in white frocks, + her hair hanging down as now, twisting the tassels of little programmes + covered with hieroglyphics only intelligible to herself, talking + spasmodically to spasmodic boys with budding 'tails,' while Chinese + lanterns let fall their rose and orange light on them and all the other + little couples as exquisitely devoid of ease. Ah! it was worth those hours + of torture to sit there together now, comforting each other with hands and + lips and whisperings. It was more, as much more than that moment in the + orchard, as sun shining after a Spring storm is more than sun in placid + mid-July. To hear him say: “Nedda, I love you!” to feel it in his hand + clasped on her heart was much more, now that she knew how difficult it was + for him to say or show it, except in the dark with her alone. Many a long + day they might have gone through together that would not have shown her so + much of his real heart as that hour of whispering and kisses. + </p> + <p> + He had known she was unhappy, and yet he couldn't! It had only made him + more dumb! It was awful to be like that! But now that she knew, she was + glad to think that it was buried so deep in him and kept for her alone. + And if he did it again she would just know that it was only shyness and + pride. And he was not a brute and a beast, as he insisted. But suppose she + had chanced not to come out! Would she ever have lived through the night? + And she shivered. + </p> + <p> + “Are you cold, darling? Put on my coat.” + </p> + <p> + It was put on her in spite of all effort to prevent him. Never was + anything so warm, so delicious, wrapping her in something more than Harris + tweed. And the hall clock struck—Two! + </p> + <p> + She could just see his face in the glimmer that filtered from the skylight + at the top. And she felt that he was learning her, learning all that she + had to give him, learning the trust that was shining through her eyes. + There was just enough light for them to realize the old house watching + from below and from above—a glint on the dark floor there, on the + dark wall here; a blackness that seemed to be inhabited by some spirit, so + that their hands clutched and twitched, when the tiny, tiny noises of + Time, playing in wood and stone, clicked out. + </p> + <p> + That stare of the old house, with all its knowledge of lives past, of + youth and kisses spent and gone, of hopes spun and faiths abashed, the old + house cynical, stirred in them desire to clutch each other close and feel + the thrill of peering out together into mystery that must hold for them so + much of love and joy and trouble! And suddenly she put her fingers to his + face, passed them softly, clingingly, over his hair, forehead, eyes, + traced the sharp cheek-bones down to his jaw, round by the hard chin up to + his lips, over the straight bone of his nose, lingering, back, to his eyes + again. + </p> + <p> + “Now, if I go blind, I shall know you. Give me one kiss, Derek. You MUST + be tired.” + </p> + <p> + Buried in the old dark house that kiss lasted long; then, tiptoeing—she + in front—pausing at every creak, holding breath, they stole up to + their rooms. And the clock struck—Three! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI + </h2> + <p> + Felix (nothing if not modern) had succumbed already to the feeling that + youth ruled the roost. Whatever his misgivings, his and Flora's sense of + loss, Nedda must be given a free hand! Derek gave no outward show of his + condition, and but for his little daughter's happy serenity Felix would + have thought as she had thought that first night. He had a feeling that + his nephew rather despised one so soaked in mildness and reputation as + Felix Freeland; and he got on better with Sheila, not because she was + milder, but because she was devoid of that scornful tang which clung about + her brother. No! Sheila was not mild. Rich-colored, downright of speech, + with her mane of short hair, she was a no less startling companion. The + smile of Felix had never been more whimsically employed than during that + ten-day visit. The evening John Freeland came to dinner was the highwater + mark of his alarmed amusement. Mr. Cuthcott, also bidden, at Nedda's + instigation, seemed to take a mischievous delight in drawing out those two + young people in face of their official uncle. The pleasure of the dinner + to Felix—and it was not too great—was in watching Nedda's + face. She hardly spoke, but how she listened! Nor did Derek say much, but + what he did say had a queer, sarcastic twinge about it. + </p> + <p> + “An unpleasant young man,” was John's comment afterward. “How the deuce + did he ever come to be Tod's son? Sheila, of course, is one of these + hot-headed young women that make themselves a nuisance nowadays, but she's + intelligible. By the way, that fellow Cuthcott's a queer chap!” + </p> + <p> + One subject of conversation at dinner had been the morality of + revolutionary violence. And the saying that had really upset John had been + Derek's: “Conflagration first—morality afterward!” He had looked at + his nephew from under brows which a constant need for rejecting petitions + to the Home Office had drawn permanently down and in toward the nose, and + made no answer. + </p> + <p> + To Felix these words had a more sinister significance. With his juster + appreciation both of the fiery and the official points of view, his far + greater insight into his nephew than ever John would have, he saw that + they were more than a mere arrow of controversy. And he made up his mind + that night that he would tackle his nephew and try to find out exactly + what was smouldering within that crisp, black pate. + </p> + <p> + Following him into the garden next morning, he said to himself: 'No irony—that's + fatal. Man to man—or boy to boy—whichever it is!' But, on the + garden path, alongside that young spread-eagle, whose dark, glowering, + self-contained face he secretly admired, he merely began: + </p> + <p> + “How do you like your Uncle John?” + </p> + <p> + “He doesn't like me, Uncle Felix.” + </p> + <p> + Somewhat baffled, Felix proceeded: + </p> + <p> + “I say, Derek, fortunately or unfortunately, I've some claim now to a + little knowledge of you. You've got to open out a bit to me. What are you + going to do with yourself in life? You can't support Nedda on revolution.” + </p> + <p> + Having drawn this bow at a venture, he paused, doubtful of his wisdom. A + glance at Derek's face confirmed his doubt. It was closer than ever, more + defiant. + </p> + <p> + “There's a lot of money in revolution, Uncle Felix—other people's.” + </p> + <p> + Dash the young brute! There was something in him! He swerved off to a + fresh line. + </p> + <p> + “How do you like London?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't like it. But, Uncle Felix, don't you wish YOU were seeing it for + the first time? What books you'd write!” + </p> + <p> + Felix felt that unconscious thrust go 'home.' Revolt against staleness and + clipped wings, against the terrible security of his too solid reputation, + smote him. + </p> + <p> + “What strikes you most about it, then?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “That it ought to be jolly well blown up. Everybody seems to know that, + too—they look it, anyway, and yet they go on as if it oughtn't.” + </p> + <p> + “Why ought it to be blown up?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what's the good of anything while London and all these other big + towns are sitting on the country's chest? England must have been a fine + place once, though!” + </p> + <p> + “Some of us think it a fine place still.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course it is, in a way. But anything new and keen gets sat on. + England's like an old tom-cat by the fire: too jolly comfortable for + anything!” + </p> + <p> + At this support to his own theory that the country was going to the dogs, + owing to such as John and Stanley, Felix thought: 'Out of the mouths of + babes!' But he merely said: “You're a cheerful young man!” + </p> + <p> + “It's got cramp,” Derek muttered; “can't even give women votes. Fancy my + mother without a vote! And going to wait till every laborer is off the + land before it attends to them. It's like the port you gave us last night, + Uncle Felix, wonderful crust!” + </p> + <p> + “And what is to be your contribution to its renovation?” + </p> + <p> + Derek's face instantly resumed its peculiar defiant smile, and Felix + thought: 'Young beggar! He's as close as wax.' After their little talk, + however, he had more understanding of his nephew. His defiant + self-sufficiency seemed more genuine.... + </p> + <p> + In spite of his sensations when dining with Felix, John Freeland (little + if not punctilious) decided that it was incumbent on him to have the + 'young Tods' to dinner, especially since Frances Freeland had come to stay + with him the day after the arrival of those two young people at Hampstead. + She had reached Porchester Gardens faintly flushed from the prospect of + seeing darling John, with one large cane trunk, and a hand-bag of a + pattern which the man in the shop had told her was the best thing out. It + had a clasp which had worked beautifully in the shop, but which, for some + reason, on the journey had caused her both pain and anxiety. Convinced, + however, that she could cure it and open the bag the moment she could get + to that splendid new pair of pincers in her trunk, which a man had only + yesterday told her were the latest, she still felt that she had a soft + thing, and dear John must have one like it if she could get him one at the + Stores to-morrow. + </p> + <p> + John, who had come away early from the Home Office, met her in that dark + hall, to which he had paid no attention since his young wife died, fifteen + years ago. Embracing him, with a smile of love almost timorous from + intensity, Frances Freeland looked him up and down, and, catching what + light there was gleaming on his temples, determined that she had in her + bag, as soon as she could get it open, the very thing for dear John's + hair. He had such a nice moustache, and it was a pity he was getting bald. + Brought to her room, she sat down rather suddenly, feeling, as a fact, + very much like fainting—a condition of affairs to which she had + never in the past and intended never in the future to come, making such a + fuss! Owing to that nice new patent clasp, she had not been able to get at + her smelling-salts, nor the little flask of brandy and the one hard-boiled + egg without which she never travelled; and for want of a cup of tea her + soul was nearly dying within her. Dear John would never think she had not + had anything since breakfast (she travelled always by a slow train, + disliking motion), and she would not for the world let him know—so + near dinner-time, giving a lot of trouble! She therefore stayed quite + quiet, smiling a little, for fear he might suspect her. Seeing John, + however, put her bag down in the wrong place, she felt stronger. + </p> + <p> + “No, darling—not there—in the window.” + </p> + <p> + And while he was changing the position of the bag, her heart swelled with + joy because his back was so straight, and with the thought: 'What a pity + the dear boy has never married again! It does so keep a man from getting + moony!' With all that writing and thinking he had to do, such important + work, too, it would have been so good for him, especially at night. She + would not have expressed it thus in words—that would not have been + quite nice—but in thought Frances Freeland was a realist. + </p> + <p> + When he was gone, and she could do as she liked, she sat stiller than + ever, knowing by long experience that to indulge oneself in private only + made it more difficult not to indulge oneself in public. It really was + provoking that this nice new clasp should go wrong just this once, and + that the first time it was used! And she took from her pocket a tiny + prayer-book, and, holding it to the light, read the eighteenth psalm—it + was a particularly good one, that never failed her when she felt low—she + used no glasses, and up to the present had avoided any line between the + brows, knowing it was her duty to remain as nice as she could to look at, + so as not to spoil the pleasure of people round about her. Then saying to + herself firmly, “I do not, I WILL not want any tea—but I shall be + glad of dinner!” she rose and opened her cane trunk. Though she knew + exactly where they were, she was some time finding the pincers, because + there were so many interesting things above them, each raising a different + train of thought. A pair of field-glasses, the very latest—the man + had said—for darling Derek; they would be so useful to keep his mind + from thinking about things that it was no good thinking about. And for + dear Flora (how wonderful that she could write poetry—poetry!) a + really splendid, and perfectly new, little pill. She herself had already + taken two, and they had suited her to perfection. For darling Felix a new + kind of eau de cologne, made in Worcester, because that was the only scent + he would use. For her pet Nedda, a piece of 'point de Venise' that she + really could not be selfish enough to keep any longer, especially as she + was particularly fond of it. For Alan, a new kind of tin-opener that the + dear boy would like enormously; he was so nice and practical. For Sheila, + such a nice new novel by Mr. and Mrs. Whirlingham—a bright, + wholesome tale, with such a good description of quite a new country in it—the + dear child was so clever, it would be a change for her. Then, actually + resting on the pincers, she came on her pass-book, recently made up, + containing little or no balance, just enough to get darling John that bag + like hers with the new clasp, which would be so handy for his papers when + he went travelling. And having reached the pincers, she took them in her + hand, and sat down again to be quite quiet a moment, with her still-dark + eyelashes resting on her ivory cheeks and her lips pressed to a colorless + line; for her head swam from stooping over. In repose, with three flies + circling above her fine gray hair, she might have served a sculptor for a + study of the stoic spirit. Then, going to the bag, her compressed lips + twitching, her gray eyes piercing into its clasp with a kind of + distrustful optimism, she lifted the pincers and tweaked it hard. + </p> + <p> + If the atmosphere of that dinner, to which all six from Hampstead came, + was less disturbed than John anticipated, it was due to his sense of + hospitality, and to every one's feeling that controversy would puzzle and + distress Granny. That there were things about which people differed, + Frances Freeland well knew, but that they should so differ as to make them + forget to smile and have good manners would not have seemed right to her + at all. And of this, in her presence, they were all conscious; so that + when they had reached the asparagus there was hardly anything left that + could by any possibility be talked about. And this—for fear of + seeming awkward—they at once proceeded to discuss, Flora remarking + that London was very full. John agreed. + </p> + <p> + Frances Freeland, smiling, said: + </p> + <p> + “It's so nice for Derek and Sheila to be seeing it like this for the first + time.” + </p> + <p> + Sheila said: + </p> + <p> + “Why? Isn't it always as full as this?” + </p> + <p> + John answered: + </p> + <p> + “In August practically empty. They say a hundred thousand people, at + least, go away.” + </p> + <p> + “Double!” remarked Felix. + </p> + <p> + “The figures are variously given. My estimate—” + </p> + <p> + “One in sixty. That shows you!” + </p> + <p> + At this interruption of Derek's John frowned slightly. “What does it show + you?” he said. + </p> + <p> + Derek glanced at his grandmother. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing!” + </p> + <p> + “Of course it shows you,” exclaimed Sheila, “what a heartless great place + it is. All 'the world' goes out of town, and 'London's empty!' But if you + weren't told so you'd never know the difference.” + </p> + <p> + Derek muttered: “I think it shows more than that.” + </p> + <p> + Under the table Flora was touching John's foot warningly; Nedda attempting + to touch Derek's; Felix endeavoring to catch John's eye; Alan trying to + catch Sheila's; John biting his lip and looking carefully at nothing. Only + Frances Freeland was smiling and gazing lovingly at dear Derek, thinking + he would be so handsome when he had grown a nice black moustache. And she + said: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear. What were you going to say?” + </p> + <p> + Derek looked up. + </p> + <p> + “Do you really want it, Granny?” + </p> + <p> + Nedda murmured across the table: “No, Derek.” + </p> + <p> + Frances Freeland raised her brows quizzically. She almost looked arch. + </p> + <p> + “But of course I do, darling. I want to hear immensely. It's so + interesting.” + </p> + <p> + “Derek was going to say, Mother”—every one at once looked at Felix, + who had thus broken in—“that all we West-End people—John and I + and Flora and Stanley, and even you—all we people born in purple and + fine linen, are so accustomed to think we're all that matters, that when + we're out of London there's nobody in it. He meant to say that this is + appalling enough, but that what is still more appalling is the fact that + we really ARE all that matters, and that if people try to disturb us, we + can, and jolly well will, take care they don't disturb us long. Is that + what you meant, Derek?” + </p> + <p> + Derek turned a rather startled look on Felix. + </p> + <p> + “What he meant to say,” went on Felix, “was, that age and habit, vested + interests, culture and security sit so heavy on this country's chest, that + aspiration may wriggle and squirm but will never get from under. That, for + all we pretend to admire enthusiasm and youth, and the rest of it, we push + it out of us just a little faster than it grows up. Is that what you + meant, Derek?” + </p> + <p> + “You'll try to, but you won't succeed!” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid we shall, and with a smile, too, so that you won't see us + doing it.” + </p> + <p> + “I call that devilish.” + </p> + <p> + “I call it natural. Look at a man who's growing old; notice how very + gracefully and gradually he does it. Take my hair—your aunt says she + can't tell the difference from month to month. And there it is, or rather + isn't—little by little.” + </p> + <p> + Frances Freeland, who during Felix's long speech had almost closed her + eyes, opened them, and looked piercingly at the top of his head. + </p> + <p> + “Darling,” she said, “I've got the very thing for it. You must take some + with you when you go tonight. John is going to try it.” + </p> + <p> + Checked in the flow of his philosophy, Felix blinked like an owl + surprised. + </p> + <p> + “Mother,” he said, “YOU only have the gift of keeping young.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! my dear, I'm getting dreadfully old. I have the greatest difficulty + in keeping awake sometimes when people are talking. But I mean to fight + against it. It's so dreadfully rude, and ugly, too; I catch myself + sometimes with my mouth open.” + </p> + <p> + Flora said quietly: “Granny, I have the very best thing for that—quite + new!” + </p> + <p> + A sweet but rather rueful smile passed over Frances Freeland's face. + “Now,” she said, “you're chaffing me,” and her eyes looked loving. + </p> + <p> + It is doubtful if John understood the drift of Felix's exordium, it is + doubtful if he had quite listened—he having so much to not listen to + at the Home Office that the practice was growing on him. A vested interest + to John was a vested interest, culture was culture, and security was + certainly security—none of them were symbols of age. Further, the + social question—at least so far as it had to do with outbreaks of + youth and enthusiasm—was too familiar to him to have any general + significance whatever. What with women, labor people, and the rest of it, + he had no time for philosophy—a dubious process at the best. A man + who had to get through so many daily hours of real work did not dissipate + his energy in speculation. But, though he had not listened to Felix's + remarks, they had ruffled him. There is no philosophy quite so irritating + as that of a brother! True, no doubt, that the country was in a bad way, + but as to vested interests and security, that was all nonsense! The guilty + causes were free thought and industrialism. + </p> + <p> + Having seen them all off to Hampstead, he gave his mother her good-night + kiss. He was proud of her, a wonderful woman, who always put a good face + on everything! Even her funny way of always having some new thing or other + to do you good—even that was all part of her wanting to make the + best of things. She never lost her 'form'! + </p> + <p> + John worshipped that kind of stoicism which would die with its head up + rather than live with its tail down. Perhaps the moment of which he was + most proud in all his life was that, when, at the finish of his school + mile, he overheard a vulgar bandsman say: “I like that young ——'s + running; he breathes through his —— nose.” At that moment, if + he had stooped to breathe through his mouth, he must have won; as it was + he had lost in great distress and perfect form. + </p> + <p> + When, then, he had kissed Frances Freeland, and watched her ascend the + stairs, breathless because she WOULD breathe through her nose to the very + last step, he turned into his study, lighted his pipe, and sat down to a + couple of hours of a report upon the forces of constabulary available in + the various counties, in the event of any further agricultural rioting, + such as had recently taken place on a mild scale in one or two districts + where there was still Danish blood. He worked at the numbers steadily, + with just that engineer's touch of mechanical invention which had caused + him to be so greatly valued in a department where the evolution of twelve + policemen out of ten was constantly desired. His mastery of figures was + highly prized, for, while it had not any of that flamboyance which has + come from America and the game of poker, it possessed a kind of English + optimism, only dangerous when, as rarely happened, it was put to the test. + He worked two full pipes long, and looked at the clock. Twelve! No good + knocking off just yet! He had no liking for bed this many a long year, + having, from loyalty to memory and a drier sense of what became one in the + Home Department, preserved his form against temptations of the flesh. Yet, + somehow, to-night he felt no spring, no inspiration, in his handling of + county constabulary. A kind of English stolidity about them baffled him—ten + of them remained ten. And leaning that forehead, whose height so troubled + Frances Freeland, on his neat hand, he fell to brooding. Those young + people with everything before them! Did he envy them? Or was he glad of + his own age? Fifty! Fifty already; a fogey! An official fogey! For all the + world like an umbrella, that every day some one put into a stand and left + there till it was time to take it out again. Neatly rolled, too, with an + elastic and button! And this fancy, which had never come to him before, + surprised him. One day he, too, would wear out, slit all up his seams, and + they would leave him at home, or give him away to the butler. + </p> + <p> + He went to the window. A scent of—of May, or something! And nothing + in sight save houses just like his own! He looked up at the strip of sky + privileged to hang just there. He had got a bit rusty with his stars. + There, however, certainly was Venus. And he thought of how he had stood by + the ship's rail on that honeymoon trip of his twenty years ago, giving his + young wife her first lesson in counting the stars. And something very deep + down, very mossed and crusted over in John's heart, beat and stirred, and + hurt him. Nedda—he had caught her looking at that young fellow just + as Anne had once looked at him, John Freeland, now an official fogey, an + umbrella in a stand. There was a policeman! How ridiculous the fellow + looked, putting one foot before the other, flirting his lantern and trying + the area gates! This confounded scent of hawthorn—could it be + hawthorn?—got here into the heart of London! The look in that girl's + eyes! What was he about, to let them make him feel as though he could give + his soul for a face looking up into his own, for a breast touching his, + and the scent of a woman's hair. Hang it! He would smoke a cigarette and + go to bed! He turned out the light and began to mount the stairs; they + creaked abominably—the felt must be wearing out. A woman about the + place would have kept them quiet. Reaching the landing of the second + floor, he paused a moment from habit, to look down into the dark hall. A + voice, thin, sweet, almost young, said: + </p> + <p> + “Is that you, darling?” John's heart stood still. What—was that? + Then he perceived that the door of the room that had been his wife's was + open, and remembered that his mother was in there. + </p> + <p> + “What! Aren't you asleep, Mother?” + </p> + <p> + Frances Freeland's voice answered cheerfully: “Oh, no, dear; I'm never + asleep before two. Come in.” + </p> + <p> + John entered. Propped very high on her pillows, in perfect regularity, his + mother lay. Her carved face was surmounted by a piece of fine lace, her + thin, white fingers on the turnover of the sheet moved in continual + interlocking, her lips smiled. + </p> + <p> + “There's something you must have,” she said. “I left my door open on + purpose. Give me that little bottle, darling.” + </p> + <p> + John took from a small table by the bed a still smaller bottle. Frances + Freeland opened it, and out came three tiny white globules. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” she said, “pop them in! You've no idea how they'll send you to + sleep! They're the most splendid things; perfectly harmless. Just let them + rest on the tongue and swallow!” + </p> + <p> + John let them rest—they were sweetish—and swallowed. + </p> + <p> + “How is it, then,” he said, “that you never go to sleep before two?” + </p> + <p> + Frances Freeland corked the little bottle, as if enclosing within it that + awkward question. + </p> + <p> + “They don't happen to act with me, darling; but that's nothing. It's the + very thing for any one who has to sit up so late,” and her eyes searched + his face. Yes—they seemed to say—I know you pretend to have + work; but if you only had a dear little wife! + </p> + <p> + “I shall leave you this bottle when I go. Kiss me.” + </p> + <p> + John bent down, and received one of those kisses of hers that had such + sudden vitality in the middle of them, as if her lips were trying to get + inside his cheek. From the door he looked back. She was smiling, composed + again to her stoic wakefulness. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I shut the door, Mother?” + </p> + <p> + “Please, darling.” + </p> + <p> + With a little lump in his throat John closed the door. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII + </h2> + <p> + The London which Derek had said should be blown up was at its maximum of + life those May days. Even on this outer rampart of Hampstead, people, + engines, horses, all had a touch of the spring fever; indeed, especially + on this rampart of Hampstead was there increase of the effort to believe + that nature was not dead and embalmed in books. The poets, painters, + talkers who lived up there were at each other all the time in their great + game of make-believe. How could it be otherwise, when there was veritably + blossom on the trees and the chimneys were ceasing to smoke? How + otherwise, when the sun actually shone on the ponds? But the four young + people (for Alan joined in—hypnotized by Sheila) did not stay in + Hampstead. Chiefly on top of tram and 'bus they roamed the wilderness. + Bethnal Green and Leytonstone, Kensington and Lambeth, St. James's and + Soho, Whitechapel, Shoreditch, West Ham, and Piccadilly, they traversed + the whole ant-heap at its most ebullient moment. They knew their Whitman + and their Dostoievsky sufficiently to be aware that they ought to love and + delight in everything—in the gentleman walking down Piccadilly with + a flower in his buttonhole, and in the lady sewing that buttonhole in + Bethnal Green; in the orator bawling himself hoarse close to the Marble + Arch, the coster loading his barrow in Covent Garden; and in Uncle John + Freeland rejecting petitions in Whitehall. All these things, of course, + together with the long lines of little gray houses in Camden Town, long + lines of carts with bobtail horses rattling over Blackfriars' Bridge, long + smells drifting behind taxicabs—all these things were as delightful + and as stimulating to the soul as the clouds that trailed the heavens, the + fronds of the lilac, and Leonardo's Cartoon in the Diploma Gallery. All + were equal manifestations of that energy in flower known as 'Life.' They + knew that everything they saw and felt and smelled OUGHT equally to make + them long to catch creatures to their hearts and cry: Hosanna! And Nedda + and Alan, bred in Hampstead, even knew that to admit that these things did + not all move them in the same way would be regarded as a sign of anaemia. + Nevertheless—most queerly—these four young people confessed to + each other all sorts of sensations besides that 'Hosanna' one. They even + confessed to rage and pity and disgust one moment, and to joy and dreams + the next, and they differed greatly as to what excited which. It was truly + odd! The only thing on which they did seem to agree was that they were + having 'a thundering good time.' A sort of sense of “Blow everything!” was + in their wings, and this was due not to the fact that they were thinking + of and loving and admiring the little gray streets and the gentleman in + Piccadilly—as, no doubt, in accordance with modern culture, they + should have been—but to the fact that they were loving and admiring + themselves, and that entirely without the trouble of thinking about it at + all. The practice, too, of dividing into couples was distinctly precious + to them, for, though they never failed to start out together, they never + failed to come home two by two. In this way did they put to confusion + Whitman and Dostoievsky, and all the other thinkers in Hampstead. In the + daytime they all, save Alan, felt that London ought to be blown up; but at + night it undermined their philosophies so that they sat silent on the tops + of their respective 'buses, with arms twined in each other's. For then a + something seemed to have floated up from that mass of houses and machines, + of men and trees, and to be hovering above them, violet-colored, caught + between the stars and the lights, a spirit of such overpowering beauty + that it drenched even Alan in a kind of awe. After all, the huge creature + that sat with such a giant's weight on the country's chest, the monster + that had spoiled so many fields and robbed so many lives of peace and + health, could fly at night upon blue and gold and purple wings, murmur a + passionate lullaby, and fall into deep sleep! + </p> + <p> + One such night they went to the gallery at the opera, to supper at an + oyster-shop, under Alan's pilotage, and then set out to walk back to + Hampstead, timing themselves to catch the dawn. They had not gone twenty + steps up Southampton Row before Alan and Sheila were forty steps in front. + A fellow-feeling had made Derek and Nedda stand to watch an old man who + walked, tortuous, extremely happy, bidding them all come. And when they + moved on, it was very slowly, just keeping sight of the others across the + lumbered dimness of Covent Garden, where tarpaulin-covered carts and + barrows seemed to slumber under the blink of lamps and watchmen's + lanterns. Across Long Acre they came into a street where there was not a + soul save the two others, a long way ahead. Walking with his arm tightly + laced with hers, touching her all down one side, Derek felt that it would + be glorious to be attacked by night-birds in this dark, lonely street, to + have a splendid fight and drive them off, showing himself to Nedda for a + man, and her protector. But nothing save one black cat came near, and that + ran for its life. He bent round and looked under the blue veil-thing that + wrapped Nedda's head. Her face seemed mysteriously lovely, and her eyes, + lifted so quickly, mysteriously true. She said: + </p> + <p> + “Derek, I feel like a hill with the sun on it!” + </p> + <p> + “I feel like that yellow cloud with the wind in it.” + </p> + <p> + “I feel like an apple-tree coming into blossom.” + </p> + <p> + “I feel like a giant.” + </p> + <p> + “I feel like a song.” + </p> + <p> + “I feel I could sing you.” + </p> + <p> + “On a river, floating along.” + </p> + <p> + “A wide one, with great plains on each side, and beasts coming down to + drink, and either the sun or a yellow moon shining, and some one singing, + too, far off.” + </p> + <p> + “The Red Sarafan.” + </p> + <p> + “Let's run!” + </p> + <p> + From that yellow cloud sailing in moonlight a spurt of rain had driven + into their faces, and they ran as fast as their blood was flowing, and the + raindrops coming down, jumping half the width of the little dark streets, + clutching each other's arms. And peering round into her face, so sweet and + breathless, into her eyes, so dark and dancing, he felt he could run all + night if he had her there to run beside him through the dark. Into another + street they dashed, and again another, till she stopped, panting. + </p> + <p> + “Where are we now?” + </p> + <p> + Neither knew. A policeman put them right for Portland Place. Half past + one! And it would be dawn soon after three! They walked soberly again now + into the outer circle of Regent's Park; talked soberly, too, discussing + sublunary matters, and every now and then, their arms, round each other, + gave little convulsive squeezes. The rain had stopped and the moon shone + clear; by its light the trees and flowers were clothed in colors whose + blood had spilled away; the town's murmur was dying, the house lights dead + already. They came out of the park into a road where the latest taxis were + rattling past; a face, a bare neck, silk hat, or shirt-front gleamed in + the window-squares, and now and then a laugh came floating through. They + stopped to watch them from under the low-hanging branches of an + acacia-tree, and Derek, gazing at her face, still wet with rain, so young + and round and soft, thought: 'And she loves me!' Suddenly she clutched him + round the neck, and their lips met. + </p> + <p> + They talked not at all for a long time after that kiss, walking slowly up + the long, empty road, while the whitish clouds sailed across the dark + river of the sky and the moon slowly sank. This was the most delicious + part of all that long walk home, for the kiss had made them feel as though + they had no bodies, but were just two spirits walking side by side. This + is its curious effect sometimes in first love between the very young.... + </p> + <p> + Having sent Flora to bed, Felix was sitting up among his books. There was + no need to do this, for the young folk had latch-keys, but, having begun + the vigil, he went on with it, a volume about Eastern philosophies on his + knee, a bowl of narcissus blooms, giving forth unexpected whiffs of odor, + beside him. And he sank into a long reverie. + </p> + <p> + Could it be said—as was said in this Eastern book—that man's + life was really but a dream; could that be said with any more truth than + it had once been said, that he rose again in his body, to perpetual life? + Could anything be said with truth, save that we knew nothing? And was that + not really what had always been said by man—that we knew nothing, + but were just blown over and about the world like soughs of wind, in + obedience to some immortal, unknowable coherence! But had that want of + knowledge ever retarded what was known as the upward growth of man? Had it + ever stopped man from working, fighting, loving, dying like a hero if need + were? Had faith ever been anything but embroidery to an instinctive + heroism, so strong that it needed no such trappings? Had faith ever been + anything but anodyne, or gratification of the aesthetic sense? Or had it + really body and substance of its own? Was it something absolute and solid, + that he—Felix Freeland—had missed? Or again, was it, perhaps, + but the natural concomitant of youth, a naive effervescence with which + thought and brooding had to part? And, turning the page of his book, he + noticed that he could no longer see to read, the lamp had grown too dim, + and showed but a decorative glow in the bright moonlight flooding through + the study window. He got up and put another log on the fire, for these + last nights of May were chilly. + </p> + <p> + Nearly three! Where were these young people? Had he been asleep, and they + come in? Sure enough, in the hall Alan's hat and Sheila's cloak—the + dark-red one he had admired when she went forth—were lying on a + chair. But of the other two—nothing! He crept up-stairs. Their doors + were open. They certainly took their time—these young lovers. And + the same sore feeling which had attacked Felix when Nedda first told him + of her love came on him badly in that small of the night when his vitality + was lowest. All the hours she had spent clambering about him, or quietly + resting on his knee with her head tucked in just where his arm and + shoulder met, listening while he read or told her stories, and now and + again turning those clear eyes of hers wide open to his face, to see if he + meant it; the wilful little tugs of her hand when they two went exploring + the customs of birds, or bees, or flowers; all her 'Daddy, I love yous!' + and her rushes to the front door, and long hugs when he came back from a + travel; all those later crookings of her little finger in his, and the + times he had sat when she did not know it, watching her, and thinking: + 'That little creature, with all that's before her, is my very own daughter + to take care of, and share joy and sorrow with....' Each one of all these + seemed to come now and tweak at him, as the songs of blackbirds tweak the + heart of one who lies, unable to get out into the Spring. His lamp had + burned itself quite out; the moon was fallen below the clump of pines, and + away to the north-east something stirred in the stain and texture of the + sky. Felix opened the window. What peace out there! The chill, scentless + peace of night, waiting for dawn's renewal of warmth and youth. Through + that bay window facing north he could see on one side the town, still wan + with the light of its lamps, on the other the country, whose dark bloom + was graying fast. Suddenly a tiny bird twittered, and Felix saw his two + truants coming slowly from the gate across the grass, his arm round her + shoulders, hers round his waist. With their backs turned to him, they + passed the corner of the house, across where the garden sloped away. There + they stood above the wide country, their bodies outlined against a sky + fast growing light, evidently waiting for the sun to rise. Silent they + stood, while the birds, one by one, twittered out their first calls. And + suddenly Felix saw the boy fling his hand up into the air. The Sun! Far + away on the gray horizon was a flare of red! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII + </h2> + <p> + The anxieties of the Lady Mallorings of this life concerning the moral + welfare of their humbler neighbors are inclined to march in front of + events. The behavior in Tryst's cottage was more correct than it would + have been in nine out of ten middle or upper class demesnes under similar + conditions. Between the big laborer and 'that woman,' who, since the + epileptic fit, had again come into residence, there had passed nothing + whatever that might not have been witnessed by Biddy and her two + nurslings. For love is an emotion singularly dumb and undemonstrative in + those who live the life of the fields; passion a feeling severely beneath + the thumb of a propriety born of the age-long absence of excitants, + opportunities, and the aesthetic sense; and those two waited, almost as a + matter of course, for the marriage which was forbidden them in this + parish. The most they did was to sit and look at one another. + </p> + <p> + On the day of which Felix had seen the dawn at Hampstead, Sir Gerald's + agent tapped on the door of Tryst's cottage, and was answered by Biddy, + just in from school for the midday meal. + </p> + <p> + “Your father home, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir; Auntie's in.” + </p> + <p> + “Ask your auntie to come and speak to me.” + </p> + <p> + The mother-child vanished up the narrow stairs, and the agent sighed. A + strong-built, leathery-skinned man in a brown suit and leggings, with a + bristly little moustache and yellow whites to his eyes, he did not, as he + had said to his wife that morning, 'like the job a little bit.' And while + he stood there waiting, Susie and Billy emerged from the kitchen and came + to stare at him. The agent returned that stare till a voice behind him + said: “Yes, sir?” + </p> + <p> + 'That woman' was certainly no great shakes to look at: a fresh, decent, + faithful sort of body! And he said gruffly: “Mornin', miss. Sorry to say + my orders are to make a clearance here. I suppose Tryst didn't think we + should act on it, but I'm afraid I've got to put his things out, you know. + Now, where are you all going; that's the point?” + </p> + <p> + “I shall go home, I suppose; but Tryst and the children—we don't + know.” + </p> + <p> + The agent tapped his leggings with a riding-cane. “So you've been + expecting it!” he said with relief. “That's right.” And, staring down at + the mother-child, he added: “Well, what d'you say, my dear; you look full + of sense, you do!” + </p> + <p> + Biddy answered: “I'll go and tell Mr. Freeland, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! You're a bright maid. He'll know where to put you for the time bein'. + Have you had your dinner?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir; it's just ready.” + </p> + <p> + “Better have it—better have it first. No hurry. What've you got in + the pot that smells so good?” + </p> + <p> + “Bubble and squeak, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Bubble and squeak! Ah!” And with those words the agent withdrew to where, + in a farm wagon drawn up by the side of the road, three men were solemnly + pulling at their pipes. He moved away from them a little, for, as he + expressed it to his wife afterward: “Look bad, you know, look bad—anybody + seeing me! Those three little children—that's where it is! If our + friends at the Hall had to do these jobs for themselves, there wouldn't be + any to do!” + </p> + <p> + Presently, from his discreet distance, he saw the mother-child going down + the road toward Tod's, in her blue 'pinny' and corn-colored hair. Nice + little thing! Pretty little thing, too! Pity, great pity! And he went back + to the cottage. On his way a thought struck him so that he well-nigh + shivered. Suppose the little thing brought back that Mrs. Freeland, the + lady who always went about in blue, without a hat! Phew! Mr. Freeland—he + was another sort; a bit off, certainly—harmless, quite harmless! But + that lady! And he entered the cottage. The woman was washing up; seemed a + sensible body. When the two kids cleared off to school he could go to work + and get it over; the sooner the better, before people came hanging round. + A job of this kind sometimes made nasty blood! His yellowish eyes took in + the nature of the task before him. Funny jam-up they did get about them, + to be sure! Every blessed little thing they'd ever bought, and more, too! + Have to take precious good care nothing got smashed, or the law would be + on the other leg! And he said to the woman: + </p> + <p> + “Now, miss, can I begin?” + </p> + <p> + “I can't stop you, sir.” + </p> + <p> + 'No,' he thought, 'you can't stop me, and I blamed well wish you could!' + But he said: “Got an old wagon out here. Thought I'd save him damage by + weather or anything; we'll put everything in that, and run it up into the + empty barn at Marrow and leave it. And there they'll be for him when he + wants 'em.” + </p> + <p> + The woman answered: “You're very kind, I'm sure.” + </p> + <p> + Perceiving that she meant no irony, the agent produced a sound from + somewhere deep and went out to summon his men. + </p> + <p> + With the best intentions, however, it is not possible, even in villages so + scattered that they cannot be said to exist, to do anything without every + one's knowing; and the work of 'putting out' the household goods of the + Tryst family, and placing them within the wagon, was not an hour in + progress before the road in front of the cottage contained its knot of + watchers. Old Gaunt first, alone—for the rogue-girl had gone to Mr. + Cuthcott's and Tom Gaunt was at work. The old man had seen evictions in + his time, and looked on silently, with a faint, sardonic grin. Four + children, so small that not even school had any use for them as yet, soon + gathered round his legs, followed by mothers coming to retrieve them, and + there was no longer silence. Then came two laborers, on their way to a + job, a stone-breaker, and two more women. It was through this little + throng that the mother-child and Kirsteen passed into the + fast-being-gutted cottage. + </p> + <p> + The agent was standing by Tryst's bed, keeping up a stream of comment to + two of his men, who were taking that aged bed to pieces. It was his habit + to feel less when he talked more; but no one could have fallen into a more + perfect taciturnity than he when he saw Kirsteen coming up those narrow + stairs. In so small a space as this room, where his head nearly touched + the ceiling, was it fair to be confronted by that lady—he put it to + his wife that same evening—“Was it fair?” He had seen a mother wild + duck look like that when you took away its young—snaky fierce about + the neck, and its dark eye! He had seen a mare, going to bite, look not + half so vicious! “There she stood, and—let me have it?—not a + bit! Too much the lady for that, you know!—Just looked at me, and + said very quiet: 'Ah! Mr. Simmons, and are you really doing this?' and put + her hand on that little girl of his. 'Orders are orders, ma'am!' What + could I say? 'Ah!' she said, 'yes, orders are orders, but they needn't be + obeyed.' 'As to that, ma'am,' I said—mind you, she's a lady; you + can't help feeling that 'I'm a working man, the same as Tryst here; got to + earn my living.' 'So have slave-drivers, Mr. Simmons.' 'Every profession,' + I said, 'has got its dirty jobs, ma'am. And that's a fact.' 'And will + have,' she said, 'so long as professional men consent to do the dirty work + of their employers.' 'And where should I be, I should like to know,' I + said, 'if I went on that lay? I've got to take the rough with the smooth.' + 'Well,' she said, 'Mr. Freeland and I will take Tryst and the little ones + in at present.' Good-hearted people, do a lot for the laborers, in their + way. All the same, she's a bit of a vixen. Picture of a woman, too, + standin' there; shows blood, mind you! Once said, all over—no + nagging. She took the little girl off with her. And pretty small I felt, + knowing I'd got to finish that job, and the folk outside gettin' nastier + all the time—not sayin' much, of course, but lookin' a lot!” The + agent paused in his recital and gazed fixedly at a bluebottle crawling up + the windowpane. Stretching out his thumb and finger, he nipped it suddenly + and threw it in the grate. “Blest if that fellow himself didn't turn up + just as I was finishing. I was sorry for the man, you know. There was his + home turned out-o'-doors. Big man, too! 'You blanky-blank!' he says; 'if + I'd been here you shouldn't ha' done this!' Thought he was goin' to hit + me. 'Come, Tryst!' I said, 'it's not my doing, you know!' 'Ah!' he said, + 'I know that; and it'll be blanky well the worse for THEM!' Rough tongue; + no class of man at all, he is! 'Yes,' he said, 'let 'em look out; I'll be + even with 'em yet!' 'None o' that!' I told him; 'you know which side the + law's buttered. I'm making it easy for you, too, keeping your things in + the wagon, ready to shift any time!' He gave me a look—he's got very + queer eyes, swimmin', sad sort of eyes, like a man in liquor—and he + said: 'I've been here twenty years,' he said. 'My wife died here.' And all + of a sudden he went as dumb as a fish. Never let his eyes off us, though, + while we finished up the last of it; made me feel funny, seein' him + glowering like that all the time. He'll savage something over this, you + mark my words!” Again the agent paused, and remained as though transfixed, + holding that face of his, whose yellow had run into the whites of the + eyes, as still as wood. “He's got some feeling for the place, I suppose,” + he said suddenly; “or maybe they've put it into him about his rights; + there's plenty of 'em like that. Well, anyhow, nobody likes his private + affairs turned inside out for every one to gape at. I wouldn't myself.” + And with that deeply felt remark the agent put out his leathery-yellow + thumb and finger and nipped a second bluebottle.... + </p> + <p> + While the agent was thus recounting to his wife the day's doings, the + evicted Tryst sat on the end of his bed in a ground-floor room of Tod's + cottage. He had taken off his heavy boots, and his feet, in their thick, + soiled socks, were thrust into a pair of Tod's carpet slippers. He sat + without moving, precisely as if some one had struck him a blow in the + centre of the forehead, and over and over again he turned the heavy + thought: 'They've turned me out o' there—I done nothing, and they + turned me out o' there! Blast them—they turned me out o' there!'... + </p> + <p> + In the orchard Tod sat with a grave and puzzled face, surrounded by the + three little Trysts. And at the wicket gate Kirsteen, awaiting the arrival + of Derek and Sheila—summoned home by telegram—stood in the + evening glow, her blue-clad figure still as that of any worshipper at the + muezzin-call. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX + </h2> + <p> + “A fire, causing the destruction of several ricks and an empty cowshed, + occurred in the early morning of Thursday on the home farm of Sir Gerald + Malloring's estate in Worcestershire. Grave suspicions of arson are + entertained, but up to the present no arrest has been made. The + authorities are in doubt whether the occurrence has any relation with + recent similar outbreaks in the eastern counties.” + </p> + <p> + So Stanley read at breakfast, in his favorite paper; and the little leader + thereon: + </p> + <p> + “The outbreak of fire on Sir Gerald Malloring's Worcestershire property + may or may not have any significance as a symptom of agrarian unrest. We + shall watch the upshot with some anxiety. Certain it is that unless the + authorities are prepared to deal sharply with arson, or other cases of + deliberate damage to the property of landlords, we may bid good-by to any + hope of ameliorating the lot of the laborer” + </p> + <p> + —and so on. + </p> + <p> + If Stanley had risen and paced the room there would have been a good deal + to be said for him; for, though he did not know as much as Felix of the + nature and sentiments of Tod's children, he knew enough to make any but an + Englishman uneasy. The fact that he went on eating ham, and said to Clara, + “Half a cup!” was proof positive of that mysterious quality called phlegm + which had long enabled his country to enjoy the peace of a weedy + duck-pond. + </p> + <p> + Stanley, a man of some intelligence—witness his grasp of the secret + of successful plough-making (none for the home market!)—had often + considered this important proposition of phlegm. People said England was + becoming degenerate and hysterical, growing soft, and nervous, and towny, + and all the rest of it. In his view there was a good deal of bosh about + that! “Look,” he would say, “at the weight that chauffeurs put on! Look at + the House of Commons, and the size of the upper classes!” If there were + growing up little shrill types of working men and Socialists, and new + women, and half-penny papers, and a rather larger crop of professors and + long-haired chaps—all the better for the rest of the country! The + flesh all these skimpy ones had lost, solid people had put on. The country + might be suffering a bit from officialism, and the tendency of modern + thought, but the breed was not changing. John Bull was there all right + under his moustache. Take it off and clap on little side-whiskers, and you + had as many Bulls as you liked, any day. There would be no social upheaval + so long as the climate was what it was! And with this simple formula, and + a kind of very deep-down throaty chuckle, he would pass to a subject of + more immediate importance. There was something, indeed, rather masterly in + his grasp of the fact that rain might be trusted to put out any fire—give + it time. And he kept a special vessel in a special corner which recorded + for him faithfully the number of inches that fell; and now and again he + wrote to his paper to say that there were more inches in his vessel than + there had been “for thirty years.” His conviction that the country was in + a bad way was nothing but a skin affection, causing him local irritation + rather than affecting the deeper organs of his substantial body. + </p> + <p> + He did not readily confide in Clara concerning his own family, having in a + marked degree the truly domestic quality of thinking it superior to his + wife's. She had been a Tomson, not one of THE Tomsons, and it was quite a + question whether he or she were trying to forget that fact the faster. But + he did say to her as he was getting into the car: + </p> + <p> + “It's just possible I might go round by Tod's on my way home. I want a + run.” + </p> + <p> + She answered: “Be careful what you say to that woman. I don't want her + here by any chance. The young ones were quite bad enough.” + </p> + <p> + And when he had put in his day at the works he did turn the nose of his + car toward Tod's. Travelling along grass-bordered roads, the beauty of + this England struck his not too sensitive spirit and made him almost gasp. + It was that moment of the year when the countryside seems to faint from + its own loveliness, from the intoxication of its scents and sounds. + Creamy-white may, splashed here and there with crimson, flooded the hedges + in breaking waves of flower-foam; the fields were all buttercup glory; + every tree had its cuckoo, calling; every bush its blackbird or thrush in + full even-song. Swallows were flying rather low, and the sky, whose moods + they watch, had the slumberous, surcharged beauty of a long, fine day, + with showers not far away. Some orchards were still in blossom, and the + great wild bees, hunting over flowers and grasses warm to their touch, + kept the air deeply murmurous. Movement, light, color, song, scent, the + warm air, and the fluttering leaves were confused, till one had almost + become the other. + </p> + <p> + And Stanley thought, for he was not rhapsodic 'Wonderful pretty country! + The way everything's looked after—you never see it abroad!' + </p> + <p> + But the car, a creature with little patience for natural beauty, had + brought him to the crossroads and stood, panting slightly, under the + cliff-bank whereon grew Tod's cottage, so loaded now with lilac, wistaria, + and roses that from the road nothing but a peak or two of the thatched + roof could be seen. + </p> + <p> + Stanley was distinctly nervous. It was not a weakness his face and figure + were very capable of showing, but he felt that dryness of mouth and + quivering of chest which precede adventures of the soul. Advancing up the + steps and pebbled path, which Clara had trodden once, just nineteen years + ago, and he himself but three times as yet in all, he cleared his throat + and said to himself: 'Easy, old man! What is it, after all? She won't + bite!' And in the very doorway he came upon her. + </p> + <p> + What there was about this woman to produce in a man of common sense such + peculiar sensations, he no more knew after seeing her than before. Felix, + on returning from his visit, had said, “She's like a Song of the Hebrides + sung in the middle of a programme of English ballads.” The remark, as any + literary man's might, had conveyed nothing to Stanley, and that in a + far-fetched way. Still, when she said: “Will you come in?” he felt heavier + and thicker than he had ever remembered feeling; as a glass of stout might + feel coming across a glass of claret. It was, perhaps, the gaze of her + eyes, whose color he could not determine, under eyebrows that waved in the + middle and twitched faintly, or a dress that was blue, with the queerest + effect of another color at the back of it, or perhaps the feeling of a + torrent flowing there under a coat of ice, that might give way in little + holes, so that your leg went in but not the whole of you. Something, + anyway, made him feel both small and heavy—that awkward combination + for a man accustomed to associate himself with cheerful but solid dignity. + In seating himself by request at a table, in what seemed to be a sort of + kitchen, he experienced a singular sensation in the legs, and heard her + say, as it might be to the air: + </p> + <p> + “Biddy, dear, take Susie and Billy out.” + </p> + <p> + And thereupon a little girl with a sad and motherly face came crawling out + from underneath the table, and dropped him a little courtesy. Then another + still smaller girl came out, and a very small boy, staring with all his + eyes. + </p> + <p> + All these things were against Stanley, and he felt that if he did not make + it quite clear that he was there he would soon not know where he was. + </p> + <p> + “I came,” he said, “to talk about this business up at Malloring's.” And, + encouraged by having begun, he added: “Whose kids were those?” + </p> + <p> + A level voice with a faint lisp answered him: + </p> + <p> + “They belong to a man called Tryst; he was turned out of his cottage on + Wednesday because his dead wife's sister was staying with him, so we've + taken them in. Did you notice the look on the face of the eldest?” + </p> + <p> + Stanley nodded. In truth, he had noticed something, though what he could + not have said. + </p> + <p> + “At nine years old she has to do the housework and be a mother to the + other two, besides going to school. This is all because Lady Malloring has + conscientious scruples about marriage with a deceased wife's sister.” + </p> + <p> + 'Certainly'—thought Stanley—'that does sound a bit thick!' And + he asked: + </p> + <p> + “Is the woman here, too?” + </p> + <p> + “No, she's gone home for the present.” + </p> + <p> + He felt relief. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose Malloring's point is,” he said, “whether or not you're to do + what you like with your own property. For instance, if you had let this + cottage to some one you thought was harming the neighborhood, wouldn't you + terminate his tenancy?” + </p> + <p> + She answered, still in that level voice: + </p> + <p> + “Her action is cowardly, narrow, and tyrannical, and no amount of + sophistry will make me think differently.” + </p> + <p> + Stanley felt precisely as if one of his feet had gone through the ice into + water so cold that it seemed burning hot! Sophistry! In a plain man like + himself! He had always connected the word with Felix. He looked at her, + realizing suddenly that the association of his brother's family with the + outrage on Malloring's estate was probably even nearer than he had feared. + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Kirsteen!” he said, uttering the unlikely name with + resolution, for, after all, she was his sister-in-law: “Did this fellow + set fire to Malloring's ricks?” + </p> + <p> + He was aware of a queer flash, a quiver, a something all over her face, + which passed at once back to its intent gravity. + </p> + <p> + “We have no reason to suppose so. But tyranny produces revenge, as you + know.” + </p> + <p> + Stanley shrugged his shoulders. “It's not my business to go into the + rights and wrongs of what's been done. But, as a man of the world and a + relative, I do ask you to look after your youngsters and see they don't + get into a mess. They're an inflammable young couple—young blood, + you know!” + </p> + <p> + Having made this speech, Stanley looked down, with a feeling that it would + give her more chance. + </p> + <p> + “You are very kind,” he heard her saying in that quiet, faintly lisping + voice; “but there are certain principles involved.” + </p> + <p> + And, suddenly, his curious fear of this woman took shape. Principles! He + had unconsciously been waiting for that word, than which none was more + like a red rag to him. + </p> + <p> + “What principles can possibly be involved in going against the law?” + </p> + <p> + “And where the law is unjust?” + </p> + <p> + Stanley was startled, but he said: “Remember that your principles, as you + call them, may hurt other people besides yourself; Tod and your children + most of all. How is the law unjust, may I ask?” + </p> + <p> + She had been sitting at the table opposite, but she got up now and went to + the hearth. For a woman of forty-two—as he supposed she would be—she + was extraordinarily lithe, and her eyes, fixed on him from under those + twitching, wavy brows, had a curious glow in their darkness. The few + silver threads in the mass of her over-fine black hair seemed to give it + extra vitality. The whole of her had a sort of intensity that made him + profoundly uncomfortable. And he thought suddenly: 'Poor old Tod! Fancy + having to go to bed with that woman!' + </p> + <p> + Without raising her voice, she began answering his question. + </p> + <p> + “These poor people have no means of setting law in motion, no means of + choosing where and how they will live, no means of doing anything except + just what they are told; the Mallorings have the means to set the law in + motion, to choose where and how to live, and to dictate to others. That is + why the law is unjust. With every independent pound a year, this equal law + of yours—varies!” + </p> + <p> + “Phew!” said Stanley. “That's a proposition!” + </p> + <p> + “I give you a simple case. If I had chosen not to marry Tod but to live + with him in free love, we could have done it without inconvenience. We + have some independent income; we could have afforded to disregard what + people thought or did. We could have bought (as we did buy) our piece of + land and our cottage, out of which we could not have been turned. Since we + don't care for society, it would have made absolutely no difference to our + present position. But Tryst, who does not even want to defy the law—what + happens to him? What happens to hundreds of laborers all over the country + who venture to differ in politics, religion, or morals from those who own + them?” + </p> + <p> + 'By George!' thought Stanley, 'it's true, in a way; I never looked at it + quite like that.' But the feeling that he had come to persuade her to be + reasonable, and the deeply rooted Englishry of him, conspired to make him + say: + </p> + <p> + “That's all very well; but, you see, it's only a necessary incident of + property-holding. You can't interfere with plain rights.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean—an evil inherent in property-holding?” + </p> + <p> + “If you like; I don't split words. The lesser of two evils. What's your + remedy? You don't want to abolish property; you've confessed that property + gives YOU your independence!” + </p> + <p> + Again that curious quiver and flash! + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but if people haven't decency enough to see for themselves how the + law favors their independence, they must be shown that it doesn't pay to + do to others as they would hate to be done by.” + </p> + <p> + “And you wouldn't try reasoning?” + </p> + <p> + “They are not amenable to reason.” + </p> + <p> + Stanley took up his hat. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I think some of us are. I see your point; but, you know, violence + never did any good; it isn't—isn't English.” + </p> + <p> + She did not answer. And, nonplussed thereby, he added lamely: “I should + have liked to have seen Tod and your youngsters. Remember me to them. + Clara sent her regards;” and, looking round the room in a rather lost way, + he held out his hand. + </p> + <p> + He had an impression of something warm and dry put into it, with even a + little pressure. + </p> + <p> + Back in the car, he said to his chauffeur, “Go home the other way, Batter, + past the church.” + </p> + <p> + The vision of that kitchen, with its brick floor, its black oak beams, + bright copper pans, the flowers on the window-sill, the great, open + hearth, and the figure of that woman in her blue dress standing before it, + with her foot poised on a log, clung to his mind's eye with curious + fidelity. And those three kids, popping out like that—proof that the + whole thing was not a rather bad dream! 'Queer business!' he thought; 'bad + business! That woman's uncommonly all there, though. Lot in what she said, + too. Where the deuce should we all be if there were many like her!' And + suddenly he noticed, in a field to the right, a number of men coming along + the hedge toward the road—evidently laborers. What were they doing? + He stopped the car. There were fifteen or twenty of them, and back in the + field he could see a girl's red blouse, where a little group of four still + lingered. 'By George!' he thought, 'those must be the young Tods going + it!' And, curious to see what it might mean, Stanley fixed his attention + on the gate through which the men were bound to come. First emerged a + fellow in corduroys tied below the knee, with long brown moustaches + decorating a face that, for all its haggardness, had a jovial look. Next + came a sturdy little red-faced, bow-legged man in shirt-sleeves rolled up, + walking alongside a big, dark fellow with a cap pushed up on his head, who + had evidently just made a joke. Then came two old men, one of whom was + limping, and three striplings. Another big man came along next, in a + little clearance, as it were, between main groups. He walked heavily, and + looked up lowering at the car. The fellow's eyes were queer, and + threatening, and sad—giving Stanley a feeling of discomfort. Then + came a short, square man with an impudent, loquacious face and a bit of + swagger in his walk. He, too, looked up at Stanley and made some remark + which caused two thin-faced fellows with him to grin sheepishly. A spare + old man, limping heavily, with a yellow face and drooping gray moustaches, + walked next, alongside a warped, bent fellow, with yellowish hair all over + his face, whose expression struck Stanley as half-idiotic. Then two more + striplings of seventeen or so, whittling at bits of sticks; an active, + clean-shorn chap with drawn-in cheeks; and, last of all, a small man by + himself, without a cap on a round head covered with thin, light hair, + moving at a 'dot-here, dot-there' walk, as though he had beasts to drive. + </p> + <p> + Stanley noted that all—save the big man with the threatening, sad + eyes, the old, yellow-faced man with a limp, and the little man who came + out last, lost in his imaginary beasts—looked at the car furtively + as they went their ways. And Stanley thought: 'English peasant! Poor + devil! Who is he? What is he? Who'd miss him if he did die out? What's the + use of all this fuss about him? He's done for! Glad I've nothing to do + with him at Becket, anyway! “Back to the land!” “Independent peasantry!” + Not much! Shan't say that to Clara, though; knock the bottom out of her + week-ends!' And to his chauffeur he muttered: + </p> + <p> + “Get on, Batter!” + </p> + <p> + So, through the peace of that country, all laid down in grass, through the + dignity and loveliness of trees and meadows, this May evening, with the + birds singing under a sky surcharged with warmth and color, he sped home + to dinner. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX + </h2> + <p> + But next morning, turning on his back as it came dawn, Stanley thought, + with the curious intensity which in those small hours so soon becomes + fear: 'By Jove! I don't trust that woman a yard! I shall wire for Felix!' + And the longer he lay on his back, the more the conviction bored a hole in + him. There was a kind of fever in the air nowadays, that women seemed to + catch, as children caught the measles. What did it all mean? England used + to be a place to live in. One would have thought an old country like this + would have got through its infantile diseases! Hysteria! No one gave in to + that. Still, one must look out! Arson was about the limit! And Stanley had + a vision, suddenly, of his plough-works in flames. Why not? The ploughs + were not for the English market. Who knew whether these laboring fellows + mightn't take that as a grievance, if trouble began to spread? This + somewhat far-fetched notion, having started to burrow, threw up a really + horrid mole-hill on Stanley. And it was only the habit, in the human mind, + of saying suddenly to fears: Stop! I'm tired of you! that sent him to + sleep about half past four. + </p> + <p> + He did not, however, neglect to wire to Felix: + </p> + <p> + “If at all possible, come down again at once; awkward business at + Joyfields.” + </p> + <p> + Nor, on the charitable pretext of employing two old fellows past ordinary + work, did he omit to treble his night-watchman.... + </p> + <p> + On Wednesday, the day of which he had seen the dawn rise, Felix had + already been startled, on returning from his constitutional, to discover + his niece and nephew in the act of departure. All the explanation + vouchsafed had been: “Awfully sorry, Uncle Felix; Mother's wired for us.” + Save for the general uneasiness which attended on all actions of that + woman, Felix would have felt relieved at their going. They had disturbed + his life, slipped between him and Nedda! So much so that he did not even + expect her to come and tell him why they had gone, nor feel inclined to + ask her. So little breaks the fine coherence of really tender ties! The + deeper the quality of affection, the more it 'starts and puffs,' and from + sheer sensitive feeling, each for the other, spares attempt to get back + into touch! + </p> + <p> + His paper—though he did not apply to it the word 'favorite,' having + that proper literary feeling toward all newspapers, that they took him in + rather than he them—gave him on Friday morning precisely the same + news, of the rick-burning, as it gave to Stanley at breakfast and to John + on his way to the Home Office. To John, less in the know, it merely + brought a knitting of the brow and a vague attempt to recollect the + numbers of the Worcestershire constabulary. To Felix it brought a feeling + of sickness. Men whose work in life demands that they shall daily whip + their nerves, run, as a rule, a little in advance of everything. And + goodness knows what he did not see at that moment. He said no word to + Nedda, but debated with himself and Flora what, if anything, was to be + done. Flora, whose sense of humor seldom deserted her, held the more + comfortable theory that there was nothing to be done as yet. Soon enough + to cry when milk was spilled! He did not agree, but, unable to suggest a + better course, followed her advice. On Saturday, however, receiving + Stanley's wire, he had much difficulty in not saying to her, “I told you + so!” The question that agitated him now was whether or not to take Nedda + with him. Flora said: “Yes. The child will be the best restraining + influence, if there is really trouble brewing!” Some feeling fought + against this in Felix, but, suspecting it to be mere jealousy, he decided + to take her. And, to the girl's rather puzzled delight, they arrived at + Becket that day in time for dinner. It was not too reassuring to find John + there, too. Stanley had also wired to him. The matter must indeed be + serious! + </p> + <p> + The usual week-end was in progress. Clara had made one of her greatest + efforts. A Bulgarian had providentially written a book in which he showed, + beyond doubt, that persons fed on brown bread, potatoes, and margarine, + gave the most satisfactory results of all. It was a discovery of the first + value as a topic for her dinner-table—seeming to solve the whole + vexed problem of the laborers almost at one stroke. If they could only be + got to feed themselves on this perfect programme, what a saving of the + situation! On those three edibles, the Bulgarian said—and he had + been well translated—a family of five could be maintained at full + efficiency for a shilling per day. Why! that would leave nearly eight + shillings a week, in many cases more, for rent, firing, insurance, the + man's tobacco, and the children's boots. There would be no more of that + terrible pinching by the mothers, to feed the husband and children + properly, of which one heard so much; no more lamentable deterioration in + our stock! Brown bread, potatoes, margarine—quite a great deal could + be provided for seven shillings! And what was more delicious than a + well-baked potato with margarine of good quality? The carbohydrates—or + was it hybocardrates—ah, yes! the kybohardrates—would be + present in really sufficient quantity! Little else was talked of all + through dinner at her end of the table. Above the flowers which Frances + Freeland always insisted on arranging—and very charmingly—when + she was there—over bare shoulders and white shirt-fronts, those + words bombed and rebombed. Brown bread, potatoes, margarine, + carbohydrates, calorific! They mingled with the creaming sizzle of + champagne, with the soft murmur of well-bred deglutition. White bosoms + heaved and eyebrows rose at them. And now and again some Bigwig versed in + science murmured the word 'Fats.' An agricultural population fed to the + point of efficiency without disturbance of the existing state of things! + Eureka! If only into the bargain they could be induced to bake their own + brown bread and cook their potatoes well! Faces flushed, eyes brightened, + and teeth shone. It was the best, the most stimulating, dinner ever + swallowed in that room. Nor was it until each male guest had eaten, drunk, + and talked himself into torpor suitable to the company of his wife, that + the three brothers could sit in the smoking-room together, undisturbed. + </p> + <p> + When Stanley had described his interview with 'that woman,' his glimpse of + the red blouse, and the laborers' meeting, there was a silence before John + said: + </p> + <p> + “It might be as well if Tod would send his two youngsters abroad for a + bit.” + </p> + <p> + Felix shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I don't think he would, and I don't think they'd go. But we might try to + get those two to see that anything the poor devils of laborers do is bound + to recoil on themselves, fourfold. I suppose,” he added, with sudden + malice, “a laborers' rising would have no chance?” + </p> + <p> + Neither John nor Stanley winced. + </p> + <p> + “Rising? Why should they rise?” + </p> + <p> + “They did in '32.” + </p> + <p> + “In '32!” repeated John. “Agriculture had its importance then. Now it has + none. Besides, they've no cohesion, no power, like the miners or railway + men. Rising? No chance, no earthly! Weight of metal's dead against it.” + </p> + <p> + Felix smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Money and guns! Guns and money! Confess with me, brethren, that we're + glad of metal.” + </p> + <p> + John stared and Stanley drank off his whiskey and potash. Felix really was + a bit 'too thick' sometimes. Then Stanley said: + </p> + <p> + “Wonder what Tod thinks of it all. Will you go over, Felix, and advise + that our young friends be more considerate to these poor beggars?” + </p> + <p> + Felix nodded. And with 'Good night, old man' all round, and no shaking of + the hands, the three brothers dispersed. + </p> + <p> + But behind Felix, as he opened his bedroom door, a voice whispered: + </p> + <p> + “Dad!” And there, in the doorway of the adjoining room, was Nedda in her + dressing-gown. + </p> + <p> + “Do come in for a minute. I've been waiting up. You ARE late.” + </p> + <p> + Felix followed her into her room. The pleasure he would once have had in + this midnight conspiracy was superseded now, and he stood blinking at her + gravely. In that blue gown, with her dark hair falling on its lace collar + and her face so round and childish, she seemed more than ever to have + defrauded him. Hooking her arm in his, she drew him to the window; and + Felix thought: 'She just wants to talk to me about Derek. Dog in the + manger that I am! Here goes to be decent!' So he said: + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + Nedda pressed his hand with a little coaxing squeeze. + </p> + <p> + “Daddy, darling, I do love you!” + </p> + <p> + And, though Felix knew that she had grasped what he was feeling, a sort of + warmth spread in him. She had begun counting his fingers with one of her + own, sitting close beside him. The warmth in Felix deepened, but he + thought: 'She must want a good deal out of me!' Then she began: + </p> + <p> + “Why did we come down again? I know there's something wrong! It's hard not + to know, when you're anxious.” And she sighed. That little sigh affected + Felix. + </p> + <p> + “I'd always rather know the truth, Dad. Aunt Clara said something about a + fire at the Mallorings'.” + </p> + <p> + Felix stole a look at her. Yes! There was a lot in this child of his! + Depth, warmth, and strength to hold to things. No use to treat her as a + child! And he answered: + </p> + <p> + “My dear, there's really nothing beyond what you know—our young man + and Sheila are hotheads, and things over there are working up a bit. We + must try and smooth them down.” + </p> + <p> + “Dad, ought I to back him whatever he does?” + </p> + <p> + What a question! The more so that one cannot answer superficially the + questions of those whom one loves. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” he said at last. “I don't know yet. Some things it's not your duty + to do; that's certain. It can't be right to do things simply because he + does them—THAT'S not real—however fond one is.” + </p> + <p> + “No; I feel that. Only, it's so hard to know what I do really think—there's + always such a lot trying to make one feel that only what's nice and cosey + is right!” + </p> + <p> + And Felix thought: 'I've been brought up to believe that only Russian + girls care for truth. It seems I was wrong. The saints forbid I should be + a stumbling-block to my own daughter searching for it! And yet—where's + it all leading? Is this the same child that told me only the other night + she wanted to know everything? She's a woman now! So much for love!' And + he said: + </p> + <p> + “Let's go forward quietly, without expecting too much of ourselves.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Dad; only I distrust myself so.” + </p> + <p> + “No one ever got near the truth who didn't.” + </p> + <p> + “Can we go over to Joyfields to-morrow? I don't think I could bear a whole + day of Bigwigs and eating, with this hanging—” + </p> + <p> + “Poor Bigwigs! All right! We'll go. And now, bed; and think of nothing!” + </p> + <p> + Her whisper tickled his ear: + </p> + <p> + “You are a darling to me, Dad!” + </p> + <p> + He went out comforted. + </p> + <p> + And for some time after she had forgotten everything he leaned out of his + window, smoking cigarettes, and trying to see the body and soul of night. + How quiet she was—night, with her mystery, bereft of moon, in whose + darkness seemed to vibrate still the song of the cuckoos that had been + calling so all day! And whisperings of leaves communed with Felix. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI + </h2> + <p> + What Tod thought of all this was, perhaps, as much of an enigma to Tod as + to his three brothers, and never more so than on that Sunday morning when + two police constables appeared at his door with a warrant for the arrest + of Tryst. After regarding them fixedly for full thirty seconds, he said, + “Wait!” and left them in the doorway. + </p> + <p> + Kirsteen was washing breakfast things which had a leadless glaze, and + Tryst's three children, extremely tidy, stood motionless at the edge of + the little scullery, watching. + </p> + <p> + When she had joined him in the kitchen Tod shut the door. + </p> + <p> + “Two policemen,” he said, “want Tryst. Are they to have him?” + </p> + <p> + In the life together of these two there had, from the very start, been a + queer understanding as to who should decide what. It had become by now so + much a matter of instinct that combative consultations, which bulk so + large in married lives, had no place in theirs. A frowning tremor passed + over her face. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose they must. Derek is out. Leave it to me, Tod, and take the + tinies into the orchard.” + </p> + <p> + Tod took the three little Trysts to the very spot where Derek and Nedda + had gazed over the darkening fields in exchanging that first kiss, and, + sitting on the stump of the apple-tree he had cut down, he presented each + of them with an apple. While they ate, he stared. And his dog stared at + him. How far there worked in Tod the feelings of an ordinary man watching + three small children whose only parent the law was just taking into its + charge it would be rash to say, but his eyes were extremely blue and there + was a frown between them. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Biddy?” he said at last. + </p> + <p> + Biddy did not reply; the habit of being a mother had imposed on her, + together with the gravity of her little, pale, oval face, a peculiar + talent for silence. But the round-cheeked Susie said: + </p> + <p> + “Billy can eat cores.” + </p> + <p> + After this statement, silence was broken only by munching, till Tod + remarked: + </p> + <p> + “What makes things?” + </p> + <p> + The children, having the instinct that he had not asked them, but himself, + came closer. He had in his hand a little beetle. + </p> + <p> + “This beetle lives in rotten wood; nice chap, isn't he?” + </p> + <p> + “We kill beetles; we're afraid of them.” So Susie. + </p> + <p> + They were now round Tod so close that Billy was standing on one of his + large feet, Susie leaning her elbows on one of his broad knees, and + Biddy's slender little body pressed against his huge arm. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Tod; “beetles are nice chaps.” + </p> + <p> + “The birds eats them,” remarked Billy. + </p> + <p> + “This beetle,” said Tod, “eats wood. It eats through trees and the trees + get rotten.” + </p> + <p> + Biddy spoke: + </p> + <p> + “Then they don't give no more apples.” Tod put the beetle down and Billy + got off his foot to tread on it. When he had done his best the beetle + emerged and vanished in the grass. Tod, who had offered no remonstrance, + stretched out his hand and replaced Billy on his foot. + </p> + <p> + “What about my treading on you, Billy?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm big and you're little.” + </p> + <p> + On Billy's square face came a puzzled defiance. If he had not been early + taught his station he would evidently have found some poignant retort. An + intoxicated humblebee broke the silence by buzzing into Biddy's + fluffed-out, corn-gold hair. Tod took it off with his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Lovely chap, isn't he?” + </p> + <p> + The children, who had recoiled, drew close again, while the drunken bee + crawled feebly in the cage of Tod's large hand. + </p> + <p> + “Bees sting,” said Biddy; “I fell on a bee and it stang me!” + </p> + <p> + “You stang it first,” said Tod. “This chap wouldn't sting—not for + worlds. Stroke it!” + </p> + <p> + Biddy put out her little, pale finger but stayed it a couple of inches + from the bee. + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” said Tod. + </p> + <p> + Opening her mouth a little, Biddy went on and touched the bee. + </p> + <p> + “It's soft,” she said. “Why don't it buzz?” + </p> + <p> + “I want to stroke it, too,” said Susie. And Billy stamped a little on + Tod's foot. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Tod; “only Biddy.” + </p> + <p> + There was perfect silence till the dog, rising, approached its nose, black + with a splash of pinky whiteness on the end of the bridge, as if to love + the bee. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Tod. The dog looked at him, and his yellow-brown eyes were dark + with anxiety. + </p> + <p> + “It'll sting the dog's nose,” said Biddy, and Susie and Billy came yet + closer. + </p> + <p> + It was at this moment, when the heads of the dog, the bee, Tod, Biddy, + Susie, and Billy might have been contained within a noose three feet in + diameter, that Felix dismounted from Stanley's car and, coming from the + cottage, caught sight of that little idyll under the dappled sunlight, + green, and blossom. It was something from the core of life, out of the + heartbeat of things—like a rare picture or song, the revelation of + the childlike wonder and delight, to which all other things are but the + supernumerary casings—a little pool of simplicity into which fever + and yearning sank and were for a moment drowned. And quite possibly he + would have gone away without disturbing them if the dog had not growled + and wagged his tail. + </p> + <p> + But when the children had been sent down into the field he experienced the + usual difficulty in commencing a talk with Tod. How far was his big + brother within reach of mere unphilosophic statements; how far was he + going to attend to facts? + </p> + <p> + “We came back yesterday,” he began; “Nedda and I. You know all about Derek + and Nedda, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + Tod nodded. + </p> + <p> + “What do you think of it?” + </p> + <p> + “He's a good chap.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” murmured Felix, “but a firebrand. This business at Malloring's—what's + it going to lead to, Tod? We must look out, old man. Couldn't you send + Derek and Sheila abroad for a bit?” + </p> + <p> + “Wouldn't go.” + </p> + <p> + “But, after all, they're dependent on you.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't say that to them; I should never see them again.” + </p> + <p> + Felix, who felt the instinctive wisdom of that remark, answered + helplessly: + </p> + <p> + “What's to be done, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Sit tight.” And Tod's hand came down on Felix's shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “But suppose they get into real trouble? Stanley and John don't like it; + and there's Mother.” And Felix added, with sudden heat, “Besides, I can't + stand Nedda being made anxious like this.” + </p> + <p> + Tod removed his hand. Felix would have given a good deal to have been able + to see into the brain behind the frowning stare of those blue eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Can't help by worrying. What must be, will. Look at the birds!” + </p> + <p> + The remark from any other man would have irritated Felix profoundly; + coming from Tod, it seemed the unconscious expression of a really felt + philosophy. And, after all, was he not right? What was this life they all + lived but a ceaseless worrying over what was to come? Was not all man's + unhappiness caused by nervous anticipations of the future? Was not that + the disease, and the misfortune, of the age; perhaps of all the countless + ages man had lived through? + </p> + <p> + With an effort he recalled his thoughts from that far flight. What if Tod + had rediscovered the secret of the happiness that belonged to birds and + lilies of the field—such overpowering interest in the moment that + the future did not exist? Why not? Were not the only minutes when he + himself was really happy those when he lost himself in work, or love? And + why were they so few? For want of pressure to the square moment. Yes! All + unhappiness was fear and lack of vitality to live the present fully. That + was why love and fighting were such poignant ecstasies—they lived + their present to the full. And so it would be almost comic to say to those + young people: Go away; do nothing in this matter in which your interest + and your feelings are concerned! Don't have a present, because you've got + to have a future! And he said: + </p> + <p> + “I'd give a good deal for your power of losing yourself in the moment, old + boy!” + </p> + <p> + “That's all right,” said Tod. He was examining the bark of a tree, which + had nothing the matter with it, so far as Felix could see; while his dog, + who had followed them, carefully examined Tod. Both were obviously lost in + the moment. And with a feeling of defeat Felix led the way back to the + cottage. + </p> + <p> + In the brick-floored kitchen Derek was striding up and down; while around + him, in an equilateral triangle, stood the three women, Sheila at the + window, Kirsteen by the open hearth, Nedda against the wall opposite. + Derek exclaimed at once: + </p> + <p> + “Why did you let them, Father? Why didn't you refuse to give him up?” + </p> + <p> + Felix looked at his brother. In the doorway, where his curly head nearly + touched the wood, Tod's face was puzzled, rueful. He did not answer. + </p> + <p> + “Any one could have said he wasn't here. We could have smuggled him away. + Now the brutes have got him! I don't know that, though—” And he made + suddenly for the door. + </p> + <p> + Tod did not budge. “No,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Derek turned; his mother was at the other door; at the window, the two + girls. + </p> + <p> + The comedy of this scene, if there be comedy in the face of grief, was for + the moment lost on Felix. + </p> + <p> + 'It's come,' he thought. 'What now?' + </p> + <p> + Derek had flung himself down at the table and was burying his head in his + hands. Sheila went up to him. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be a fool, Derek.” + </p> + <p> + However right and natural that remark, it seemed inadequate. + </p> + <p> + And Felix looked at Nedda. The blue motor scarf she had worn had slipped + off her dark head; her face was white; her eyes, fixed immovably on Derek, + seemed waiting for him to recognize that she was there. The boy broke out + again: + </p> + <p> + “It was treachery! We took him in; and now we've given him up. They + wouldn't have touched US if we'd got him away. Not they!” + </p> + <p> + Felix literally heard the breathing of Tod on one side of him and of + Kirsteen on the other. He crossed over and stood opposite his nephew. + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Derek,” he said; “your mother was quite right. You might have + put this off for a day or two; but it was bound to come. You don't know + the reach of the law. Come, my dear fellow! It's no good making a fuss, + that's childish—the thing is to see that the man gets every chance.” + </p> + <p> + Derek looked up. Probably he had not yet realized that his uncle was in + the room; and Felix was astonished at his really haggard face; as if the + incident had bitten and twisted some vital in his body. + </p> + <p> + “He trusted us.” + </p> + <p> + Felix saw Kirsteen quiver and flinch, and understood why they had none of + them felt quite able to turn their backs on that display of passion. + Something deep and unreasoning was on the boy's side; something that would + not fit with common sense and the habits of civilized society; something + from an Arab's tent or a Highland glen. Then Tod came up behind and put + his hands on his son's shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Come!” he said; “milk's spilt.” + </p> + <p> + “All right!” said Derek gruffly, and he went to the door. + </p> + <p> + Felix made Nedda a sign and she slipped out after him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII + </h2> + <p> + Nedda, her blue head-gear trailing, followed along at the boy's side while + he passed through the orchard and two fields; and when he threw himself + down under an ash-tree she, too, subsided, waiting for him to notice her. + </p> + <p> + “I am here,” she said at last. + </p> + <p> + At that ironic little speech Derek sat up. + </p> + <p> + “It'll kill him,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “But—to burn things, Derek! To light horrible cruel flames, and burn + things, even if they aren't alive!” + </p> + <p> + Derek said through his teeth: + </p> + <p> + “It's I who did it! If I'd never talked to him he'd have been like the + others. They were taking him in a cart, like a calf.” + </p> + <p> + Nedda got possession of his hand and held it tight. + </p> + <p> + That was a bitter and frightening hour under the faintly rustling + ash-tree, while the wind sprinkled over her flakes of the may blossom, + just past its prime. Love seemed now so little a thing, seemed to have + lost warmth and power, seemed like a suppliant outside a door. Why did + trouble come like this the moment one felt deeply? + </p> + <p> + The church bell was tolling; they could see the little congregation pass + across the churchyard into that weekly dream they knew too well. And + presently the drone emerged, mingling with the voices outside, of sighing + trees and trickling water, of the rub of wings, birds' songs, and the + callings of beasts everywhere beneath the sky. + </p> + <p> + In spite of suffering because love was not the first emotion in his heart, + the girl could only feel he was right not to be loving her; that she ought + to be glad of what was eating up all else within him. It was ungenerous, + unworthy, to want to be loved at such a moment. Yet she could not help it! + This was her first experience of the eternal tug between self and the + loved one pulled in the hearts of lovers. Would she ever come to feel + happy when he was just doing what he thought was right? And she drew a + little away from him; then perceived that unwittingly she had done the + right thing, for he at once tried to take her hand again. And this was her + first lesson, too, in the nature of man. If she did not give her hand, he + wanted it! But she was not one of those who calculate in love; so she gave + him her hand at once. That went to his heart; and he put his arm round + her, till he could feel the emotion under those stays that would not be + drawn any closer. In this nest beneath the ash-tree they sat till they + heard the organ wheeze and the furious sound of the last hymn, and saw the + brisk coming-forth with its air of, 'Thank God! And now, to eat!' till at + last there was no stir again about the little church—no stir at all + save that of nature's ceaseless thanksgiving.... + </p> + <p> + Tod, his brown face still rueful, had followed those two out into the air, + and Sheila had gone quickly after him. Thus left alone with his + sister-in-law, Felix said gravely: + </p> + <p> + “If you don't want the boy to get into real trouble, do all you can to + show him that the last way in the world to help these poor fellows is to + let them fall foul of the law. It's madness to light flames you can't put + out. What happened this morning? Did the man resist?” + </p> + <p> + Her face still showed how bitter had been her mortification, and he was + astonished that she kept her voice so level and emotionless. + </p> + <p> + “No. He went with them quite quietly. The back door was open; he could + have walked out. I did not advise him to. I'm glad no one saw his face + except myself. You see,” she added, “he's devoted to Derek, and Derek + knows it; that's why he feels it so, and will feel it more and more. The + boy has a great sense of honour, Felix.” + </p> + <p> + Under that tranquillity Felix caught the pain and yearning in her voice. + Yes! This woman really felt and saw. She was not one of those who make + disturbance with their brains and powers of criticism; rebellion leaped + out from the heat in her heart. But he said: + </p> + <p> + “Is it right to fan this flame? Do you think any good end is being + served?” Waiting for her answer, he found himself gazing at the ghost of + dark down on her upper lip, wondering that he had never noticed it before. + </p> + <p> + Very low, as if to herself, she said: + </p> + <p> + “I would kill myself to-day if I didn't believe that tyranny and injustice + must end.” + </p> + <p> + “In our time?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps not.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you content to go on working for an Utopia that you will never see?” + </p> + <p> + “While our laborers are treated and housed more like dogs than human + beings, while the best life under the sun—because life on the soil + might be the best life—is despised and starved, and made the + plaything of people's tongues, neither I nor mine are going to rest.” + </p> + <p> + The admiration she inspired in Felix at that moment was mingled with a + kind of pity. He said impressively: + </p> + <p> + “Do you know the forces you are up against? Have you looked into the + unfathomable heart of this trouble? Understood the tug of the towns, the + call of money to money; grasped the destructive restlessness of modern + life; the abysmal selfishness of people when you threaten their interests; + the age-long apathy of those you want to help? Have you grasped all + these?” + </p> + <p> + “And more!” + </p> + <p> + Felix held out his hand. “Then,” he said, “you are truly brave!” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “It got bitten into me very young. I was brought up in the Highlands among + the crofters in their worst days. In some ways the people here are not so + badly off, but they're still slaves.” + </p> + <p> + “Except that they can go to Canada if they want, and save old England.” + </p> + <p> + She flushed. “I hate irony.” + </p> + <p> + Felix looked at her with ever-increasing interest; she certainly was of + the kind that could be relied on to make trouble. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” he murmured. “Don't forget that when we can no longer smile we can + only swell and burst. It IS some consolation to reflect that by the time + we've determined to do something really effectual for the ploughmen of + England there'll be no ploughmen left!” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot smile at that.” + </p> + <p> + And, studying her face, Felix thought, 'You're right there! You'll get no + help from humor.'... + </p> + <p> + Early that afternoon, with Nedda between them, Felix and his nephew were + speeding toward Transham. + </p> + <p> + The little town—a hamlet when Edmund Moreton dropped the E from his + name and put up the works which Stanley had so much enlarged—had + monopolized by now the hill on which it stood. Living entirely on its + ploughs, it yet had but little of the true look of a British factory town, + having been for the most part built since ideas came into fashion. With + its red roofs and chimneys, it was only moderately ugly, and here and + there an old white, timbered house still testified to the fact that it had + once been country. On this fine Sunday afternoon the population were in + the streets, and presented all that long narrow-headedness, that twist and + distortion of feature, that perfect absence of beauty in face, figure, and + dress, which is the glory of the Briton who has been for three generations + in a town. 'And my great-grandfather'—thought Felix—'did all + this! God rest his soul!' + </p> + <p> + At a rather new church on the very top they halted, and went in to inspect + the Morton memorials. There they were, in dedicated corners. 'Edmund and + his wife Catherine'—'Charles Edmund and his wife Florence'—'Maurice + Edmund and his wife Dorothy.' Clara had set her foot down against 'Stanley + and his wife Clara' being in the fourth; her soul was above ploughs, and + she, of course, intended to be buried at Becket, as Clara, dowager Lady + Freeland, for her efforts in regard to the land. Felix, who had a tendency + to note how things affected other people, watched Derek's inspection of + these memorials and marked that they excited in him no tendency to + ribaldry. The boy, indeed, could hardly be expected to see in them what + Felix saw—an epitome of the great, perhaps fatal, change that had + befallen his native country; a record of the beginning of that far-back + fever, whose course ran ever faster, which had emptied country into town + and slowly, surely, changed the whole spirit of life. When Edmund Moreton, + about 1780, took the infection disseminated by the development of + machinery, and left the farming of his acres to make money, that thing was + done which they were all now talking about trying to undo, with their + cries of: “Back to the land! Back to peace and sanity in the shade of the + elms! Back to the simple and patriarchal state of feeling which old + documents disclose. Back to a time before these little squashed heads and + bodies and features jutted every which way; before there were long + squashed streets of gray houses; long squashed chimneys emitting + smoke-blight; long squashed rows of graves; and long squashed columns of + the daily papers. Back to well-fed countrymen who could not read, with + Common rights, and a kindly feeling for old 'Moretons,' who had a kindly + feeling for them!” Back to all that? A dream! Sirs! A dream! There was + nothing for it now, but—progress! Progress! On with the dance! Let + engines rip, and the little, squash-headed fellows with them! Commerce, + literature, religion, science, politics, all taking a hand; what a + glorious chance had money, ugliness, and ill will! Such were the + reflections of Felix before the brass tablet: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “IN LOVING MEMORY OF + EDMUND MORTON + AND + HIS DEVOTED WIFE + CATHERINE. + + AT REST IN THE LORD. A.D., 1816.” + </pre> + <p> + From the church they went about their proper business, to interview a Mr. + Pogram, of the firm of Pogram & Collet, solicitors, in whose hands the + interests of many citizens of Transham and the country round were almost + securely deposited. He occupied, curiously enough, the house where Edmund + Morton himself had lived, conducting his works on the one hand and the + squirearchy of the parish on the other. Incorporated now into the line of + a long, loose street, it still stood rather apart from its neighbors, + behind some large shrubs and trees of the holmoak variety. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pogram, who was finishing his Sunday after-lunch cigar, was a short, + clean-shaved man with strong cheeks and those rather lustful gray-blue + eyes which accompany a sturdy figure. He rose when they were introduced, + and, uncrossing his fat little thighs, asked what he could do for them. + </p> + <p> + Felix propounded the story of the arrest, so far as might be, in words of + one syllable, avoiding the sentimental aspect of the question, and finding + it hard to be on the side of disorder, as any modern writer might. There + was something, however, about Mr. Pogram that reassured him. The small + fellow looked a fighter—looked as if he would sympathize with + Tryst's want of a woman about him. The tusky but soft-hearted little brute + kept nodding his round, sparsely covered head while he listened, exuding a + smell of lavender-water, cigars, and gutta-percha. When Felix ceased he + said, rather dryly: + </p> + <p> + “Sir Gerald Malloring? Yes. Sir Gerald's country agents, I rather think, + are Messrs. Porter of Worcester. Quite so.” + </p> + <p> + And a conviction that Mr. Pogram thought they should have been Messrs. + Pogram & Collet of Transham confirmed in Felix the feeling that they + had come to the right man. + </p> + <p> + “I gather,” Mr. Pogram said, and he looked at Nedda with a glance from + which he obviously tried to remove all earthly desires, “that you, sir, + and your nephew wish to go and see the man. Mrs. Pogram will be delighted + to show Miss Freeland our garden. Your great-grandfather, sir, on the + mother's side, lived in this house. Delighted to meet you; often heard of + your books; Mrs. Pogram has read one—let me see—'The + Bannister,' was it?” + </p> + <p> + “'The Balustrade,'” Felix answered gently. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pogram rang the bell. “Quite so,” he said. “Assizes are just over so + that he can't come up for trial till August or September; pity—great + pity! Bail in cases of arson—for a laborer, very doubtful! Ask your + mistress to come, please.” + </p> + <p> + There entered a faded rose of a woman on whom Mr. Pogram in his time had + evidently made a great impression. A vista of two or three little Pograms + behind her was hastily removed by the maid. And they all went into the + garden. + </p> + <p> + “Through here,” said Mr. Pogram, coming to a side door in the garden wall, + “we can make a short cut to the police station. As we go along I shall ask + you one or two blunt questions.” And he thrust out his under lip: + </p> + <p> + “For instance, what's your interest in this matter?” + </p> + <p> + Before Felix could answer, Derek had broken in: + </p> + <p> + “My uncle has come out of kindness. It's my affair, sir. The man has been + tyrannously treated.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pogram cocked his eye. “Yes, yes; no doubt, no doubt! He's not + confessed, I understand?” + </p> + <p> + “No; but—” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pogram laid a finger on his lips. + </p> + <p> + “Never say die; that's what we're here for. So,” he went on, “you're a + rebel; Socialist, perhaps. Dear me! Well, we're all of us something, + nowadays—I'm a humanitarian myself. Often say to Mrs. Pogram—humanity's + the thing in this age—and so it is! Well, now, what line shall we + take?” And he rubbed his hands. “Shall we have a try at once to upset what + evidence they've got? We should want a strong alibi. Our friends here will + commit if they can—nobody likes arson. I understand he was sleeping + in your cottage. His room, now? Was it on the ground floor?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but—” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pogram frowned, as who should say: Ah! Be careful! “He had better + reserve his defence and give us time to turn round,” he said rather + shortly. + </p> + <p> + They had arrived at the police station and after a little parley were + ushered into the presence of Tryst. + </p> + <p> + The big laborer was sitting on the stool in his cell, leaning back against + the wall, his hands loose and open at his sides. His gaze passed at once + from Felix and Mr. Pogram, who were in advance, to Derek; and the dumb + soul seemed suddenly to look through, as one may see all there is of + spirit in a dog reach out to its master. This was the first time Felix had + seen him who had caused already so much anxiety, and that broad, almost + brutal face, with the yearning fidelity in its tragic eyes, made a + powerful impression on him. It was the sort of face one did not forget and + might be glad of not remembering in dreams. What had put this yearning + spirit into so gross a frame, destroying its solid coherence? Why could + not Tryst have been left by nature just a beer-loving serf, devoid of + grief for his dead wife, devoid of longing for the nearest he could get to + her again, devoid of susceptibility to this young man's influence? And the + thought of all that was before the mute creature, sitting there in heavy, + hopeless patience, stung Felix's heart so that he could hardly bear to + look him in the face. + </p> + <p> + Derek had taken the man's thick, brown hand; Felix could see with what + effort the boy was biting back his feelings. + </p> + <p> + “This is Mr. Pogram, Bob. A solicitor who'll do all he can for you.” + </p> + <p> + Felix looked at Mr. Pogram. The little man was standing with arms akimbo; + his face the queerest mixture of shrewdness and compassion, and he was + giving off an almost needlessly strong scent of gutta-percha. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my man,” he said, “you and I are going to have a talk when these + gentlemen have done with you,” and, turning on his heel, he began to touch + up the points of his little pink nails with a penknife, in front of the + constable who stood outside the cell door, with his professional air of + giving a man a chance. + </p> + <p> + Invaded by a feeling, apt to come to him in Zoos, that he was watching a + creature who had no chance to escape being watched, Felix also turned; + but, though his eyes saw not, his ears could not help hearing. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me, Bob! It's I who got you into this!” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir; naught to forgive. I'll soon be back, and then they'll see!” + </p> + <p> + By the reddening of Mr. Pogram's ears Felix formed the opinion that the + little man, also, could hear. + </p> + <p> + “Tell her not to fret, Mr. Derek. I'd like a shirt, in case I've got to + stop. The children needn' know where I be; though I an't ashamed.” + </p> + <p> + “It may be a longer job than you think, Bob.” + </p> + <p> + In the silence that followed Felix could not help turning. The laborer's + eyes were moving quickly round his cell, as if for the first time he + realized that he was shut up; suddenly he brought those big hands of his + together and clasped them between his knees, and again his gaze ran round + the cell. Felix heard the clearing of a throat close by, and, more than + ever conscious of the scent of gutta-percha, grasped its connection with + compassion in the heart of Mr. Pogram. He caught Derek's muttered, “Don't + ever think we're forgetting you, Bob,” and something that sounded like, + “And don't ever say you did it.” Then, passing Felix and the little + lawyer, the boy went out. His head was held high, but tears were running + down his cheeks. Felix followed. + </p> + <p> + A bank of clouds, gray-white, was rising just above the red-tiled roofs, + but the sun still shone brightly. And the thought of the big laborer + sitting there knocked and knocked at Felix's heart mournfully, miserably. + He had a warmer feeling for his young nephew than he had ever had. Mr. + Pogram rejoined them soon, and they walked on together, + </p> + <p> + “Well?” said Felix. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pogram answered in a somewhat grumpy voice: + </p> + <p> + “Not guilty, and reserve defence. You have influence, young man! Dumb as a + waiter. Poor devil!” And not another word did he say till they had + re-entered his garden. + </p> + <p> + Here the ladies, surrounded by many little Pograms, were having tea. And + seated next the little lawyer, whose eyes were fixed on Nedda, Felix was + able to appreciate that in happier mood he exhaled almost exclusively the + scent of lavender-water and cigars. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII + </h2> + <p> + On their way back to Becket, after the visit to Tryst, Felix and Nedda + dropped Derek half-way on the road to Joyfields. They found that the + Becket household already knew of the arrest. Woven into a dirge on the + subject of 'the Land,' the last town doings, and adventures on golf + courses, it formed the genial topic of the dinner-table; for the Bulgarian + with his carbohydrates was already a wonder of the past. The Bigwigs of + this week-end were quite a different lot from those of three weeks ago, + and comparatively homogeneous, having only three different plans for + settling the land question, none of which, fortunately, involved any more + real disturbance of the existing state of things than the potato, + brown-bread plan, for all were based on the belief held by the respectable + press, and constructive portions of the community, that omelette can be + made without breaking eggs. On one thing alone, the whole house party was + agreed—the importance of the question. Indeed, a sincere conviction + on this point was like the card one produces before one is admitted to + certain functions. No one came to Becket without it; or, if he did, he + begged, borrowed, or stole it the moment he smelled Clara's special + pot-pourri in the hall; and, though he sometimes threw it out of the + railway-carriage window in returning to town, there was nothing remarkable + about that. The conversational debauch of the first night's dinner—and, + alas! there were only two even at Becket during a week-end—had + undoubtedly revealed the feeling, which had set in of late, that there was + nothing really wrong with the condition of the agricultural laborer, the + only trouble being that the unreasonable fellow did not stay on the land. + It was believed that Henry Wiltram, in conjunction with Colonel Martlett, + was on the point of promoting a policy for imposing penalties on those who + attempted to leave it without good reason, such reason to be left to the + discretion of impartial district boards, composed each of one laborer, one + farmer, and one landowner, decision going by favor of majority. And though + opinion was rather freely expressed that, since the voting would always be + two to one against, this might trench on the liberty of the subject, many + thought that the interests of the country were so much above this + consideration that something of the sort would be found, after all, to be + the best arrangement. The cruder early notions of resettling the land by + fostering peasant proprietorship, with habitable houses and security of + tenure, were already under a cloud, since it was more than suspected that + they would interfere unduly with the game laws and other soundly vested + interests. Mere penalization of those who (or whose fathers before them) + had at great pains planted so much covert, enclosed so much common, and + laid so much country down in grass was hardly a policy for statesmen. A + section of the guests, and that perhaps strongest because most silent, + distinctly favored this new departure of Henry Wiltram's. Coupled with his + swinging corn tax, it was indubitably a stout platform. + </p> + <p> + A second section of the guests spoke openly in favor of Lord Settleham's + policy of good-will. The whole thing, they thought, must be voluntary, and + they did not see any reason why, if it were left to the kindness and good + intentions of the landowner, there should be any land question at all. + Boards would be formed in every county on which such model landowners as + Sir Gerald Malloring, or Lord Settleham himself, would sit, to apply the + principles of goodwill. Against this policy the only criticism was + levelled by Felix. He could have agreed, he said, if he had not noticed + that Lord Settleham, and nearly all landowners, were thoroughly satisfied + with their existing good-will and averse to any changes in their education + that might foster an increase of it. If—he asked—landowners + were so full of good-will, and so satisfied that they could not be + improved in that matter, why had they not already done what was now + proposed, and settled the land question? He himself believed that the land + question, like any other, was only capable of settlement through + improvement in the spirit of all concerned, but he found it a little + difficult to credit Lord Settleham and the rest of the landowners with + sincerity in the matter so long as they were unconscious of any need for + their own improvement. According to him, they wanted it both ways, and, so + far as he could see, they meant to have it! + </p> + <p> + His use of the word sincere, in connection with Lord Settleham, was at + once pounced on. He could not know Lord Settleham—one of the most + sincere of men. Felix freely admitted that he did not, and hastened to + explain that he did not question the—er—parliamentary + sincerity of Lord Settleham and his followers. He only ventured to doubt + whether they realized the hold that human nature had on them. His + experience, he said, of the houses where they had been bred, and the + seminaries where they had been trained, had convinced him that there was + still a conspiracy on foot to blind Lord Settleham and those others + concerning all this; and, since they were themselves part of the + conspiracy, there was very little danger of their unmasking it. At this + juncture Felix was felt to have exceeded the limit of fair criticism, and + only that toleration toward literary men of a certain reputation, in + country houses, as persons brought there to say clever and irresponsible + things, prevented people from taking him seriously. + </p> + <p> + The third section of the guests, unquestionably more static than the + others, confined themselves to pointing out that, though the land question + was undoubtedly serious, nothing whatever would result from placing any + further impositions upon landowners. For, after all, what was land? Simply + capital invested in a certain way, and very poorly at that. And what was + capital? Simply a means of causing wages to be paid. And whether they were + paid to men who looked after birds and dogs, loaded your guns, beat your + coverts, or drove you to the shoot, or paid to men who ploughed and + fertilized the land, what did it matter? To dictate to a man to whom he + was to pay wages was, in the last degree, un-English. Everybody knew the + fate which had come, or was coming, upon capital. It was being driven out + of the country by leaps and bounds—though, to be sure, it still + perversely persisted in yielding every year a larger revenue by way of + income tax. And it would be dastardly to take advantage of land just + because it was the only sort of capital which could not fly the country in + times of need. Stanley himself, though—as became a host—he + spoke little and argued not at all, was distinctly of this faction; and + Clara sometimes felt uneasy lest her efforts to focus at Becket all + interest in the land question should not quite succeed in outweighing the + passivity of her husband's attitude. But, knowing that it is bad policy to + raise the whip too soon, she trusted to her genius to bring him 'with one + run at the finish,' as they say, and was content to wait. + </p> + <p> + There was universal sympathy with the Mallorings. If a model landlord like + Malloring had trouble with his people, who—who should be immune? + Arson! It was the last word! Felix, who secretly shared Nedda's horror of + the insensate cruelty of flames, listened, nevertheless, to the jubilation + that they had caught the fellow, with profound disturbance. For the memory + of the big laborer seated against the wall, his eyes haunting round his + cell, quarrelled fiercely with his natural abhorrence of any kind of + violence, and his equally natural dislike of what brought anxiety into his + own life—and the life, almost as precious, of his little daughter. + Scarcely a word of the evening's conversation but gave him in high degree + the feeling: How glib all this is, how far from reality! How fatted up + with shell after shell of comfort and security! What do these people know, + what do they realize, of the pressure and beat of raw life that lies + behind—what do even I, who have seen this prisoner, know? For us + it's as simple as killing a rat that eats our corn, or a flea that sucks + our blood. Arson! Destructive brute—lock him up! And something in + Felix said: For order, for security, this may be necessary. But something + also said: Our smug attitude is odious! + </p> + <p> + He watched his little daughter closely, and several times marked the color + rush up in her face, and once could have sworn he saw tears in her eyes. + If the temper of this talk were trying to him, hardened at a hundred + dinner-tables, what must it be to a young and ardent creature! And he was + relieved to find, on getting to the drawing-room, that she had slipped + behind the piano and was chatting quietly with her Uncle John.... + </p> + <p> + As to whether this or that man liked her, Nedda perhaps was not more + ignorant than other women; and she had noted a certain warmth and twinkle + in Uncle John's eyes the other evening, a certain rather jolly tendency to + look at her when he should have been looking at the person to whom he was + talking; so that she felt toward him a trustful kindliness not altogether + unmingled with a sense that he was in that Office which controls the + destinies of those who 'get into trouble.' The motives even of statesmen, + they say, are mixed; how much more so, then, of girls in love! Tucked away + behind a Steinway, which instinct told her was not for use, she looked up + under her lashes at her uncle's still military figure and said softly: + </p> + <p> + “It was awfully good of you to come, too, Uncle John.” + </p> + <p> + And John, gazing down at that round, dark head, and those slim, pretty, + white shoulders, answered: + </p> + <p> + “Not at all—very glad to get a breath of fresh air.” + </p> + <p> + And he stealthily tightened his white waistcoat—a rite neglected of + late; the garment seemed to him at the moment unnecessarily loose. + </p> + <p> + “You have so much experience, Uncle. Do you think violent rebellion is + ever justifiable?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not.” + </p> + <p> + Nedda sighed. “I'm glad you think that,” she murmured, “because I don't + think it is, either. I do so want you to like Derek, Uncle John, because—it's + a secret from nearly every one—he and I are engaged.” + </p> + <p> + John jerked his head up a little, as though he had received a slight blow. + The news was not palatable. He kept his form, however, and answered: + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Really! Ah!” + </p> + <p> + Nedda said still more softly: “Please don't judge him by the other night; + he wasn't very nice then, I know.” + </p> + <p> + John cleared his throat. + </p> + <p> + Instinct warned her that he agreed, and she said rather sadly: + </p> + <p> + “You see, we're both awfully young. It must be splendid to have + experience.” + </p> + <p> + Over John's face, with its double line between the brows, its double line + in the thin cheeks, its single firm line of mouth beneath a gray + moustache, there passed a little grimace. + </p> + <p> + “As to being young,” he said, “that'll change for the—er—better + only too fast.” + </p> + <p> + What was it in this girl that reminded him of that one with whom he had + lived but two years, and mourned fifteen? Was it her youth? Was it that + quick way of lifting her eyes, and looking at him with such clear + directness? Or the way her hair grew? Or what? + </p> + <p> + “Do you like the people here, Uncle John?” + </p> + <p> + The question caught John, as it were, between wind and water. Indeed, all + her queries seemed to be trying to incite him to those wide efforts of + mind which bring into use the philosophic nerve; and it was long since he + had generalized afresh about either things or people, having fallen for + many years past into the habit of reaching his opinions down out of some + pigeonhole or other. To generalize was a youthful practice that one took + off as one takes certain garments off babies when they come to years of + discretion. But since he seemed to be in for it, he answered rather + shortly: “Not at all.” + </p> + <p> + Nedda sighed again. + </p> + <p> + “Nor do I. They make me ashamed of myself.” + </p> + <p> + John, whose dislike of the Bigwigs was that of the dogged worker of this + life for the dogged talkers, wrinkled his brows: + </p> + <p> + “How's that?” + </p> + <p> + “They make me feel as if I were part of something heavy sitting on + something else, and all the time talking about how to make things lighter + for the thing it's sitting on.” + </p> + <p> + A vague recollection of somebody—some writer, a dangerous one—having + said something of this sort flitted through John. + </p> + <p> + “Do YOU think England is done for, Uncle—I mean about 'the Land'?” + </p> + <p> + In spite of his conviction that 'the country was in a bad way,' John was + deeply, intimately shocked by that simple little question. Done for! + Never! Whatever might be happening underneath, there must be no confession + of that. No! the country would keep its form. The country would breathe + through its nose, even if it did lose the race. It must never know, or let + others know, even if it were beaten. And he said: + </p> + <p> + “What on earth put that into your head?” + </p> + <p> + “Only that it seems funny, if we're getting richer and richer, and yet all + the time farther and farther away from the life that every one agrees is + the best for health and happiness. Father put it into my head, making me + look at the little, towny people in Transham this afternoon. I know I mean + to begin at once to learn about farm work.” + </p> + <p> + “You?” This pretty young thing with the dark head and the pale, slim + shoulders! Farm work! Women were certainly getting queer. In his + department he had almost daily evidence of that! + </p> + <p> + “I should have thought art was more in your line!” + </p> + <p> + Nedda looked up at him; and he was touched by that look, so straight and + young. + </p> + <p> + “It's this. I don't believe Derek will be able to stay in England. When + you feel very strongly about things it must be awfully difficult to.” + </p> + <p> + In bewilderment John answered: + </p> + <p> + “Why! I should have said this was the country of all others for movements, + and social work, and—and—cranks—” he paused. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but those are all for curing the skin, and I suppose we're really + dying of heart disease, aren't we? Derek feels that, anyway, and, you see, + he's not a bit wise, not even patient—so I expect he'll have to go. + I mean to be ready, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + And Nedda got up. “Only, if he does something rash, don't let them hurt + him, Uncle John, if you can help it.” + </p> + <p> + John felt her soft fingers squeezing his almost desperately, as if her + emotions had for the moment got out of hand. And he was moved, though he + knew that the squeeze expressed feeling for his nephew, not for himself. + When she slid away out of the big room all friendliness seemed to go out + with her, and very soon after he himself slipped away to the smoking-room. + There he was alone, and, lighting a cigar, because he still had on his + long-tailed coat which did not go with that pipe he would so much have + preferred, he stepped out of the French window into the warm, dark night. + He walked slowly in his evening pumps up a thin path between columbines + and peonies, late tulips, forget-me-nots, and pansies peering up in the + dark with queer, monkey faces. He had a love for flowers, rather starved + for a long time past, and, strangely, liked to see them, not in the set + and orderly masses that should seemingly have gone with his character, but + in wilder beds, where one never knew what flower was coming next. Once or + twice he stopped and bent down, ascertaining which kind it was, living its + little life down there, then passed on in that mood of stammering thought + which besets men of middle age who walk at night—a mood caught + between memory of aspirations spun and over, and vision of aspirations + that refuse to take shape. Why should they, any more—what was the + use? And turning down another path he came on something rather taller than + himself, that glowed in the darkness as though a great moon, or some white + round body, had floated to within a few feet of the earth. Approaching, he + saw it for what it was—a little magnolia-tree in the full of its + white blossoms. Those clustering flower-stars, printed before him on the + dark coat of the night, produced in John more feeling than should have + been caused by a mere magnolia-tree; and he smoked somewhat furiously. + Beauty, seeking whom it should upset, seemed, like a girl, to stretch out + arms and say: “I am here!” And with a pang at heart, and a long ash on his + cigar, between lips that quivered oddly, John turned on his heel and + retraced his footsteps to the smoking-room. It was still deserted. Taking + up a Review, he opened it at an article on 'the Land,' and, fixing his + eyes on the first page, did not read it, but thought: 'That child! What + folly! Engaged! H'm! To that young—! Why, they're babes! And what is + it about her that reminds me—reminds me—What is it? Lucky + devil, Felix—to have her for daughter! Engaged! The little thing's + got her troubles before her. Wish I had! By George, yes—wish I had!' + And with careful fingers he brushed off the ash that had fallen on his + lapel.... + </p> + <p> + The little thing who had her troubles before her, sitting in her bedroom + window, had watched his white front and the glowing point of his cigar + passing down there in the dark, and, though she did not know that they + belonged to him, had thought: 'There's some one nice, anyway, who likes + being out instead of in that stuffy drawing-room, playing bridge, and + talking, talking.' Then she felt ashamed of her uncharitableness. After + all, it was wrong to think of them like that. They did it for rest after + all their hard work; and she—she did not work at all! If only Aunt + Kirsteen would let her stay at Joyfields, and teach her all that Sheila + knew! And lighting her candles, she opened her diary to write. + </p> + <p> + “Life,” she wrote, “is like looking at the night. One never knows what's + coming, only suspects, as in the darkness you suspect which trees are + what, and try to see whether you are coming to the edge of anything.... A + moth has just flown into my candle before I could stop it! Has it gone + quite out of the world? If so, why should it be different for us? The same + great Something makes all life and death, all light and dark, all love and + hate—then why one fate for one living thing, and the opposite for + another? But suppose there IS nothing after death—would it make me + say: 'I'd rather not live'? It would only make me delight more in life of + every kind. Only human beings brood and are discontented, and trouble + about future life. While Derek and I were sitting in that field this + morning, a bumblebee flew to the bank and tucked its head into the grass + and went to sleep, just tired out with flying and working at its flowers; + it simply snoozed its head down and went off. We ought to live every + minute to the utmost, and when we're tired out, tuck in our heads and + sleep.... If only Derek is not brooding over that poor man! Poor man—all + alone in the dark, with months of misery before him! Poor soul! Oh! I am + sorry for all the unhappiness of people! I can't bear to think of it. I + simply can't.” And dropping her pen, Nedda went again to her window and + leaned out. So sweet the air smelled that it made her ache with delight to + breathe it in. Each leaf that lived out there, each flower, each blade of + grass, were sworn to conspiracy of perfume. And she thought: 'They MUST + all love each other; it all goes together so beautifully!' Then, mingled + with the incense of the night, she caught the savor of woodsmoke. It + seemed to make the whole scent even more delicious, but she thought, + bewildered: 'Smoke! Cruel fire—burning the wood that once grew + leaves like those. Oh! it IS so mixed!' It was a thought others have had + before her. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV + </h2> + <p> + To see for himself how it fared with the big laborer at the hands of + Preliminary Justice, Felix went into Transham with Stanley the following + morning. John having departed early for town, the brothers had not further + exchanged sentiments on the subject of what Stanley called 'the kick-up at + Joyfields.' And just as night will sometimes disperse the brooding moods + of nature, so it had brought to all three the feeling: 'Haven't we made + too much of this? Haven't we been a little extravagant, and aren't we + rather bored with the whole subject?' Arson was arson; a man in prison + more or less was a man in prison more or less! This was especially + Stanley's view, and he took the opportunity to say to Felix: “Look here, + old man, the thing is, of course, to see it in proportion.” + </p> + <p> + It was with this intention, therefore, that Felix entered the building + where the justice of that neighborhood was customarily dispensed. It was a + species of small hall, somewhat resembling a chapel, with distempered + walls, a platform, and benches for the public, rather well filled that + morning—testimony to the stir the little affair had made. Felix, + familiar with the appearance of London police courts, noted the efforts + that had been made to create resemblance to those models of + administration. The justices of the peace, hastily convoked and four in + number, sat on the platform, with a semicircular backing of high gray + screens and a green baize barrier in front of them, so that their legs and + feet were quite invisible. In this way had been preserved the really + essential feature of all human justice—at whose feet it is well + known one must not look! Their faces, on the contrary, were entirely + exposed to view, and presented that pleasing variety of type and unanimity + of expression peculiar to men keeping an open mind. Below them, with his + face toward the public, was placed a gray-bearded man at a table also + covered with green baize, that emblem of authority. And to the side, at + right angles, raised into the air, sat a little terrier of a man, with + gingery, wired hair, obviously the more articulate soul of these + proceedings. As Felix sat down to worship, he noticed Mr. Pogram at the + green baize table, and received from the little man a nod and the faintest + whiff of lavender and gutta-percha. The next moment he caught sight of + Derek and Sheila, screwed sideways against one of the distempered walls, + looking, with their frowning faces, for all the world like two young + devils just turned out of hell. They did not greet him, and Felix set to + work to study the visages of Justice. They impressed him, on the whole, + more favorably than he had expected. The one to his extreme left, with a + gray-whiskered face, was like a large and sleepy cat of mature age, who + moved not, except to write a word now and then on the paper before him, or + to hand back a document. Next to him, a man of middle age with bald + forehead and dark, intelligent eyes seemed conscious now and again of the + body of the court, and Felix thought: 'You have not been a magistrate + long.' The chairman, who sat next, with the moustache of a heavy dragoon + and gray hair parted in the middle, seemed, on the other hand, oblivious + of the public, never once looking at them, and speaking so that they could + not hear him, and Felix thought: 'You have been a magistrate too long.' + Between him and the terrier man, the last of the four wrote diligently, + below a clean, red face with clipped white moustache and little peaked + beard. And Felix thought: 'Retired naval!' Then he saw that they were + bringing in Tryst. The big laborer advanced between two constables, his + broad, unshaven face held high, and his lowering eyes, through which his + strange and tragical soul seemed looking, turned this way and that. Felix, + who, no more than any one else, could keep his gaze off the trapped + creature, felt again all the sensations of the previous afternoon. + </p> + <p> + “Guilty? or, Not guilty?” As if repeating something learned by heart, + Tryst answered: “Not guilty, sir.” And his big hands, at his sides, kept + clenching and unclenching. The witnesses, four in number, began now to + give their testimony. A sergeant of police recounted how he had been first + summoned to the scene of burning, and afterward arrested Tryst; Sir + Gerald's agent described the eviction and threats uttered by the evicted + man; two persons, a stone-breaker and a tramp, narrated that they had seen + him going in the direction of the rick and barn at five o'clock, and + coming away therefrom at five-fifteen. Punctuated by the barking of the + terrier clerk, all this took time, during which there passed through Felix + many thoughts. Here was a man who had done a wicked, because an + antisocial, act; the sort of act no sane person could defend; an act so + barbarous, stupid, and unnatural that the very beasts of the field would + turn noses away from it! How was it, then, that he himself could not feel + incensed? Was it that in habitually delving into the motives of men's + actions he had lost the power of dissociating what a man did from what he + was; had come to see him, with his thoughts, deeds, and omissions, as a + coherent growth? And he looked at Tryst. The big laborer was staring with + all his soul at Derek. And, suddenly, he saw his nephew stand up—tilt + his dark head back against the wall—and open his mouth to speak. In + sheer alarm Felix touched Mr. Pogram on the arm. The little square man had + already turned; he looked at that moment extremely like a frog. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen, I wish to say—” + </p> + <p> + “Who are you? Sit down!” It was the chairman, speaking for the first time + in a voice that could be heard. + </p> + <p> + “I wish to say that he is not responsible. I—” + </p> + <p> + “Silence! Silence, sir! Sit down!” + </p> + <p> + Felix saw his nephew waver, and Sheila pulling at his sleeve; then, to his + infinite relief, the boy sat down. His sallow face was red; his thin lips + compressed to a white line. And slowly under the eyes of the whole court + he grew deadly pale. + </p> + <p> + Distracted by fear that the boy might make another scene, Felix followed + the proceedings vaguely. They were over soon enough: Tryst committed, + defence reserved, bail refused—all as Mr. Pogram had predicted. + </p> + <p> + Derek and Sheila had vanished, and in the street outside, idle at this + hour of a working-day, were only the cars of the four magistrates; two or + three little knots of those who had been in court, talking of the case; + and in the very centre of the street, an old, dark-whiskered man, lame, + and leaning on a stick. + </p> + <p> + “Very nearly being awkward,” said the voice of Mr. Pogram in his ear. “I + say, do you think—no hand himself, surely no real hand himself?” + </p> + <p> + Felix shook his head violently. If the thought had once or twice occurred + to him, he repudiated it with all his force when shaped by another's mouth—and + such a mouth, so wide and rubbery! + </p> + <p> + “No, no! Strange boy! Extravagant sense of honour—too sensitive, + that's all!” + </p> + <p> + “Quite so,” murmured Mr. Pogram soothingly. “These young people! We live + in a queer age, Mr. Freeland. All sorts of ideas about, nowadays. Young + men like that—better in the army—safe in the army. No ideas + there!” + </p> + <p> + “What happens now?” said Felix. + </p> + <p> + “Wait!” said Mr. Pogram. “Nothing else for it—wait. Three months—twiddle + his thumbs. Bad system! Rotten!” + </p> + <p> + “And suppose in the end he's proved innocent?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pogram shook his little round head, whose ears were very red. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” he said: “Often say to my wife: 'Wish I weren't a humanitarian!' + Heart of india-rubber—excellent thing—the greatest blessing. + Well, good-morning! Anything you want to say at any time, let me know!” + And exhaling an overpowering whiff of gutta-percha, he grasped Felix's + hand and passed into a house on the door of which was printed in brazen + letters: “Edward Pogram, James Collet. Solicitors. Agents.” + </p> + <p> + On leaving the little humanitarian, Felix drifted back toward the court. + The cars were gone, the groups dispersed; alone, leaning on his stick, the + old, dark-whiskered man stood like a jackdaw with a broken wing. Yearning, + at that moment, for human intercourse, Felix went up to him. + </p> + <p> + “Fine day,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, 'tis fine enough.” And they stood silent, side by side. The + gulf fixed by class and habit between soul and human soul yawned before + Felix as it had never before. Stirred and troubled, he longed to open his + heart to this old, ragged, dark-eyed, whiskered creature with the game + leg, who looked as if he had passed through all the thorns and thickets of + hard and primitive existence; he longed that the old fellow should lay + bare to him his heart. And for the life of him he could not think of any + mortal words which might bridge the unreal gulf between them. At last he + said: + </p> + <p> + “You a native here?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir. From over Malvern way. Livin' here with my darter, owin' to my + leg. Her 'usband works in this here factory.” + </p> + <p> + “And I'm from London,” Felix said. + </p> + <p> + “Thart you were. Fine place, London, they say!” + </p> + <p> + Felix shook his head. “Not so fine as this Worcestershire of yours.” + </p> + <p> + The old man turned his quick, dark gaze. “Aye!” he said, “people'll be a + bit nervy-like in towns, nowadays. The country be a good place for a + healthy man, too; I don't want no better place than the country—never + could abide bein' shut in.” + </p> + <p> + “There aren't so very many like you, judging by the towns.” + </p> + <p> + The old man smiled—that smile was the reverse of a bitter tonic + coated with sweet stuff to make it palatable. + </p> + <p> + “'Tes the want of a life takes 'em,” he said. “There's not a many like me. + There's not so many as can't do without the smell of the earth. With these + 'ere newspapers—'tesn't taught nowadays. The boys and gells they + goes to school, and 'tes all in favor of the towns there. I can't work no + more; I'm 's good as gone meself; but I feel sometimes I'll 'ave to go + back. I don't like the streets, an' I guess 'tes worse in London.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Perhaps,” Felix said, “there are more of us like you than you think.” + </p> + <p> + Again the old man turned his dark, quick glance. + </p> + <p> + “Well, an' I widden say no to that, neither. I've seen 'em terrible + homesick. 'Tes certain sure there's lots would never go, ef 'twasn't so + mortial hard on the land. 'Tisn't a bare livin', after that. An' they're + put upon, right and left they're put upon. 'Tes only a man here and there + that 'as something in 'im too strong. I widden never 'ave stayed in the + country ef 'twasn't that I couldn't stand the town life. 'Tes like some + breeds o' cattle—you take an' put 'em out o' their own country, an' + you 'ave to take an' put 'em back again. Only some breeds, though. Others + they don' mind where they go. Well, I've seen the country pass in my time, + as you might say; where you used to see three men you only see one now.” + </p> + <p> + “Are they ever going back onto the land?” + </p> + <p> + “They tark about it. I read my newspaper reg'lar. In some places I see + they're makin' unions. That an't no good.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + The old man smiled again. + </p> + <p> + “Why! Think of it! The land's different to anythin' else—that's why! + Different work, different hours, four men's work to-day and one's + to-morrow. Work land wi' unions, same as they've got in this 'ere factory, + wi' their eight hours an' their do this an' don' do that? No! You've got + no weather in factories, an' such-like. On the land 'tes a matter o' + weather. On the land a man must be ready for anythin' at any time; you + can't work it no other way. 'Tes along o' God's comin' into it; an' no use + pullin' this way an' that. Union says to me: You mustn't work after hours. + Hoh! I've 'ad to set up all night wi' ship an' cattle hundreds o' times, + an' no extra for it. 'Tes not that way they'll do any good to keep people + on the land. Oh, no!” + </p> + <p> + “How, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you'll want new laws, o' course, to prevent farmers an' landowners + takin' their advantage; you want laws to build new cottages; but mainly + 'tes a case of hands together; can't be no other—the land's so + ticklish. If 'tesn't hands together, 'tes nothing. I 'ad a master once + that was never content so long's we wasn't content. That farm was better + worked than any in the parish.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but the difficulty is to get masters that can see the other side; a + man doesn't care much to look at home.” + </p> + <p> + The old man's dark eyes twinkled. + </p> + <p> + “No; an' when 'e does, 'tes generally to say: 'Lord, an't I right, an' + an't they wrong, just?' That's powerful customary!” + </p> + <p> + “It is,” said Felix; “God bless us all!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! You may well say that, sir; an' we want it, too. A bit more wages + wouldn't come amiss, neither. An' a bit more freedom; 'tes a man's liberty + 'e prizes as well as money.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you hear about this arson case?” + </p> + <p> + The old man cast a glance this way and that before he answered in a lower + voice: + </p> + <p> + “They say 'e was put out of his cottage. I've seen men put out for votin' + Liberal; I've seen 'em put out for free-thinkin'; all sorts o' things I + seen em put out for. 'Tes that makes the bad blood. A man wants to call + 'is soul 'is own, when all's said an' done. An' 'e can't, not in th' old + country, unless 'e's got the dibs.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet you never thought of emigrating?” + </p> + <p> + “Thart of it—ah! thart of it hundreds o' times; but some'ow cudden + never bring mysel' to the scratch o' not seein' th' Beacon any more. I can + just see it from 'ere, you know. But there's not so many like me, an' + gettin' fewer every day.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” murmured Felix, “that I believe.” + </p> + <p> + “'Tes a 'and-made piece o' goods—the land! You has to be fond of it, + same as of your missis and yer chillen. These poor pitiful fellows that's + workin' in this factory, makin' these here Colonial ploughs—union's + all right for them—'tes all mechanical; but a man on the land, 'e's + got to put the land first, whether 'tes his own or some one else's, or + he'll never do no good; might as well go for a postman, any day. I'm + keepin' of you, though, with my tattle!” + </p> + <p> + In truth, Felix had looked at the old man, for the accursed question had + begun to worry him: Ought he or not to give the lame old fellow something? + Would it hurt his feelings? Why could he not say simply: 'Friend, I'm + better off than you; help me not to feel so unfairly favored'? Perhaps he + might risk it. And, diving into his trousers pockets, he watched the old + man's eyes. If they followed his hand, he would risk it. But they did not. + Withdrawing his hand, he said: + </p> + <p> + “Have a cigar?” + </p> + <p> + The old fellow's dark face twinkled. + </p> + <p> + “I don' know,” he said, “as I ever smoked one; but I can have a darned old + try!” + </p> + <p> + “Take the lot,” said Felix, and shuffled into the other's pocket the + contents of his cigar-case. “If you get through one, you'll want the rest. + They're pretty good.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said the old man. “Shuldn' wonder, neither.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-by. I hope your leg will soon be better.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank 'ee, sir. Good-by, thank 'ee!” + </p> + <p> + Looking back from the turning, Felix saw him still standing there in the + middle of the empty street. + </p> + <p> + Having undertaken to meet his mother, who was returning this afternoon to + Becket, he had still two hours to put away, and passing Mr. Pogram's + house, he turned into a path across a clover-field and sat down on a + stile. He had many thoughts, sitting at the foot of this little town—which + his great-grandfather had brought about. And chiefly he thought of the old + man he had been talking to, sent there, as it seemed to him, by + Providence, to afford a prototype for his 'The Last of the Laborers.' + Wonderful that the old fellow should talk of loving 'the Land,' whereon he + must have toiled for sixty years or so, at a number of shillings per week, + that would certainly not buy the cigars he had shovelled into that ragged + pocket. Wonderful! And yet, a marvellous sweet thing, when all was said—this + land! Changing its sheen and texture, the feel of its air, its very scent, + from day to day. This land with myriad offspring of flowers and flying + folk; the majestic and untiring march of seasons: Spring and its wistful + ecstasy of saplings, and its yearning, wild, wind-loosened heart; gleam + and song, blossom and cloud, and the swift white rain; each upturned leaf + so little and so glad to flutter; each wood and field so full of peeping + things! Summer! Ah! Summer, when on the solemn old trees the long days + shone and lingered, and the glory of the meadows and the murmur of life + and the scent of flowers bewildered tranquillity, till surcharge of warmth + and beauty brooded into dark passion, and broke! And Autumn, in mellow + haze down on the fields and woods; smears of gold already on the beeches, + smears of crimson on the rowans, the apple-trees still burdened, and a + flax-blue sky well-nigh merging with the misty air; the cattle browsing in + the lingering golden stillness; not a breath to fan the blue smoke of the + weed-fires—and in the fields no one moving—who would disturb + such mellow peace? And Winter! The long spaces, the long dark; and yet—and + yet, what delicate loveliness of twig tracery; what blur of rose and brown + and purple caught in the bare boughs and in the early sunset sky! What + sharp dark flights of birds in the gray-white firmament! Who cared what + season held in its arms this land that had bred them all! + </p> + <p> + Not wonderful that into the veins of those who nursed it, tending, + watching its perpetual fertility, should be distilled a love so deep and + subtle that they could not bear to leave it, to abandon its hills, and + greenness, and bird-songs, and all the impress of their forefathers + throughout the ages. + </p> + <p> + Like so many of his fellows—cultured moderns, alien to the larger + forms of patriotism, that rich liquor brewed of maps and figures, + commercial profit, and high-cockalorum, which served so perfectly to swell + smaller heads—Felix had a love of his native land resembling love + for a woman, a kind of sensuous chivalry, a passion based on her charm, on + her tranquillity, on the power she had to draw him into her embrace, to + make him feel that he had come from her, from her alone, and into her + alone was going back. And this green parcel of his native land, from which + the half of his blood came, and that the dearest half, had a potency over + his spirit that he might well be ashamed of in days when the true Briton + was a town-bred creature with a foot of fancy in all four corners of the + globe. There was ever to him a special flavor about the elm-girt fields, + the flowery coppices, of this country of the old Moretons, a special + fascination in its full, white-clouded skies, its grass-edged roads, its + pied and creamy cattle, and the blue-green loom of the Malvern hills. If + God walked anywhere for him, it was surely here. Sentiment! Without + sentiment, without that love, each for his own corner, 'the Land' was lost + indeed! Not if all Becket blew trumpets till kingdom came, would 'the + Land' be reformed, if they lost sight of that! To fortify men in love for + their motherland, to see that insecurity, grinding poverty, interference, + petty tyranny, could no longer undermine that love—this was to be, + surely must be, done! Monotony? Was that cry true? What work now performed + by humble men was less monotonous than work on the land? What work was + even a tenth part so varied? Never quite the same from day to day: Now + weeding, now hay, now roots, now hedging; now corn, with sowing, reaping, + threshing, stacking, thatching; the care of beasts, and their + companionship; sheep-dipping, shearing, wood-gathering, apple-picking, + cider-making; fashioning and tarring gates; whitewashing walls; carting; + trenching—never, never two days quite the same! Monotony! The poor + devils in factories, in shops, in mines; poor devils driving 'busses, + punching tickets, cleaning roads; baking; cooking; sewing; typing! + Stokers; machine-tenders; brick-layers; dockers; clerks! Ah! that great + company from towns might well cry out: Monotony! True, they got their + holidays; true, they had more social life—a point that might well be + raised at Becket: Holidays and social life for men on the soil! But—and + suddenly Felix thought of the long, long holiday that was before the + laborer Tryst. 'Twiddle his thumbs'—in the words of the little + humanitarian—twiddle his thumbs in a space twelve feet by seven! No + sky to see, no grass to smell, no beast to bear him company; no anything—for, + what resources in himself had this poor creature? No anything, but to sit + with tragic eyes fixed on the wall before him for eighty days and eighty + nights, before they tried him. And then—not till then—would + his punishment for that moment's blind revenge for grievous wrong begin! + What on this earth of God's was more disproportioned, and wickedly + extravagant, more crassly stupid, than the arrangements of his most + perfect creature, man? What a devil was man, who could yet rise to such + sublime heights of love and heroism! What a ferocious brute, the most + ferocious and cold-blooded brute that lived! Of all creatures most to be + stampeded by fear into a callous torturer! 'Fear'—thought Felix—'fear! + Not momentary panic, such as makes our brother animals do foolish things; + conscious, calculating fear, paralyzing the reason of our minds and the + generosity of our hearts. A detestable thing Tryst has done, a hateful + act; but his punishment will be twentyfold as hateful!' + </p> + <p> + And, unable to sit and think of it, Felix rose and walked on through the + fields.... + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV + </h2> + <p> + He was duly at Transham station in time for the London train, and, after a + minute consecrated to looking in the wrong direction, he saw his mother + already on the platform with her bag, an air-cushion, and a beautifully + neat roll. + </p> + <p> + 'Travelling third!' he thought. 'Why will she do these things?' + </p> + <p> + Slightly flushed, she kissed Felix with an air of abstraction. + </p> + <p> + “How good of you to meet me, darling!” + </p> + <p> + Felix pointed in silence to the crowded carriage from which she had + emerged. Frances Freeland looked a little rueful. “It would have been + delightful,” she said. “There was a dear baby there and, of course, I + couldn't have the window down, so it WAS rather hot.” + </p> + <p> + Felix, who could just see the dear baby, said dryly: + </p> + <p> + “So that's how you go about, is it? Have you had any lunch?” + </p> + <p> + Frances Freeland put her hand under his arm. “Now, don't fuss, darling! + Here's sixpence for the porter. There's only one trunk—it's got a + violet label. Do you know them? They're so useful. You see them at once. I + must get you some.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me take those things. You won't want this cushion. I'll let the air + out.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid you won't be able, dear. It's quite the best screw I've ever + come across—a splendid thing; I can't get it undone.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Felix. “And now we may as well go out to the car!” + </p> + <p> + He was conscious of a slight stoppage in his mother's footsteps and rather + a convulsive squeeze of her hand on his arm. Looking at her face, he + discovered it occupied with a process whose secret he could not penetrate, + a kind of disarray of her features, rapidly and severely checked, and + capped with a resolute smile. They had already reached the station exit, + where Stanley's car was snorting. Frances Freeland looked at it, then, + mounting rather hastily, sat, compressing her lips. + </p> + <p> + When they were off, Felix said: + </p> + <p> + “Would you like to stop at the church and have a look at the brasses to + your grandfather and the rest of them?” + </p> + <p> + His mother, who had slipped her hand under his arm again, answered: + </p> + <p> + “No, dear; I've seen them. The church is not at all beautiful. I like the + old church at Becket so much better; it is such a pity your + great-grandfather was not buried there.” + </p> + <p> + She had never quite got over the lack of 'niceness' about those ploughs. + </p> + <p> + Going, as was the habit of Stanley's car, at considerable speed, Felix was + not at first certain whether the peculiar little squeezes his arm was + getting were due to the bounds of the creature under them or to some cause + more closely connected with his mother, and it was not till they shaved a + cart at the turning of the Becket drive that it suddenly dawned on him + that she was in terror. He discovered it in looking round just as she drew + her smile over a spasm of her face and throat. And, leaning out of the + car, he said: + </p> + <p> + “Drive very slowly, Batter; I want to look at the trees.” + </p> + <p> + A little sigh rewarded him. Since SHE had said nothing, He said nothing, + and Clara's words in the hall seemed to him singularly tactless: + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I meant to have reminded you, Felix, to send the car back and take a + fly. I thought you knew that Mother's terrified of motors.” And at his + mother's answer: + </p> + <p> + “Oh! no; I quite enjoyed it, dear,” he thought: 'Bless her heart! She IS a + stoic!' + </p> + <p> + Whether or no to tell her of the 'kick-up at Joyfields' exercised his + mind. The question was intricate, for she had not yet been informed that + Nedda and Derek were engaged, and Felix did not feel at liberty to + forestall the young people. That was their business. On the other hand, + she would certainly glean from Clara a garbled understanding of the recent + events at Joyfields, if she were not first told of them by himself. And he + decided to tell her, with the natural trepidation of one who, living among + principles and theories, never quite knew what those, for whom each fact + is unrelated to anything else under the moon, were going to think. Frances + Freeland, he knew well, kept facts and theories especially unrelated, or, + rather, modified her facts to suit her theories, instead of, like Felix, + her theories to suit her facts. For example, her instinctive admiration + for Church and State, her instinctive theory that they rested on gentility + and people who were nice, was never for a moment shaken when she saw a + half-starved baby of the slums. Her heart would impel her to pity and feed + the poor little baby if she could, but to correlate the creature with + millions of other such babies, and those millions with the Church and + State, would not occur to her. And if Felix made an attempt to correlate + them for her she would look at him and think: 'Dear boy! How good he is! I + do wish he wouldn't let that line come in his forehead; it does so spoil + it!' And she would say: “Yes, darling, I know, it's very sad; only I'm NOT + clever.” And, if a Liberal government chanced to be in power, would add: + “Of course, I do think this Government is dreadful. I MUST show you a + sermon of the dear Bishop of Walham. I cut it out of the 'Daily Mystery.' + He puts things so well—he always has such nice ideas.” + </p> + <p> + And Felix, getting up, would walk a little and sit down again too + suddenly. Then, as if entreating him to look over her want of + 'cleverness,' she would put out a hand that, for all its whiteness, had + never been idle and smooth his forehead. It had sometimes touched him + horribly to see with what despair she made attempts to follow him in his + correlating efforts, and with what relief she heard him cease enough to + let her say: “Yes, dear; only, I must show you this new kind of expanding + cork. It's simply splendid. It bottles up everything!” And after staring + at her just a moment he would acquit her of irony. Very often after these + occasions he had thought, and sometimes said: “Mother, you're the best + Conservative I ever met.” She would glance at him then, with a special + loving doubtfulness, at a loss as to whether or no he had designed to + compliment her. + </p> + <p> + When he had given her half an hour to rest he made his way to the blue + corridor, where a certain room was always kept for her, who never occupied + it long enough at a time to get tired of it. She was lying on a sofa in a + loose gray cashmere gown. The windows were open, and the light breeze just + moved in the folds of the chintz curtains and stirred perfume from a bowl + of pinks—her favorite flowers. There was no bed in this bedroom, + which in all respects differed from any other in Clara's house, as though + the spirit of another age and temper had marched in and dispossessed the + owner. Felix had a sensation that one was by no means all body here. On + the contrary. There was not a trace of the body anywhere; as if some one + had decided that the body was not quite nice. No bed, no wash-stand, no + chest of drawers, no wardrobe, no mirror, not even a jar of Clara's + special pot-pourri. And Felix said: + </p> + <p> + “This can't be your bedroom, Mother?” + </p> + <p> + Frances Freeland answered, with a touch of deprecating quizzicality: + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, darling. I must show you my arrangements.” And she rose. “This,” + she said, “you see, goes under there, and that under here; and that again + goes under this. Then they all go under that, and then I pull this. It's + lovely.” + </p> + <p> + “But why?” said Felix. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! but don't you see? It's so nice; nobody can tell. And it doesn't give + any trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “And when you go to bed?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I just pop my clothes into this and open that. And there I am. It's + simply splendid.” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” said Felix. “Do you think I might sit down, or shall I go + through?” + </p> + <p> + Frances Freeland loved him with her eyes, and said: + </p> + <p> + “Naughty boy!” + </p> + <p> + And Felix sat down on what appeared to be a window-seat. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, with slight uneasiness, for she was hovering, “I think + you're wonderful.” + </p> + <p> + Frances Freeland put away an impeachment that she evidently felt to be too + soft. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! but it's all so simple, darling.” And Felix saw that she had + something in her hand, and mind. + </p> + <p> + “This is my little electric brush. It'll do wonders with your hair. While + you sit there, I'll just try it.” + </p> + <p> + A clicking and a whirring had begun to occur close to his ear, and + something darted like a gadfly at his scalp. + </p> + <p> + “I came to tell you something serious, Mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, darling; it'll be simply lovely to hear it; and you mustn't mind + this, because it really is a first-rate thing—quite new.” + </p> + <p> + Now, how is it, thought Felix, that any one who loves the new as she does, + when it's made of matter, will not even look at it when it's made of mind? + And, while the little machine buzzed about his head, he proceeded to + detail to her the facts of the state of things that existed at Joyfields. + </p> + <p> + When he had finished, she said: + </p> + <p> + “Now, darling, bend down a little.” + </p> + <p> + Felix bent down. And the little machine began severely tweaking the hairs + on the nape of his neck. He sat up again rather suddenly. + </p> + <p> + Frances Freeland was contemplating the little machine. + </p> + <p> + “How very provoking! It's never done that before!” + </p> + <p> + “Quite so!” Felix murmured. “But about Joyfields?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dear, it IS such a pity they don't get on with those Mallorings! I + do think it sad they weren't brought up to go to church.” + </p> + <p> + Felix stared, not knowing whether to be glad or sorry that his recital had + not roused within her the faintest suspicion of disaster. How he envied + her that single-minded power of not seeing further than was absolutely + needful! And suddenly he thought: 'She really is wonderful! With her love + of church, how it must hurt her that we none of us go, not even John! And + yet she never says a word. There really is width about her; a power of + accepting the inevitable. Never was woman more determined to make the best + of a bad job. It's a great quality!' And he heard her say: + </p> + <p> + “Now, darling, if I give you this, you must promise me to use it every + morning. You'll find you'll soon have a splendid crop of little young + hairs.” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” he said gloomily; “but they won't come to anything. Age has got + my head, Mother, just as it's got 'the Land's.'” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nonsense! You must go on with it, that's all!” + </p> + <p> + Felix turned so that he could look at her. She was moving round the room + now, meticulously adjusting the framed photographs of her family that were + the only decoration of the walls. How formal, chiselled, and delicate her + face, yet how almost fanatically decisive! How frail and light her figure, + yet how indomitably active! And the memory assailed him of how, four years + ago, she had defeated double pneumonia without having a doctor, simply by + lying on her back. 'She leaves trouble,' he thought, 'until it's under her + nose, then simply tells it that it isn't there. There's something very + English about that.' + </p> + <p> + She was chasing a bluebottle now with a little fan made of wire, and, + coming close to Felix, said: + </p> + <p> + “Have you seen these, darling? You've only to hit the fly and it kills him + at once.” + </p> + <p> + “But do you ever hit the fly?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes!” And she waved the fan at the bluebottle, which avoided it + without seeming difficulty. + </p> + <p> + “I can't bear hurting them, but I DON'T like flies. There!” + </p> + <p> + The bluebottle flew out of the window behind Felix and in at the one that + was not behind him. He rose. + </p> + <p> + “You ought to rest before tea, Mother.” + </p> + <p> + He felt her searching him with her eyes, as if trying desperately to find + something she might bestow upon or do for him. + </p> + <p> + “Would you like this wire—” + </p> + <p> + With a feeling that he was defrauding love, he turned and fled. She would + never rest while he was there! And yet there was that in her face which + made him feel a brute to go. + </p> + <p> + Passing out of the house, sunk in its Monday hush, no vestige of a Bigwig + left, Felix came to that new-walled mound where the old house of the + Moretons had been burned 'by soldiers from Tewkesbury and Gloucester,' as + said the old chronicles dear to the heart of Clara. And on the wall he sat + him down. Above, in the uncut grass, he could see the burning blue of a + peacock's breast, where the heraldic bird stood digesting grain in the + repose of perfect breeding, and below him gardeners were busy with the + gooseberries. 'Gardeners and the gooseberries of the great!' he thought. + 'Such is the future of our Land.' And he watched them. How methodically + they went to work! How patient and well-done-for they looked! After all, + was it not the ideal future? Gardeners, gooseberries, and the great! Each + of the three content in that station of life into which—! What more + could a country want? Gardeners, gooseberries, and the great! The phrase + had a certain hypnotic value. Why trouble? Why fuss? Gardeners, + gooseberries, and the great! A perfect land! A land dedicate to the + week-end! Gardeners, goose—! And suddenly he saw that he was not + alone. Half hidden by the angle of the wall, on a stone of the + foundations, carefully preserved and nearly embedded in the nettles which + Clara had allowed to grow because they added age to the appearance, was + sitting a Bigwig. One of the Settleham faction, he had impressed Felix + alike by his reticence, the steady sincerity of his gray eyes, a + countenance that, beneath a simple and delicate urbanity, had still in it + something of the best type of schoolboy. 'How comes he to have stayed?' he + mused. 'I thought they always fed and scattered!' And having received an + answer to his salutation, he moved across and said: + </p> + <p> + “I imagined you'd gone.” + </p> + <p> + “I've been having a look round. It's very jolly here. My affections are in + the North, but I suppose this is pretty well the heart of England.” + </p> + <p> + “Near 'the big song,'” Felix answered. “There'll never be anything more + English than Shakespeare, when all's said and done.” And he took a steady, + sidelong squint at his companion. 'This is another of the types I've been + looking for,' he reflected. The peculiar 'don't-quite-touch-me' accent of + the aristocrat—and of those who would be—had almost left this + particular one, as though he secretly aspired to rise superior and only + employed it in the nervousness of his first greetings. 'Yes,' thought + Felix, 'he's just about the very best we can do among those who sit upon + 'the Land.' I would wager there's not a better landlord nor a better + fellow in all his class, than this one. He's chalks away superior to + Malloring, if I know anything of faces—would never have turned poor + Tryst out. If this exception were the rule! And yet—! Does he, can + he, go quite far enough to meet the case? If not—what hope of + regeneration from above? Would he give up his shooting? Could he give up + feeling he's a leader? Would he give up his town house and collecting + whatever it is he collects? Could he let himself sink down and merge till + he was just unseen leaven of good-fellowship and good-will, working in the + common bread?' And squinting at that sincere, clean, charming, almost fine + face, he answered himself unwillingly: 'He could not!' And suddenly he + knew that he was face to face with the tremendous question which soon or + late confronts all thinkers. Sitting beside him—was the highest + product of the present system! With its charm, humanity, courage, chivalry + up to a point, its culture, and its cleanliness, this decidedly rare + flower at the end of a tall stalk, with dark and tortuous roots and rank + foliage, was in a sense the sole justification of power wielded from + above. And was it good enough? Was it quite good enough? Like so many + other thinkers, Felix hesitated to reply. If only merit and the goods of + this world could be finally divorced! If the reward of virtue were just + men's love and an unconscious self-respect! If only 'to have nothing' were + the highest honour! And yet, to do away with this beside him and put in + its place—What? No kiss-me-quick change had a chance of producing + anything better. To scrap the long growth of man and start afresh was but + to say: 'Since in the past the best that man has done has not been good + enough, I have a perfect faith in him for the future!' No! That was a + creed for archangels and other extremists. Safer to work on what we had! + And he began: + </p> + <p> + “Next door to this estate I'm told there's ten thousand acres almost + entirely grass and covert, owned by Lord Baltimore, who lives in Norfolk, + London, Cannes, and anywhere else that the whim takes him. He comes down + here twice a year to shoot. The case is extremely common. Surely it spells + paralysis. If land is to be owned at all in such great lumps, owners ought + at least to live on the lumps, and to pass very high examinations as + practical farmers. They ought to be the life and soul, the radiating sun, + of their little universes; or else they ought to be cleared out. How + expect keen farming to start from such an example? It really looks to me + as if the game laws would have to go.” And he redoubled his scrutiny of + the Bigwig's face. A little furrow in its brow had deepened visibly, but + nodding, he said: + </p> + <p> + “The absentee landlord is a curse, of course. I'm afraid I'm a bit of a + one myself. And I'm bound to say—though I'm keen on shooting—if + the game laws were abolished, it might do a lot.” + </p> + <p> + “YOU wouldn't move in that direction, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + The Bigwig smiled—charming, rather whimsical, that smile. + </p> + <p> + “Honestly, I'm not up to it. The spirit, you know, but the flesh—! + My line is housing and wages, of course.” + </p> + <p> + 'There it is,' thought Felix. 'Up to a point, they'll move—not up to + THE point. It's all fiddling. One won't give up his shooting; another + won't give up his power; a third won't give up her week-ends; a fourth + won't give up his freedom. Our interest in the thing is all lackadaisical, + a kind of bun-fight of pet notions. There's no real steam.' And abruptly + changing the subject, he talked of pictures to the pleasant Bigwig in the + sleepy afternoon. Of how this man could paint, and that man couldn't. And + in the uncut grass the peacock slowly moved, displaying his breast of + burning blue; and below, the gardeners worked among the gooseberries. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI + </h2> + <p> + Nedda, borrowing the bicycle of Clara's maid, Sirrett, had been over to + Joyfields, and only learned on her return of her grandmother's arrival. In + her bath before dinner there came to her one of those strategic thoughts + that even such as are no longer quite children will sometimes conceive. + She hurried desperately into her clothes, and, ready full twenty minutes + before the gong was due to sound, made her way to her grandmother's room. + Frances Freeland had just pulled THIS, and, to her astonishment, THAT had + not gone in properly. She was looking at it somewhat severely, when she + heard Nedda's knock. Drawing a screen temporarily over the imperfection, + she said: “Come in!” + </p> + <p> + The dear child looked charming in her white evening dress with one red + flower in her hair; and while she kissed her, she noted that the neck of + her dress was just a little too open to be quite nice, and at once + thought: 'I've got the very thing for that.' + </p> + <p> + Going to a drawer that no one could have suspected of being there, she + took from it a little diamond star. Getting delicate but firm hold of the + Mechlin at the top of the frock, she popped it in, so that the neck was + covered at least an inch higher, and said: + </p> + <p> + “Now, ducky, you're to keep that as a little present. You've no idea how + perfectly it suits you just like this.” And having satisfied for the + moment her sense of niceness and that continual itch to part with + everything she had, she surveyed her granddaughter, lighted up by that red + flower, and said: + </p> + <p> + “How sweet you look!” + </p> + <p> + Nedda, looking down past cheeks colored by pleasure at the new little star + on a neck rather browned by her day in the sun, murmured: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Granny! it's much too lovely! You mustn't give it to me!” + </p> + <p> + These were moments that Frances Freeland loved best in life; and, with the + untruthfulness in which she only indulged when she gave things away, or + otherwise benefited her neighbors with or without their will, she added: + “It's quite wasted; I never wear it myself.” And, seeing Nedda's smile, + for the girl recollected perfectly having admired it during dinner at + Uncle John's, and at Becket itself, she said decisively, “So that's that!” + and settled her down on the sofa. But just as she was thinking, 'I have + the very thing for the dear child's sunburn,' Nedda said: “Granny, dear, + I've been meaning to tell you—Derek and I are engaged.” + </p> + <p> + For the moment Frances Freeland could do nothing but tremulously interlace + her fingers. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but, darling,” she said very gravely, “have you thought?” + </p> + <p> + “I think of nothing else, Granny.” + </p> + <p> + “But has he thought?” + </p> + <p> + Nedda nodded. + </p> + <p> + Frances Freeland sat staring straight before her. Nedda and Derek, Derek + and Nedda! The news was almost unintelligible; those two were still for + her barely more than little creatures to be tucked up at night. Engaged! + Marriage! Between those who were both as near to her, almost, as her own + children had been! The effort was for the moment quite too much for her, + and a sort of pain disturbed her heart. Then the crowning principle of her + existence came a little to her aid. No use in making a fuss; must put the + best face on it, whether it were going to come to anything or not! And she + said: + </p> + <p> + “Well, darling, I don't know, I'm sure. I dare say it's very lovely for + you. But do you think you've seen enough of him?” + </p> + <p> + Nedda gave her a swift look, then dropped her lashes, so that her eyes + seemed closed. Snuggling up, she said: + </p> + <p> + “No, Granny, I do wish I could see more; if only I could go and stay with + them a little!” + </p> + <p> + And as she planted that dart of suggestion, the gong sounded. + </p> + <p> + In Frances Freeland, lying awake till two, as was her habit, the + suggestion grew. To this growth not only her custom of putting the best + face on things, but her incurable desire to make others happy, and an + instinctive sympathy with love-affairs, all contributed; moreover, Felix + had said something about Derek's having been concerned in something rash. + If darling Nedda were there it would occupy his mind and help to make him + careful. Never dilatory in forming resolutions, she decided to take the + girl over with her on the morrow. Kirsteen had a dear little spare room, + and Nedda should take her bag. It would be a nice surprise for them all. + Accordingly, next morning, not wanting to give any trouble, she sent + Thomas down to the Red Lion, where they had a comfortable fly, with a very + steady, respectable driver, and ordered it to come at half past two. Then, + without saying anything to Clara, she told Nedda to be ready to pop in her + bag, trusting to her powers of explaining everything to everybody without + letting anybody know anything. Little difficulties of this sort never + bunkered her; she was essentially a woman of action. And on the drive to + Joyfields she stilled the girl's quavering with: + </p> + <p> + “It's all right, darling; it'll be very nice for them.” + </p> + <p> + She was perhaps the only person in the world who was not just a little bit + afraid of Kirsteen. Indeed, she was constitutionally unable to be afraid + of anything, except motor-cars, and, of course, earwigs, and even them one + must put up with. Her critical sense told her that this woman in blue was + just like anybody else, besides her father had been the colonel of a + Highland regiment, which was quite nice, and one must put the best face on + her. + </p> + <p> + In this way, pointing out the beauty of each feature of the scenery, and + not permitting herself or Nedda to think about the bag, they drove until + they came to Joyfields. + </p> + <p> + Kirsteen alone was in, and, having sent Nedda into the orchard to look for + her uncle, Frances Freeland came at once to the point. It was so + important, she thought, that darling Nedda should see more of dear Derek. + They were very young, and if she could stay for a few weeks, they would + both know their minds so much better. She had made her bring her bag, + because she knew dear Kirsteen would agree with her; and it would be so + nice for them all. Felix had told her about that poor man who had done + this dreadful thing, and she thought that if Nedda were here it would be a + distraction. She was a very good child, and quite useful in the house. And + while she was speaking she watched Kirsteen, and thought: 'She is very + handsome, and altogether ladylike; only it is such a pity she wears that + blue thing in her hair—it makes her so conspicuous.' And rather + unexpectedly she said: + </p> + <p> + “Do you know, dear, I believe I know the very thing to keep your hair from + getting loose. It's such lovely hair. And this is quite a new thing, and + doesn't show at all; invented by a very nice hairdresser in Worcester. + It's simplicity itself. Do let me show you!” Quickly going over, she + removed the kingfisher-blue fillet, and making certain passes with her + fingers through the hair, murmured: + </p> + <p> + “It's so beautifully fine; it seems such a pity not to show it all, dear. + Now look at yourself!” And from the recesses of her pocket she produced a + little mirror. “I'm sure Tod will simply love it like that. It'll be such + a nice change for him.” + </p> + <p> + Kirsteen, with just a faint wrinkling of her lips and eyebrows, waited + till she had finished. Then she said: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mother, dear, I'm sure he will,” and replaced the fillet. A patient, + half-sad, half-quizzical smile visited Frances Freeland's lips, as who + should say: 'Yes, I know you think that I'm a fuss-box, but it really is a + pity that you wear it so, darling!' + </p> + <p> + At sight of that smile, Kirsteen got up and kissed her gravely on the + forehead. + </p> + <p> + When Nedda came back from a fruitless search for Tod, her bag was already + in the little spare bedroom and Frances Freeland gone. The girl had never + yet been alone with her aunt, for whom she had a fervent admiration not + unmixed with awe. She idealized her, of course, thinking of her as one + might think of a picture or statue, a symbolic figure, standing for + liberty and justice and the redress of wrong. Her never-varying garb of + blue assisted the girl's fancy, for blue was always the color of ideals + and aspiration—was not blue sky the nearest one could get to heaven—were + not blue violets the flowers of spring? Then, too, Kirsteen was a woman + with whom it would be quite impossible to gossip or small-talk; with her + one could but simply and directly say what one felt, and only that over + things which really mattered. And this seemed to Nedda so splendid that it + sufficed in itself to prevent the girl from saying anything whatever. She + longed to, all the same, feeling that to be closer to her aunt meant to be + closer to Derek. Yet, with all, she knew that her own nature was very + different; this, perhaps, egged her on, and made her aunt seem all the + more exciting. She waited breathless till Kirsteen said: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you and Derek must know each other better. The worst kind of prison + in the world is a mistaken marriage.” + </p> + <p> + Nedda nodded fervently. “It must be. But I think one knows, Aunt + Kirsteen!” + </p> + <p> + She felt as if she were being searched right down to the soul before the + answer came: + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps. I knew myself. I have seen others who did—a few. I think + you might.” + </p> + <p> + Nedda flushed from sheer joy. “I could never go on if I didn't love. I + feel I couldn't, even if I'd started.” + </p> + <p> + With another long look through narrowing eyes, Kirsteen answered: + </p> + <p> + “Yes. You would want truth. But after marriage truth is an unhappy thing, + Nedda, if you have made a mistake.” + </p> + <p> + “It must be dreadful. Awful.” + </p> + <p> + “So don't make a mistake, my dear—and don't let him.” + </p> + <p> + Nedda answered solemnly: + </p> + <p> + “I won't—oh, I won't!” + </p> + <p> + Kirsteen had turned away to the window, and Nedda heard her say quietly to + herself: + </p> + <p> + “'Liberty's a glorious feast!'” + </p> + <p> + Trembling all over with the desire to express what was in her, Nedda + stammered: + </p> + <p> + “I would never keep anything that wanted to be free—never, never! I + would never try to make any one do what they didn't want to!” + </p> + <p> + She saw her aunt smile, and wondered whether she had said anything + exceptionally foolish. But it was not foolish—surely not—to + say what one really felt. + </p> + <p> + “Some day, Nedda, all the world will say that with you. Until then we'll + fight those who won't say it. Have you got everything in your room you + want? Let's come and see.” + </p> + <p> + To pass from Becket to Joyfields was really a singular experience. At + Becket you were certainly supposed to do exactly what you liked, but the + tyranny of meals, baths, scents, and other accompaniments of the + 'all-body' regime soon annihilated every impulse to do anything but just + obey it. At Joyfields, bodily existence was a kind of perpetual skirmish, + a sort of grudged accompaniment to a state of soul. You might be alone in + the house at any meal-time. You might or might not have water in your jug. + And as to baths, you had to go out to a little white-washed shed at the + back, with a brick floor, where you pumped on yourself, prepared to shout + out, “Halloo! I'm here!” in case any one else came wanting to do the same. + The conditions were in fact almost perfect for seeing more of one another. + Nobody asked where you were going, with whom going, or how going. You + might be away by day or night without exciting curiosity or comment. And + yet you were conscious of a certain something always there, holding the + house together; some principle of life, or perhaps—just a woman in + blue. There, too, was that strangest of all phenomena in an English home—no + game ever played, outdoors or in. + </p> + <p> + The next fortnight, while the grass was ripening, was a wonderful time for + Nedda, given up to her single passion—of seeing more of him who so + completely occupied her heart. She was at peace now with Sheila, whose + virility forbade that she should dispute pride of place with this soft and + truthful guest, so evidently immersed in rapture. Besides, Nedda had that + quality of getting on well with her own sex, found in those women who, + though tenacious, are not possessive; who, though humble, are secretly + very self-respecting; who, though they do not say much about it, put all + their eggs in one basket; above all, who disengage, no matter what their + age, a candid but subtle charm. + </p> + <p> + But that fortnight was even more wonderful for Derek, caught between two + passions—both so fervid. For though the passion of his revolt + against the Mallorings did not pull against his passion for Nedda, they + both tugged at him. And this had one curious psychological effect. It made + his love for Nedda more actual, less of an idealization. Now that she was + close to him, under the same roof, he felt the full allurement of her + innocent warmth; he would have been cold-blooded indeed if he had not + taken fire, and, his pride always checking the expression of his feelings, + they glowed ever hotter underneath. + </p> + <p> + Yet, over those sunshiny days there hung a shadow, as of something kept + back, not shared between them; a kind of waiting menace. Nedda learned of + Kirsteen and Sheila all the useful things she could; the evenings she + passed with Derek, those long evenings of late May and early June, this + year so warm and golden. They walked generally in the direction of the + hills. A favorite spot was a wood of larches whose green shoots had not + yet quite ceased to smell of lemons. Tall, slender things those trees, + whose stems and dried lower branch-growth were gray, almost sooty, up to + the feathery green of the tops, that swayed and creaked faintly in a wind, + with a soughing of their branches like the sound of the sea. From the + shelter of those Highland trees, rather strange in such a countryside, + they two could peer forth at the last sunlight gold-powdering the fringed + branches, at the sunset flush dyeing the sky above the Beacon; watch light + slowly folding gray wings above the hay-fields and the elms; mark the + squirrels scurry along, and the pigeons' evening flight. A stream ran + there at the edge, and beech-trees grew beside it. In the tawny-dappled + sand bed of that clear water, and the gray-green dappled trunks of those + beeches with their great, sinuous, long-muscled roots, was that something + which man can never tame or garden out of the land: the strength of + unconquerable fertility—the remote deep life in Nature's heart. Men + and women had their spans of existence; those trees seemed as if there + forever! From generation to generation lovers might come and, looking on + this strength and beauty, feel in their veins the sap of the world. Here + the laborer and his master, hearing the wind in the branches and the water + murmuring down, might for a brief minute grasp the land's unchangeable + wild majesty. And on the far side of that little stream was a field of + moon-colored flowers that had for Nedda a strange fascination. Once the + boy jumped across and brought her back a handkerchief full. They were of + two kinds: close to the water's edge the marsh orchis, and farther back, a + small marguerite. Out of this they made a crown of the alternate flowers, + and a girdle for her waist. That was an evening of rare beauty, and warm + enough already for an early chafer to go blooming in the dusk. An evening + when they wandered with their arms round each other a long time, silent, + stopping to listen to an owl; stopping to point out each star coming so + shyly up in the gray-violet of the sky. And that was the evening when they + had a strange little quarrel, sudden as a white squall on a blue sea, or + the tiff of two birds shooting up in a swift spiral of attack and then—all + over. Would he come to-morrow to see her milking? He could not. Why? He + could not; he would be out. Ah! he never told her where he went; he never + let her come with him among the laborers like Sheila. + </p> + <p> + “I can't; I'm pledged not.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you don't trust me!” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I trust you; but a promise is a promise. You oughtn't to ask + me, Nedda.” + </p> + <p> + “No; but I would never have promised to keep anything from you.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! yes, I do. Love doesn't mean the same to you that it does to me.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know what it means to me?” + </p> + <p> + “I couldn't have a secret from you.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you don't count honour.” + </p> + <p> + “Honour only binds oneself!” + </p> + <p> + “What d'you mean by that?” + </p> + <p> + “I include you—you don't include me in yourself, that's all.” + </p> + <p> + “I think you're very unjust. I was obliged to promise; it doesn't only + concern myself.” + </p> + <p> + Then silent, motionless, a yard apart, they looked fiercely at each other, + their hearts stiff and sore, and in their brains no glimmer of perception + of anything but tragedy. What more tragic than to have come out of an + elysium of warm arms round each other, to this sudden hostility! And the + owl went on hooting, and the larches smelled sweet! And all around was the + same soft dusk wherein the flowers in her hair and round her waist gleamed + white! But for Nedda the world had suddenly collapsed. Tears rushed into + her eyes; she shook her head and turned away, hiding them passionately.... + A full minute passed, each straining to make no sound and catch the + faintest sound from the other, till in her breathing there was a little + clutch. His fingers came stealing round, touched her cheeks, and were + wetted. His arms suddenly squeezed all breath out of her; his lips + fastened on hers. She answered those lips with her own desperately, + bending her head back, shutting her wet eyes. And the owl hooted, and the + white flowers fell into the dusk off her hair and waist. + </p> + <p> + After that, they walked once more enlaced, avoiding with what perfect care + any allusion to the sudden tragedy, giving themselves up to the + bewildering ecstasy that had started throbbing in their blood with that + kiss, longing only not to spoil it. And through the sheltering larch wood + their figures moved from edge to edge, like two little souls in paradise, + unwilling to come forth. + </p> + <p> + After that evening love had a poignancy it had not quite had before; at + once deeper, sweeter, tinged for both of them with the rich darkness of + passion, and with discovery that love does not mean a perfect merger of + one within another. For both felt themselves in the right over that little + quarrel. The boy that he could not, must not, resign what was not his to + resign; feeling dimly, without being quite able to shape the thought even + to himself, that a man has a life of action into which a woman cannot + always enter, with which she cannot always be identified. The girl feeling + that she did not want any life into which he did not enter, so that it was + hard that he should want to exclude her from anything. For all that, she + did not try again to move him to let her into the secret of his plans of + revolt and revenge, and disdained completely to find them out from Sheila + or her aunt. + </p> + <p> + And the grass went on ripening. Many and various as the breeds of men, or + the trees of a forest, were the stalks that made up that greenish jungle + with the waving, fawn-colored surface; of rye-grass and brome-grass, of + timothy, plantain, and yarrow; of bent-grass and quake-grass, foxtail, and + the green-hearted trefoil; of dandelion, dock, musk-thistle, and + sweet-scented vernal. + </p> + <p> + On the 10th of June Tod began cutting his three fields; the whole family, + with Nedda and the three Tryst children, working like slaves. Old Gaunt, + who looked to the harvests to clothe him for the year, came to do his + share of raking, and any other who could find some evening hours to spare. + The whole was cut and carried in three days of glorious weather. + </p> + <p> + The lovers were too tired the last evening of hay harvest to go rambling, + and sat in the orchard watching the moon slide up through the coppice + behind the church. They sat on Tod's log, deliciously weary, in the scent + of the new-mown hay, while moths flitted gray among the blue darkness of + the leaves, and the whitened trunks of the apple-trees gleamed ghostly. It + was very warm; a night of whispering air, opening all hearts. And Derek + said: + </p> + <p> + “You'll know to-morrow, Nedda.” + </p> + <p> + A flutter of fear overtook her. What would she know? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVII + </h2> + <p> + On the 13th of June Sir Gerald Malloring, returning home to dinner from + the House of Commons, found on his hall table, enclosed in a letter from + his agent, the following paper: + </p> + <p> + “We, the undersigned laborers on Sir Gerald Malloring's estate, beg + respectfully to inform him that we consider it unjust that any laborer + should be evicted from his cottage for any reason connected with private + life, or social or political convictions. And we respectfully demand that, + before a laborer receives notice to quit for any such reason, the case + shall be submitted to all his fellow laborers on the estate; and that in + the future he shall only receive such notice if a majority of his fellow + laborers record their votes in favor of the notice being given. In the + event of this demand being refused, we regretfully decline to take any + hand in getting in the hay on Sir Gerald Malloring's estate.” + </p> + <p> + Then followed ninety-three signatures, or signs of the cross with names + printed after them. + </p> + <p> + The agent's letter which enclosed this document mentioned that the hay was + already ripe for cutting; that everything had been done to induce the men + to withdraw the demand, without success, and that the farmers were very + much upset. The thing had been sprung on them, the agent having no notion + that anything of the sort was on foot. It had been very secretly, very + cleverly, managed; and, in the agent's opinion, was due to Mr. Freeland's + family. He awaited Sir Gerald's instructions. Working double tides, with + luck and good weather, the farmers and their families might perhaps save + half of the hay. + </p> + <p> + Malloring read this letter twice, and the enclosure three times, and + crammed them deep down into his pocket. + </p> + <p> + It was pre-eminently one of those moments which bring out the qualities of + Norman blood. And the first thing he did was to look at the barometer. It + was going slowly down. After a month of first-class weather it would not + do that without some sinister intention. An old glass, he believed in it + implicitly. He tapped, and it sank further. He stood there frowning. + Should he consult his wife? General friendliness said: Yes! A Norman + instinct of chivalry, and perhaps the deeper Norman instinct, that, when + it came to the point, women were too violent, said, No! He went up-stairs + three at a time, and came down two. And all through dinner he sat thinking + it over, and talking as if nothing had happened; so that he hardly spoke. + Three-quarters of the hay at stake, if it rained soon! A big loss to the + farmers, a further reduction in rents already far too low. Should he grin + and bear it, and by doing nothing show these fellows that he could afford + to despise their cowardly device? For it WAS cowardly to let his grass get + ripe and play it this low trick! But if he left things unfought this time, + they would try it on again with the corn—not that there was much of + that on the estate of a man who only believed in corn as a policy. + </p> + <p> + Should he make the farmers sack the lot and get in other labor? But where? + Agricultural laborers were made, not born. And it took a deuce of a lot of + making, at that! Should he suspend wages till they withdrew their demand? + That might do—but he would still lose the hay. The hay! After all, + anybody, pretty well, could make hay; it was the least skilled of all farm + work, so long as the farmers were there to drive the machines and direct. + Why not act vigorously? And his jaws set so suddenly on a piece of salmon + that he bit his tongue. The action served to harden a growing purpose. So + do small events influence great! Suspend those fellows' wages, get down + strike-breakers, save the hay! And if there were a row—well, let + there be a row! The constabulary would have to act. It was characteristic + of his really Norman spirit that the notion of agreeing to the demand, or + even considering whether it were just, never once came into his mind. He + was one of those, comprising nowadays nearly all his class, together with + their press, who habitually referred to his country as a democratic power, + a champion of democracy—but did not at present suspect the meaning + of the word; nor, to say truth, was it likely they ever would. Nothing, + however, made him more miserable than indecision. And so, now that he was + on the point of deciding, and the decision promised vigorous consequences, + he felt almost elated. Closing his jaws once more too firmly, this time on + lamb, he bit his tongue again. It was impossible to confess what he had + done, for two of his children were there, expected to eat with that + well-bred detachment which precludes such happenings; and he rose from + dinner with his mind made up. Instead of going back to the House of + Commons, he went straight to a strike-breaking agency. No grass should + grow under the feet of his decision! Thence he sought the one post-office + still open, despatched a long telegram to his agent, another to the chief + constable of Worcestershire; and, feeling he had done all he could for the + moment, returned to the 'House,' where they were debating the rural + housing question. He sat there, paying only moderate attention to a + subject on which he was acknowledged an authority. To-morrow, in all + probability, the papers would have got hold of the affair! How he loathed + people poking their noses into his concerns! And suddenly he was assailed, + very deep down, by a feeling with which in his firmness he had not + reckoned—a sort of remorse that he was going to let a lot of loafing + blackguards down onto his land, to toss about his grass, and swill their + beastly beer above it. And all the real love he had for his fields and + coverts, all the fastidiousness of an English gentleman, and, to do him + justice, the qualms of a conscience telling him that he owed better things + than this to those born on his estate, assaulted him in force. He sat back + in his seat, driving his long legs hard against the pew in front. His + thick, wavy, still brown hair was beautifully parted above the square brow + that frowned over deep-set eyes and a perfectly straight nose. Now and + again he bit into a side of his straw-colored moustache, or raised a hand + and twisted the other side. Without doubt one of the handsomest and + perhaps the most Norman-looking man in the whole 'House.' There was a + feeling among those round him that he was thinking deeply. And so he was. + But he had decided, and he was not a man who went back on his decisions. + </p> + <p> + Morning brought even worse sensations. Those ruffians that he had ordered + down—the farmers would never consent to put them up! They would have + to camp. Camp on his land! It was then that for two seconds the thought + flashed through him: Ought I to have considered whether I could agree to + that demand? Gone in another flash. If there was one thing a man could not + tolerate, it was dictation! Out of the question! But perhaps he had been a + little hasty about strike-breakers. Was there not still time to save the + situation from that, if he caught the first train? The personal touch was + everything. If he put it to the men on the spot, with these + strike-breakers up his sleeve, surely they must listen! After all, they + were his own people. And suddenly he was overcome with amazement that they + should have taken such a step. What had got into them? Spiritless enough, + as a rule, in all conscience; the sort of fellows who hadn't steam even to + join the miniature rifle-range that he had given them! And visions of + them, as he was accustomed to pass them in the lanes, slouching along with + their straw bags, their hoes, and their shamefaced greetings, passed + before him. Yes! It was all that fellow Freeland's family! The men had + been put up to it—put up to it! The very wording of their demand + showed that! Very bitterly he thought of the unneighborly conduct of that + woman and her cubs. It was impossible to keep it from his wife! And so he + told her. Rather to his surprise, she had no scruples about the + strike-breakers. Of course, the hay must be saved! And the laborers be + taught a lesson! All the unpleasantness he and she had gone through over + Tryst and that Gaunt girl must not go for nothing! It must never be said + or thought that the Freeland woman and her children had scored over them! + If the lesson were once driven home, they would have no further trouble. + </p> + <p> + He admired her firmness, though with a certain impatience. Women never + quite looked ahead; never quite realized all the consequences of anything. + And he thought: 'By George! I'd no idea she was so hard! But, then, she + always felt more strongly about Tryst and that Gaunt girl than I did.' + </p> + <p> + In the hall the glass was still going down. He caught the 9.15, wiring to + his agent to meet him at the station, and to the impresario of the + strike-breakers to hold up their departure until he telegraphed. The + three-mile drive up from the station, fully half of which was through his + own land, put him in possession of all the agent had to tell: Nasty spirit + abroad—men dumb as fishes—the farmers, puzzled and angry, had + begun cutting as best they could. Not a man had budged. He had seen young + Mr. and Miss Freeland going about. The thing had been worked very + cleverly. He had suspected nothing—utterly unlike the laborers as he + knew them. They had no real grievance, either! Yes, they were going on + with all their other work—milking, horses, and that; it was only the + hay they wouldn't touch. Their demand was certainly a very funny one—very + funny—had never heard of anything like it. Amounted almost to + security of tenure. The Tryst affair no doubt had done it! Malloring cut + him short: + </p> + <p> + “Till they've withdrawn this demand, Simmons, I can't discuss that or + anything.” + </p> + <p> + The agent coughed behind his hand. + </p> + <p> + Naturally! Only perhaps there might be a way of wording it that would + satisfy them. Never do to really let them have such decisions in their + hands, of course! + </p> + <p> + They were just passing Tod's. The cottage wore its usual air of embowered + peace. And for the life of him Malloring could not restrain a gesture of + annoyance. + </p> + <p> + On reaching home he sent gardeners and grooms in all directions with word + that he would be glad to meet the men at four o'clock at the home farm. + Much thought, and interviews with several of the farmers, who all but one—a + shaky fellow at best—were for giving the laborers a sharp lesson, + occupied the interval. Though he had refused to admit the notion that the + men could be chicaned, as his agent had implied, he certainly did wonder a + little whether a certain measure of security might not in some way be + guaranteed, which would still leave him and the farmers a free hand. But + the more he meditated on the whole episode, the more he perceived how + intimately it interfered with the fundamental policy of all good + landowners—of knowing what was good for their people better than + those people knew themselves. + </p> + <p> + As four o'clock approached, he walked down to the home farm. The sky was + lightly overcast, and a rather chill, draughty, rustling wind had risen. + Resolved to handle the men with the personal touch, he had discouraged his + agent and the farmers from coming to the conference, and passed the gate + with the braced-up feeling of one who goes to an encounter. In that very + spick-and-span farmyard ducks were swimming leisurely on the greenish + pond, white pigeons strutting and preening on the eaves of the barn, and + his keen eye noted that some tiles were out of order up there. Four + o'clock! Ah, here was a fellow coming! And instinctively he crisped his + hands that were buried in his pockets, and ran over to himself his opening + words. Then, with a sensation of disgust, he saw that the advancing + laborer was that incorrigible 'land lawyer' Gaunt. The short, square man + with the ruffled head and the little bright-gray eyes saluted, uttered an + “Afternoon, Sir Gerald!” in his teasing voice, and stood still. His face + wore the jeering twinkle that had disconcerted so many political meetings. + Two lean fellows, rather alike, with lined faces and bitten, drooped + moustaches, were the next to come through the yard gate. They halted + behind Gaunt, touching their forelocks, shuffling a little, and looking + sidelong at each other. And Malloring waited. Five past four! Ten past! + Then he said: + </p> + <p> + “D'you mind telling the others that I'm here?” + </p> + <p> + Gaunt answered: + </p> + <p> + “If so be as you was waitin' for the meetin', I fancy as 'ow you've got + it, Sir Gerald!” + </p> + <p> + A wave of anger surged up in Malloring, dyeing his face brick-red. So! He + had come all that way with the best intentions—to be treated like + this; to meet this 'land lawyer,' who, he could see, was only here to + sharpen his tongue, and those two scarecrow-looking chaps, who had come to + testify, no doubt, to his discomfiture. And he said sharply: + </p> + <p> + “So that's the best you can do to meet me, is it?” + </p> + <p> + Gaunt answered imperturbably: + </p> + <p> + “I think it is, Sir Gerald.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you've mistaken your man.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think so, Sir Gerald.” + </p> + <p> + Without another look Malloring passed the three by, and walked back to the + house. In the hall was the agent, whose face clearly showed that he had + foreseen this defeat. Malloring did not wait for him to speak. + </p> + <p> + “Make arrangements. The strike-breakers will be down by noon to-morrow. I + shall go through with it now, Simmons, if I have to clear the whole lot + out. You'd better go in and see that they're ready to send police if + there's any nonsense. I'll be down again in a day or two.” And, without + waiting for reply, he passed into his study. There, while the car was + being got ready, he stood in the window, very sore; thinking of what he + had meant to do; thinking of his good intentions; thinking of what was + coming to the country, when a man could not even get his laborers to come + and hear what he had to say. And a sense of injustice, of anger, of + bewilderment, harrowed his very soul. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVIII + </h2> + <p> + For the first two days of this new 'kick-up,' that 'fellow Freeland's' + family undoubtedly tasted the sweets of successful mutiny. The fellow + himself alone shook his head. He, like Nedda, had known nothing, and there + was to him something unnatural and rather awful in this conduct toward + dumb crops. + </p> + <p> + From the moment he heard of it he hardly spoke, and a perpetual little + frown creased a brow usually so serene. In the early morning of the day + after Malloring went back to town, he crossed the road to a field where + the farmer, aided by his family and one of Malloring's gardeners, was + already carrying the hay; and, taking up a pitchfork, without a word to + anybody, he joined in the work. The action was deeper revelation of his + feeling than any expostulation, and the young people watched it rather + aghast. + </p> + <p> + “It's nothing,” Derek said at last; “Father never has understood, and + never will, that you can't get things without fighting. He cares more for + trees and bees and birds than he does for human beings.” + </p> + <p> + “That doesn't explain why he goes over to the enemy, when it's only a lot + of grass.” + </p> + <p> + Kirsteen answered: + </p> + <p> + “He hasn't gone over to the enemy, Sheila. You don't understand your + father; to neglect the land is sacrilege to him. It feeds us—he + would say—we live on it; we've no business to forget that but for + the land we should all be dead.” + </p> + <p> + “That's beautiful,” said Nedda quickly; “and true.” + </p> + <p> + Sheila answered angrily: + </p> + <p> + “It may be true in France with their bread and wine. People don't live off + the land here; they hardly eat anything they grow themselves. How can we + feel like that when we're all brought up on mongrel food? Besides, it's + simply sentimental, when there are real wrongs to fight about.” + </p> + <p> + “Your father is not sentimental, Sheila. It's too deep with him for that, + and too unconscious. He simply feels so unhappy about the waste of that + hay that he can't keep his hands off it.” + </p> + <p> + Derek broke in: “Mother's right. And it doesn't matter, except that we've + got to see that the men don't follow his example. They've a funny feeling + about him.” + </p> + <p> + Kirsteen shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “You needn't be afraid. He's always been too strange to them!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm going to stiffen their backs. Coming Sheila?” And they went. + </p> + <p> + Left, as she seemed always to be in these days of open mutiny, Nedda said + sadly: + </p> + <p> + “What is coming, Aunt Kirsteen?” + </p> + <p> + Her aunt was standing in the porch, looking straight before her; a trail + of clematis had drooped over her fine black hair down on to the blue of + her linen dress. She answered, without turning: + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever seen, on jubilee nights, bonfire to bonfire, from hill to + hill, to the end of the land? This is the first lighted.” + </p> + <p> + Nedda felt something clutch her heart. What was that figure in blue? + Priestess? Prophetess? And for a moment the girl felt herself swept into + the vision those dark glowing eyes were seeing; some violent, exalted, + inexorable, flaming vision. Then something within her revolted, as though + one had tried to hypnotize her into seeing what was not true; as though + she had been forced for the moment to look, not at what was really there, + but at what those eyes saw projected from the soul behind them. And she + said quietly: + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe, Aunt Kirsteen. I don't really believe. I think it must + go out.” + </p> + <p> + Kirsteen turned. + </p> + <p> + “You are like your father,” she said—“a doubter.” + </p> + <p> + Nedda shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “I can't persuade myself to see what isn't there. I never can, Aunt + Kirsteen.” + </p> + <p> + Without reply, save a quiver of her brows, Kirsteen went back into the + house. And Nedda stayed on the pebbled path before the cottage, unhappy, + searching her own soul. Did she fail to see because she was afraid to see, + because she was too dull to see; or because, as she had said, there was + really nothing there—no flames to leap from hill to hill, no lift, + no tearing in the sky that hung over the land? And she thought: 'London—all + those big towns, their smoke, the things they make, the things we want + them to make, that we shall always want them to make. Aren't they there? + For every laborer who's a slave Dad says there are five town workers who + are just as much slaves! And all those Bigwigs with their great houses, + and their talk, and their interest in keeping things where they are! + Aren't they there? I don't—I can't believe anything much can happen, + or be changed. Oh! I shall never see visions, and dream dreams!' And from + her heart she sighed. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime Derek and Sheila were going their round on bicycles, to + stiffen the backs of the laborers. They had hunted lately, always in a + couple, desiring no complications, having decided that it was less likely + to provoke definite assault and opposition from the farmers. To their + mother was assigned all correspondence; to themselves the verbal + exhortations, the personal touch. It was past noon, and they were already + returning, when they came on the char-a-bancs containing the head of the + strike-breaking column. The two vehicles were drawn up opposite the gate + leading to Marrow Farm, and the agent was detaching the four men destined + to that locality, with their camping-gear. By the open gate the farmer + stood eying his new material askance. Dejected enough creatures they + looked—poor devils picked up at ten pound the dozen, who, by the + mingled apathy and sheepish amusement on their faces, might never have + seen a pitchfork, or smelled a field of clover, in their lives. + </p> + <p> + The two young Freelands rode slowly past; the boy's face scornfully drawn + back into itself; the girl's flaming scarlet. + </p> + <p> + “Don't take notice,” Derek said; “we'll soon stop that.” + </p> + <p> + And they had gone another mile before he added: + </p> + <p> + “We've got to make our round again; that's all.” + </p> + <p> + The words of Mr. Pogram, 'You have influence, young man,' were just. There + was about Derek the sort of quality that belongs to the good regimental + officer; men followed and asked themselves why the devil they had, + afterward. And if it be said that no worse leader than a fiery young fool + can be desired for any movement, it may also be said that without youth + and fire and folly there is usually no movement at all. + </p> + <p> + Late in the afternoon they returned home, dead beat. That evening the + farmers and their wives milked the cows, tended the horses, did everything + that must be done, not without curses. And next morning the men, with + Gaunt and a big, dark fellow, called Tulley, for spokesmen, again + proffered their demand. The agent took counsel with Malloring by wire. His + answer, “Concede nothing,” was communicated to the men in the afternoon, + and received by Gaunt with the remark: “I thart we should be hearin' that. + Please to thank Sir Gerald. The men concedes their gratitood....” + </p> + <p> + That night it began to rain. Nedda, waking, could hear the heavy drops + pattering on the sweetbrier and clematis thatching her open window. The + scent of rain-cooled leaves came in drifts, and it seemed a shame to + sleep. She got up; put on her dressing-gown, and went to thrust her nose + into that bath of dripping sweetness. Dark as the clouds had made the + night, there was still the faint light of a moon somewhere behind. The + leaves of the fruit-trees joined in the long, gentle hissing, and now and + again rustled and sighed sharply; a cock somewhere, as by accident, let + off a single crow. There were no stars. All was dark and soft as velvet. + And Nedda thought: 'The world is dressed in living creatures! Trees, + flowers, grass, insects, ourselves—woven together—the world is + dressed in life! I understand Uncle Tod's feeling! If only it would rain + till they have to send these strike-breakers back because there's no hay + worth fighting about!' Suddenly her heart beat fast. The wicket gate had + clicked. There was something darker than the darkness coming along the + path! Scared, but with all protective instinct roused, she leaned out, + straining to see. A faint grating sound from underneath came up to her. A + window being opened! And she flew to her door. She neither barred it, + however, nor cried out, for in that second it had flashed across her: + 'Suppose it's he! Gone out to do something desperate, as Tryst did!' If it + were, he would come up-stairs and pass her door, going to his room. She + opened it an inch, holding her breath. At first, nothing! Was it fancy? Or + was some one noiselessly rifling the room down-stairs? But surely no one + would steal of Uncle Tod, who, everybody knew, had nothing valuable. Then + came a sound as of bootless feet pressing the stairs stealthily! And the + thought darted through her, 'If it isn't he, what shall I do?' And then—'What + shall I do—if it IS!' + </p> + <p> + Desperately she opened the door, clasping her hands on the place whence + her heart had slipped down to her bare feet. But she knew it was he before + she heard him whisper: “Nedda!” and, clutching him by the sleeve, she drew + him in and closed the door. He was wet through, dripping; so wet that the + mere brushing against him made her skin feel moist through its thin + coverings. + </p> + <p> + “Where have you been? What have you been doing? Oh, Derek!” + </p> + <p> + There was just light enough to see his face, his teeth, the whites of his + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Cutting their tent-ropes in the rain. Hooroosh!” + </p> + <p> + It was such a relief that she just let out a little gasping “Oh!” and + leaned her forehead against his coat. Then she felt his wet arms round + her, his wet body pressed to hers, and in a second he was dancing with her + a sort of silent, ecstatic war dance. Suddenly he stopped, went down on + his knees, pressing his face to her waist, and whispering: “What a brute, + what a brute! Making her wet! Poor little Nedda!” + </p> + <p> + Nedda bent over him; her hair covered his wet head, her hands trembled on + his shoulders. Her heart felt as if it would melt right out of her; she + longed so to warm and dry him with herself. And, in turn, his wet arms + clutched her close, his wet hands could not keep still on her. Then he + drew back, and whispering: “Oh, Nedda! Nedda!” fled out like a dark ghost. + Oblivious that she was damp from head to foot, Nedda stood swaying, her + eyes closed and her lips just open; then, putting out her arms, she drew + them suddenly in and clasped herself.... + </p> + <p> + When she came down to breakfast the next morning, he had gone out already, + and Uncle Tod, too; her aunt was writing at the bureau. Sheila greeted her + gruffly, and almost at once went out. Nedda swallowed coffee, ate her egg, + and bread and honey, with a heavy heart. A newspaper lay open on the + table; she read it idly till these words caught her eye: + </p> + <p> + “The revolt which has paralyzed the hay harvest on Sir Gerald Malloring's + Worcestershire estate and led to the introduction of strike-breakers, + shows no sign of abatement. A very wanton spirit of mischief seems to be + abroad in this neighborhood. No reason can be ascertained for the arson + committed a short time back, nor for this further outbreak of discontent. + The economic condition of the laborers on this estate is admittedly rather + above than below the average.” + </p> + <p> + And at once she thought: '“Mischief!” What a shame!' Were people, then, to + know nothing of the real cause of the revolt—nothing of the Tryst + eviction, the threatened eviction of the Gaunts? Were they not to know + that it was on principle, and to protest against that sort of petty + tyranny to the laborers all over the country, that this rebellion had been + started? For liberty! only simple liberty not to be treated as though they + had no minds or souls of their own—weren't the public to know that? + If they were allowed to think that it was all wanton mischief—that + Derek was just a mischief-maker—it would be dreadful! Some one must + write and make this known? Her father? But Dad might think it too personal—his + own relations! Mr. Cuthcott! Into whose household Wilmet Gaunt had gone. + Ah! Mr. Cuthcott who had told her that he was always at her service! Why + not? And the thought that she might really do something at last to help + made her tingle all over. If she borrowed Sheila's bicycle she could catch + the nine-o'clock train to London, see him herself, make him do something, + perhaps even bring him back with her! She examined her purse. Yes, she had + money. She would say nothing, here, because, of course, he might refuse! + At the back of her mind was the idea that, if a real newspaper took the + part of the laborers, Derek's position would no longer be so dangerous; he + would be, as it were, legally recognized, and that, in itself, would make + him more careful and responsible. Whence she got this belief in the + legalizing power of the press it is difficult to say, unless that, reading + newspapers but seldom, she still took them at their own valuation, and + thought that when they said: “We shall do this,” or “We must do that,” + they really were speaking for the country, and that forty-five millions of + people were deliberately going to do something, whereas, in truth, as was + known to those older than Nedda, they were speaking, and not too + conclusively at that, for single anonymous gentlemen in a hurry who were + not going to do anything. She knew that the press had power, great power—for + she was always hearing that—and it had not occurred to her as yet to + examine the composition of that power so as to discover that, while the + press certainly had a certain monopoly of expression, and that same + 'spirit of body' which makes police constables swear by one another, it + yet contained within its ring fence the sane and advisable futility of a + perfectly balanced contradiction; so that its only functions, practically + speaking, were the dissemination of news, seven-tenths of which would have + been happier in obscurity; and—'irritation of the Dutch!' Not, of + course, that the press realized this; nor was it probable that any one + would tell it, for it had power—great power. + </p> + <p> + She caught her train—glowing outwardly from the speed of her ride, + and inwardly from the heat of adventure and the thought that at last she + was being of some use. + </p> + <p> + The only other occupants of her third-class compartment were a friendly + looking man, who might have been a sailor or other wanderer on leave, and + his thin, dried-up, black-clothed cottage woman of an old mother. They sat + opposite each other. The son looked at his mother with beaming eyes, and + she remarked: “An' I says to him, says I, I says, 'What?' I says; so 'e + says to me, he says, 'Yes,' he says; 'that's what I say,' he says.” And + Nedda thought: 'What an old dear! And the son looks nice too; I do like + simple people.' + </p> + <p> + They got out at the first stop and she journeyed on alone. Taking a + taxicab from Paddington, she drove toward Gray's Inn. But now that she was + getting close she felt very nervous. How expect a busy man like Mr. + Cuthcott to spare time to come down all that way? It would be something, + though, if she could get him even to understand what was really happening, + and why; so that he could contradict that man in the other paper. It must + be wonderful to be writing, daily, what thousands and thousands of people + read! Yes! It must be a very sacred-feeling life! To be able to say things + in that particularly authoritative way which must take such a lot of + people in—that is, make such a lot of people think in the same way! + It must give a man a terrible sense of responsibility, make him feel that + he simply must be noble, even if he naturally wasn't. Yes! it must be a + wonderful profession, and only fit for the highest! In addition to Mr. + Cuthcott, she knew as yet but three young journalists, and those all + weekly. + </p> + <p> + At her timid ring the door was opened by a broad-cheeked girl, enticingly + compact in apron and black frock, whose bright color, thick lips, and + rogue eyes came of anything but London. It flashed across Nedda that this + must be the girl for whose sake she had faced Mr. Cuthcott at the + luncheon-table! And she said: “Are you Wilmet Gaunt?” + </p> + <p> + The girl smiled till her eyes almost disappeared, and answered: “Yes, + miss.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm Nedda Freeland, Miss Sheila's cousin. I've just come from Joyfields. + How are you getting on?” + </p> + <p> + “Fine, thank you, miss. Plenty of life here.” + </p> + <p> + Nedda thought: 'That's what Derek said of her. Bursting with life! And so + she is.' And she gazed doubtfully at the girl, whose prim black dress and + apron seemed scarcely able to contain her. + </p> + <p> + “Is Mr. Cuthcott in?” + </p> + <p> + “No, miss; he'll be down at the paper. Two hundred and five Floodgate + Street.” + </p> + <p> + 'Oh!' thought Nedda with dismay; 'I shall never venture there!' And + glancing once more at the girl, whose rogue slits of eyes, deep sunk + between check-bones and brow, seemed to be quizzing her and saying: 'You + and Mr. Derek—oh! I know!' she went sadly away. And first she + thought she would go home to Hampstead, then that she would go back to the + station, then: 'After all, why shouldn't I go and try? They can't eat me. + I will!' + </p> + <p> + She reached her destination at the luncheon-hour, so that the offices of + the great evening journal were somewhat deserted. Producing her card, she + was passed from hand to hand till she rested in a small bleak apartment + where a young woman was typing fast. She longed to ask her how she liked + it, but did not dare. The whole atmosphere seemed to her charged with a + strenuous solemnity, as though everything said, 'We have power—great + power.' And she waited, sitting by the window which faced the street. On + the buildings opposite she could read the name of another great evening + journal. Why, it was the one which had contained the paragraph she had + read at breakfast! She had bought a copy of it at the station. Its + temperament, she knew, was precisely opposed to that of Mr. Cuthcott's + paper. Over in that building, no doubt there would be the same strenuously + loaded atmosphere, so that if they opened the windows on both sides little + puffs of power would meet in mid-air, above the heads of the passers-by, + as might the broadsides of old three-deckers, above the green, green sea. + </p> + <p> + And for the first time an inkling of the great comic equipoise in + Floodgate Street and human affairs stole on Nedda's consciousness. They + puffed and puffed, and only made smoke in the middle! That must be why Dad + always called them: 'Those fellows!' She had scarcely, however, finished + beginning to think these thoughts when a handbell sounded sharply in some + adjoining room, and the young woman nearly fell into her typewriter. + Readjusting her balance, she rose, and, going to the door, passed out in + haste. Through the open doorway Nedda could see a large and pleasant room, + whose walls seemed covered with prints of men standing in attitudes such + that she was almost sure they were statesmen; and, at a table in the + centre, the back of Mr. Cuthcott in a twiddly chair, surrounded by sheets + of paper reposing on the floor, shining like autumn leaves on a pool of + water. She heard his voice, smothery, hurried, but still pleasant, say: + “Take these, Miss Mayne, take these! Begin on them, begin! Confound it! + What's the time?” And the young woman's voice: “Half past one, Mr. + Cuthcott!” And a noise from Mr. Cuthcott's throat that sounded like an + adjuration to the Deity not to pass over something. Then the young woman + dipped and began gathering those leaves of paper, and over her comely back + Nedda had a clear view of Mr. Cuthcott hunching one brown shoulder as + though warding something off, and of one of his thin hands ploughing up + and throwing back his brown hair on one side, and heard the sound of his + furiously scratching pen. And her heart pattered; it was so clear that he + was 'giving them one' and had no time for her. And involuntarily she + looked at the windows beyond him to see if there were any puffs of power + issuing therefrom. But they were closed. She saw the young woman rise and + come back toward her, putting the sheets of paper in order; and, as the + door was closing, from the twiddly chair a noise that seemed to couple God + with the condemnation of silly souls. When the young woman was once more + at the typewriter she rose and said: “Have you given him my card yet?” + </p> + <p> + The young woman looked at her surprised, as if she had broken some rule of + etiquette, and answered: “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Then don't, please. I can see that he's too busy. I won't wait.” + </p> + <p> + The young woman abstractedly placed a sheet of paper in her typewriter. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” she said. “Good morning!” + </p> + <p> + And before Nedda reached the door she heard the click-click of the + machine, reducing Mr. Cuthcott to legibility. + </p> + <p> + 'I was stupid to come,' she thought. 'He must be terribly overworked. Poor + man! He does say lovely things!' And, crestfallen, she went along the + passages, and once more out into Floodgate Street. She walked along it + frowning, till a man who was selling newspapers said as she passed: “Mind + ye don't smile, lydy!” + </p> + <p> + Seeing that he was selling Mr. Cuthcott's paper, she felt for a coin to + buy one, and, while searching, scrutinized the newsvender's figure, almost + entirely hidden by the words: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + GREAT HOUSING SCHEME + + HOPE FOR THE MILLION! +</pre> + <p> + on a buff-colored board; while above it, his face, that had not quite + blood enough to be scorbutic, was wrapped in the expression of those + philosophers to whom a hope would be fatal. He was, in fact, just what he + looked—a street stoic. And a dim perception of the great social + truth: “The smell of half a loaf is not better than no bread!” flickered + in Nedda's brain as she passed on. Was that what Derek was doing with the + laborers—giving them half the smell of a liberty that was not there? + And a sudden craving for her father came over her. He—he only, was + any good, because he, only, loved her enough to feel how distracted and + unhappy she was feeling, how afraid of what was coming. So, making for a + Tube station, she took train to Hampstead.... + </p> + <p> + It was past two, and Felix, on the point of his constitutional. He had + left Becket the day after Nedda's rather startling removal to Joyfields, + and since then had done his level best to put the whole Tryst affair, with + all its somewhat sinister relevance to her life and his own, out of his + mind as something beyond control. He had but imperfectly succeeded. + </p> + <p> + Flora, herself not too present-minded, had in these days occasion to speak + to him about the absent-minded way in which he fulfilled even the most + domestic duties, and Alan was always saying to him, “Buck up, Dad!” With + Nedda's absorption into the little Joyfields whirlpool, the sun shone but + dimly for Felix. And a somewhat febrile attention to 'The Last of the + Laborers' had not brought it up to his expectations. He fluttered under + his buff waistcoat when he saw her coming in at the gate. She must want + something of him! For to this pitch of resignation, as to his little + daughter's love for him, had he come! And if she wanted something of him, + things would be going wrong again down there! Nor did the warmth of her + embrace, and her: “Oh! Dad, it IS nice to see you!” remove that + instinctive conviction; though delicacy, born of love, forbade him to ask + her what she wanted. Talking of the sky and other matters, thinking how + pretty she was looking, he waited for the new, inevitable proof that youth + was first, and a mere father only second fiddle now. A note from Stanley + had already informed him of the strike. The news had been something of a + relief. Strikes, at all events, were respectable and legitimate means of + protest, and to hear that one was in progress had not forced him out of + his laborious attempt to believe the whole affair only a mole-hill. He had + not, however, heard of the strike-breakers, nor had he seen any newspaper + mention of the matter; and when she had shown him the paragraph; recounted + her visit to Mr. Cuthcott, and how she had wanted to take him back with + her to see for himself—he waited a moment, then said almost timidly: + “Should I be of any use, my dear?” She flushed and squeezed his hand in + silence; and he knew he would. + </p> + <p> + When he had packed a handbag and left a note for Flora, he rejoined her in + the hall. + </p> + <p> + It was past seven when they reached their destination, and, taking the + station 'fly,' drove slowly up to Joyfields, under a showery sky. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIX + </h2> + <p> + When Felix and Nedda reached Tod's cottage, the three little Trysts, whose + activity could never be quite called play, were all the living creatures + about the house. + </p> + <p> + “Where is Mrs. Freeland, Biddy?” + </p> + <p> + “We don't know; a man came, and she went.” + </p> + <p> + “And Miss Sheila?” + </p> + <p> + “She went out in the mornin'. And Mr. Freeland's gone.” + </p> + <p> + Susie added: “The dog's gone, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Then help me to get some tea.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + With the assistance of the mother-child, and the hindrance of Susie and + Billy, Nedda made and laid tea, with an anxious heart. The absence of her + aunt, who so seldom went outside the cottage, fields, and orchard, + disturbed her; and, while Felix refreshed himself, she fluttered several + times on varying pretexts to the wicket gate. + </p> + <p> + At her third visit, from the direction of the church, she saw figures + coming on the road—dark figures carrying something, followed by + others walking alongside. What sun there had been had quite given in to + heavy clouds; the light was dull, the elm-trees dark; and not till they + were within two hundred yards could Nedda make out that these were figures + of policemen. Then, alongside that which they were carrying, she saw her + aunt's blue dress. WHAT were they carrying like that? She dashed down the + steps, and stopped. No! If it were HE they would bring him in! She rushed + back again, distracted. She could see now a form stretched on a hurdle. It + WAS he! + </p> + <p> + “Dad! Quick!” + </p> + <p> + Felix came, startled at that cry, to find his little daughter on the path + wringing her hands and flying back to the wicket gate. They were close + now. She saw them begin to mount the steps, those behind raising their + arms so that the hurdle should be level. Derek lay on his back, with head + and forehead swathed in wet blue linen, torn from his mother's skirt; and + the rest of his face very white. He lay quite still, his clothes covered + with mud. Terrified, Nedda plucked at Kirsteen's sleeve. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Concussion!” The stillness of that blue-clothed figure, so calm beside + her, gave her strength to say quietly: + </p> + <p> + “Put him in my room, Aunt Kirsteen; there's more air there!” And she flew + up-stairs, flinging wide her door, making the bed ready, snatching her + night things from the pillow; pouring out cold water, sprinkling the air + with eau de cologne. Then she stood still. Perhaps, they would not bring + him there? Yes, they were coming up. They brought him in, and laid him on + the bed. She heard one say: “Doctor'll be here directly, ma'am. Let him + lie quiet.” Then she and his mother were alone beside him. + </p> + <p> + “Undo his boots,” said Kirsteen. + </p> + <p> + Nedda's fingers trembled, and she hated them for fumbling so, while she + drew off those muddy boots. Then her aunt said softly: “Hold him up, dear, + while I get his things off.” + </p> + <p> + And, with a strange rapture that she was allowed to hold him thus, she + supported him against her breast till he was freed and lying back inert. + Then, and only then, she whispered: + </p> + <p> + “How long before he—?” + </p> + <p> + Kirsteen shook her head; and, slipping her arm round the girl, murmured: + “Courage, Nedda!” + </p> + <p> + The girl felt fear and love rush up desperately to overwhelm her. She + choked them back, and said quite quietly: “I will. I promise. Only let me + help nurse him!” + </p> + <p> + Kirsteen nodded. And they sat down to wait. + </p> + <p> + That quarter of an hour was the longest of her life. To see him thus, + living, yet not living, with the spirit driven from him by a cruel blow, + perhaps never to come back! Curious, how things still got themselves + noticed when all her faculties were centred in gazing at his face. She + knew that it was raining again; heard the swish and drip, and smelled the + cool wet perfume through the scent of the eau de cologne that she had + spilled. She noted her aunt's arm, as it hovered, wetting the bandage; the + veins and rounded whiteness from under the loose blue sleeve slipped up to + the elbow. One of his feet lay close to her at the bed's edge; she stole + her hand beneath the sheet. That foot felt very cold, and she grasped it + tight. If only she could pass life into him through her hot hand. She + heard the ticking of her little travelling-clock, and was conscious of + flies wheeling close up beneath the white ceiling, of how one by one they + darted at each other, making swift zigzags in the air. And something in + her she had not yet known came welling up, softening her eyes, her face, + even the very pose of her young body—the hidden passion of a + motherliness, that yearned so to 'kiss the place,' to make him well, to + nurse and tend, restore and comfort him. And with all her might she + watched the movements of those rounded arms under the blue sleeves—how + firm and exact they were, how soft and quiet and swift, bathing the dark + head! Then from beneath the bandage she caught sight suddenly of his eyes. + And her heart turned sick. Oh, they were not quite closed! As if he hadn't + life enough to close them! She bit into her lip to stop a cry. It was so + terrible to see them without light. Why did not that doctor come? Over and + over and over again within her the prayer turned: Let him live! Oh, let + him live! + </p> + <p> + The blackbirds out in the orchard were tuning up for evening. It seemed + almost dreadful they should be able to sing like that. All the world was + going on just the same! If he died, the world would have no more light for + her than there was now in his poor eyes—and yet it would go on the + same! How was that possible? It was not possible, because she would die + too! She saw her aunt turn her head like a startled animal; some one was + coming up the stairs! It was the doctor, wiping his wet face—a young + man in gaiters. How young—dreadfully young! No; there was a little + gray at the sides of his hair! What would he say? And Nedda sat with hands + tight clenched in her lap, motionless as a young crouching sphinx. An + interminable testing, and questioning, and answer! Never smoked—never + drank—never been ill! The blow—ah, here! Just here! Concussion—yes! + Then long staring into the eyes, the eyelids lifted between thumb and + finger. And at last (how could he talk so loud! Yet it was a comfort too—he + would not talk like that if Derek were going to die!)—Hair cut + shorter—ice—watch him like a lynx! This and that, if he came + to. Nothing else to be done. And then those blessed words: + </p> + <p> + “But don't worry too much. I think it'll be all right.” She could not help + a little sigh escaping her clenched teeth. + </p> + <p> + The doctor was looking at her. His eyes were nice. + </p> + <p> + “Sister?” + </p> + <p> + “Cousin.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Well, I'll get back now, and send you out some ice, at once.” + </p> + <p> + More talk outside the door. Nedda, alone with her lover, crouched forward + on her knees, and put her lips to his. They were not so cold as his foot, + and the first real hope and comfort came to her. Watch him like a lynx—wouldn't + she? But how had it all happened? And where was Sheila? and Uncle Tod? + </p> + <p> + Her aunt had come back and was stroking her shoulder. There had been + fighting in the barn at Marrow Farm. They had arrested Sheila. Derek had + jumped down to rescue her and struck his head against a grindstone. Her + uncle had gone with Sheila. They would watch, turn and turn about. Nedda + must go now and eat something, and get ready to take the watch from eight + to midnight. + </p> + <p> + Following her resolve to make no fuss, the girl went out. The police had + gone. The mother-child was putting her little folk to bed; and in the + kitchen Felix was arranging the wherewithal to eat. He made her sit down + and kept handing things; watching like a cat to see that she put them in + her mouth, in the way from which only Flora had suffered hitherto; he + seemed so anxious and unhappy, and so awfully sweet, that Nedda forced + herself to swallow what she thought would never go down a dry and choky + throat. He kept coming up and touching her shoulder or forehead. Once he + said: + </p> + <p> + “It's all right, you know, my pet; concussion often takes two days.” + </p> + <p> + Two days with his eyes like that! The consolation was not so vivid as + Felix might have wished; but she quite understood that he was doing his + best to give it. She suddenly remembered that he had no room to sleep in. + He must use Derek's. No! That, it appeared, was to be for her when she + came off duty. Felix was going to have an all-night sitting in the + kitchen. He had been looking forward to an all-night sitting for many + years, and now he had got his chance. It was a magnificent opportunity—“without + your mother, my dear, to insist on my sleeping.” And staring at his smile, + Nedda thought: 'He's like Granny—he comes out under difficulties. If + only I did!' + </p> + <p> + The ice arrived by motor-cycle just before her watch began. It was some + comfort to have that definite thing to see to. How timorous and humble are + thoughts in a sick-room, above all when the sick are stretched behind the + muffle of unconsciousness, withdrawn from the watcher by half-death! And + yet, for him or her who loves, there is at least the sense of being alone + with the loved one, of doing all that can be done; and in some strange way + of twining hearts with the exiled spirit. To Nedda, sitting at his feet, + and hardly ever turning eyes away from his still face, it sometimes seemed + that the flown spirit was there beside her. And she saw into his soul in + those hours of watching, as one looking into a stream sees the + leopard-like dapple of its sand and dark-strewn floor, just reached by + sunlight. She saw all his pride, courage, and impatience, his reserve, and + strange unwilling tenderness, as she had never seen them. And a queer + dreadful feeling moved her that in some previous existence she had looked + at that face dead on a field of battle, frowning up at the stars. That was + absurd—there were no previous existences! Or was it prevision of + what would come some day? + </p> + <p> + When, at half past nine, the light began to fail, she lighted two candles + in tall, thin, iron candlesticks beside her. They burned without flicker, + those spires of yellow flame, slowly conquering the dying twilight, till + in their soft radiance the room was full of warm dusky shadows, the night + outside ever a deeper black. Two or three times his mother came, looked at + him, asked her if she should stay, and, receiving a little silent shake of + the head, went away again. At eleven o'clock, when once more she changed + the ice-cap, his eyes had still no lustre, and for a moment her courage + failed her utterly. It seemed to her that he could never win back, that + death possessed the room already, possessed those candle-flames, the + ticking of the clock, the dark, dripping night, possessed her heart. Could + he be gone before she had been his! Gone! Where? She sank down on her + knees, covering her eyes. What good to watch, if he were never coming + back! A long time—it seemed hours—passed thus, with the + feeling growing deeper in her that no good would come while she was + watching. And behind the barrier of her hands she tried desperately to + rally courage. If things were—they were! One must look them in the + face! She took her hands away. His eyes! Was it light in them? Was it? + They were seeing—surely they saw. And his lips made the tiniest + movement. In that turmoil of exultation she never knew how she managed to + continue kneeling there, with her hands on his. But all her soul shone + down to him out of her eyes, and drew and drew at his spirit struggling + back from the depths of him. For many minutes that struggle lasted; then + he smiled. It was the feeblest smile that ever was on lips, but it made + the tears pour down Nedda's cheeks and trickle off on to his hands. Then, + with a stoicism that she could not believe in, so hopelessly unreal it + seemed, so utterly the negation of the tumult within her, she settled back + again at his feet to watch and not excite him. And still his lips smiled + that faint smile, and his opened eyes grew dark and darker with meaning. + </p> + <p> + So at midnight Kirsteen found them. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXX + </h2> + <p> + In the early hours of his all-night sitting Felix had first only memories, + and then Kirsteen for companion. + </p> + <p> + “I worry most about Tod,” she said. “He had that look in his face when he + went off from Marrow Farm. He might do something terrible if they + ill-treat Sheila. If only she has sense enough to see and not provoke + them.” + </p> + <p> + “Surely she will,” Felix murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, if she realizes. But she won't, I'm afraid. Even I have only known + him look like that three times. Tod is so gentle—passion stores + itself in him; and when it comes, it's awful. If he sees cruelty, he goes + almost mad. Once he would have killed a man if I hadn't got between them. + He doesn't know what he's doing at such moments. I wish—I wish he + were back. It's hard one can't pierce through, and see him.” + </p> + <p> + Gazing at her eyes so dark and intent, Felix thought: 'If YOU can't pierce + through—none can.' + </p> + <p> + He learned the story of the disaster. + </p> + <p> + Early that morning Derek had assembled twenty of the strongest laborers, + and taken them a round of the farms to force the strike-breakers to + desist. There had been several fights, in all of which the strike-breakers + had been beaten. Derek himself had fought three times. In the afternoon + the police had come, and the laborers had rushed with Derek and Sheila, + who had joined them, into a barn at Marrow Farm, barred it, and thrown + mangolds at the police, when they tried to force an entrance. One by one + the laborers had slipped away by a rope out of a ventilation-hole high up + at the back, and they had just got Sheila down when the police appeared on + that side, too. Derek, who had stayed to the last, covering their escape + with mangolds, had jumped down twenty feet when he saw them taking Sheila, + and, pitching forward, hit his head against a grindstone. Then, just as + they were marching Sheila and two of the laborers away, Tod had arrived + and had fallen in alongside the policemen—he and the dog. It was + then she had seen that look on his face. + </p> + <p> + Felix, who had never beheld his big brother in Berserk mood, could offer + no consolation; nor had he the heart to adorn the tale, and inflict on + this poor woman his reflection: 'This, you see, is what comes of the + ferment you have fostered. This is the reward of violence!' He longed, + rather, to comfort her; she seemed so lonely and, in spite of all her + stoicism, so distraught and sad. His heart went out, too, to Tod. How + would he himself have felt, walking by the side of policemen whose arms + were twisted in Nedda's! But so mixed are the minds of men that at this + very moment there was born within him the germ of a real revolt against + the entry of his little daughter into this family of hotheads. It was more + now than mere soreness and jealousy; it was fear of a danger hitherto but + sniffed at, but now only too sharply savored. + </p> + <p> + When she left him to go up-stairs, Felix stayed consulting the dark night. + As ever, in hours of ebbed vitality, the shapes of fear and doubt grew + clearer and more positive; they loomed huge out there among the + apple-trees, where the drip-drip of the rain made music. But his thoughts + were still nebulous, not amounting to resolve. It was no moment for + resolves—with the boy lying up there between the tides of chance; + and goodness knew what happening to Tod and Sheila. The air grew sharper; + he withdrew to the hearth, where a wood fire still burned, gray ash, red + glow, scent oozing from it. And while he crouched there, blowing it with + bellows, he heard soft footsteps, and saw Nedda standing behind him + transformed. + </p> + <p> + But in the midst of all his glad sympathy Felix could not help thinking: + 'Better for you, perhaps, if he had never returned from darkness!' + </p> + <p> + She came and crouched down by him. + </p> + <p> + “Let me sit with you, Dad. It smells so good.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well; but you must sleep.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe I'll ever want to sleep again.” + </p> + <p> + And at the glow in her Felix glowed too. What is so infectious as delight? + They sat a long time talking, as they had not talked since the first fatal + visit to Becket. Of how love, and mountains, works of art, and doing + things for others were the only sources of happiness; except scents, and + lying on one's back looking through tree-tops at the sky; and tea, and + sunlight, flowers, and hard exercise; oh, and the sea! Of how, when things + went hard, one prayed—but what did one pray to? Was it not to + something in oneself? It was of no use to pray to the great mysterious + Force that made one thing a cabbage, and the other a king; for That could + obviously not be weak-minded enough to attend. And gradually little pauses + began to creep into their talk; then a big pause, and Nedda, who would + never want to sleep again, was fast asleep. + </p> + <p> + Felix watched those long, dark lashes resting on her cheeks; the slow, + soft rise of her breast; the touching look of trust and goodness in that + young face abandoned to oblivion after these hours of stress; watched the + little tired shadows under the eyes, the tremors of the just-parted lips. + And, getting up, stealthy as a cat, he found a light rug, and ever more + stealthily laid it over her. She stirred at that, smiled up at him, and + instantly went off again. And he thought: 'Poor little sweetheart, she WAS + tired!' And a passionate desire to guard her from trials and troubles came + on him. + </p> + <p> + At four o'clock Kirsteen slipped in again, and whispered: “She made me + promise to come for her. How pretty she looks, sleeping!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” Felix answered; “pretty and good!” + </p> + <p> + Nedda raised her head, stared up at her aunt, and a delighted smile spread + over her face. “Is it time again? How lovely!” Then, before either could + speak or stop her, she was gone. + </p> + <p> + “She is more in love,” Kirsteen murmured, “than I ever saw a girl of her + age.” + </p> + <p> + “She is more in love,” Felix answered, “than is good to see.” + </p> + <p> + “She is not truer than Derek is.” + </p> + <p> + “That may be, but she will suffer from him.” + </p> + <p> + “Women who love must always suffer.” + </p> + <p> + Her cheeks were sunken, shadowy; she looked very tired. When she had gone + to get some sleep, Felix restored the fire and put on a kettle, meaning to + make himself some coffee. Morning had broken, clear and sparkling after + the long rain, and full of scent and song. What glory equalled this early + morning radiance, the dewy wonder of everything! What hour of the day was + such a web of youth and beauty as this, when all the stars from all the + skies had fallen into the grass! A cold nose was thrust into his hand, and + he saw beside him Tod's dog. The animal was wet, and lightly moved his + white-tipped tail; while his dark-yellow eyes inquired of Felix what he + was going to give a dog to eat. Then Felix saw his brother coming in. + Tod's face was wild and absent as a man with all his thoughts turned on + something painful in the distance. His ruffled hair had lost its + brightness; his eyes looked as if driven back into his head; he was + splashed with mud, and wet from head to foot. He walked up to the hearth + without a word. + </p> + <p> + “Well, old man?” said Felix anxiously. + </p> + <p> + Tod looked at him, but did not answer. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” said Felix; “tell us!” + </p> + <p> + “Locked up,” said Tod in a voice unlike his own. “I didn't knock them + down.” + </p> + <p> + “Heavens! I should hope not.” + </p> + <p> + “I ought to have.” + </p> + <p> + Felix put his hand within his brother's arm. + </p> + <p> + “They twisted her arms; one of them pushed her from behind. I can't + understand it. How was it I didn't? I can't understand.” + </p> + <p> + “I can,” said Felix. “They were the Law. If they had been mere men you'd + have done it, fast enough.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't understand,” Tod repeated. “I've been walking ever since.” + </p> + <p> + Felix stroked his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Go up-stairs, old man. Kirsteen's anxious.” + </p> + <p> + Tod sat down and took his boots off. + </p> + <p> + “I can't understand,” he said once more. Then, without another word, or + even a look at Felix, he went out and up the stairs. + </p> + <p> + And Felix thought: 'Poor Kirsteen! Ah, well—they're all about as + queer, one as the other! How to get Nedda out of it?' + </p> + <p> + And, with that question gnawing at him, he went out into the orchard. The + grass was drenching wet, so he descended to the road. Two wood-pigeons + were crooning to each other, truest of all sounds of summer; there was no + wind, and the flies had begun humming. In the air, cleared of dust, the + scent of hay was everywhere. What about those poor devils of laborers, + now? They would get the sack for this! and he was suddenly beset with a + feeling of disgust. This world where men, and women too, held what they + had, took what they could; this world of seeing only one thing at a time; + this world of force, and cunning, of struggle, and primitive appetites; of + such good things, too, such patience, endurance, heroism—and yet at + heart so unutterably savage! + </p> + <p> + He was very tired; but it was too wet to sit down, so he walked on. Now + and again he passed a laborer going to work; but very few in all those + miles, and they quite silent. 'Did they ever really whistle?' Felix + thought. 'Were they ever jolly ploughmen? Or was that always a fiction? + Surely, if they can't give tongue this morning, they never can!' He + crossed a stile and took a slanting path through a little wood. The scent + of leaves and sap, the dapple of sunlight—all the bright early glow + and beauty struck him with such force that he could have cried out in the + sharpness of sensation. At that hour when man was still abed and the land + lived its own life, how full and sweet and wild that life seemed, how in + love with itself! Truly all the trouble in the world came from the + manifold disharmonies of the self-conscious animal called Man! + </p> + <p> + Then, coming out on the road again, he saw that he must be within a mile + or two of Becket; and finding himself suddenly very hungry, determined to + go there and get some breakfast. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXI + </h2> + <p> + Duly shaved with one of Stanley's razors, bathed, and breakfasted, Felix + was on the point of getting into the car to return to Joyfields when he + received a message from his mother: Would he please go up and see her + before he went? + </p> + <p> + He found her looking anxious and endeavoring to conceal it. + </p> + <p> + Having kissed him, she drew him to her sofa and said: “Now, darling, come + and sit down here, and tell me all about this DREADFUL business.” And + taking up an odorator she blew over him a little cloud of scent. “It's + quite a new perfume; isn't it delicious?” + </p> + <p> + Felix, who dreaded scent, concealed his feelings, sat down, and told her. + And while he told her he was conscious of how pathetically her + fastidiousness was quivering under those gruesome details—fighting + with policemen, fighting with common men, prison—FOR A LADY; + conscious too of her still more pathetic effort to put a good face on it. + When he had finished she remained so perfectly still, with lips so hard + compressed, that he said: + </p> + <p> + “It's no good worrying, Mother.” + </p> + <p> + Frances Freeland rose, pulled something hard, and a cupboard appeared. She + opened it, and took out a travelling-bag. + </p> + <p> + “I must go back with you at once,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “I don't think it's in the least necessary, and you'll only knock yourself + up.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nonsense, darling! I must.” + </p> + <p> + Knowing that further dissuasion would harden her determination, Felix + said: “I'm going in the car.” + </p> + <p> + “That doesn't matter. I shall be ready in ten minutes. Oh! and do you know + this? It's splendid for taking lines out under the eyes!” She was holding + out a little round box with the lid off. “Just wet your finger with it, + and dab it gently on.” + </p> + <p> + Touched by this evidence of her deep desire that he should put as good a + face on it as herself, Felix dabbed himself under the eyes. + </p> + <p> + “That's right. Now, wait for me, dear; I shan't be a minute. I've only to + get my things. They'll all go splendidly in this little bag.” + </p> + <p> + In a quarter of an hour they had started. During that journey Frances + Freeland betrayed no sign of tremor. She was going into action, and, + therefore, had no patience with her nerves. + </p> + <p> + “Are you proposing to stay, Mother?” Felix hazarded; “because I don't + think there's a room for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! that's nothing, darling. I sleep beautifully in a chair. It suits me + better than lying down.” Felix cast up his eyes, and made no answer. + </p> + <p> + On arriving, they found that the doctor had been there, expressed his + satisfaction, and enjoined perfect quiet. Tod was on the point of starting + back to Transham, where Sheila and the two laborers would be brought up + before the magistrates. Felix and Kirsteen took hurried counsel. Now that + Mother, whose nursing was beyond reproach, had come, it would be better if + they went with Tod. All three started forthwith in the car. + </p> + <p> + Left alone, Frances Freeland took her bag—a noticeably old one, + without any patent clasp whatever, so that she could open it—went + noiselessly upstairs, tapped on Derek's door, and went in. A faint but + cheerful voice remarked: “Halloo, Granny!” + </p> + <p> + Frances Freeland went up to the bed, smiled down on him ineffably, laid a + finger on his lips, and said, in the stillest voice: “You mustn't talk, + darling!” Then she sat down in the window with her bag beside her. Half a + tear had run down her nose, and she had no intention that it should be + seen. She therefore opened her bag, and, having taken out a little bottle, + beckoned Nedda. + </p> + <p> + “Now, darling,” she whispered, “you must just take one of these. It's + nothing new; they're what my mother used to give me at your age. And for + one hour you must go out and get some fresh air, and then you can come + back.” + </p> + <p> + “Must I, Granny?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; you must keep up your strength. Kiss me.” + </p> + <p> + Nedda kissed a cheek that seemed extraordinarily smooth and soft, received + a kiss in the middle of her own, and, having stayed a second by the bed, + looking down with all her might, went out. + </p> + <p> + Frances Freeland, in the window, wasted no thoughts, but began to run over + in her mind the exact operations necessary to defeat this illness of + darling Derek's. Her fingers continually locked and interlocked themselves + with fresh determinations; her eyes, fixed on imaginary foods, methods of + washing, and ways of keeping him quiet, had an almost fanatical intensity. + Like a good general she marshalled her means of attack and fixed them in + perfect order. Now and then she gazed into her bag, making quite sure that + she had everything, and nothing that was new-fangled or liable to go + wrong. For into action she never brought any of those patent novelties + that delighted her soul in times of peace. For example, when she herself + had pneumonia and no doctor, for two months, it was well known that she + had lain on her back, free from every kind of remedy, employing only + courage, nature, and beef tea, or some such simple sustenance. + </p> + <p> + Having now made her mental dispositions, she got up without sound and + slipped off a petticoat that she suspected of having rustled a little when + she came in; folding and popping it where it could not be suspected any + more, she removed her shoes and put on very old velvet slippers. She + walked in these toward the bed, listening to find out whether she could + hear herself, without success. Then, standing where she could see when his + eyes opened, she began to take stock. That pillow wasn't very comfortable! + A little table was wanted on both sides, instead of on one. There was no + odorator, and she did not see one of those arrangements! All these things + would have to be remedied. + </p> + <p> + Absorbed in this reconnoitring, she failed to observe that darling Derek + was looking at her through eyelashes that were always so nice and black. + He said suddenly, in that faint and cheerful voice: + </p> + <p> + “All right, Granny; I'm going to get up to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + Frances Freeland, whose principle it was that people should always be + encouraged to believe themselves better than they were, answered. “Yes, + darling, of course; you'll be up in no time. It'll be delightful to see + you in a chair to-morrow. But you mustn't talk.” + </p> + <p> + Derek sighed, closed his eyes, and went off into a faint. + </p> + <p> + It was in moments such as these that Frances Freeland was herself. Her + face flushed a little and grew terribly determined. Conscious that she was + absolutely alone in the house, she ran to her bag, took out her sal + volatile, applied it vigorously to his nose, and poured a little between + his lips. She did other things to him, and not until she had brought him + round, and the best of it was already made, did she even say to herself: + 'It's no use fussing; I must make the best of it.' + </p> + <p> + Then, having discovered that he felt quite comfortable—as he said—she + sat down in a chair to fan him and tremble vigorously. She would not have + allowed that movement of her limbs if it had in any way interfered with + the fanning. But since, on the contrary, it seemed to be of assistance, + she certainly felt it a relief; for, whatever age her spirit might be, her + body was seventy-three. + </p> + <p> + And while she fanned she thought of Derek as a little, black-haired, + blazing-gray-eyed slip of a sallow boy, all little thin legs and arms + moving funnily like a foal's. He had been such a dear, gentlemanlike + little chap. It was dreadful he should be forgetting himself so, and + getting into such trouble. And her thoughts passed back beyond him to her + own four little sons, among whom she had been so careful not to have a + favorite, but to love them all equally. And she thought of how their + holland suits wore out, especially in the elastic, and got green behind, + almost before they were put on; and of how she used to cut their hairs, + spending at least three-quarters of an hour on each, because she had never + been quick at it, while they sat so good—except Stanley, and darling + Tod, who WOULD move just as she had got into the comb particularly nice + bits of his hair, always so crisp and difficult! And of how she had cut + off Felix's long golden curls when he was four, and would have cried over + it, if crying hadn't always been silly! And of how beautifully they had + all had their measles together, so that she had been up with them day and + night for about a fortnight. And of how it was a terrible risk with Derek + and darling Nedda, not at all a wise match, she was afraid. And yet, if + they really were attached, of course one must put the best face on it! And + how lovely it would be to see another little baby some day; and what a + charming little mother Nedda would make—if only the dear child would + do her hair just a little differently! And she perceived that Derek was + asleep—and one of her own legs, from the knee down. She would + certainly have bad pins and needles if she did not get up; but, since she + would not wake him for the world, she must do something else to cure it. + And she hit upon this plan. She had only to say, 'Nonsense, you haven't + anything of the sort!' and it was sure to go away. She said this to her + leg, but, being a realist, she only made it feel like a pin-cushion. She + knew, however, that she had only to persevere, because it would never do + to give in. She persevered, and her leg felt as if red-hot needles were + being stuck in it. Then, for the life of her, she could not help saying a + little psalm. The sensation went away and left her leg quite dead. She + would have no strength in it at all when she got up. But that would be + easily cured, when she could get to her bag, with three globules of nux + vomica—and darling Derek must not be waked up for anything! She + waited thus till Nedda came back, and then said, “Sssh!” + </p> + <p> + He woke at once, so that providentially she was able to get up, and, + having stood with her weight on one leg for five minutes, so as to be + quite sure she did not fall, she crossed back to the window, took her nux + vomica, and sat down with her tablets to note down the little affairs she + would require, while Nedda took her place beside the bed, to fan him. + Having made her list, she went to Nedda and whispered that she was going + down to see about one or two little things, and while she whispered she + arranged the dear child's hair. If only she would keep it just like that, + it would be so much more becoming! And she went down-stairs. + </p> + <p> + Accustomed to the resources of Stanley's establishment, or at least to + those of John's and Felix's, and of the hotels she stayed at, she felt for + a moment just a little nonplussed at discovering at her disposal nothing + but three dear little children playing with a dog, and one bicycle. For a + few seconds she looked at the latter hard. If only it had been a tricycle! + Then, feeling certain that she could not make it into one, she knew that + she must make the best of it, especially as, in any case, she could not + have used it, for it would never do to leave darling Nedda alone in the + house. She decided therefore to look in every room to see if she could + find the things she wanted. The dog, who had been attracted by her, left + the children and came too, and the children, attracted by the dog, + followed; so they all five went into a room on the ground floor. It was + partitioned into two by a screen; in one portion was a rough camp + bedstead, and in the other two dear little child's beds, that must once + have been Derek's and Sheila's, and one still smaller, made out of a large + packing-case. The eldest of the little children said: + </p> + <p> + “That's where Billy sleeps, Susie sleeps here, and I sleeps there; and our + father sleeped in here before he went to prison.” Frances Freeland + experienced a shock. To prison! The idea of letting these little things + know such a thing as that! The best face had so clearly not been put on it + that she decided to put it herself. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, not to prison, dear! Only into a house in the town for a little + while.” + </p> + <p> + It seemed to her quite dreadful that they should know the truth—it + was simply necessary to put it out of their heads. That dear little girl + looked so old already, such a little mother! And, as they stood about her, + she gazed piercingly at their heads. They were quite clean. + </p> + <p> + The second dear little thing said: + </p> + <p> + “We like bein' here; we hope Father won't be comin' back from prison for a + long time, so as we can go on stayin' here. Mr. Freeland gives us apples.” + </p> + <p> + The failure of her attempt to put a nicer idea into their heads + disconcerted Frances Freeland for a moment only. She said: + </p> + <p> + “Who told you he was in prison?” + </p> + <p> + Biddy answered slowly: “Nobody didn't tell us; we picked it up.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but you should never pick things up! That's not at all nice. You + don't know what harm they may do you.” + </p> + <p> + Billy replied: “We picked up a dead cat yesterday. It didn't scratch a + bit, it didn't.” + </p> + <p> + And Biddy added: “Please, what is prison like?” + </p> + <p> + Pity seized on Frances Freeland for these little derelicts, whose heads + and pinafores and faces were so clean. She pursed her lips very tight and + said: + </p> + <p> + “Hold out your hands, all of you.” + </p> + <p> + Three small hands were held out, and three small pairs of gray-blue eyes + looked up at her. From the recesses of her pocket she drew forth her + purse, took from it three shillings, and placed one in the very centre of + each palm. The three small hands closed; two small grave bodies dipped in + little courtesies; the third remained stock-still, but a grin spread + gradually on its face from ear to ear. + </p> + <p> + “What do you say?” said Frances Freeland. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you—what?” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, ma'am.” + </p> + <p> + “That's right. Now run away and play a nice game in the orchard.” + </p> + <p> + The three turned immediately and went. A sound of whispering rose busily + outside. Frances Freeland, glancing through the window, saw them + unlatching the wicket gate. Sudden alarm seized her. She put out her head + and called. Biddy came back. + </p> + <p> + “You mustn't spend them all at once.” + </p> + <p> + Biddy shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “No. Once we had a shillin', and we were sick. We're goin' to spend three + pennies out of one shillin' every day, till they're gone.” + </p> + <p> + “And aren't you going to put any by for a rainy day?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + Frances Freeland did not know what to answer. Dear little things! + </p> + <p> + The dear little things vanished. + </p> + <p> + In Tod's and Kirsteen's room she found a little table and a pillow, and + something that might do, and having devised a contrivance by which this + went into that and that into this and nothing whatever showed, she + conveyed the whole very quietly up near dear Derek's room, and told + darling Nedda to go down-stairs and look for something that she knew she + would not find, for she could not think at the moment of any better + excuse. When the child had gone, she popped this here, and popped that + there. And there she was! And she felt better. It was no use whatever to + make a fuss about that aspect of nursing which was not quite nice. One + just put the best face upon it, quietly did what was necessary, and + pretended that it was not there. Kirsteen had not seen to things quite as + she should have. But then dear Kirsteen was so clever. + </p> + <p> + Her attitude, indeed, to that blue bird, who had alighted now twenty-one + years ago in the Freeland nest, had always, after the first few shocks, + been duly stoical. For, however her fastidiousness might jib at neglect of + the forms of things, she was the last woman not to appreciate really + sterling qualities. Though it was a pity dear Kirsteen did expose her neck + and arms so that they had got quite brown, a pity that she never went to + church and had brought up the dear children not to go, and to have ideas + that were not quite right about 'the Land,' still she was emphatically a + lady, and devoted to dear Tod, and very good. And her features were so + regular, and she had such a good color, and was so slim and straight in + the back, that she was always a pleasure to look at. And if she was not + quite so practical as she might have been, that was not everything; and + she would never get stout, as there was every danger of Clara doing. So + that from the first she had always put a good face on her. Derek's voice + interrupted her thoughts: + </p> + <p> + “I'm awfully thirsty, Granny.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, darling. Don't move your head; and just let me pop in some of this + delicious lemonade with a spoon.” + </p> + <p> + Nedda, returning, found her supporting his head with one hand, while with + the other she kept popping in the spoon, her soul smiling at him lovingly + through her lips and eyes. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXII + </h2> + <p> + Felix went back to London the afternoon of Frances Freeland's + installation, taking Sheila with him. She had been 'bound over to keep the + peace'—a task which she would obviously be the better able to + accomplish at a distance. And, though to take charge of her would be + rather like holding a burning match till there was no match left, he felt + bound to volunteer. + </p> + <p> + He left Nedda with many misgivings; but had not the heart to wrench her + away. + </p> + <p> + The recovery of a young man who means to get up to-morrow is not so rapid + when his head, rather than his body, is the seat of trouble. Derek's + temperament was against him. He got up several times in spirit, to find + that his body had remained in bed. And this did not accelerate his + progress. It had been impossible to dispossess Frances Freeland from + command of the sick-room; and, since she was admittedly from experience + and power of paying no attention to her own wants, the fittest person for + the position, there she remained, taking turn and turn about with Nedda, + and growing a little whiter, a little thinner, more resolute in face, and + more loving in her eyes, from day to day. That tragedy of the old—the + being laid aside from life before the spirit is ready to resign, the + feeling that no one wants you, that all those you have borne and brought + up have long passed out on to roads where you cannot follow, that even the + thought-life of the world streams by so fast that you lie up in a + backwater, feebly, blindly groping for the full of the water, and always + pushed gently, hopelessly back; that sense that you are still young and + warm, and yet so furbelowed with old thoughts and fashions that none can + see how young and warm you are, none see how you long to rub hearts with + the active, how you yearn for something real to do that can help life on, + and how no one will give it you! All this—this tragedy—was for + the time defeated. She was, in triumph, doing something real for those she + loved and longed to do things for. She had Sheila's room. + </p> + <p> + For a week at least Derek asked no questions, made no allusion to the + mutiny, not even to the cause of his own disablement. It had been + impossible to tell whether the concussion had driven coherent recollection + from his mind, or whether he was refraining from an instinct of + self-preservation, barring such thoughts as too exciting. Nedda dreaded + every day lest he should begin. She knew that the questions would fall on + her, since no answer could possibly be expected from Granny except: “It's + all right, darling, everything's going on perfectly—only you mustn't + talk!” + </p> + <p> + It began the last day of June, the very first day that he got up. + </p> + <p> + “They didn't save the hay, did they?” + </p> + <p> + Was he fit to hear the truth? Would he forgive her if she did not tell it? + If she lied about this, could she go on lying to his other questions? When + he discovered, later, would not the effect undo the good of lies now? She + decided to lie; but, when she opened her lips, simply could not, with his + eyes on her; and said faintly: “Yes, they did.” + </p> + <p> + His face contracted. She slipped down at once and knelt beside his chair. + He said between his teeth: + </p> + <p> + “Go on; tell me. Did it all collapse?” + </p> + <p> + She could only stroke his hands and bow her head. + </p> + <p> + “I see. What's happened to them?” + </p> + <p> + Without looking up, she murmured: + </p> + <p> + “Some have been dismissed; the others are working again all right.” + </p> + <p> + “All right!” + </p> + <p> + She looked up then so pitifully that he did not ask her anything more. But + the news put him back a week. And she was in despair. The day he got up + again he began afresh: + </p> + <p> + “When are the assizes?” + </p> + <p> + “The 7th of August.” + </p> + <p> + “Has anybody been to see Bob Tryst?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; Aunt Kirsteen has been twice.” + </p> + <p> + Having been thus answered, he was quiet for a long time. She had slipped + again out of her chair to kneel beside him; it seemed the only place from + which she could find courage for her answers. He put his hand, that had + lost its brown, on her hair. At that she plucked up spirit to ask: + </p> + <p> + “Would you like me to go and see him?” + </p> + <p> + He nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Then, I will—to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't ever tell me what isn't true, Nedda! People do; that's why I didn't + ask before.” + </p> + <p> + She answered fervently: + </p> + <p> + “I won't! Oh, I won't!” + </p> + <p> + She dreaded this visit to the prison. Even to think of those places gave + her nightmare. Sheila's description of her night in a cell had made her + shiver with horror. But there was a spirit in Nedda that went through with + things; and she started early the next day, refusing Kirsteen's proffered + company. + </p> + <p> + The look of that battlemented building, whose walls were pierced with + emblems of the Christian faith, turned her heartsick, and she stood for + several minutes outside the dark-green door before she could summon + courage to ring the bell. + </p> + <p> + A stout man in blue, with a fringe of gray hair under his peaked cap, and + some keys dangling from a belt, opened, and said: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, miss?” + </p> + <p> + Being called 'miss' gave her a little spirit, and she produced the card + she had been warming in her hand. + </p> + <p> + “I have come to see a man called Robert Tryst, waiting for trial at the + assizes.” + </p> + <p> + The stout man looked at the card back and front, as is the way of those in + doubt, closed the door behind her, and said: + </p> + <p> + “Just a minute, miss.” + </p> + <p> + The shutting of the door behind her sent a little shiver down Nedda's + spine; but the temperature of her soul was rising, and she looked round. + Beyond the heavy arch, beneath which she stood, was a courtyard where she + could see two men, also in blue, with peaked caps. Then, to her left, she + became conscious of a shaven-headed noiseless being in drab-gray clothes, + on hands and knees, scrubbing the end of a corridor. Her tremor at the + stealthy ugliness of this crouching figure yielded at once to a spasm of + pity. The man gave her a look, furtive, yet so charged with intense + penetrating curiosity that it seemed to let her suddenly into innumerable + secrets. She felt as if the whole life of people shut away in silence and + solitude were disclosed to her in the swift, unutterably alive look of + this noiseless kneeling creature, riving out of her something to feed his + soul and body on. That look seemed to lick its lips. It made her angry, + made her miserable, with a feeling of pity she could hardly bear. Tears, + too startled to flow, darkened her eyes. Poor man! How he must hate her, + who was free, and all fresh from the open world and the sun, and people to + love and talk to! The 'poor man' scrubbed on steadily, his ears standing + out from his shaven head; then, dragging his knee-mat skew-ways, he took + the chance to look at her again. Perhaps because his dress and cap and + stubble of hair and even the color of his face were so drab-gray, those + little dark eyes seemed to her the most terribly living things she had + ever seen. She felt that they had taken her in from top to toe, clothed + and unclothed, taken in the resentment she had felt and the pity she was + feeling; they seemed at once to appeal, to attack, and to possess her + ravenously, as though all the starved instincts in a whole prisoned world + had rushed up and for a second stood outside their bars. Then came the + clank of keys, the eyes left her as swiftly as they had seized her, and he + became again just that stealthy, noiseless creature scrubbing a stone + floor. And, shivering, Nedda thought: + </p> + <p> + 'I can't bear myself here—me with everything in the world I want—and + these with nothing!' + </p> + <p> + But the stout janitor was standing by her again, together with another man + in blue, who said: + </p> + <p> + “Now, miss; this way, please!” + </p> + <p> + And down that corridor they went. Though she did not turn, she knew well + that those eyes were following, still riving something from her; and she + heaved a sigh of real relief when she was round a corner. Through barred + windows that had no glass she could see another court, where men in the + same drab-gray clothes printed with arrows were walking one behind the + other, making a sort of moving human hieroglyphic in the centre of the + concrete floor. Two warders with swords stood just outside its edge. Some + of those walking had their heads up, their chests expanded, some slouched + along with heads almost resting on their chests; but most had their eyes + fixed on the back of the neck of the man in front; and there was no sound + save the tramp of feet. + </p> + <p> + Nedda put her hand to her throat. The warder beside her said in a chatty + voice: + </p> + <p> + “That's where the 'ards takes their exercise, miss. You want to see a man + called Tryst, waitin' trial, I think. We've had a woman here to see him, + and a lady in blue, once or twice.” + </p> + <p> + “My aunt.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! just so. Laborer, I think—case of arson. Funny thing; never yet + found a farm-laborer that took to prison well.” + </p> + <p> + Nedda shivered. The words sounded ominous. Then a little flame lit itself + within her. + </p> + <p> + “Does anybody ever 'take to' prison?” + </p> + <p> + The warder uttered a sound between a grunt and chuckle. + </p> + <p> + “There's some has a better time here than they have out, any day. No doubt + about it—they're well fed here.” + </p> + <p> + Her aunt's words came suddenly into Nedda's mind: 'Liberty's a glorious + feast!' But she did not speak them. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” the warder proceeded, “some o' them we get look as if they didn't + have a square meal outside from one year's end to the other. If you'll + just wait a minute, miss, I'll fetch the man down to you.” + </p> + <p> + In a bare room with distempered walls, and bars to a window out of which + she could see nothing but a high brick wall, Nedda waited. So rapid is the + adjustment of the human mind, so quick the blunting of human sensation, + that she had already not quite the passion of pitiful feeling which had + stormed her standing under that archway. A kind of numbness gripped her + nerves. There were wooden forms in this room, and a blackboard, on which + two rows of figures had been set one beneath the other, but not yet added + up. + </p> + <p> + The silence at first was almost deathly. Then it was broken by a sound as + of a heavy door banged, and the shuffling tramp of marching men—louder, + louder, softer—a word of command—still softer, and it died + away. Dead silence again! Nedda pressed her hands to her breast. Twice she + added up those figures on the blackboard; each time the number was the + same. Ah, there was a fly—two flies! How nice they looked, moving, + moving, chasing each other in the air. Did flies get into the cells? + Perhaps not even a fly came there—nothing more living than walls and + wood! Nothing living except what was inside oneself! How dreadful! Not + even a clock ticking, not even a bird's song! Silent, unliving, worse than + in this room! Something pressed against her leg. She started violently and + looked down. A little cat! Oh, what a blessed thing! A little sandy, ugly + cat! It must have crept in through the door. She was not locked in, then, + anyway! Thus far had nerves carried her already! Scrattling the little + cat's furry pate, she pulled herself together. She would not tremble and + be nervous. It was disloyal to Derek and to her purpose, which was to + bring comfort to poor Tryst. Then the door was pushed open, and the warder + said: + </p> + <p> + “A quarter of an hour, miss. I'll be just outside.” + </p> + <p> + She saw a big man with unshaven cheeks come in, and stretched out her + hand. + </p> + <p> + “I am Mr. Derek's cousin, going to be married to him. He's been ill, but + he's getting well again now. We knew you'd like to hear.” And she thought: + 'Oh! What a tragic face! I can't bear to look at his eyes!' + </p> + <p> + He took her hand, said, “Thank you, miss,” and stood as still as ever. + </p> + <p> + “Please come and sit down, and we can talk.” + </p> + <p> + Tryst moved to a form and took his seat thereon, with his hands between + his knees, as if playing with an imaginary cap. He was dressed in an + ordinary suit of laborer's best clothes, and his stiff, dust-colored hair + was not cut particularly short. The cheeks of his square-cut face had + fallen in, the eyes had sunk back, and the prominence thus given to his + cheek and jawbones and thick mouth gave his face a savage look—only + his dog-like, terribly yearning eyes made Nedda feel so sorry that she + simply could not feel afraid. + </p> + <p> + “The children are such dears, Mr. Tryst. Billy seems to grow every day. + They're no trouble at all, and quite happy. Biddy's wonderful with them.” + </p> + <p> + “She's a good maid.” The thick lips shaped the words as though they had + almost lost power of speech. + </p> + <p> + “Do they let you see the newspapers we send? Have you got everything you + want?” + </p> + <p> + For a minute he did not seem to be going to answer; then, moving his head + from side to side, he said: + </p> + <p> + “Nothin' I want, but just get out of here.” + </p> + <p> + Nedda murmured helplessly: + </p> + <p> + “It's only a month now to the assizes. Does Mr. Pogram come to see you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he comes. He can't do nothin'!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don't despair! Even if they don't acquit you, it'll soon be over. + Don't despair!” And she stole her hand out and timidly touched his arm. + She felt her heart turning over and over, he looked so sad. + </p> + <p> + He said in that stumbling, thick voice: + </p> + <p> + “Thank you kindly. I must get out. I won't stand long of it—not much + longer. I'm not used to it—always been accustomed to the air, an' + bein' about, that's where 'tis. But don't you tell him, miss. You say I'm + goin' along all right. Don't you tell him what I said. 'Tis no use him + frettin' over me. 'Twon' do me no good.” + </p> + <p> + And Nedda murmured: + </p> + <p> + “No, no; I won't tell him.” + </p> + <p> + Then suddenly came the words she had dreaded: + </p> + <p> + “D'you think they'll let me go, miss?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I think so—I hope so!” But she could not meet his eyes, + and hearing him grit his boot on the floor knew he had not believed her. + </p> + <p> + He said slowly: + </p> + <p> + “I never meant to do it when I went out that mornin'. It came on me + sudden, lookin' at the straw.” + </p> + <p> + Nedda gave a little gasp. Could that man outside hear? + </p> + <p> + Tryst went on: “If they don't let me go, I won' stand it. 'Tis too much + for a man. I can't sleep, I can't eat, nor nothin'. I won' stand it. It + don' take long to die, if you put your mind to it.” + </p> + <p> + Feeling quite sick with pity, Nedda got up and stood beside him; and, + moved by an uncontrollable impulse, she lifted one of his great hands and + clasped it in both her own. “Oh, try and be brave and look forward! You're + going to be ever so happy some day.” + </p> + <p> + He gave her a strange long stare. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I'll be happy some day. Don' you never fret about me.” + </p> + <p> + And Nedda saw that the warder was standing in the doorway. + </p> + <p> + “Sorry, miss, time's up.” + </p> + <p> + Without a word Tryst rose and went out. + </p> + <p> + Nedda was alone again with the little sandy cat. Standing under the + high-barred window she wiped her cheeks, that were all wet. Why, why must + people suffer so? Suffer so slowly, so horribly? What were men made of + that they could go on day after day, year after year, watching others + suffer? + </p> + <p> + When the warder came back to take her out, she did not trust herself to + speak, or even to look at him. She walked with hands tight clenched, and + eyes fixed on the ground. Outside the prison door she drew a long, long + breath. And suddenly her eyes caught the inscription on the corner of a + lane leading down alongside the prison wall—“Love's Walk”! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIII + </h2> + <p> + Peremptorily ordered by the doctor to the sea, but with instructions to + avoid for the present all excitement, sunlight, and color, Derek and his + grandmother repaired to a spot well known to be gray, and Nedda went home + to Hampstead. This was the last week in July. A fortnight spent in the + perfect vacuity of an English watering-place restored the boy wonderfully. + No one could be better trusted than Frances Freeland to preserve him from + looking on the dark side of anything, more specially when that thing was + already not quite nice. Their conversation was therefore free from + allusion to the laborers, the strike, or Bob Tryst. And Derek thought the + more. The approaching trial was hardly ever out of his mind. Bathing, he + would think of it; sitting on the gray jetty looking over the gray sea, he + would think of it. Up the gray cobbled streets and away on the headlands, + he would think of it. And, so as not to have to think of it, he would try + to walk himself to a standstill. Unfortunately the head will continue + working when the legs are at rest. And when he sat opposite to her at + meal-times, Frances Freeland would gaze piercingly at his forehead and + muse: 'The dear boy looks much better, but he's getting a little line + between his brows—it IS such a pity!' It worried her, too, that the + face he was putting on their little holiday together was not quite as full + as she could have wished—though the last thing in the world she + could tolerate were really fat cheeks, those signs of all that her + stoicism abhorred, those truly unforgivable marks of the loss of 'form.' + He struck her as dreadfully silent, too, and she would rack her brains for + subjects that would interest him, often saying to herself: 'If only I were + clever!' It was natural he should think of dear Nedda, but surely it was + not that which gave him the little line. He must be brooding about those + other things. He ought not to be melancholy like this and let anything + prevent the sea from doing him good. The habit—hard-learned by the + old, and especially the old of her particular sex—of not wishing for + the moon, or at all events of not letting others know that you are wishing + for it, had long enabled Frances Freeland to talk cheerfully on the most + indifferent subjects whether or no her heart were aching. One's heart + often did ache, of course, but it simply didn't do to let it interfere, + making things uncomfortable for others. And once she said to him: “You + know, darling, I think it would be so nice for you to take a little + interest in politics. They're very absorbing when you once get into them. + I find my paper most enthralling. And it really has very good principles.” + </p> + <p> + “If politics did anything for those who most need things done, Granny—but + I can't see that they do.” + </p> + <p> + She thought a little, then, making firm her lips, said: + </p> + <p> + “I don't think that's quite just, darling, there are a great many + politicians who are very much looked up to—all the bishops, for + instance, and others whom nobody could suspect of self-seeking.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't mean that politicians were self-seeking, Granny; I meant that + they're comfortable people, and the things that interest them are those + that interest comfortable people. What have they done for the laborers, + for instance?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but, darling! they're going to do a great deal. In my paper they're + continually saying that.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you believe it?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure they wouldn't say so if they weren't. There's quite a new plan, + and it sounds most sensible. And so I don't think, darling, that if I were + you I should make myself unhappy about all that kind of thing. They must + know best. They're all so much older than you. And you're getting quite a + little line between your eyes.” + </p> + <p> + Derek smiled. + </p> + <p> + “All right, Granny; I shall have a big one soon.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Frances Freeland smiled, too, but shook her head. +</pre> + <p> + “Yes; and that's why I really think you ought to take interest in + politics.” + </p> + <p> + “I'd rather take interest in you, Granny. You're very jolly to look at.” + </p> + <p> + Frances Freeland raised her brows. + </p> + <p> + “I? My dear, I'm a perfect fright nowadays.” + </p> + <p> + Thus pushing away what her stoicism and perpetual aspiration to an + impossibly good face would not suffer her to admit, she added: + </p> + <p> + “Where would you like to drive this afternoon?” + </p> + <p> + For they took drives in a small victoria, Frances Freeland holding her + sunshade to protect him from the sun whenever it made the mistake of being + out. + </p> + <p> + On August the fourth he insisted that he was well and must go back home. + And, though to bring her attendance on him to an end was a grief, she + humbly admitted that he must be wanting younger company, and, after one + wistful attempt, made no further bones. The following day they travelled. + </p> + <p> + On getting home he found that the police had been to see little Biddy + Tryst, who was to be called as a witness. Tod would take her over on the + morning of the trial. Derek did not wait for this, but on the day before + the assizes repacked his bag and went off to the Royal Charles Hostel at + Worcester. He slept not at all that night, and next morning was early at + the court, for Tryst's case would be the first. Anxiously he sat watching + all the queer and formal happenings that mark the initiation of the higher + justice—the assemblage of the gentlemen in wigs; the sifting, + shifting, settling of clerks, and ushers, solicitors, and the public; the + busy indifference, the cheerful professionalism of it all. He saw little + Mr. Pogram come in, more square and rubbery than ever, and engage in + conclave with one of the bewigged. The smiles, shrugs, even the sharp + expressions on that barrister's face; the way he stood, twisting round, + one hand wrapped in his gown, one foot on the bench behind; it was all as + if he had done it hundreds of times before and cared not the snap of one + of his thin, yellow fingers. Then there was a sudden hush; the judge came + in, bowed, and took his seat. And that, too, seemed so professional. + Haunted by the thought of him to whom this was almost life and death, the + boy was incapable of seeing how natural it was that they should not all + feel as he did. + </p> + <p> + The case was called and Tryst brought in. Derek had once more to undergo + the torture of those tragic eyes fixed on him. Round that heavy figure, + that mournful, half-brutal, and half-yearning face, the pleadings, the + questions, the answers buzzed, bringing out facts with damning clearness, + yet leaving the real story of that early morning as hidden as if the court + and all were but gibbering figures of air. The real story of Tryst, heavy + and distraught, rising and turning out from habit into the early haze on + the fields, where his daily work had lain, of Tryst brooding, with the + slow, the wrathful incoherence that centuries of silence in those lonely + fields had passed into the blood of his forebears and himself. Brooding, + in the dangerous disproportion that enforced continence brings to certain + natures, loading the brain with violence till the storm bursts and there + leap out the lurid, dark insanities of crime. Brooding, while in the air + flies chased each other, insects crawled together in the grass, and the + first principle of nature worked everywhere its sane fulfilment. They + might talk and take evidence as they would, be shrewd and sharp with all + the petty sharpness of the Law; but the secret springs would still lie + undisclosed, too natural and true to bear the light of day. The probings + and eloquence of justice would never paint the picture of that moment of + maniacal relief, when, with jaw hanging loose, eyes bulging in exultation + of revenge, he had struck those matches with his hairy hands and let them + flare in the straw, till the little red flames ran and licked, rustled and + licked, and there was nothing to do but watch them lick and burn. Nor of + that sudden wildness of dumb fear that rushed into the heart of the + crouching creature, changing the madness of his face to palsy. Nor of the + recoil from the burning stack; those moments empty with terror. Nor of how + terror, through habit of inarticulate, emotionless existence, gave place + again to brute stolidity. And so, heavily back across the dewy fields, + under the larks' songs, the cooings of pigeons, the hum of wings, and all + the unconscious rhythm of ageless Nature. No! The probings of Justice + could never reach the whole truth. And even Justice quailed at its own + probings when the mother-child was passed up from Tod's side into the + witness-box and the big laborer was seen to look at her and she at him. + She seemed to have grown taller; her pensive little face and beautifully + fluffed-out corn-brown hair had an eerie beauty, perched up there in the + arid witness-box, as of some small figure from the brush of Botticelli. + </p> + <p> + “Your name, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + “Biddy Tryst.” + </p> + <p> + “How old?” + </p> + <p> + “Ten next month, please.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember going to live at Mr. Freeland's cottage?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “And do you remember the first night?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Where did you sleep, Biddy?” + </p> + <p> + “Please, sir, we slept in a big room with a screen. Billy and Susie and + me; and father behind the screen.” + </p> + <p> + “And where was the room?” + </p> + <p> + “Down-stairs, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Biddy, what time did you wake up the first morning?” + </p> + <p> + “When Father got up.” + </p> + <p> + “Was that early or late?” + </p> + <p> + “Very early.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you know the time?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “But it was very early; how did you know that?” + </p> + <p> + “It was a long time before we had any breakfast.” + </p> + <p> + “And what time did you have breakfast?” + </p> + <p> + “Half past six by the kitchen clock.” + </p> + <p> + “Was it light when you woke up?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “When Father got up, did he dress or did he go to bed again?” + </p> + <p> + “He hadn't never undressed, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Then did he stay with you or did he go out?” + </p> + <p> + “Out, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “And how long was it before he came back?” + </p> + <p> + “When I was puttin' on Billy's boots.” + </p> + <p> + “What had you done in between?” + </p> + <p> + “Helped Susie and dressed Billy.” + </p> + <p> + “And how long does that take you generally?” + </p> + <p> + “Half an hour, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “I see. What did Father look like when he came in, Biddy?” + </p> + <p> + The mother-child paused. For the first time it seemed to dawn on her that + there was something dangerous in these questions. She twisted her small + hands before her and gazed at her father. + </p> + <p> + The judge said gently: + </p> + <p> + “Well, my child?” + </p> + <p> + “Like he does now, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Biddy.” + </p> + <p> + That was all; the mother-child was suffered to step down and take her + place again by Tod. And in the silence rose the short and rubbery report + of little Mr. Pogram blowing his nose. No evidence given that morning was + so conclusive, actual, terrible as that unconscious: “Like he does now, + sir.” That was why even Justice quailed a little at its own probings. + </p> + <p> + From this moment the boy knew that Tryst's fate was sealed. What did all + those words matter, those professional patterings one way and the other; + the professional jeers: 'My friend has told you this' and 'My friend will + tell you that.' The professional steering of the impartial judge, seated + there above them all; the cold, calculated rhapsodies about the + heinousness of arson; the cold and calculated attack on the characters of + the stone-breaker witness and the tramp witness; the cold and calculated + patter of the appeal not to condemn a father on the evidence of his little + child; the cold and calculated outburst on the right of every man to be + assumed innocent except on overwhelming evidence such as did not here + exist. The cold and calculated balancing of pro and con; and those minutes + of cold calculation veiled from the eyes of the court. Even the verdict: + 'Guilty'; even the judgment: 'Three years' penal servitude.' All nothing, + all superfluity to the boy supporting the tragic gaze of Tryst's eyes and + making up his mind to a desperate resort. + </p> + <p> + “Three years' penal servitude!” The big laborer paid no more attention to + those words than to any others spoken during that hour's settlement of his + fate. True, he received them standing, as is the custom, fronting the + image of Justice, from whose lips they came. But by no single gesture did + he let any one see the dumb depths of his soul. If life had taught him + nothing else, it had taught him never to express himself. Mute as any + bullock led into the slaughtering-house, with something of a bullock's + dulled and helpless fear in his eyes, he passed down and away between his + jailers. And at once the professional noises rose, and the professional + rhapsodists, hunching their gowns, swept that little lot of papers into + their pink tape, and, turning to their neighbors, smiled, and talked, and + jerked their eyebrows. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0034" id="link2HCH0034"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIV + </h2> + <p> + The nest on the Spaniard's Road had not been able to contain Sheila long. + There are certain natures, such as that of Felix, to whom the claims and + exercise of authority are abhorrent, who refuse to exercise it themselves + and rage when they see it exercised over others, but who somehow never + come into actual conflict with it. There are other natures, such as + Sheila's, who do not mind in the least exercising authority themselves, + but who oppose it vigorously when they feel it coming near themselves or + some others. Of such is the kingdom of militancy. Her experience with the + police had sunk deep into her soul. They had not, as a fact, treated her + at all badly, which did not prevent her feeling as if they had outraged in + her the dignity of woman. She arrived, therefore, in Hampstead seeing red + even where red was not. And since, undoubtedly, much real red was to be + seen, there was little other color in the world or in her cheeks those + days. Long disagreements with Alan, to whom she was still a magnet but + whose Stanley-like nature stood firm against the blandishments of her + revolting tongue, drove her more and more toward a decision the seeds of + which had, perhaps, been planted during her former stay among the breezy + airs of Hampstead. + </p> + <p> + Felix, coming one day into his wife's study—for the house knew not + the word drawing-room—found Flora, with eyebrows lifted up and + smiling lips, listening to Sheila proclaiming the doctrine that it was + impossible not to live 'on one's own.' Nothing else—Felix learned—was + compatible with dignity, or even with peace of mind. She had, therefore, + taken a back room high up in a back street, in which she was going to live + perfectly well on ten shillings a week; and, having thirty-two pounds + saved up, she would be all right for a year, after which she would be able + to earn her living. The principle she purposed to keep before her eyes was + that of committing herself to nothing which would seriously interfere with + her work in life. Somehow, it was impossible to look at this girl, with + her glowing cheeks and her glowing eyes, and her hair frizzy from ardor, + and to distrust her utterances. Yes! She would arrive, if not where she + wanted, at all events somewhere; which, after all, was the great thing. + And in fact she did arrive the very next day in the back room high up in + the back street, and neither Tod's cottage nor the house on the Spaniard's + Road saw more than flying gleams of her, thenceforth. + </p> + <p> + Another by-product, this, of that little starting episode, the notice + given to Tryst! Strange how in life one little incident, one little piece + of living stress, can attract and gather round it the feelings, thoughts, + actions of people whose lives run far and wide away therefrom. But + episodes are thus potent only when charged with a significance that comes + from the clash of the deepest instincts. + </p> + <p> + During the six weeks which had elapsed between his return home from + Joyfields and the assizes, Felix had much leisure to reflect that if Lady + Malloring had not caused Tryst to be warned that he could not marry his + deceased wife's sister and continue to stay on the estate—the lives + of Felix himself, his daughter, mother, brother, brother's wife, their son + and daughter, and in less degree of his other brothers, would have been + free of a preoccupation little short of ludicrous in proportion to the + face value of the cause. But he had leisure, too, to reflect that in + reality the issue involved in that tiny episode concerned human existence + to its depths—for, what was it but the simple, all-important + question of human freedom? The simple, all-important issue of how far men + and women should try to rule the lives of others instead of trying only to + rule their own, and how far those others should allow their lives to be so + ruled? This it was which gave that episode its power of attracting and + affecting the thoughts, feelings, actions of so many people otherwise + remote. And though Felix was paternal enough to say to himself nearly all + the time, 'I can't let Nedda get further into this mess!' he was + philosopher enough to tell himself, in the unfatherly balance of his + hours, that the mess was caused by the fight best of all worth fighting—of + democracy against autocracy, of a man's right to do as he likes with his + life if he harms not others; of 'the Land' against the fetterers of 'the + Land.' And he was artist enough to see how from that little starting + episode the whole business had sprung—given, of course, the entrance + of the wilful force called love. But a father, especially when he has been + thoroughly alarmed, gives the artist and philosopher in him short shrift. + </p> + <p> + Nedda came home soon after Sheila went, and to the eyes of Felix she came + back too old and thoughtful altogether. How different a girl from the + Nedda who had so wanted 'to know everything' that first night of May! What + was she brooding over, what planning, in that dark, round, pretty head? At + what resolve were those clear eyes so swiftly raised to look? What was + going on within, when her breast heaved so, without seeming cause, and the + color rushed up in her cheeks at a word, as though she had been so far + away that the effort of recall was alone enough to set all her veins + throbbing. And yet Felix could devise no means of attack on her + infatuation. For a man cannot cultivate the habit of never interfering and + then suddenly throw it over; least of all when the person to be interfered + with is his pet and only daughter. + </p> + <p> + Flora, not of course in the swim of those happenings at Joyflelds, could + not be got to take the matter very seriously. In fact—beyond what + concerned Felix himself and poetry—the matter that she did take + seriously had yet to be discovered. Hers was one of those semi-detached + natures particularly found in Hampstead. When exhorted to help tackle the + question, she could only suggest that Felix should take them all abroad + when he had finished 'The Last of the Laborers.' A tour, for instance, in + Norway and Sweden, where none of them had ever been, and perhaps down + through Finland into Russia. + </p> + <p> + Feeling like one who squirts on a burning haystack with a garden syringe, + Felix propounded this scheme to his little daughter. She received it with + a start, a silence, a sort of quivering all over, as of an animal who + scents danger. She wanted to know when, and being told—'not before + the middle of August', relapsed into her preoccupation as if nothing had + been said. Felix noted on the hall table one afternoon a letter in her + handwriting, addressed to a Worcester newspaper, and remarked thereafter + that she began to receive this journal daily, obviously with a view to + reports of the coming assizes. Once he tried to break through into her + confidence. It was August Bank Holiday, and they had gone out on to the + heath together to see the people wonderfully assembled. Coming back across + the burnt-up grass, strewn with paper bags, banana peel, and the cores of + apples, he hooked his hand into her arm. + </p> + <p> + “What is to be done with a child that goes about all day thinking and + thinking and not telling anybody what she is thinking?” + </p> + <p> + She smiled round at him and answered: + </p> + <p> + “I know, Dad. She IS a pig, isn't she?” + </p> + <p> + This comparison with an animal of proverbial stubbornness was not + encouraging. Then his hand was squeezed to her side and he heard her + murmur: + </p> + <p> + “I wonder if all daughters are such beasts!” + </p> + <p> + He understood well that she had meant: 'There is only one thing I want—one + thing I mean to have—one thing in the world for me now!' + </p> + <p> + And he said soberly: + </p> + <p> + “We can't expect anything else.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Daddy!” she answered, but nothing more. + </p> + <p> + Only four days later she came to his study with a letter, and a face so + flushed and troubled that he dropped his pen and got up in alarm. + </p> + <p> + “Read this, Dad! It's impossible! It's not true! It's terrible! Oh! What + am I to do?” + </p> + <p> + The letter ran thus, in a straight, boyish handwriting: + </p> + <p> + “ROYAL CHARLES HOSTEL, + </p> + <p> + “WORCESTER, Aug. 7th. + </p> + <p> + “MY NEDDA, + </p> + <p> + “I have just seen Bob tried. They have given him three years' penal. It + was awful to sit there and watch him. He can never stand it. It was awful + to watch him looking at ME. It's no good. I'm going to give myself up. I + must do it. I've got everything ready; they'll have to believe me and + squash his sentence. You see, but for me it would never have been done. + It's a matter of honour. I can't let him suffer any more. This isn't + impulse. I've been meaning to do it for some time, if they found him + guilty. So in a way, it's an immense relief. I'd like to have seen you + first, but it would only distress you, and I might not have been able to + go through with it after. Nedda, darling, if you still love me when I get + out, we'll go to New Zealand, away from this country where they bully poor + creatures like Bob. Be brave! I'll write to-morrow, if they let me. + </p> + <p> + “Your + </p> + <p> + “Derek.” + </p> + <p> + The first sensation in Felix on reading this effusion was poignant + recollection of the little lawyer's look after Derek had made the scene at + Tryst's committal and of his words: 'Nothing in it, is there?' His second + thought: 'Is this the cutting of the knot that I've been looking for?' His + third, which swept all else away: 'My poor little darling! What business + has that boy to hurt her again like this!' + </p> + <p> + He heard her say: + </p> + <p> + “Tryst told me himself he did it, Dad! He told me when I went to see him + in the prison. Honour doesn't demand what isn't true! Oh, Dad, help me!” + </p> + <p> + Felix was slow in getting free from the cross currents of reflection. “He + wrote this last night,” he said dismally. “He may have done it already. We + must go and see John.” + </p> + <p> + Nedda clasped her hands. “Ah! Yes!” + </p> + <p> + And Felix had not the heart to add what he was thinking: 'Not that I see + what good he can do!' But, though sober reason told him this, it was + astonishingly comforting to be going to some one who could be relied on to + see the facts of the situation without any of that 'flimflam' with which + imagination is accustomed to surround them. “And we'll send Derek a wire + for what it's worth.” + </p> + <p> + They went at once to the post-office, Felix composing this message on the + way: 'Utterly mistaken chivalry you have no right await our arrival Felix + Freeland.' He handed it to her to read, and passed it under the brass + railing to the clerk, not without the feeling of shame due from one who + uses the word chivalry in a post-office. + </p> + <p> + On the way to the Tube station he held her arm tightly, but whether to + impart courage or receive it he could not have said, so strung-up in + spirit did he feel her. With few words exchanged they reached Whitehall. + Marking their card 'Urgent,' they were received within ten minutes. + </p> + <p> + John was standing in a high, white room, smelling a little of papers and + tobacco, and garnished solely by five green chairs, a table, and a bureau + with an immense number of pigeonholes, whereat he had obviously been + seated. Quick to observe what concerned his little daughter, Felix noted + how her greeting trembled up at her uncle and how a sort of warmth thawed + for the moment the regularity of his brother's face. When they had taken + two of the five green chairs and John was back at his bureau, Felix handed + over the letter. John read it and looked at Nedda. Then taking a pipe out + of his pocket, which he had evidently filled before they came in, he + lighted it and re-read the letter. Then, looking very straight at Nedda, + he said: + </p> + <p> + “Nothing in it? Honour bright, my dear!” + </p> + <p> + “No, Uncle John, nothing. Only that he fancies his talk about injustice + put it into Tryst's head.” + </p> + <p> + John nodded; the girl's face was evidence enough for him. + </p> + <p> + “Any proof?” + </p> + <p> + “Tryst himself told me in the prison that he did it. He said it came on + him suddenly, when he saw the straw.” + </p> + <p> + A pause followed before John said: + </p> + <p> + “Good! You and I and your father will go down and see the police.” + </p> + <p> + Nedda lifted her hands and said breathlessly: + </p> + <p> + “But, Uncle! Dad! Have I the right? He says—honour. Won't it be + betraying him?” + </p> + <p> + Felix could not answer, but with relief he heard John say: + </p> + <p> + “It's not honorable to cheat the law.” + </p> + <p> + “No; but he trusted me or he wouldn't have written.” + </p> + <p> + John answered slowly: + </p> + <p> + “I think your duty's plain, my dear. The question for the police will be + whether or not to take notice of this false confession. For us to keep the + knowledge that it's false from them, under the circumstances, is clearly + not right. Besides being, to my mind, foolish.” + </p> + <p> + For Felix to watch this mortal conflict going on in the soul of his + daughter—that soul which used to seem, perhaps even now seemed, part + of himself; to know that she so desperately wanted help for her decision, + and to be unable to give it, unable even to trust himself to be honest—this + was hard for Felix. There she sat, staring before her; and only her + tight-clasped hands, the little movements of her lips and throat, showed + the struggle going on in her. + </p> + <p> + “I couldn't, without seeing him; I MUST see him first, Uncle!” + </p> + <p> + John got up and went over to the window; he, too, had been affected by her + face. + </p> + <p> + “You realize,” he said, “that you risk everything by that. If he's given + himself up, and they've believed him, he's not the sort to let it fall + through. You cut off your chance if he won't let you tell. Better for your + father and me to see him first, anyway.” And Felix heard a mutter that + sounded like: 'Confound him!' + </p> + <p> + Nedda rose. “Can we go at once, then, Uncle?” + </p> + <p> + With a solemnity that touched Felix, John put a hand on each side of her + face, raised it, and kissed her on the forehead. + </p> + <p> + “All right!” he said. “Let's be off!” + </p> + <p> + A silent trio sought Paddington in a taxi-cab, digesting this desperate + climax of an affair that sprang from origins so small. + </p> + <p> + In Felix, contemplating his daughter's face, there was profound + compassion, but also that family dismay, that perturbation of self-esteem, + which public scandal forces on kinsmen, even the most philosophic. He felt + exasperation against Derek, against Kirsteen, almost even against Tod, for + having acquiesced passively in the revolutionary bringing-up which had + brought on such a disaster. War against injustice; sympathy with + suffering; chivalry! Yes! But not quite to the point whence they recoiled + on his daughter, his family, himself! The situation was impossible! He was + fast resolving that, whether or no they saved Derek from this quixotry, + the boy should not have Nedda. And already his eyes found difficulty in + meeting hers. + </p> + <p> + They secured a compartment to themselves and, having settled down in + corners, began mechanically unfolding evening journals. For after all, + whatever happens, one must read the papers! Without that, life would + indeed be insupportable! Felix had bought Mr. Cuthcott's, but, though he + turned and turned the sheets, they seemed to have no sense till these + words caught his eyes: “Convict's tragic death! Yesterday afternoon at + Worcester, while being conveyed from the assize court back to prison, a + man named Tryst, sentenced to three years' penal servitude for arson, + suddenly attacked the warders in charge of him and escaped. He ran down + the street, hotly pursued, and, darting out into the traffic, threw + himself under a motor-car going at some speed. The car struck him on the + head, and the unfortunate man was killed on the spot. No reason whatever + can be assigned for this desperate act. He is known, however, to have + suffered from epilepsy, and it is thought an attack may have been coming + on him at the time.” + </p> + <p> + When Felix had read these words he remained absolutely still, holding that + buff-colored paper before his face, trying to decide what he must do now. + What was the significance—exactly the significance of this? Now that + Tryst was dead, Derek's quixotic action had no meaning. But had he already + 'confessed'? It seemed from this account that the suicide was directly + after the trial; even before the boy's letter to Nedda had been written. + He must surely have heard of it since and given up his mad idea! He leaned + over, touched John on the knee, and handed him the paper. John read the + paragraph, handed it back; and the two brothers stared fixedly at each + other. Then Felix made the faintest movement of his head toward his + daughter, and John nodded. Crossing to Nedda, Felix hooked his arm in hers + and said: + </p> + <p> + “Just look at this, my child.” + </p> + <p> + Nedda read, started to her feet, sank back, and cried out: + </p> + <p> + “Poor, poor man! Oh, Dad! Poor man!” + </p> + <p> + Felix felt ashamed. Though Tryst's death meant so much relief to her, she + felt first this rush of compassion; he himself, to whom it meant so much + less relief, had felt only that relief. + </p> + <p> + “He said he couldn't stand it; he told me that. But I never thought—Oh! + Poor man!” And, burying her face against his arm, she gave way. + </p> + <p> + Petrified, and conscious that John at the far end of the carriage was + breathing rather hard, Felix could only stroke her arm till at last she + whispered: + </p> + <p> + “There's nobody now for Derek to save. Oh, if you'd seen that poor man in + prison, Dad!” + </p> + <p> + And the only words of comfort Felix could find were: + </p> + <p> + “My child, there are thousands and thousands of poor prisoners and + captives!” + </p> + <p> + In a truce to agitation they spent the rest of that three hours' journey, + while the train rattled and rumbled through the quiet, happy-looking land. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0035" id="link2HCH0035"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXV + </h2> + <p> + It was tea-time when they reached Worcester, and at once went up to the + Royal Charles Hostel. A pretty young woman in the office there informed + them that the young gentleman had paid his bill and gone out about ten + o'clock; but had left his luggage. She had not seen him come in. His room + was up that little staircase at the end of the passage. There was another + entrance that he might have come in at. The 'Boots' would take them. + </p> + <p> + Past the hall stuffed with furniture and decorated with the stags' heads + and battle-prints common to English county-town hotels, they followed the + 'Boots' up five red-carpeted steps, down a dingy green corridor, to a door + at the very end. There was no answer to their knock. The dark little room, + with striped walls, and more battle-prints, looked out on a side street + and smelled dusty. On a shiny leather sofa an old valise, strapped-up + ready for departure, was reposing with Felix's telegram, unopened, + deposited thereon. Writing on his card, “Have come down with Nedda. F. + F.,” and laying it on the telegram, in case Derek should come in by the + side entrance, Felix and Nedda rejoined John in the hall. + </p> + <p> + To wait in anxiety is perhaps the hardest thing in life; tea, tobacco, and + hot baths perhaps the only anodynes. These, except the baths, they took. + Without knowing what had happened, neither John nor Felix liked to make + inquiry at the police station, nor did they care to try and glean + knowledge from the hotel people by questions that might lead to gossip. + They could but kick their heels till it became reasonably certain that + Derek was not coming back. The enforced waiting increased Felix's + exasperation. Everything Derek did seemed designed to cause Nedda pain. To + watch her sitting there, trying resolutely to mask her anxiety, became + intolerable. At last he got up and said to John: + </p> + <p> + “I think we'd better go round there,” and, John nodding, he added: “Wait + here, my child. One of us'll come back at once and tell you anything we + hear.” + </p> + <p> + She gave them a grateful look and the two brothers went out. They had not + gone twenty yards when they met Derek striding along, pale, wild, + unhappy-looking. When Felix touched him on the arm, he started and stared + blankly at his uncle. + </p> + <p> + “We've seen about Tryst,” Felix said: “You've not done anything?” + </p> + <p> + Derek shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Good! John, tell Nedda that, and stay with her a bit. I want to talk to + Derek. We'll go in the other way.” He put his hand under the boy's arm and + turned him down into the side street. When they reached the gloomy little + bedroom Felix pointed to the telegram. + </p> + <p> + “From me. I suppose the news of his death stopped you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” Derek opened the telegram, dropped it, and sat down beside his + valise on the shiny sofa. He looked positively haggard. + </p> + <p> + Taking his stand against the chest of drawers, Felix said quietly: + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to have it out with you, Derek. Do you understand what all this + means to Nedda? Do you realize how utterly unhappy you're making her? I + don't suppose you're happy yourself—” + </p> + <p> + The boy's whole figure writhed. + </p> + <p> + “Happy! When you've killed some one you don't think much of happiness—your + own or any one's!” + </p> + <p> + Startled in his turn, Felix said sharply: + </p> + <p> + “Don't talk like that. It's monomania.” + </p> + <p> + Derek laughed. “Bob Tryst's dead—through me! I can't get out of + that.” + </p> + <p> + Gazing at the boy's tortured face, Felix grasped the gruesome fact that + this idea amounted to obsession. + </p> + <p> + “Derek,” he said, “you've dwelt on this till you see it out of all + proportion. If we took to ourselves the remote consequences of all our + words we should none of us survive a week. You're overdone. You'll see it + differently to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + Derek got up to pace the room. + </p> + <p> + “I swear I would have saved him. I tried to do it when they committed him + at Transham.” He looked wildly at Felix. “Didn't I? You were there; you + heard!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes; I heard.” + </p> + <p> + “They wouldn't let me then. I thought they mightn't find him guilty here—so + I let it go on. And now he's dead. You don't know how I feel!” + </p> + <p> + His throat was working, and Felix said with real compassion: + </p> + <p> + “My dear boy! Your sense of honour is too extravagant altogether. A grown + man like poor Tryst knew perfectly what he was doing.” + </p> + <p> + “No. He was like a dog—he did what he thought was expected of him. I + never meant him to burn those ricks.” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly! No one can blame you for a few wild words. He might have been + the boy and you the man by the way you take it! Come!” + </p> + <p> + Derek sat down again on the shiny sofa and buried his head in his hands. + </p> + <p> + “I can't get away from him. He's been with me all day. I see him all the + time.” + </p> + <p> + That the boy was really haunted was only too apparent. How to attack this + mania? If one could make him feel something else! And Felix said: + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Derek! Before you've any right to Nedda you've got to find + ballast. That's a matter of honour, if you like.” + </p> + <p> + Derek flung up his head as if to escape a blow. Seeing that he had riveted + him, Felix pressed on, with some sternness: + </p> + <p> + “A man can't serve two passions. You must give up this championing the + weak and lighting flames you can't control. See what it leads to! You've + got to grow and become a man. Until then I don't trust my daughter to + you.” + </p> + <p> + The boy's lips quivered; a flush darkened his face, ebbed, and left him + paler than ever. + </p> + <p> + Felix felt as if he had hit that face. Still, anything was better than to + leave him under this gruesome obsession! Then, to his consternation, Derek + stood up and said: + </p> + <p> + “If I go and see his body at the prison, perhaps he'll leave me alone a + little!” + </p> + <p> + Catching at that, as he would have caught at anything, Felix said: + </p> + <p> + “Good! Yes! Go and see the poor fellow; we'll come, too.” + </p> + <p> + And he went out to find Nedda. + </p> + <p> + By the time they reached the street Derek had already started, and they + could see him going along in front. Felix racked his brains to decide + whether he ought to prepare her for the state the boy was in. Twice he + screwed himself up to take the plunge, but her face—puzzled, as + though wondering at her lover's neglect of her—stopped him. Better + say nothing! + </p> + <p> + Just as they reached the prison she put her hand on his arm: + </p> + <p> + “Look, Dad!” + </p> + <p> + And Felix read on the corner of the prison lane those words: 'Love's + Walk'! + </p> + <p> + Derek was waiting at the door. After some difficulty they were admitted + and taken down the corridor where the prisoner on his knees had stared up + at Nedda, past the courtyard where those others had been pacing out their + living hieroglyphic, up steps to the hospital. Here, in a white-washed + room on a narrow bed, the body of the big laborer lay, wrapped in a sheet. + </p> + <p> + “We bury him Friday, poor chap! Fine big man, too!” And at the warder's + words a shudder passed through Felix. The frozen tranquillity of that + body! + </p> + <p> + As the carved beauty of great buildings, so is the graven beauty of death, + the unimaginable wonder of the abandoned thing lying so quiet, marvelling + at its resemblance to what once lived! How strange this thing, still + stamped by all that it had felt, wanted, loved, and hated, by all its + dumb, hard, commonplace existence! This thing with the calm, pathetic look + of one who asks of his own fled spirit: Why have you abandoned me? + </p> + <p> + Death! What more wonderful than a dead body—that still perfect work + of life, for which life has no longer use! What more mysterious than this + sight of what still is, yet is not! + </p> + <p> + Below the linen swathing the injured temples, those eyes were closed + through which such yearning had looked forth. From that face, where the + hair had grown faster than if it had been alive, death's majesty had + planed away the aspect of brutality, removed the yearning, covering all + with wistful acquiescence. Was his departed soul coherent? Where was it? + Did it hover in this room, visible still to the boy? Did it stand there + beside what was left of Tryst the laborer, that humblest of all creatures + who dared to make revolt—serf, descendant of serfs, who, since the + beginning, had hewn wood, drawn water, and done the will of others? Or was + it winged, and calling in space to the souls of the oppressed? + </p> + <p> + This body would go back to the earth that it had tended, the wild grass + would grow over it, the seasons spend wind and rain forever above it. But + that which had held this together—the inarticulate, lowly spirit, + hardly asking itself why things should be, faithful as a dog to those who + were kind to it, obeying the dumb instinct of a violence that in his + betters would be called 'high spirit,' where—Felix wondered—where + was it? + </p> + <p> + And what were they thinking—Nedda and that haunted boy—so + motionless? Nothing showed on their faces, nothing but a sort of living + concentration, as if they were trying desperately to pierce through and + see whatever it was that held this thing before them in such awful + stillness. Their first glimpse of death; their first perception of that + terrible remoteness of the dead! No wonder they seemed to be conjured out + of the power of thought and feeling! + </p> + <p> + Nedda was first to turn away. Walking back by her side, Felix was + surprised by her composure. The reality of death had not been to her half + so harrowing as the news of it. She said softly: + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad to have seen him like that; now I shall think of him—at + peace; not as he was that other time.” + </p> + <p> + Derek rejoined them, and they went in silence back to the hotel. But at + the door she said: + </p> + <p> + “Come with me to the cathedral, Derek; I can't go in yet!” + </p> + <p> + To Felix's dismay the boy nodded, and they turned to go. Should he stop + them? Should he go with them? What should a father do? And, with a heavy + sigh, he did nothing but retire into the hotel. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0036" id="link2HCH0036"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVI + </h2> + <p> + It was calm, with a dark-blue sky, and a golden moon, and the lighted + street full of people out for airing. The great cathedral, cutting the + heavens with its massive towers, was shut. No means of getting in; and + while they stood there looking up the thought came into Nedda's mind: + Where would they bury poor Tryst who had killed himself? Would they refuse + to bury that unhappy one in a churchyard? Surely, the more unhappy and + desperate he was, the kinder they ought to be to him! + </p> + <p> + They turned away down into a little lane where an old, white, timbered + cottage presided ghostly at the corner. Some church magnate had his garden + back there; and it was quiet, along the waving line of a high wall, behind + which grew sycamores spreading close-bunched branches, whose shadows, in + the light of the corner lamps, lay thick along the ground this glamourous + August night. A chafer buzzed by, a small black cat played with its tail + on some steps in a recess. Nobody passed. + </p> + <p> + The girl's heart was beating fast. Derek's face was so strange and + strained. And he had not yet said one word to her. All sorts of fears and + fancies beset her till she was trembling all over. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” she said at last. “You haven't—you haven't stopped + loving me, Derek?” + </p> + <p> + “No one could stop loving you.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it, then? Are you thinking of poor Tryst?” + </p> + <p> + With a catch in his throat and a sort of choked laugh he answered: + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “But it's all over. He's at peace.” + </p> + <p> + “Peace!” Then, in a queer, dead voice, he added: “I'm sorry, Nedda. It's + beastly for you. But I can't help it.” + </p> + <p> + What couldn't he help? Why did he keep her suffering like this—not + telling her? What was this something that seemed so terribly between them? + She walked on silently at his side, conscious of the rustling of the + sycamores, of the moonlit angle of the church magnate's house, of the + silence in the lane, and the gliding of their own shadows along the wall. + What was this in his face, his thoughts, that she could not reach! And she + cried out: + </p> + <p> + “Tell me! Oh, tell me, Derek! I can go through anything with you!” + </p> + <p> + “I can't get rid of him, that's all. I thought he'd go when I'd seen him + there. But it's no good!” + </p> + <p> + Terror got hold of her then. She peered at his face—very white and + haggard. There seemed no blood in it. They were going down-hill now, along + the blank wall of a factory; there was the river in front, with the + moonlight on it and boats drawn up along the bank. From a chimney a scroll + of black smoke was flung out across the sky, and a lighted bridge glowed + above the water. They turned away from that, passing below the dark pile + of the cathedral. Here couples still lingered on benches along the + river-bank, happy in the warm night, under the August moon! And on and on + they walked in that strange, miserable silence, past all those benches and + couples, out on the river-path by the fields, where the scent of + hay-stacks, and the freshness from the early stubbles and the grasses + webbed with dew, overpowered the faint reek of the river mud. And still on + and on in the moonlight that haunted through the willows. At their + footsteps the water-rats scuttled down into the water with tiny splashes; + a dog barked somewhere a long way off; a train whistled; a frog croaked. + From the stubbles and second crops of sun-baked clover puffs of warm air + kept stealing up into the chillier air beneath the willows. Such moonlit + nights never seem to sleep. And there was a kind of triumph in the night's + smile, as though it knew that it ruled the river and the fields, ruled + with its gleams the silent trees that had given up all rustling. Suddenly + Derek said: + </p> + <p> + “He's walking with us! Look! Over there!” + </p> + <p> + And for a second there did seem to Nedda a dim, gray shape moving square + and dogged, parallel with them at the stubble edges. Gasping out: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no; don't frighten me! I can't bear it tonight!” She hid her face + against his shoulder like a child. He put his arm round her and she + pressed her face deep into his coat. This ghost of Bob Tryst holding him + away from her! This enemy! This uncanny presence! She pressed closer, + closer, and put her face up to his. It was wonderfully lonely, silent, + whispering, with the moongleams slipping through the willow boughs into + the shadow where they stood. And from his arms warmth stole through her! + Closer and closer she pressed, not quite knowing what she did, not quite + knowing anything but that she wanted him never to let her go; wanted his + lips on hers, so that she might feel his spirit pass, away from what was + haunting it, into hers, never to escape. But his lips did not come to + hers. They stayed drawn back, trembling, hungry-looking, just above her + lips. And she whispered: + </p> + <p> + “Kiss me!” + </p> + <p> + She felt him shudder in her arms, saw his eyes darken, his lips quiver and + quiver, as if he wanted them to, but they would not. What was it? Oh, what + was it? Wasn't he going to kiss her—not to kiss her? And while in + that unnatural pause they stood, their heads bent back among the + moongleams and those willow shadows, there passed through Nedda such + strange trouble as she had never known. Not kiss her! Not kiss her! Why + didn't he? When in her blood and in the night all round, in the feel of + his arms, the sight of his hungry lips, was something unknown, wonderful, + terrifying, sweet! And she wailed out: + </p> + <p> + “I want you—I don't care—I want you!” She felt him sway, reel, + and clutch her as if he were going to fall, and all other feeling vanished + in the instinct of the nurse she had already been to him. He was ill + again! Yes, he was ill! And she said: + </p> + <p> + “Derek—don't! It's all right. Let's walk on quietly!” + </p> + <p> + She got his arm tightly in hers and drew him along toward home. By the + jerking of that arm, the taut look on his face, she could feel that he did + not know from step to step whether he could stay upright. But she herself + was steady and calm enough, bent on keeping emotion away, and somehow + getting him back along the river-path, abandoned now to the moon and the + bright, still spaces of the night and the slow-moving, whitened water. Why + had she not felt from the first that he was overwrought and only fit for + bed? + </p> + <p> + Thus, very slowly, they made their way up by the factory again into the + lane by the church magnate's garden, under the branches of the sycamores, + past the same white-faced old house at the corner, to the high street + where some few people were still abroad. + </p> + <p> + At the front door of the hotel stood Felix, looking at his watch, + disconsolate as an old hen. To her great relief he went in quickly when he + saw them coming. She could not bear the thought of talk and explanation. + The one thing was to get Derek to bed. All the time he had gone along with + that taut face; and now, when he sat down on the shiny sofa in the little + bedroom, he shivered so violently that his teeth chattered. She rang for a + hot bottle and brandy and hot water. When he had drunk he certainly + shivered less, professed himself all right, and would not let her stay. + She dared not ask, but it did seem as if the physical collapse had driven + away, for the time at all events, that ghostly visitor, and, touching his + forehead with her lips—very motherly—so that he looked up and + smiled at her—she said in a matter-of-fact voice: + </p> + <p> + “I'll come back after a bit and tuck you up,” and went out. + </p> + <p> + Felix was waiting in the hall, at a little table on which stood a bowl of + bread and milk. He took the cover off it for her without a word. And while + she supped he kept glancing at her, trying to make up his mind to words. + But her face was sealed. And all he said was: + </p> + <p> + “Your uncle's gone to Becket for the night. I've got you a room next mine, + and a tooth-brush, and some sort of comb. I hope you'll be able to manage, + my child.” + </p> + <p> + Nedda left him at the door of his room and went into her own. After + waiting there ten minutes she stole out again. It was all quiet, and she + went resolutely back down the stairs. She did not care who saw her or what + they thought. Probably they took her for Derek's sister; but even if they + didn't she would not have cared. It was past eleven, the light nearly out, + and the hall in the condition of such places that await a morning's + renovation. His corridor, too, was quite dark. She opened the door without + sound and listened, till his voice said softly: + </p> + <p> + “All right, little angel; I'm not asleep.” + </p> + <p> + And by a glimmer of moonlight, through curtains designed to keep out + nothing, she stole up to the bed. She could just see his face, and eyes + looking up at her with a sort of adoration. She put her hand on his + forehead and whispered: “Are you comfy?” + </p> + <p> + He murmured back: “Yes, quite comfy.” + </p> + <p> + Kneeling down, she laid her face beside his on the pillow. She could not + help doing that; it made everything seem holy, cuddley, warm. His lips + touched her nose. Her eyes, for just that instant, looked up into his, + that were very dark and soft; then she got up. + </p> + <p> + “Would you like me to stay till you're asleep?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; forever. But I shouldn't exactly sleep. Would you?” + </p> + <p> + In the darkness Nedda vehemently shook her head. Sleep! No! She would not + sleep! + </p> + <p> + “Good night, then!” + </p> + <p> + “Good night, little dark angel!” + </p> + <p> + “Good night!” With that last whisper she slipped back to the door and + noiselessly away. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0037" id="link2HCH0037"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVII + </h2> + <p> + It was long before she closed her eyes, spending the hours in fancy where + still less she would have slept. But when she did drop off she dreamed + that he and she were alone upon a star, where all the trees were white, + the water, grass, birds, everything, white, and they were walking arm in + arm, among white flowers. And just as she had stooped to pick one—it + was no flower, but—Tryst's white-banded face! She woke with a little + cry. + </p> + <p> + She was dressed by eight and went at once to Derek's room. There was no + answer to her knock, and in a flutter of fear she opened the door. He had + gone—packed, and gone. She ran back to the hall. There was a note + for her in the office, and she took it out of sight to read. It said: + </p> + <p> + “He came back this morning. I'm going home by the first train. He seems to + want me to do something. + </p> + <p> + “DEREK.” + </p> + <p> + Came back! That thing—that gray thing that she, too, had seemed to + see for a moment in the fields beside the river! And he was suffering + again as he had suffered yesterday! It was awful. She waited miserably + till her father came down. To find that he, too, knew of this trouble was + some relief. He made no objection when she begged that they should follow + on to Joyfields. Directly after breakfast they set out. Once on her way to + Derek again, she did not feel so frightened. But in the train she sat very + still, gazing at her lap, and only once glanced up from under those long + lashes. + </p> + <p> + “Can you understand it, Dad?” + </p> + <p> + Felix, not much happier than she, answered: + </p> + <p> + “The man had something queer about him. Besides Derek's been ill, don't + forget that. But it's too bad for you, Nedda. I don't like it; I don't + like it.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't be parted from him, Dad. That's impossible.” + </p> + <p> + Felix was silenced by the vigor of those words. + </p> + <p> + “His mother can help, perhaps,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Ah! If his mother would help—send him away from the laborers, and + all this! + </p> + <p> + Up from the station they took the field paths, which cut off quite a mile. + The grass and woods were shining brightly, peacefully in the sun; it + seemed incredible that there should be heartburnings about a land so + smiling, that wrongs and miseries should haunt those who lived and worked + in these bright fields. Surely in this earthly paradise the dwellers were + enviable, well-nourished souls, sleek and happy as the pied cattle that + lifted their inquisitive muzzles! Nedda tried to stroke the nose of one—grayish, + blunt, moist. But the creature backed away from her hand, snuffling, and + its cynical, soft eyes with chestnut lashes seemed warning the girl that + she belonged to the breed that might be trusted to annoy. + </p> + <p> + In the last fields before the Joyfields crossroads they came up with a + little, square, tow-headed man, without coat or cap, who had just driven + some cattle in and was returning with his dog, at a 'dot-here dot-there' + walk, as though still driving them. He gave them a look rather like that + of the bullock Nedda had tried to stroke. She knew he must be one of the + Malloring men, and longed to ask him questions; but he, too, looked shy + and distrustful, as if he suspected that they wanted something out of him. + She summoned up courage, however, to say: “Did you see about poor Bob + Tryst?” + </p> + <p> + “I 'eard tell. 'E didn' like prison. They say prison takes the 'eart out + of you. 'E didn' think o' that.” And the smile that twisted the little + man's lips seemed to Nedda strange and cruel, as if he actually found + pleasure in the fate of his fellow. All she could find to answer was: + </p> + <p> + “Is that a good dog?” + </p> + <p> + The little man looked down at the dog trotting alongside with drooped + tail, and shook his head: + </p> + <p> + “'E's no good wi' beasts—won't touch 'em!” Then, looking up + sidelong, he added surprisingly: + </p> + <p> + “Mast' Freeland 'e got a crack on the head, though!” Again there was that + satisfied resentment in his voice and the little smile twisting his lips. + Nedda felt more lost than ever. + </p> + <p> + They parted at the crossroads and saw him looking back at them as they + went up the steps to the wicket gate. Amongst a patch of early sunflowers, + Tod, in shirt and trousers, was surrounded by his dog and the three small + Trysts, all apparently engaged in studying the biggest of the sunflowers, + where a peacock-butterfly and a bee were feeding, one on a gold petal, the + other on the black heart. Nedda went quickly up to them and asked: + </p> + <p> + “Has Derek come, Uncle Tod?” + </p> + <p> + Tod raised his eyes. He did not seem in the least surprised to see her, as + if his sky were in the habit of dropping his relatives at ten in the + morning. + </p> + <p> + “Gone out again,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Nedda made a sign toward the children. + </p> + <p> + “Have you heard, Uncle Tod?” + </p> + <p> + Tod nodded and his blue eyes, staring above the children's heads, + darkened. + </p> + <p> + “Is Granny still here?” + </p> + <p> + Again Tod nodded. + </p> + <p> + Leaving Felix in the garden, Nedda stole upstairs and tapped on Frances + Freeland's door. + </p> + <p> + She, whose stoicism permitted her the one luxury of never coming down to + breakfast, had just made it for herself over a little spirit-lamp. She + greeted Nedda with lifted eyebrows. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my darling! Where HAVE you come from? You must have my nice cocoa! + Isn't this the most perfect lamp you ever saw? Did you ever see such a + flame? Watch!” + </p> + <p> + She touched the spirit-lamp and what there was of flame died out. + </p> + <p> + “Now, isn't that provoking? It's really a splendid thing, quite a new + kind. I mean to get you one. Now, drink your cocoa; it's beautifully hot.” + </p> + <p> + “I've had breakfast, Granny.” + </p> + <p> + Frances Freeland gazed at her doubtfully, then, as a last resource, began + to sip the cocoa, of which, in truth, she was badly in want. + </p> + <p> + “Granny, will you help me?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, darling. What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “I do so want Derek to forget all about this terrible business.” + </p> + <p> + Frances Freeland, who had unscrewed the top of a little canister, + answered: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear, I quite agree. I'm sure it's best for him. Open your mouth and + let me pop in one of these delicious little plasmon biscuits. They're + perfect after travelling. Only,” she added wistfully, “I'm afraid he won't + pay any attention to me.” + </p> + <p> + “No, but you could speak to Aunt Kirsteen; it's for her to stop him.” + </p> + <p> + One of her most pathetic smiles came over Frances Freeland's face. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I could speak to her. But, you see, I don't count for anything. One + doesn't when one gets old.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Granny, you do! You count for a lot; every one admires you so. You + always seem to have something that—that other people haven't got. + And you're not a bit old in spirit.” + </p> + <p> + Frances Freeland was fingering her rings; she slipped one off. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” she said, “it's no good thinking about that, is it? I've wanted to + give you this for ages, darling; it IS so uncomfortable on my finger. Now, + just let me see if I can pop it on!” + </p> + <p> + Nedda recoiled. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Granny!” she said. “You ARE—!” and vanished. + </p> + <p> + There was still no one in the kitchen, and she sat down to wait for her + aunt to finish her up-stairs duties. + </p> + <p> + Kirsteen came down at last, in her inevitable blue dress, betraying her + surprise at this sudden appearance of her niece only by a little quivering + of her brows. And, trembling with nervousness, Nedda took her plunge, + pouring out the whole story—of Derek's letter; their journey down; + her father's talk with him; the visit to Tryst's body; their walk by the + river; and of how haunted and miserable he was. Showing the little note he + had left that morning, she clasped her hands and said: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Aunt Kirsteen, make him happy again! Stop that awful haunting and + keep him from all this!” + </p> + <p> + Kirsteen had listened, with one foot on the hearth in her favorite + attitude. When the girl had finished she said quietly: + </p> + <p> + “I'm not a witch, Nedda!” + </p> + <p> + “But if it wasn't for you he would never have started. And now that poor + Tryst's dead he would leave it alone. I'm sure only you can make him lose + that haunted feeling.” + </p> + <p> + Kirsteen shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “Listen, Nedda!” she said slowly, as though weighing each word. “I should + like you to understand. There's a superstition in this country that people + are free. Ever since I was a girl your age I've known that they are not; + no one is free here who can't pay for freedom. It's one thing to see, + another to feel this with your whole being. When, like me, you have an + open wound, which something is always inflaming, you can't wonder, can + you, that fever escapes into the air. Derek may have caught the infection + of my fever—that's all! But I shall never lose that fever, Nedda—never!” + </p> + <p> + “But, Aunt Kirsteen, this haunting is dreadful. I can't bear to see it.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear, Derek is very highly strung, and he's been ill. It's in my + family to see things. That'll go away.” + </p> + <p> + Nedda said passionately: + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe he'll ever lose it while he goes on here, tearing his + heart out. And they're trying to get me away from him. I know they are!” + </p> + <p> + Kirsteen turned; her eyes seemed to blaze. + </p> + <p> + “They? Ah! Yes! You'll have to fight if you want to marry a rebel, Nedda!” + </p> + <p> + Nedda put her hands to her forehead, bewildered. “You see, Nedda, + rebellion never ceases. It's not only against this or that injustice, it's + against all force and wealth that takes advantage of its force and wealth. + That rebellion goes on forever. Think well before you join in.” + </p> + <p> + Nedda turned away. Of what use to tell her to think when 'I won't—I + can't be parted from him!' kept every other thought paralyzed. And she + pressed her forehead against the cross-bar of the window, trying to find + better words to make her appeal again. Out there above the orchard the sky + was blue, and everything light and gay, as the very butterflies that + wavered past. A motor-car seemed to have stopped in the road close by; its + whirring and whizzing was clearly audible, mingled with the cooings of + pigeons and a robin's song. And suddenly she heard her aunt say: + </p> + <p> + “You have your chance, Nedda! Here they are!” + </p> + <p> + Nedda turned. There in the doorway were her Uncles John and Stanley coming + in, followed by her father and Uncle Tod. + </p> + <p> + What did this mean? What had they come for? And, disturbed to the heart, + she gazed from one to the other. They had that curious look of people not + quite knowing what their reception will be like, yet with something + resolute, almost portentous, in their mien. She saw John go up to her aunt + and hold out his hand. + </p> + <p> + “I dare say Felix and Nedda have told you about yesterday,” he said. + “Stanley and I thought it best to come over.” Kirsteen answered: + </p> + <p> + “Tod, will you tell Mother who's here?” + </p> + <p> + Then none of them seemed to know quite what to say, or where to look, till + Frances Freeland, her face all pleased and anxious, came in. When she had + kissed them they all sat down. And Nedda, at the window, squeezed her + hands tight together in her lap. + </p> + <p> + “We've come about Derek,” John said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” broke in Stanley. “For goodness' sake, Kirsteen, don't let's have + any more of this! Just think what would have happened yesterday if that + poor fellow hadn't providentially gone off the hooks!” + </p> + <p> + “Providentially!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it was. You see to what lengths Derek was prepared to go. Hang it + all! We shouldn't have been exactly proud of a felon in the family.” + </p> + <p> + Frances Freeland, who had been lacing and unlacing her fingers, suddenly + fixed her eyes on Kirsteen. + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand very well, darling, but I am sure that whatever dear + John says will be wise and right. You must remember that he is the eldest + and has a great deal of experience.” + </p> + <p> + Kirsteen bent her head. If there was irony in the gesture, it was not + perceived by Frances Freeland. + </p> + <p> + “It can't be right for dear Derek, or any gentleman, to go against the law + of the land or be mixed up with wrong-doing in any way. I haven't said + anything, but I HAVE felt it very much. Because—it's all been not + quite nice, has it?” + </p> + <p> + Nedda saw her father wince. Then Stanley broke in again: + </p> + <p> + “Now that the whole thing's done with, do, for Heaven's sake, let's have a + little peace!” + </p> + <p> + At that moment her aunt's face seemed wonderful to Nedda; so quiet, yet so + burningly alive. + </p> + <p> + “Peace! There is no peace in this world. There is death, but no peace!” + And, moving nearer to Tod, she rested her hand on his shoulder, looking, + as it seemed to Nedda, at something far away, till John said: + </p> + <p> + “That's hardly the point, is it? We should be awfully glad to know that + there'll be no more trouble. All this has been very worrying. And now the + cause seems to be—removed.” + </p> + <p> + There was always a touch of finality in John's voice. Nedda saw that all + had turned to Kirsteen for her answer. + </p> + <p> + “If those up and down the land who profess belief in liberty will cease to + filch from the helpless the very crust of it, the cause will be removed.” + </p> + <p> + “Which is to say—never!” + </p> + <p> + At those words from Felix, Frances Freeland, gazing first at him and then + at Kirsteen, said in a pained voice: + </p> + <p> + “I don't think you ought to talk like that, Kirsteen, dear. Nobody who's + at all nice means to be unkind. We're all forgetful sometimes. I know I + often forget to be sympathetic. It vexes me dreadfully!” + </p> + <p> + “Mother, don't defend tyranny!” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure it's often from the best motives, dear.” + </p> + <p> + “So is rebellion.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't understand about that, darling. But I do think, with dear + John, it's a great pity. It will be a dreadful drawback to Derek if he has + to look back on something that he regrets when he's older. It's always + best to smile and try to look on the bright side of things and not be + grumbly-grumbly!” + </p> + <p> + After that little speech of Frances Freeland's there was a silence that + Nedda thought would last forever, till her aunt, pressing close to Tod's + shoulder, spoke. + </p> + <p> + “You want me to stop Derek. I tell you all what I've just told Nedda. I + don't attempt to control Derek; I never have. For myself, when I see a + thing I hate I can't help fighting against it. I shall never be able to + help that. I understand how you must dislike all this; I know it must be + painful to you, Mother. But while there is tyranny in this land, to + laborers, women, animals, anything weak and helpless, so long will there + be rebellion against it, and things will happen that will disturb you.” + </p> + <p> + Again Nedda saw her father wince. But Frances Freeland, bending forward, + fixed her eyes piercingly on Kirsteen's neck, as if she were noticing + something there more important than that about tyranny! + </p> + <p> + Then John said very gravely: + </p> + <p> + “You seem to think that we approve of such things being done to the + helpless!” + </p> + <p> + “I know that you disapprove.” + </p> + <p> + “With the masterly inactivity,” Felix said suddenly, in a voice more + bitter than Nedda had ever heard from him, “of authority, money, culture, + and philosophy. With the disapproval that lifts no finger—winking at + tyrannies lest worse befall us. Yes, WE—brethren—we—and + so we shall go on doing. Quite right, Kirsteen!” + </p> + <p> + “No. The world is changing, Felix, changing!” + </p> + <p> + But Nedda had started up. There at the door was Derek. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0038" id="link2HCH0038"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVIII + </h2> + <p> + Derek, who had slept the sleep of the dead, having had none for two + nights, woke thinking of Nedda hovering above him in the dark; of her face + laid down beside him on the pillow. And then, suddenly, up started that + thing, and stood there, haunting him! Why did it come? What did it want of + him? After writing the little note to Nedda, he hurried to the station and + found a train about to start. To see and talk with the laborers; to do + something, anything to prove that this tragic companion had no real + existence! He went first to the Gaunts' cottage. The door, there, was + opened by the rogue-girl, comely and robust as ever, in a linen frock, + with her sleeves rolled up, and smiling broadly at his astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be afraid, Mr. Derek; I'm only here for the week-end, just to tiddy + up a bit. 'Tis all right in London. I wouldn't come back here, I wouldn't—not + if you was to give me—” and she pouted her red lips. + </p> + <p> + “Where's your father, Wilmet?” + </p> + <p> + “Over in Willey's Copse cuttin' stakes. I hear you've been ill, Mr. Derek. + You do look pale. Were you very bad?” And her eyes opened as though the + very thought of illness was difficult for her to grasp. “I saw your young + lady up in London. She's very pretty. Wish you happiness, Mr. Derek. + Grandfather, here's Mr. Derek!” + </p> + <p> + The face of old Gaunt, carved, cynical, yellow, appeared above her + shoulder. There he stood, silent, giving Derek no greeting. And with a + sudden miserable feeling the boy said: + </p> + <p> + “I'll go and find him. Good-by, Wilmet!” + </p> + <p> + “Good-by, Mr. Derek. 'Tis quiet enough here now; there's changes.” + </p> + <p> + Her rogue face twinkled again, and, turning her chin, she rubbed it on her + plump shoulder, as might a heifer, while from behind her Grandfather + Gaunt's face looked out with a faint, sardonic grin. + </p> + <p> + Derek, hurrying on to Willey's Copse, caught sight, along a far hedge, of + the big dark laborer, Tulley, who had been his chief lieutenant in the + fighting; but, whether the man heard his hail or no, he continued along + the hedgeside without response and vanished over a stile. The field dipped + sharply to a stream, and at the crossing Derek came suddenly on the little + 'dot-here dot-there' cowherd, who, at Derek's greeting, gave him an abrupt + “Good day!” and went on with his occupation of mending a hurdle. Again + that miserable feeling beset the boy, and he hastened on. A sound of + chopping guided him. Near the edge of the coppice Tom Gaunt was lopping at + some bushes. At sight of Derek he stopped and stood waiting, his + loquacious face expressionless, his little, hard eye cocked. + </p> + <p> + “Good morning, Tom. It's ages since I saw you.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, 'tis a proper long time! You 'ad a knock.” + </p> + <p> + Derek winced; it was said as if he had been disabled in an affair in which + Gaunt had neither part nor parcel. Then, with a great effort, the boy + brought out his question: + </p> + <p> + “You've heard about poor Bob?” + </p> + <p> + “Yaas; 'tis the end of HIM.” + </p> + <p> + Some meaning behind those words, the unsmiling twist of that hard-bitten + face, the absence of the 'sir' that even Tom Gaunt generally gave him, all + seemed part of an attack. And, feeling as if his heart were being + squeezed, Derek looked straight into his face. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter, Tom?” + </p> + <p> + “Matter! I don' know as there's anything the matter, ezactly!” + </p> + <p> + “What have I done? Tell me!” + </p> + <p> + Tom Gaunt smiled; his little, gray eyes met Derek's full. + </p> + <p> + “'Tisn't for a gentleman to be held responsible.” + </p> + <p> + “Come!” Derek cried passionately. “What is it? D'you think I deserted you, + or what? Speak out, man!” + </p> + <p> + Abating nothing of his stare and drawl, Gaunt answered: + </p> + <p> + “Deserted? Oh, dear no! Us can't afford to do no more dyin' for you—that's + all!” + </p> + <p> + “For me! Dying! My God! D'you think I wouldn't have—? Oh! Confound + you!” + </p> + <p> + “Aye! Confounded us you 'ave! Hope you're satisfied!” + </p> + <p> + Pale as death and quivering all over, Derek answered: + </p> + <p> + “So you think I've just been frying fish of my own?” + </p> + <p> + Tom Gaunt, emitted a little laugh. + </p> + <p> + “I think you've fried no fish at all. That's what I think. And no one else + does, neither, if you want to know—except poor Bob. You've fried his + fish, sure enough!” + </p> + <p> + Stung to the heart, the boy stood motionless. A pigeon was cooing; the + sappy scent from the lopped bushes filled all the sun-warmed air. + </p> + <p> + “I see!” he said. “Thanks, Tom; I'm glad to know.” + </p> + <p> + Without moving a muscle, Tom Gaunt answered: + </p> + <p> + “Don't mention it!” and resumed his lopping. + </p> + <p> + Derek turned and walked out of the little wood. But when he had put a + field between him and the sound of Gaunt's bill-hook, he lay down and + buried his face in the grass, chewing at its green blades, scarce dry of + dew, and with its juicy sweetness tasting the full of bitterness. And the + gray shade stalked out again, and stood there in the warmth of the August + day, with its scent and murmur of full summer, while the pigeons cooed and + dandelion fluff drifted by.... + </p> + <p> + When, two hours later, he entered the kitchen at home, of the company + assembled Frances Freeland alone retained equanimity enough to put up her + face to be kissed. + </p> + <p> + “I'm so thankful you've come back in time to see your uncles, darling. + Your Uncle John thinks, and we all agree, that to encourage those poor + laborers to do things which are not nice is—is—you know what I + mean, darling!” + </p> + <p> + Derek gave a bitter little laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Criminal, Granny! Yes, and puppyish! I've learned all that.” + </p> + <p> + The sound of his voice was utterly unlike his own, and Kirsteen, starting + forward, put her arm round him. + </p> + <p> + “It's all right, Mother. They've chucked me.” + </p> + <p> + At that moment, when all, save his mother, wanted so to express their + satisfaction, Frances Freeland alone succeeded. + </p> + <p> + “I'm so glad, darling!” + </p> + <p> + Then John rose and, holding out his hand to his nephew, said: + </p> + <p> + “That's the end of the trouble, then, Derek?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. And I beg your pardon, Uncle John; and all—Uncle Stanley, + Uncle Felix; you, Dad; Granny.” + </p> + <p> + They had all risen now. The boy's face gave them—even John, even + Stanley—a choke in the throat. Frances Freeland suddenly took their + arms and went to the door; her other two sons followed. And quietly they + all went out. + </p> + <p> + Derek, who had stayed perfectly still, staring past Nedda into a corner of + the room, said: + </p> + <p> + “Ask him what he wants, Mother.” + </p> + <p> + Nedda smothered down a cry. But Kirsteen, tightening her clasp of him and + looking steadily into that corner, answered: + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, my boy. He's quite friendly. He only wants to be with you for a + little.” + </p> + <p> + “But I can't do anything for him.” + </p> + <p> + “He knows that.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish he wouldn't, Mother. I can't be more sorry than I have been.” + </p> + <p> + Kirsteen's face quivered. + </p> + <p> + “My dear, it will go quite soon. Love Nedda! See! She wants you!” + </p> + <p> + Derek answered in the same quiet voice: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Nedda is the comfort. Mother, I want to go away—away out of + England—right away.” + </p> + <p> + Nedda rushed and flung her arms round him. + </p> + <p> + “I, too, Derek; I, too!” + </p> + <p> + That evening Felix came out to the old 'fly,' waiting to take him from + Joyfields to Becket. What a sky! All over its pale blue a far-up wind had + drifted long, rosy clouds, and through one of them the half-moon peered, + of a cheese-green hue; and, framed and barred by the elm-trees, like some + roseate, stained-glass window, the sunset blazed. In a corner of the + orchard a little bonfire had been lighted, and round it he could see the + three small Trysts dropping armfuls of leaves and pointing at the flames + leaping out of the smoulder. There, too, was Tod's big figure, motionless, + and his dog sitting on its haunches, with head poked forward, staring at + those red tongues of flame. Kirsteen had come with him to the wicket gate. + He held her hand long in his own and pressed it hard. And while that blue + figure, turned to the sunset, was still visible, he screwed himself back + to look. + </p> + <p> + They had been in painful conclave, as it seemed to Felix, all day, coming + to the decision that those two young things should have their wish, marry, + and go out to New Zealand. The ranch of Cousin Alick Morton (son of that + brother of Frances Freeland, who, absorbed in horses, had wandered to + Australia and died in falling from them) had extended a welcome to Derek. + Those two would have a voyage of happiness—see together the red + sunsets in the Mediterranean, Pompeii, and the dark ants of men swarming + in endless band up and down with their coal-sacks at Port Said; smell the + cinnamon gardens of Colombo; sit up on deck at night and watch the + stars.... Who could grudge it them? Out there youth and energy would run + unchecked. For here youth had been beaten! + </p> + <p> + On and on the old 'fly' rumbled between the shadowy fields. 'The world is + changing, Felix—changing!' Was that defeat of youth, then, nothing? + Under the crust of authority and wealth, culture and philosophy—was + the world really changing; was liberty truly astir, under that sky in the + west all blood; and man rising at long last from his knees before the God + of force? The silent, empty fields darkened, the air gathered dewy + thickness, and the old 'fly' rumbled and rolled as slow as fate. Cottage + lamps were already lighted for the evening meal. No laborer abroad at this + hour! And Felix thought of Tryst, the tragic fellow—the moving, + lonely figure; emanation of these solitary fields, shade of the departing + land! One might well see him as that boy saw him, silent, dogged, in a + gray light such as this now clinging above the hedgerows and the grass! + </p> + <p> + The old 'fly' turned into the Becket drive. It had grown dark now, save + for the half-moon; the last chafer was booming by, and a bat flitting, a + little, blind, eager bat, through the quiet trees. He got out to walk the + last few hundred yards. A lovely night, silent below her stars—cool + and dark, spread above field after field, wood on wood, for hundreds of + miles on every side. Night covering his native land. The same silence had + reigned out there, the same perfume stolen up, the same star-shine fallen, + for millions of years in the past, and would for millions of years to + come. Close to where the half-moon floated, a slow, narrow, white cloud + was passing—curiously shaped. At one end of it Felix could see + distinctly the form of a gleaming skull, with dark sky showing through its + eyeholes, cheeks, and mouth. A queer phenomenon; fascinating, rather + ghastly! It grew sharper in outline, more distinct. One of those sudden + shudders, that seize men from the crown of the head to the very heels, + passed down his back. He shut his eyes. And, instead, there came up before + him Kirsteen's blue-clothed figure turned to the sunset glow. Ah! Better + to see that than this skull above the land! Better to believe her words: + 'The world is changing, Felix—changing!' + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Freelands, by John Galsworthy + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FREELANDS *** + +***** This file should be named 2309-h.htm or 2309-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/3/0/2309/ + +Produced by Donald Lainson; David Widger + +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. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +This etext was prepared by Donald Lainson, charlie@idirect.com. + + + + + +THE FREELANDS + +by JOHN GALSWORTHY + + + + +"Liberty's a glorious feast."--Burns. + + +PROLOGUE + + +One early April afternoon, in a Worcestershire field, the only +field in that immediate landscape which was not down in grass, a +man moved slowly athwart the furrows, sowing--a big man of heavy +build, swinging his hairy brown arm with the grace of strength. He +wore no coat or hat; a waistcoat, open over a blue-checked cotton +shirt, flapped against belted corduroys that were somewhat the +color of his square, pale-brown face and dusty hair. His eyes were +sad, with the swimming yet fixed stare of epileptics; his mouth +heavy-lipped, so that, but for the yearning eyes, the face would +have been almost brutal. He looked as if he suffered from silence. +The elm-trees bordering the field, though only just in leaf, showed +dark against a white sky. A light wind blew, carrying already a +scent from the earth and growth pushing up, for the year was early. +The green Malvern hills rose in the west; and not far away, +shrouded by trees, a long country house of weathered brick faced to +the south. Save for the man sowing, and some rooks crossing from +elm to elm, no life was visible in all the green land. And it was +quiet--with a strange, a brooding tranquillity. The fields and +hills seemed to mock the scars of road and ditch and furrow scraped +on them, to mock at barriers of hedge and wall--between the green +land and white sky was a conspiracy to disregard those small +activities. So lonely was it, so plunged in a ground-bass of +silence; so much too big and permanent for any figure of man. + +Across and across the brown loam the laborer doggedly finished out +his task; scattered the few last seeds into a corner, and stood +still. Thrushes and blackbirds were just beginning that even-song +whose blitheness, as nothing else on earth, seems to promise youth +forever to the land. He picked up his coat, slung it on, and, +heaving a straw bag over his shoulder, walked out on to the grass- +bordered road between the elms. + +"Tryst! Bob Tryst!" + +At the gate of a creepered cottage amongst fruit-trees, high above +the road, a youth with black hair and pale-brown face stood beside +a girl with frizzy brown hair and cheeks like poppies. + +"Have you had that notice?" + +The laborer answered slowly: + +"Yes, Mr. Derek. If she don't go, I've got to." + +"What a d--d shame!" + +The laborer moved his head, as though he would have spoken, but no +words came. + +"Don't do anything, Bob. We'll see about that." + +"Evenin', Mr. Derek. Evenin', Miss Sheila," and the laborer moved +on. + +The two at the wicket gate also turned away. A black-haired woman +dressed in blue came to the wicket gate in their place. There +seemed no purpose in her standing there; it was perhaps an evening +custom, some ceremony such as Moslems observe at the muezzin-call. +And any one who saw her would have wondered what on earth she might +be seeing, gazing out with her dark glowing eyes above the white, +grass-bordered roads stretching empty this way and that between the +elm-trees and green fields; while the blackbirds and thrushes +shouted out their hearts, calling all to witness how hopeful and +young was life in this English countryside. . . . + + +CHAPTER I + + +Mayday afternoon in Oxford Street, and Felix Freeland, a little +late, on his way from Hampstead to his brother John's house in +Porchester Gardens. Felix Freeland, author, wearing the very first +gray top hat of the season. A compromise, that--like many other +things in his life and works--between individuality and the +accepted view of things, aestheticism and fashion, the critical +sense and authority. After the meeting at John's, to discuss the +doings of the family of his brother Morton Freeland--better known +as Tod--he would perhaps look in on the caricatures at the English +Gallery, and visit one duchess in Mayfair, concerning the George +Richard Memorial. And so, not the soft felt hat which really +suited authorship, nor the black top hat which obliterated +personality to the point of pain, but this gray thing with +narrowish black band, very suitable, in truth, to a face of a pale +buff color, to a moustache of a deep buff color streaked with a few +gray hairs, to a black braided coat cut away from a buff-colored +waistcoat, to his neat boots--not patent leather--faintly buffed +with May-day dust. Even his eyes, Freeland gray, were a little +buffed over by sedentary habit, and the number of things that he +was conscious of. For instance, that the people passing him were +distressingly plain, both men and women; plain with the particular +plainness of those quite unaware of it. It struck him forcibly, +while he went along, how very queer it was that with so many plain +people in the country, the population managed to keep up even as +well as it did. To his wonderfully keen sense of defect, it seemed +little short of marvellous. A shambling, shoddy crew, this crowd +of shoppers and labor demonstrators! A conglomeration of +hopelessly mediocre visages! What was to be done about it? Ah! +what indeed!--since they were evidently not aware of their own +dismal mediocrity. Hardly a beautiful or a vivid face, hardly a +wicked one, never anything transfigured, passionate, terrible, or +grand. Nothing Greek, early Italian, Elizabethan, not even beefy, +beery, broad old Georgian. Something clutched-in, and squashed-out +about it all--on that collective face something of the look of a +man almost comfortably and warmly wrapped round by a snake at the +very beginning of its squeeze. It gave Felix Freeland a sort of +faint excitement and pleasure to notice this. For it was his +business to notice things, and embalm them afterward in ink. And +he believed that not many people noticed it, so that it contributed +in his mind to his own distinction, which was precious to him. +Precious, and encouraged to be so by the press, which--as he well +knew--must print his name several thousand times a year. And yet, +as a man of culture and of principle, how he despised that kind of +fame, and theoretically believed that a man's real distinction lay +in his oblivion of the world's opinion, particularly as expressed +by that flighty creature, the Fourth Estate. But here again, as in +the matter of the gray top hat, he had instinctively compromised, +taking in press cuttings which described himself and his works, +while he never failed to describe those descriptions--good, bad, +and indifferent--as 'that stuff,' and their writers as 'those +fellows.' + +Not that it was new to him to feel that the country was in a bad +way. On the contrary, it was his established belief, and one for +which he was prepared to furnish due and proper reasons. In the +first place he traced it to the horrible hold Industrialism had in +the last hundred years laid on the nation, draining the peasantry +from 'the Land'; and in the second place to the influence of a +narrow and insidious Officialism, sapping the independence of the +People. + +This was why, in going to a conclave with his brother John, high in +Government employ, and his brother Stanley, a captain of industry, +possessor of the Morton Plough Works, he was conscious of a certain +superiority in that he, at all events, had no hand in this +paralysis which was creeping on the country. + +And getting more buff-colored every minute, he threaded his way on, +till, past the Marble Arch, he secured the elbow-room of Hyde Park. +Here groups of young men, with chivalrous idealism, were jeering at +and chivying the broken remnants of a suffrage meeting. Felix +debated whether he should oppose his body to their bodies, his +tongue to theirs, or whether he should avert his consciousness and +hurry on; but, that instinct which moved him to wear the gray top +hat prevailing, he did neither, and stood instead, looking at them +in silent anger, which quickly provoked endearments--such as: "Take +it off," or "Keep it on," or "What cheer, Toppy!" but nothing more +acute. And he meditated: Culture! Could culture ever make +headway among the blind partisanships, the hand-to-mouth mentality, +the cheap excitements of this town life? The faces of these +youths, the tone of their voices, the very look of their bowler +hats, said: No! You could not culturalize the impermeable texture +of their vulgarity. And they were the coming manhood of the +nation--this inexpressibly distasteful lot of youths! The country +had indeed got too far away from 'the Land.' And this essential +towny commonness was not confined to the classes from which these +youths were drawn. He had even remarked it among his own son's +school and college friends--an impatience of discipline, an +insensibility to everything but excitement and having a good time, +a permanent mental indigestion due to a permanent diet of tit-bits. +What aspiration they possessed seemed devoted to securing for +themselves the plums of official or industrial life. His boy Alan, +even, was infected, in spite of home influences and the atmosphere +of art in which he had been so sedulously soaked. He wished to +enter his Uncle Stanley's plough works, seeing in it a 'soft +thing.' + +But the last of the woman-baiters had passed by now, and, conscious +that he was really behind time, Felix hurried on. . . . + + +In his study--a pleasant room, if rather tidy--John Freeland was +standing before the fire smoking a pipe and looking thoughtfully at +nothing. He was, in fact, thinking, with that continuity +characteristic of a man who at fifty has won for himself a place of +permanent importance in the Home Office. Starting life in the +Royal Engineers, he still preserved something of a military look +about his figure, and grave visage with steady eyes and drooping +moustache (both a shade grayer than those of Felix), and a forehead +bald from justness and knowing where to lay his hand on papers. +His face was thinner, his head narrower, than his brother's, and he +had acquired a way of making those he looked at doubt themselves +and feel the sudden instability of all their facts. He was--as has +been said--thinking. His brother Stanley had wired to him that +morning: "Am motoring up to-day on business; can you get Felix to +come at six o'clock and talk over the position at Tod's?" What +position at Tod's? He had indeed heard something vague--of those +youngsters of Tod's, and some fuss they were making about the +laborers down there. He had not liked it. Too much of a piece +with the general unrest, and these new democratic ideas that were +playing old Harry with the country! For in his opinion the country +was in a bad way, partly owing to Industrialism, with its rotting +effect upon physique; partly to this modern analytic +Intellectualism, with its destructive and anarchic influence on +morals. It was difficult to overestimate the mischief of those two +factors; and in the approaching conference with his brothers, one +of whom was the head of an industrial undertaking, and the other a +writer, whose books, extremely modern, he never read, he was +perhaps vaguely conscious of his own cleaner hands. Hearing a car +come to a halt outside, he went to the window and looked out. Yes, +it was Stanley! . . . + + +Stanley Freeland, who had motored up from Becket--his country +place, close to his plough works in Worcestershire--stood a moment +on the pavement, stretching his long legs and giving directions to +his chauffeur. He had been stopped twice on the road for not- +exceeding the limit as he believed, and was still a little ruffled. +Was it not his invariable principle to be moderate in speed as in +all other things? And his feeling at the moment was stronger even +than usual, that the country was in a bad way, eaten up by +officialism, with its absurd limitations of speed and the liberty +of the subject, and the advanced ideas of these new writers and +intellectuals, always talking about the rights and sufferings of +the poor. There was no progress along either of those roads. He +had it in his heart, as he stood there on the pavement, to say +something pretty definite to John about interference with the +liberty of the subject, and he wouldn't mind giving old Felix a rap +about his precious destructive doctrines, and continual girding at +the upper classes, vested interests, and all the rest of it. If he +had something to put in their place that would be another matter. +Capital and those who controlled it were the backbone of the +country--what there was left of the country, apart from these d--d +officials and aesthetic fellows! And with a contraction of his +straight eyebrows above his straight gray eyes, straight blunt +nose, blunter moustaches, and blunt chin, he kept a tight rein on +his blunt tongue, not choosing to give way even to his own anger. + +Then, perceiving Felix coming--'in a white topper, by Jove!'--he +crossed the pavement to the door; and, tall, square, personable, +rang the bell. + + +CHAPTER II + + +"Well, what's the matter at Tod's?" + +And Felix moved a little forward in his chair, his eyes fixed with +interest on Stanley, who was about to speak. + +"It's that wife of his, of course. It was all very well so long as +she confined herself to writing, and talk, and that Land Society, +or whatever it was she founded, the one that snuffed out the other +day; but now she's getting herself and those two youngsters mixed up +in our local broils, and really I think Tod's got to be spoken to." + +"It's impossible for a husband to interfere with his wife's +principles." So Felix. + +"Principles!" The word came from John. + +"Certainly! Kirsteen's a woman of great character; revolutionary +by temperament. Why should you expect her to act as you would act +yourselves?" + +When Felix had said that, there was a silence. + +Then Stanley muttered: "Poor old Tod!" + +Felix sighed, lost for a moment in his last vision of his youngest +brother. It was four years ago now, a summer evening--Tod standing +between his youngsters Derek and Sheila, in a doorway of his white, +black-timbered, creepered cottage, his sunburnt face and blue eyes +the serenest things one could see in a day's march! + +"Why 'poor'?" he said. "Tod's much happier than we are. You've +only to look at him." + +"Ah!" said Stanley suddenly. "D'you remember him at Father's +funeral?--without his hat, and his head in the clouds. Fine- +lookin' chap, old Tod--pity he's such a child of Nature." + +Felix said quietly: + +"If you'd offered him a partnership, Stanley--it would have been +the making of him." + +"Tod in the plough works? My hat!" + +Felix smiled. At sight of that smile, Stanley grew red, and John +refilled his pipe. It is always the devil to have a brother more +sarcastic than oneself! + +"How old are those two?" John said abruptly. + +"Sheila's twenty, Derek nineteen." + +"I thought the boy was at an agricultural college?" + +"Finished." + +"What's he like?" + +"A black-haired, fiery fellow, not a bit like Tod." + +John muttered: "That's her Celtic blood. Her father, old Colonel +Moray, was just that sort; by George, he was a regular black +Highlander. What's the trouble exactly?" + +It was Stanley who answered: "That sort of agitation business is +all very well until it begins to affect your neighbors; then it's +time it stopped. You know the Mallorings who own all the land +round Tod's. Well, they've fallen foul of the Mallorings over what +they call injustice to some laborers. Questions of morality +involved. I don't know all the details. A man's got notice to +quit over his deceased wife's sister; and some girl or other in +another cottage has kicked over--just ordinary country incidents. +What I want is that Tod should be made to see that his family +mustn't quarrel with his nearest neighbors in this way. We know +the Mallorings well, they're only seven miles from us at Becket. +It doesn't do; sooner or later it plays the devil all round. And +the air's full of agitation about the laborers and 'the Land,' and +all the rest of it--only wants a spark to make real trouble." + +And having finished this oration, Stanley thrust his hands deep +into his pockets, and jingled the money that was there. + +John said abruptly: + +"Felix, you'd better go down." + +Felix was sitting back, his eyes for once withdrawn from his +brothers' faces. + +"Odd," he said, "really odd, that with a perfectly unique person +like Tod for a brother, we only see him once in a blue moon." + +"It's because he IS so d--d unique." + +Felix got up and gravely extended his hand to Stanley. + +"By Jove," he said, "you've spoken truth." And to John he added: +"Well, I WILL go, and let you know the upshot." + +When he had departed, the two elder brothers remained for some +moments silent, then Stanley said: + +"Old Felix is a bit tryin'! With the fuss they make of him in the +papers, his head's swelled!" + +John did not answer. One could not in so many words resent one's +own brother being made a fuss of, and if it had been for something +real, such as discovering the source of the Black River, conquering +Bechuanaland, curing Blue-mange, or being made a Bishop, he would +have been the first and most loyal in his appreciation; but for the +sort of thing Felix made up--Fiction, and critical, acid, +destructive sort of stuff, pretending to show John Freeland things +that he hadn't seen before--as if Felix could!--not at all the +jolly old romance which one could read well enough and enjoy till +it sent you to sleep after a good day's work. No! that Felix +should be made a fuss of for such work as that really almost hurt +him. It was not quite decent, violating deep down one's sense of +form, one's sense of health, one's traditions. Though he would not +have admitted it, he secretly felt, too, that this fuss was +dangerous to his own point of view, which was, of course, to him +the only real one. And he merely said: + +"Will you stay to dinner, Stan?" + + +CHAPTER III + + +If John had those sensations about Felix, so--when he was away from +John--had Felix about himself. He had never quite grown out of the +feeling that to make himself conspicuous in any way was bad form. +In common with his three brothers he had been through the mills of +gentility--those unique grinding machines of education only found +in his native land. Tod, to be sure, had been publicly sacked at +the end of his third term, for climbing on to the headmaster's roof +and filling up two of his chimneys with football pants, from which +he had omitted to remove his name. Felix still remembered the +august scene--the horrid thrill of it, the ominous sound of that: +"Freeland minimus!" the ominous sight of poor little Tod emerging +from his obscurity near the roof of the Speech Room, and descending +all those steps. How very small and rosy he had looked, his bright +hair standing on end, and his little blue eyes staring up very hard +from under a troubled frown. And the august hand holding up those +sooty pants, and the august voice: "These appear to be yours, +Freeland minimus. Were you so good as to put them down my +chinmeys?" And the little piping, "Yes, sir." + +"May I ask why, Freeland minimus?" + +"I don't know, sir." + +"You must have had some reason, Freeland minimus?" + +"It was the end of term, sir." + +"Ah! You must not come back here, Freeland minimus. You are too +dangerous, to yourself, and others. Go to your place." + +And poor little Tod ascending again all those steps, cheeks more +terribly rosy than ever, eyes bluer, from under a still more +troubled frown; little mouth hard set; and breathing so that you +could hear him six forms off. True, the new Head had been goaded +by other outrages, the authors of which had not omitted to remove +their names; but the want of humor, the amazing want of humor! As +if it had not been a sign of first-rate stuff in Tod! And to this +day Felix remembered with delight the little bubbling hiss that he +himself had started, squelched at once, but rippling out again +along the rows like tiny scattered lines of fire when a +conflagration is suppressed. Expulsion had been the salvation of +Tod! Or--his damnation? Which? God would know, but Felix was not +certain. Having himself been fifteen years acquiring 'Mill' +philosophy, and another fifteen years getting rid of it, he had now +begun to think that after all there might be something in it. A +philosophy that took everything, including itself, at face value, +and questioned nothing, was sedative to nerves too highly strung by +the continual examination of the insides of oneself and others, +with a view to their alteration. Tod, of course, having been sent +to Germany after his expulsion, as one naturally would be, and then +put to farming, had never properly acquired 'Mill' manner, and +never sloughed it off; and yet he was as sedative a man as you +could meet. + +Emerging from the Tube station at Hampstead, he moved toward home +under a sky stranger than one might see in a whole year of +evenings. Between the pine-trees on the ridge it was opaque and +colored like pinkish stone, and all around violent purple with +flames of the young green, and white spring blossom lit against it. +Spring had been dull and unimaginative so far, but this evening it +was all fire and gathered torrents; Felix wondered at the waiting +passion of that sky. + +He reached home just as those torrents began to fall. + +The old house, beyond the Spaniard's Road, save for mice and a +faint underlying savor of wood-rot in two rooms, well satisfied the +aesthetic sense. Felix often stood in his hall, study, bedroom, +and other apartments, admiring the rich and simple glow of them-- +admiring the rarity and look of studied negligence about the +stuffs, the flowers, the books, the furniture, the china; and then +quite suddenly the feeling would sweep over him: "By George, do I +really own all this, when my ideal is 'bread and water, and on +feast days a little bit of cheese'?" True, he was not to blame for +the niceness of his things--Flora did it; but still--there they +were, a little hard to swallow for an epicurean. It might, of +course, have been worse, for if Flora had a passion for collecting, +it was a very chaste one, and though what she collected cost no +little money, it always looked as if it had been inherited, and--as +everybody knows--what has been inherited must be put up with, +whether it be a coronet or a cruet-stand. + +To collect old things, and write poetry! It was a career; one +would not have one's wife otherwise. She might, for instance, have +been like Stanley's wife, Clara, whose career was wealth and +station; or John's wife, Anne, whose career had been cut short; or +even Tod's wife, Kirsteen, whose career was revolution. No--a wife +who had two, and only two children, and treated them with +affectionate surprise, who was never out of temper, never in a +hurry, knew the points of a book or play, could cut your hair at a +pinch; whose hand was dry, figure still good, verse tolerable, and-- +above all--who wished for no better fate than Fate had given her-- +was a wife not to be sneezed at. And Felix never had. He had +depicted so many sneezing wives and husbands in his books, and knew +the value of a happy marriage better perhaps than any one in +England. He had laid marriage low a dozen times, wrecked it on all +sorts of rocks, and had the greater veneration for his own, which +had begun early, manifested every symptom of ending late, and in +the meantime walked down the years holding hands fast, and by no +means forgetting to touch lips. + +Hanging up the gray top hat, he went in search of her. He found +her in his dressing-room, surrounded by a number of little bottles, +which she was examining vaguely, and putting one by one into an +'inherited' waste-paper basket. Having watched her for a little +while with a certain pleasure, he said: + +"Yes, my dear?" + +Noticing his presence, and continuing to put bottles into the +basket, she answered: + +"I thought I must--they're what dear Mother's given us." + +There they lay--little bottles filled with white and brown fluids, +white and blue and brown powders; green and brown and yellow +ointments; black lozenges; buff plasters; blue and pink and purple +pills. All beautifully labelled and corked. + +And he said in a rather faltering voice: + +"Bless her! How she does give her things away! Haven't we used +ANY?" + +"Not one. And they have to be cleared away before they're stale, +for fear we might take one by mistake." + +"Poor Mother!" + +"My dear, she's found something newer than them all by now." + +Felix sighed. + +"The nomadic spirit. I have it, too!" + +And a sudden vision came to him of his mother's carved ivory face, +kept free of wrinkles by sheer will-power, its firm chin, slightly +aquiline nose, and measured brows; its eyes that saw everything so +quickly, so fastidiously, its compressed mouth that smiled sweetly, +with a resolute but pathetic acceptation. Of the piece of fine +lace, sometimes black, sometimes white, over her gray hair. Of her +hands, so thin now, always moving a little, as if all the composure +and care not to offend any eye by allowing Time to ravage her face, +were avenging themselves in that constant movement. Of her figure, +that was short but did not seem so, still quick-moving, still +alert, and always dressed in black or gray. A vision of that +exact, fastidious, wandering spirit called Frances Fleeming +Freeland--that spirit strangely compounded of domination and +humility, of acceptation and cynicism; precise and actual to the +point of desert dryness; generous to a point that caused her family +to despair; and always, beyond all things, brave. + +Flora dropped the last little bottle, and sitting on the edge of +the bath let her eyebrows rise. How pleasant was that impersonal +humor which made her superior to other wives! + +"You--nomadic? How?" + +"Mother travels unceasingly from place to place, person to person, +thing to thing. I travel unceasingly from motive to motive, mind +to mind; my native air is also desert air--hence the sterility of +my work." + +Flora rose, but her eyebrows descended. + +"Your work," she said, "is not sterile." + +"That, my dear," said Felix, "is prejudice." And perceiving that +she was going to kiss him, he waited without annoyance. For a +woman of forty-two, with two children and three books of poems--and +not knowing which had taken least out of her--with hazel-gray eyes, +wavy eyebrows darker than they should have been, a glint of red in +her hair; wavy figure and lips; quaint, half-humorous indolence, +quaint, half-humorous warmth--was she not as satisfactory a woman +as a man could possibly have married! + +"I have got to go down and see Tod," he said. "I like that wife of +his; but she has no sense of humor. How much better principles are +in theory than in practice!" + +Flora repeated softly, as if to herself: + +"I'm glad I have none." She was at the window leaning out, and +Felix took his place beside her. The air was full of scent from +wet leaves, alive with the song of birds thanking the sky. +Suddenly he felt her arm round his ribs; either it or they--which, +he could not at the moment tell--seemed extraordinarily soft. . . . + + +Between Felix and his young daughter, Nedda, there existed the only +kind of love, except a mother's, which has much permanence--love +based on mutual admiration. Though why Nedda, with her starry +innocence, should admire him, Felix could never understand, not +realizing that she read his books, and even analyzed them for +herself in the diary which she kept religiously, writing it when +she ought to have been asleep. He had therefore no knowledge of +the way his written thoughts stimulated the ceaseless questioning +that was always going on within her; the thirst to know why this +was and that was not. Why, for instance, her heart ached so some +days and felt light and eager other days? Why, when people wrote +and talked of God, they seemed to know what He was, and she never +did? Why people had to suffer; and the world be black to so many +millions? Why one could not love more than one man at a time? +Why--a thousand things? Felix's books supplied no answers to these +questions, but they were comforting; for her real need as yet was +not for answers, but ever for more questions, as a young bird's +need is for opening its beak without quite knowing what is coming +out or going in. When she and her father walked, or sat, or went +to concerts together, their talk was neither particularly intimate +nor particularly voluble; they made to each other no great +confidences. Yet each was certain that the other was not bored--a +great thing; and they squeezed each other's little fingers a good +deal--very warming. Now with his son Alan, Felix had a continual +sensation of having to keep up to a mark and never succeeding--a +feeling, as in his favorite nightmare, of trying to pass an +examination for which he had neglected to prepare; of having to +preserve, in fact, form proper to the father of Alan Freeland. +With Nedda he had a sense of refreshment; the delight one has on a +spring day, watching a clear stream, a bank of flowers, birds +flying. And Nedda with her father--what feeling had she? To be +with him was like a long stroking with a touch of tickle in it; to +read his books, a long tickle with a nice touch of stroking now and +then when one was not expecting it. + +That night after dinner, when Alan had gone out and Flora into a +dream, she snuggled up alongside her father, got hold of his little +finger, and whispered: + +"Come into the garden, Dad; I'll put on goloshes. It's an awfully +nice moon." + +The moon indeed was palest gold behind the pines, so that its +radiance was a mere shower of pollen, just a brushing of white +moth-down over the reeds of their little dark pond, and the black +blur of the flowering currant bushes. And the young lime-trees, +not yet in full leaf, quivered ecstatically in that moon-witchery, +still letting fall raindrops of the past spring torrent, with soft +hissing sounds. A real sense in the garden, of God holding his +breath in the presence of his own youth swelling, growing, +trembling toward perfection! Somewhere a bird--a thrush, they +thought--mixed in its little mind as to night and day, was queerly +chirruping. And Felix and his daughter went along the dark wet +paths, holding each other's arms, not talking much. For, in him, +very responsive to the moods of Nature, there was a flattered +feeling, with that young arm in his, of Spring having chosen to +confide in him this whispering, rustling hour. And in Nedda was so +much of that night's unutterable youth--no wonder she was silent! +Then, somehow--neither responsible--they stood motionless. How +quiet it was, but for a distant dog or two, and the stilly +shivering-down of the water drops, and the far vibration of the +million-voiced city! How quiet and soft and fresh! Then Nedda +spoke: + +"Dad, I do so want to know everything." + +Not rousing even a smile, with its sublime immodesty, that +aspiration seemed to Felix infinitely touching. What less could +youth want in the very heart of Spring? And, watching her face put +up to the night, her parted lips, and the moon-gleam fingering her +white throat, he answered: + +"It'll all come soon enough, my pretty!" + +To think that she must come to an end like the rest, having found +out almost nothing, having discovered just herself, and the +particle of God that was within her! But he could not, of course, +say this. + +"I want to FEEL. Can't I begin?" + +How many millions of young creatures all the world over were +sending up that white prayer to climb and twine toward the stars, +and--fall to earth again! And nothing to be answered, but: + +"Time enough, Nedda!" + +"But, Dad, there are such heaps of things, such heaps of people, +and reasons, and--and life; and I know nothing. Dreams are the +only times, it seems to me, that one finds out anything." + +"As for that, my child, I am exactly in your case. What's to be +done for us?" + +She slid her hand through his arm again. + +"Don't laugh at me!" + +"Heaven forbid! I meant it. You're finding out much quicker than +I. It's all folk-music to you still; to me Strauss and the rest of +the tired stuff. The variations my mind spins--wouldn't I just +swap them for the tunes your mind is making?" + +"I don't seem making tunes at all. I don't seem to have anything +to make them of. Take me down to see 'the Tods,' Dad!" + +Why not? And yet--! Just as in this spring night Felix felt so +much, so very much, lying out there behind the still and moony +dark, such marvellous holding of breath and waiting sentiency, so +behind this innocent petition, he could not help the feeling of a +lurking fatefulness. That was absurd. And he said: "If you wish +it, by all means. You'll like your Uncle Tod; as to the others, I +can't say, but your aunt is an experience, and experiences are what +you want, it seems." + +Fervently, without speech, Nedda squeezed his arm. + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Stanley Freeland's country house, Becket, was almost a show place. +It stood in its park and pastures two miles from the little town of +Transham and the Morton Plough Works; close to the ancestral home +of the Moretons, his mother's family--that home burned down by +Roundheads in the Civil War. The site--certain vagaries in the +ground--Mrs. Stanley had caused to be walled round, and consecrated +so to speak with a stone medallion on which were engraved the aged +Moreton arms--arrows and crescent moons in proper juxtaposition. +Peacocks, too--that bird 'parlant,' from the old Moreton crest-- +were encouraged to dwell there and utter their cries, as of +passionate souls lost in too comfortable surroundings. + +By one of those freaks of which Nature is so prodigal, Stanley-- +owner of this native Moreton soil--least of all four Freeland +brothers, had the Moreton cast of mind and body. That was why he +made so much more money than the other three put together, and had +been able, with the aid of Clara's undoubted genius for rank and +station, to restore a strain of Moreton blood to its rightful +position among the county families of Worcestershire. Bluff and +without sentiment, he himself set little store by that, smiling up +his sleeve--for he was both kindly and prudent--at his wife who had +been a Tomson. It was not in Stanley to appreciate the peculiar +flavor of the Moretons, that something which in spite of their +naivete and narrowness, had really been rather fine. To him, such +Moretons as were left were 'dry enough sticks, clean out of it.' +They were of a breed that was already gone, the simplest of all +country gentlemen, dating back to the Conquest, without one +solitary conspicuous ancestor, save the one who had been physician +to a king and perished without issue--marrying from generation to +generation exactly their own equals; living simple, pious, +parochial lives; never in trade, never making money, having a +tradition and a practice of gentility more punctilious than the so- +called aristocracy; constitutionally paternal and maternal to their +dependents, constitutionally so convinced that those dependents and +all indeed who were not 'gentry,' were of different clay, that they +were entirely simple and entirely without arrogance, carrying with +them even now a sort of Early atmosphere of archery and home-made +cordials, lavender and love of clergy, together with frequent use +of the word 'nice,' a peculiar regularity of feature, and a +complexion that was rather parchmenty. High Church people and +Tories, naturally, to a man and woman, by sheer inbred absence of +ideas, and sheer inbred conviction that nothing else was nice; but +withal very considerate of others, really plucky in bearing their +own ills; not greedy, and not wasteful. + +Of Becket, as it now was, they would not have approved at all. By +what chance Edmund Moreton (Stanley's mother's grandfather), in the +middle of the eighteenth century, had suddenly diverged from family +feeling and ideals, and taken that 'not quite nice' resolution to +make ploughs and money, would never now be known. The fact +remained, together with the plough works. A man apparently of +curious energy and character, considering his origin, he had +dropped the E from his name, and--though he continued the family +tradition so far as to marry a Fleeming of Worcestershire, to be +paternal to his workmen, to be known as Squire, and to bring his +children up in the older Moreton 'niceness'--he had yet managed to +make his ploughs quite celebrated, to found a little town, and die +still handsome and clean-shaved at the age of sixty-six. Of his +four sons, only two could be found sufficiently without the E to go +on making ploughs. Stanley's grandfather, Stuart Morton, indeed, +had tried hard, but in the end had reverted to the congenital +instinct for being just a Moreton. An extremely amiable man, he +took to wandering with his family, and died in France, leaving one +daughter--Frances, Stanley's mother--and three sons, one of whom, +absorbed in horses, wandered to Australia and was killed by falling +from them; one of whom, a soldier, wandered to India, and the +embraces of a snake; and one of whom wandered into the embraces of +the Holy Roman Church. + +The Morton Plough Works were dry and dwindling when Stanley's +father, seeking an opening for his son, put him and money into +them. From that moment they had never looked back, and now brought +Stanley, the sole proprietor, an income of full fifteen thousand +pounds a year. He wanted it. For Clara, his wife, had that energy +of aspiration which before now has raised women to positions of +importance in the counties which are not their own, and caused, +incidentally, many acres to go out of cultivation. Not one plough +was used on the whole of Becket, not even a Morton plough--these +indeed were unsuitable to English soil and were all sent abroad. +It was the corner-stone of his success that Stanley had completely +seen through the talked-of revival of English agriculture, and +sedulously cultivated the foreign market. This was why the Becket +dining-room could contain without straining itself large quantities +of local magnates and celebrities from London, all deploring the +condition of 'the Land,' and discussing without end the regrettable +position of the agricultural laborer. Except for literary men and +painters, present in small quantities to leaven the lump, Becket +was, in fact, a rallying point for the advanced spirits of Land +Reform--one of those places where they were sure of being well done +at week-ends, and of congenial and even stimulating talk about the +undoubted need for doing something, and the designs which were +being entertained upon 'the Land' by either party. This very heart +of English country that the old Moretons in their paternal way had +so religiously farmed, making out of its lush grass and waving corn +a simple and by no means selfish or ungenerous subsistence, was now +entirely lawns, park, coverts, and private golf course, together +with enough grass to support the kine which yielded that continual +stream of milk necessary to Clara's entertainments and children, +all female, save little Francis, and still of tender years. Of +gardeners, keepers, cow-men, chauffeurs, footmen, stablemen--full +twenty were supported on those fifteen hundred acres that formed +the little Becket demesne. Of agricultural laborers proper--that +vexed individual so much in the air, so reluctant to stay on 'the +Land,' and so difficult to house when he was there, there were +fortunately none, so that it was possible for Stanley, whose wife +meant him to 'put up' for the Division, and his guests, who were +frequently in Parliament, to hold entirely unbiassed and impersonal +views upon the whole question so long as they were at Becket. + +It was beautiful there, too, with the bright open fields hedged +with great elms, and that ever-rich serenity of its grass and +trees. The white house, timbered with dark beams in true +Worcestershire fashion, and added-to from time to time, had +preserved, thanks to a fine architect, an old-fashioned air of +spacious presidency above its gardens and lawns. On the long +artificial lake, with innumerable rushy nooks and water-lilies and +coverture of leaves floating flat and bright in the sun, the half- +tame wild duck and shy water-hens had remote little worlds, and +flew and splashed when all Becket was abed, quite as if the human +spirit, with its monkey-tricks and its little divine flame, had not +yet been born. + +Under the shade of a copper-beech, just where the drive cut through +into its circle before the house, an old lady was sitting that +afternoon on a campstool. She was dressed in gray alpaca, light +and cool, and had on her iron-gray hair a piece of black lace. A +number of Hearth and Home and a little pair of scissors, suspended +by an inexpensive chain from her waist, rested on her knee, for she +had been meaning to cut out for dear Felix a certain recipe for +keeping the head cool; but, as a fact, she sat without doing so, +very still, save that, now and then, she compressed her pale fine +lips, and continually moved her pale fine hands. She was evidently +waiting for something that promised excitement, even pleasure, for +a little rose-leaf flush had quavered up into a face that was +colored like parchment; and her gray eyes under regular and still- +dark brows, very far apart, between which there was no semblance of +a wrinkle, seemed noting little definite things about her, almost +unwillingly, as an Arab's or a Red Indian's eyes will continue to +note things in the present, however their minds may be set on the +future. So sat Frances Fleeming Freeland (nee Morton) waiting for +the arrival of her son Felix and her grandchildren Alan and Nedda. + +She marked presently an old man limping slowly on a stick toward +where the drive debouched, and thought at once: "He oughtn't to be +coming this way. I expect he doesn't know the way round to the +back. Poor man, he's very lame. He looks respectable, too." She +got up and went toward him, remarking that his face with nice gray +moustaches was wonderfully regular, almost like a gentleman's, and +that he touched his dusty hat with quite old-fashioned courtesy. +And smiling--her smile was sweet but critical--she said: "You'll +find the best way is to go back to that little path, and past the +greenhouses. Have you hurt your leg?" + +"My leg's been like that, m'm, fifteen year come Michaelmas." + +"How did it happen?" + +"Ploughin'. The bone was injured; an' now they say the muscle's +dried up in a manner of speakin'." + +"What do you do for it? The very best thing is this." + +From the recesses of a deep pocket, placed where no one else wore +such a thing, she brought out a little pot. + +"You must let me give it you. Put it on when you go to bed, and +rub it well in; you'll find it act splendidly." + +The old man took the little pot with dubious reverence. + +"Yes, m'm," he said; "thank you, m'm." + +"What is your name?" + +"Gaunt." + +"And where do you live?" + +"Over to Joyfields, m'm." + +"Joyfields--another of my sons lives there--Mr. Morton Freeland. +But it's seven miles." + +"I got a lift half-way." + +"And have you business at the house?" The old man was silent; the +downcast, rather cynical look of his lined face deepened. And +Frances Freeland thought: 'He's overtired. They must give him some +tea and an egg. What can he want, coming all this way? He's +evidently not a beggar.' + +The old man who was not a beggar spoke suddenly: + +"I know the Mr. Freeland at Joyfields. He's a good gentleman, +too." + +"Yes, he is. I wonder I don't know you." + +"I'm not much about, owin' to my leg. It's my grand-daughter in +service here, I come to see." + +"Oh, yes! What is her name?" + +"Gaunt her name is." + +"I shouldn't know her by her surname." + +"Alice." + +"Ah! in the kitchen; a nice, pretty girl. I hope you're not in +trouble." + +Again the old man was silent, and again spoke suddenly: + +"That's as you look at it, m'm," he said. "I've got a matter of a +few words to have with her about the family. Her father he +couldn't come, so I come instead." + +"And how are you going to get back?" + +"I'll have to walk, I expect, without I can pick up with a cart." + +Frances Freeland compressed her lips. "With that leg you should +have come by train." + +The old man smiled. + +"I hadn't the fare like," he said. "I only gets five shillin's a +week, from the council, and two o' that I pays over to my son." + +Frances Freeland thrust her hand once more into that deep pocket, +and as she did so she noticed that the old man's left boot was +flapping open, and that there were two buttons off his coat. Her +mind was swiftly calculating: "It is more than seven weeks to +quarter day. Of course I can't afford it, but I must just give him +a sovereign." + +She withdrew her hand from the recesses of her pocket and looked at +the old man's nose. It was finely chiselled, and the same yellow +as his face. "It looks nice, and quite sober," she thought. In +her hand was her purse and a boot-lace. She took out a sovereign. + +"Now, if I give you this," she said, "you must promise me not to +spend any of it in the public-house. And this is for your boot. +And you must go back by train. And get those buttons sewn on your +coat. And tell cook, from me, please, to give you some tea and an +egg." And noticing that he took the sovereign and the boot-lace +very respectfully, and seemed altogether very respectable, and not +at all coarse or beery-looking, she said: + +"Good-by; don't forget to rub what I gave you into your leg every +night and every morning," and went back to her camp-stool. Sitting +down on it with the scissors in her hand, she still did not cut out +that recipe, but remained as before, taking in small, definite +things, and feeling with an inner trembling that dear Felix and +Alan and Nedda would soon be here; and the little flush rose again +in her cheeks, and again her lips and hands moved, expressing and +compressing what was in her heart. And close behind her, a +peacock, straying from the foundations of the old Moreton house, +uttered a cry, and moved slowly, spreading its tail under the low- +hanging boughs of the copper-beeches, as though it knew those dark +burnished leaves were the proper setting for its 'parlant' +magnificence. + + +CHAPTER V + + +The day after the little conference at John's, Felix had indeed +received the following note: + + +"DEAR FELIX: + +"When you go down to see old Tod, why not put up with us at Becket? +Any time will suit, and the car can take you over to Joyfields when +you like. Give the pen a rest. Clara joins in hoping you'll come, +and Mother is still here. No use, I suppose, to ask Flora. + +"Yours ever, + +"STANLEY." + + +During the twenty years of his brother's sojourn there Felix had +been down to Becket perhaps once a year, and latterly alone; for +Flora, having accompanied him the first few times, had taken a firm +stand. + +"My dear," she said, "I feel all body there." + +Felix had rejoined: + +"No bad thing, once in a way." + +But Flora had remained firm. Life was too short! She did not get +on well with Clara. Neither did Felix feel too happy in his +sister-in-law's presence; but the gray top-hat instinct had kept +him going there, for one ought to keep in touch with one's +brothers. + +He replied to Stanley: + + +"DEAR STANLEY: + +"Delighted; if I may bring my two youngsters. We'll arrive to- +morrow at four-fifty. + +"Yours affectionately, + +"FELIX." + + +Travelling with Nedda was always jolly; one could watch her eyes +noting, inquiring, and when occasion served, have one's little +finger hooked in and squeezed. Travelling with Alan was +convenient, the young man having a way with railways which Felix +himself had long despaired of acquiring. Neither of the children +had ever been at Becket, and though Alan was seldom curious, and +Nedda too curious about everything to be specially so about this, +yet Felix experienced in their company the sensations of a new +adventure. + +Arrived at Transham, that little town upon a hill which the Morton +Plough Works had created, they were soon in Stanley's car, whirling +into the sleepy peace of a Worcestershire afternoon. Would this +young bird nestling up against him echo Flora's verdict: 'I feel +all body there!' or would she take to its fatted luxury as a duck +to water? And he said: "By the way, your aunt's 'Bigwigs' set in +on a Saturday. Are you for staying and seeing the lions feed, or +do we cut back?" + +From Alan he got the answer he expected: + +"If there's golf or something, I suppose we can make out all +right." From Nedda: "What sort of Bigwigs are they, Dad?" + +"A sort you've never seen, my dear." + +"Then I should like to stay. Only, about dresses?" + +"What war paint have you?" + +"Only two white evenings. And Mums gave me her Mechlin." + +"'Twill serve." + +To Felix, Nedda in white 'evenings' was starry and all that man +could desire. + +"Only, Dad, do tell me about them, beforehand." + +"My dear, I will. And God be with you. This is where Becket +begins." + +The car had swerved into a long drive between trees not yet full- +grown, but decorously trying to look more than their twenty years. +To the right, about a group of older elms, rooks were in commotion, +for Stanley's three keepers' wives had just baked their annual rook +pies, and the birds were not yet happy again. Those elms had stood +there when the old Moretons walked past them through corn-fields to +church of a Sunday. Away on the left above the lake, the little +walled mound had come in view. Something in Felix always stirred +at sight of it, and, squeezing Nedda's arm, he said: + +"See that silly wall? Behind there Granny's ancients lived. Gone +now--new house--new lake--new trees--new everything." + +But he saw from his little daughter's calm eyes that the sentiment +in him was not in her. + +"I like the lake," she said. "There's Granny--oh, and a peacock!" + +His mother's embrace, with its frail energy, and the pressure of +her soft, dry lips, filled Felix always with remorse. Why could he +not give the simple and direct expression to his feeling that she +gave to hers? He watched those lips transferred to Nedda, heard +her say: "Oh, my darling, how lovely to see you! Do you know this +for midge-bites?" A hand, diving deep into a pocket, returned with +a little silver-coated stick having a bluish end. Felix saw it +rise and hover about Nedda's forehead, and descend with two little +swift dabs. "It takes them away at once." + +"Oh, but Granny, they're not midge-bites; they're only from my +hat!" + +"It doesn't matter, darling; it takes away anything like that." + +And he thought: 'Mother is really wonderful!' + +At the house the car had already disgorged their luggage. Only one +man, but he absolutely the butler, awaited them, and they entered, +at once conscious of Clara's special pot-pourri. Its fragrance +steamed from blue china, in every nook and crevice, a sort of +baptism into luxury. Clara herself, in the outer morning-room, +smelled a little of it. Quick and dark of eye, capable, comely, +perfectly buttoned, one of those women who know exactly how not to +be superior to the general taste of the period. In addition to +that great quality she was endowed with a fine nose, an instinct +for co-ordination not to be excelled, and a genuine love of making +people comfortable; so that it was no wonder that she had risen in +the ranks of hostesses, till her house was celebrated for its ease, +even among those who at their week-ends liked to feel 'all body.' +In regard to that characteristic of Becket, not even Felix in his +ironies had ever stood up to Clara; the matter was too delicate. +Frances Freeland, indeed--not because she had any philosophic +preconceptions on the matter, but because it was 'not nice, dear, +to be wasteful' even if it were only of rose-leaves, or to 'have +too much decoration,' such as Japanese prints in places where they +hum--sometimes told her daughter-in-law frankly what was wrong, +without, however, making the faintest impression upon Clara, for +she was not sensitive, and, as she said to Stanley, it was 'only +Mother.' + +When they had drunk that special Chinese tea, all the rage, but +which no one really liked, in the inner morning, or afternoon room-- +for the drawing-rooms were too large to be comfortable except at +week-ends--they went to see the children, a special blend of +Stanley and Clara, save the little Francis, who did not seem to be +entirely body. Then Clara took them to their rooms. She lingered +kindly in Nedda's, feeling that the girl could not yet feel quite +at home, and looking in the soap-dish lest she might not have the +right verbena, and about the dressing-table to see that she had +pins and scent, and plenty of 'pot-pourri,' and thinking: 'The +child is pretty--a nice girl, not like her mother.' Explaining +carefully how, because of the approaching week-end, she had been +obliged to put her in 'a very simple room' where she would be +compelled to cross the corridor to her bath, she asked her if she +had a quilted dressing-gown, and finding that she had not, left her +saying she would send one--and could she do her frocks up, or +should Sirrett come? + +Abandoned, the girl stood in the middle of the room, so far more +'simple' than she had ever slept in, with its warm fragrance of +rose-leaves and verbena, its Aubusson carpet, white silk-quilted +bed, sofa, cushioned window-seat, dainty curtains, and little +nickel box of biscuits on little spindly table. There she stood +and sniffed, stretched herself, and thought: 'It's jolly--only, it +smells too much!' and she went up to the pictures, one by one. +They seemed to go splendidly with the room, and suddenly she felt +homesick. Ridiculous, of course! Yet, if she had known where her +father's room was, she would have run out to it; but her memory was +too tangled up with stairs and corridors--to find her way down to +the hall again was all she could have done. + +A maid came in now with a blue silk gown very thick and soft. +Could she do anything for Miss Freeland? No, thanks, she could +not; only, did she know where Mr. Freeland's room was? + +"Which Mr. Freeland, miss, the young or the old?" + +"Oh, the old!" Having said which, Nedda felt unhappy; her Dad was +not old! "No, miss; but I'll find out. It'll be in the walnut +wing!" But with a little flutter at the thought of thus setting +people to run about wings, Nedda murmured: "Oh! thanks, no; it +doesn't matter." + +She settled down now on the cushion of the window-seat, to look out +and take it all in, right away to that line of hills gone blue in +the haze of the warm evening. That would be Malvern; and there, +farther to the south, the 'Tods' lived. 'Joyfields!' A pretty +name! And it was lovely country all round; green and peaceful, +with its white, timbered houses and cottages. People must be very +happy, living here--happy and quiet like the stars and the birds; +not like the crowds in London thronging streets and shops and +Hampstead Heath; not like the people in all those disgruntled +suburbs that led out for miles where London ought to have stopped +but had not; not like the thousands and thousands of those poor +creatures in Bethnal Green, where her slum work lay. The natives +here must surely be happy. Only, were there any natives? She had +not seen any. Away to the right below her window were the first +trees of the fruit garden; for many of them Spring was over, but +the apple-trees had just come into blossom, and the low sun shining +through a gap in some far elms was slanting on their creamy pink, +christening them--Nedda thought--with drops of light; and lovely +the blackbirds' singing sounded in the perfect hush! How wonderful +to be a bird, going where you would, and from high up in the air +seeing everything; flying down a sunbeam, drinking a raindrop, +sitting on the very top of a tall tree, running in grass so high +that you were hidden, laying little perfect blue-green eggs, or +pure-gray speckly ones; never changing your dress, yet always +beautiful. Surely the spirit of the world was in the birds and the +clouds, roaming, floating, and in the flowers and trees that never +smelled anything but sweet, never looked anything but lovely, and +were never restless. Why was one restless, wanting things that did +not come--wanting to feel and know, wanting to love, and be loved? +And at that thought which had come to her so unexpectedly--a +thought never before shaped so definitely--Nedda planted her arms +on the window-sill, with sleeves fallen down, and let her hands +meet cup-shaped beneath her chin. Love! To have somebody with +whom she could share everything--some one to whom and for whom she +could give up--some one she could protect and comfort--some one who +would bring her peace. Peace, rest--from what? Ah! that she could +not make clear, even to herself. Love! What would love be like? +Her father loved her, and she loved him. She loved her mother; and +Alan on the whole was jolly to her--it was not that. What was it-- +where was it--when would it come and wake her, and kiss her to +sleep, all in one? Come and fill her as with the warmth and color, +the freshness, light, and shadow of this beautiful May evening, +flood her as with the singing of those birds, and the warm light +sunning the apple blossoms. And she sighed. Then--as with all +young things whose attention after all is but as the hovering of a +butterfly--her speculation was attracted to a thin, high-shouldered +figure limping on a stick, away from the house, down one of the +paths among the apple-trees. He wavered, not knowing, it seemed, +his way. And Nedda thought: 'Poor old man, how lame he is!' She +saw him stoop, screened, as he evidently thought, from sight, and +take something very small from his pocket. He gazed, rubbed it, +put it back; what it was she could not see. Then pressing his hand +down, he smoothed and stretched his leg. His eyes seemed closed. +So a stone man might have stood! Till very slowly he limped on, +passing out of sight. And turning from the window, Nedda began +hurrying into her evening things. + +When she was ready she took a long time to decide whether to wear +her mother's lace or keep it for the Bigwigs. But it was so nice +and creamy that she simply could not take it off, and stood turning +and turning before the glass. To stand before a glass was silly +and old-fashioned; but Nedda could never help it, wanting so badly +to be nicer to look at than she was, because of that something that +some day was coming! + +She was, in fact, pretty, but not merely pretty--there was in her +face something alive and sweet, something clear and swift. She had +still that way of a child raising its eyes very quickly and looking +straight at you with an eager innocence that hides everything by +its very wonder; and when those eyes looked down they seemed +closed--their dark lashes were so long. Her eyebrows were wide +apart, arching with a slight angle, and slanting a little down +toward her nose. Her forehead under its burnt-brown hair was +candid; her firm little chin just dimpled. Altogether, a face +difficult to take one's eyes off. But Nedda was far from vain, and +her face seemed to her too short and broad, her eyes too dark and +indeterminate, neither gray nor brown. The straightness of her +nose was certainly comforting, but it, too, was short. Being +creamy in the throat and browning easily, she would have liked to +be marble-white, with blue dreamy eyes and fair hair, or else like +a Madonna. And was she tall enough? Only five foot five. And her +arms were too thin. The only things that gave her perfect +satisfaction were her legs, which, of course, she could not at the +moment see; they really WERE rather jolly! Then, in a panic, +fearing to be late, she turned and ran out, fluttering into the +maze of stairs and corridors. + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Clara, Mrs. Stanley Freeland, was not a narrow woman either in mind +or body; and years ago, soon indeed after she married Stanley, she +had declared her intention of taking up her sister-in-law, +Kirsteen, in spite of what she had heard were the woman's +extraordinary notions. Those were the days of carriages, pairs, +coachmen, grooms, and, with her usual promptitude, ordering out the +lot, she had set forth. It is safe to say she had never forgotten +that experience. + +Imagine an old, white, timbered cottage with a thatched roof, and +no single line about it quite straight. A cottage crazy with age, +buried up to the thatch in sweetbrier, creepers, honeysuckle, and +perched high above crossroads. A cottage almost unapproachable for +beehives and their bees--an insect for which Clara had an aversion. +Imagine on the rough, pebbled approach to the door of this cottage +(and Clara had on thin shoes) a peculiar cradle with a dark-eyed +baby that was staring placidly at two bees sleeping on a coverlet +made of a rough linen such as Clara had never before seen. Imagine +an absolutely naked little girl of three, sitting in a tub of +sunlight in the very doorway. Clara had turned swiftly and closed +the wicket gate between the pebbled pathway and the mossed steps +that led down to where her coachman and her footman were sitting +very still, as was the habit of those people. She had perceived at +once that she was making no common call. Then, with real courage +she had advanced, and, looking down at the little girl with a +fearful smile, had tickled the door with the handle of her green +parasol. A woman younger than herself, a girl, indeed, appeared in +a low doorway. She had often told Stanley since that she would +never forget her first sight (she had not yet had another) of Tod's +wife. A brown face and black hair, fiery gray eyes, eyes all +light, under black lashes, and "such a strange smile"; bare, brown, +shapely arms and neck in a shirt of the same rough, creamy linen, +and, from under a bright blue skirt, bare, brown, shapely ankles +and feet! A voice so soft and deadly that, as Clara said: "What +with her eyes, it really gave me the shivers. And, my dear," she +had pursued, "white-washed walls, bare brick floors, not a picture, +not a curtain, not even a fire-iron. Clean--oh, horribly! They +must be the most awful cranks. The only thing I must say that was +nice was the smell. Sweetbrier, and honey, coffee, and baked +apples--really delicious. I must try what I can do with it. But +that woman--girl, I suppose she is--stumped me. I'm sure she'd +have cut my head off if I'd attempted to open my mouth on ordinary +topics. The children were rather ducks; but imagine leaving them +about like that amongst the bees. 'Kirsteen!' She looked it. +Never again! And Tod I didn't see at all; I suppose he was mooning +about amongst his creatures." + +It was the memory of this visit, now seventeen years ago, that had +made her smile so indulgently when Stanley came back from the +conference. She had said at once that they must have Felix to +stay, and for her part she would be only too glad to do anything +she could for those poor children of Tod's, even to asking them to +Becket, and trying to civilize them a little. . . . "But as for +that woman, there'll be nothing to be done with her, I can assure +you. And I expect Tod is completely under her thumb." + +To Felix, who took her in to dinner, she spoke feelingly and in a +low voice. She liked Felix, in spite of his wife, and respected +him--he had a name. Lady Malloring--she told him--the Mallorings +owned, of course, everything round Joyfields--had been telling her +that of late Tod's wife had really become quite rabid over the land +question. 'The Tods' were hand in glove with all the cottagers. +She, Clara, had nothing to say against any one who sympathized with +the condition of the agricultural laborer; quite the contrary. +Becket was almost, as Felix knew--though perhaps it wasn't for her +to say so--the centre of that movement; but there were ways of +doing things, and one did so deprecate women like this Kirsteen-- +what an impossibly Celtic name!--putting her finger into any pie +that really was of national importance. Nothing could come of +anything done that sort of way. If Felix had any influence with +Tod it would be a mercy to use it in getting those poor young +creatures away from home, to mix a little with people who took a +sane view of things. She would like very much to get them over to +Becket, but with their notions it was doubtful whether they had +evening clothes! She had, of course, never forgotten that naked +mite in the tub of sunlight, nor the poor baby with its bees and +its rough linen. Felix replied deferentially--he was invariably +polite, and only just ironic enough, in the houses of others--that +he had the very greatest respect for Tod, and that there could be +nothing very wrong with the woman to whom Tod was so devoted. As +for the children, his own young people would get at them and learn +all about what was going on in a way that no fogey like himself +could. In regard to the land question, there were, of course, many +sides to that, and he, for one, would not be at all sorry to +observe yet another. After all, the Tods were in real contact with +the laborers, and that was the great thing. It would be very +interesting. + +Yes, Clara quite saw all that, but--and here she sank her voice so +that there was hardly any left--as Felix was going over there, she +really must put him au courant with the heart of this matter. Lady +Malloring had told her the whole story. It appeared there were two +cases: A family called Gaunt, an old man, and his son, who had two +daughters--one of them, Alice, quite a nice girl, was kitchen-maid +here at Becket, but the other sister--Wilmet--well! she was one of +those girls that, as Felix must know, were always to be found in +every village. She was leading the young men astray, and Lady +Malloring had put her foot down, telling her bailiff to tell the +farmer for whom Gaunt worked that he and his family must go, unless +they sent the girl away somewhere. That was one case. And the +other was of a laborer called Tryst, who wanted to marry his +deceased wife's sister. Of course, whether Mildred Malloring was +not rather too churchy and puritanical--now that a deceased wife's +sister was legal--Clara did not want to say; but she was +undoubtedly within her rights if she thought it for the good of the +village. This man, Tryst, was a good workman, and his farmer had +objected to losing him, but Lady Malloring had, of course, not +given way, and if he persisted he would get put out. All the +cottages about there were Sir Gerald Malloring's, so that in both +cases it would mean leaving the neighborhood. In regard to village +morality, as Felix knew, the line must be drawn somewhere. + +Felix interrupted quietly: + +"I draw it at Lady Malloring." + +"Well, I won't argue that with you. But it really is a scandal +that Tod's wife should incite her young people to stir up the +villagers. Goodness knows where that mayn't lead! Tod's cottage +and land, you see, are freehold, the only freehold thereabouts; and +his being a brother of Stanley's makes it particularly awkward for +the Mallorings." + +"Quite so!" murmured Felix. + +"Yes, but my dear Felix, when it comes to infecting those simple +people with inflated ideas of their rights, it's serious, +especially in the country. I'm told there's really quite a violent +feeling. I hear from Alice Gaunt that the young Tods have been +going about saying that dogs are better off than people treated in +this fashion, which, of course, is all nonsense, and making far too +much of a small matter. Don't you think so?" + +But Felix only smiled his peculiar, sweetish smile, and answered: + +"I'm glad to have come down just now." + +Clara, who did not know that when Felix smiled like that he was +angry, agreed. + +"Yes," she said; "you're an observer. You will see the thing in +right perspective." + +"I shall endeavor to. What does Tod say?" + +"Oh! Tod never seems to say anything. At least, I never hear of +it." + +Felix murmured: + +"Tod is a well in the desert." + +To which deep saying Clara made no reply, not indeed understanding +in the least what it might signify. + +That evening, when Alan, having had his fill of billiards, had left +the smoking-room and gone to bed, Felix remarked to Stanley: + +"I say, what sort of people are these Mallorings?" + +Stanley, who was settling himself for the twenty minutes of +whiskey, potash, and a Review, with which he commonly composed his +mind before retiring, answered negligently: + +"The Mallorings? Oh! about the best type of landowner we've got." + +"What exactly do you mean by that?" + +Stanley took his time to answer, for below his bluff good-nature he +had the tenacious, if somewhat slow, precision of an English man of +business, mingled with a certain mistrust of 'old Felix.' + +"Well," he said at last, "they build good cottages, yellow brick, +d--d ugly, I must say; look after the character of their tenants; +give 'em rebate of rent if there's a bad harvest; encourage stock- +breedin', and machinery--they've got some of my ploughs, but the +people don't like 'em, and, as a matter of fact, they're right-- +they're not made for these small fields; set an example goin' to +church; patronize the Rifle Range; buy up the pubs when they can, +and run 'em themselves; send out jelly, and let people over their +place on bank holidays. Dash it all, I don't know what they don't +do. Why?" + +"Are they liked?" + +"Liked? No, I should hardly think they were liked; respected, and +all that. Malloring's a steady fellow, keen man on housing, and a +gentleman; she's a bit too much perhaps on the pious side. They've +got one of the finest Georgian houses in the country. Altogether +they're what you call 'model.'" + +"But not human." + +Stanley slightly lowered the Review and looked across it at his +brother. It was evident to him that 'old Felix' was in one of his +free-thinking moods. + +"They're domestic," he said, "and fond of their children, and +pleasant neighbors. I don't deny that they've got a tremendous +sense of duty, but we want that in these days." + +"Duty to what?" + +Stanley raised his level eyebrows. It was a stumper. Without +great care he felt that he would be getting over the border into +the uncharted land of speculation and philosophy, wandering on +paths that led him nowhere. + +"If you lived in the country, old man," he said, "you wouldn't ask +that sort of question." + +"You don't imagine," said Felix, "that you or the Mallorings live +in the country? Why, you landlords are every bit as much town +dwellers as I am--thought, habit, dress, faith, souls, all town +stuff. There IS no 'country' in England now for us of the 'upper +classes.' It's gone. I repeat: Duty to what?" + +And, rising, he went over to the window, looking out at the moonlit +lawn, overcome by a sudden aversion from more talk. Of what use +were words from a mind tuned in one key to a mind tuned in another? +And yet, so ingrained was his habit of discussion, that he promptly +went on: + +"The Mallorings, I've not the slightest doubt, believe it their +duty to look after the morals of those who live on their property. +There are three things to be said about that: One--you can't make +people moral by adopting the attitude of the schoolmaster. Two--it +implies that they consider themselves more moral than their +neighbors. Three--it's a theory so convenient to their security +that they would be exceptionally good people if they did not adopt +it; but, from your account, they are not so much exceptionally as +just typically good people. What you call their sense of duty, +Stanley, is really their sense of self-preservation coupled with +their sense of superiority." + +"H'm!" said Stanley; "I don't know that I quite follow you." + +"I always hate an odor of sanctity. I'd prefer them to say +frankly: 'This is my property, and you'll jolly well do what I tell +you, on it.'" + +"But, my dear chap, after all, they really ARE superior." + +"That," said Felix, "I emphatically question. Put your Mallorings +to earn their living on fifteen to eighteen shillings a week, and +where would they be? The Mallorings have certain virtues, no +doubt, natural to their fortunate environment, but of the primitive +virtues of patience, hardihood, perpetual, almost unconscious self- +sacrifice, and cheerfulness in the face of a hard fate, they are no +more the equals of the people they pretend to be superior to than I +am your equal as a man of business." + +"Hang it!" was Stanley's answer, "what a d--d old heretic you are!" + +Felix frowned. "Am I? Be honest! Take the life of a Malloring +and take it at its best; see how it stands comparison in the +ordinary virtues with those of an averagely good specimen of a +farm-laborer. Your Malloring is called with a cup of tea, at, say, +seven o'clock, out of a nice, clean, warm bed; he gets into a bath +that has been got ready for him; into clothes and boots that have +been brushed for him; and goes down to a room where there's a fire +burning already if it's a cold day, writes a few letters, perhaps, +before eating a breakfast of exactly what he likes, nicely prepared +for him, and reading the newspaper that best comforts his soul; +when he has eaten and read, he lights his cigar or his pipe and +attends to his digestion in the most sanitary and comfortable +fashion; then in his study he sits down to steady direction of +other people, either by interview or by writing letters, or what +not. In this way, between directing people and eating what he +likes, he passes the whole day, except that for two or three hours, +sometimes indeed seven or eight hours, he attends to his physique +by riding, motoring, playing a game, or indulging in a sport that +he has chosen for himself. And, at the end of all that, he +probably has another bath that has been made ready for him, puts on +clean clothes that have been put out for him, goes down to a good +dinner that has been cooked for him, smokes, reads, learns, and +inwardly digests, or else plays cards, billiards, and acts host +till he is sleepy, and so to bed, in a clean, warm bed, in a clean, +fresh room. Is that exaggerated?" + +"No; but when you talk of his directing other people, you forget +that he is doing what they couldn't." + +"He may be doing what they couldn't; but ordinary directive ability +is not born in a man; it's acquired by habit and training. Suppose +fortune had reversed them at birth, the Gaunt or Tryst would by now +have it and the Malloring would not. The accident that they were +not reversed at birth has given the Malloring a thousandfold +advantage." + +"It's no joke directing things," muttered Stanley. + +"No work is any joke; but I just put it to you: Simply as work, +without taking in the question of reward, would you dream for a +minute of swapping your work with the work of one of your workmen? +No. Well, neither would a Malloring with one of his Gaunts. So +that, my boy, for work which is intrinsically more interesting and +pleasurable, the Malloring gets a hundred to a thousand times more +money." + +"All this is rank socialism, my dear fellow." + +"No; rank truth. Now, to take the life of a Gaunt. He gets up +summer and winter much earlier out of a bed that he cannot afford +time or money to keep too clean or warm, in a small room that +probably has not a large enough window; into clothes stiff with +work and boots stiff with clay; makes something hot for himself, +very likely brings some of it to his wife and children; goes out, +attending to his digestion crudely and without comfort; works with +his hands and feet from half past six or seven in the morning till +past five at night, except that twice he stops for an hour or so +and eats simple things that he would not altogether have chosen to +eat if he could have had his will. He goes home to a tea that has +been got ready for him, and has a clean-up without assistance, +smokes a pipe of shag, reads a newspaper perhaps two days old, and +goes out again to work for his own good, in his vegetable patch, or +to sit on a wooden bench in an atmosphere of beer and 'baccy.' And +so, dead tired, but not from directing other people, he drowses +himself to early lying again in his doubtful bed. Is that +exaggerated?" + +"I suppose not, but he--" + +"Has his compensations: Clean conscience--freedom from worry-- +fresh air, all the rest of it! I know. Clean conscience granted, +but so has your Malloring, it would seem. Freedom from worry--yes, +except when a pair of boots is wanted, or one of the children is +ill; then he has to make up for lost time with a vengeance. Fresh +air--and wet clothes, with a good chance of premature rheumatism. +Candidly, which of those two lives demands more of the virtues on +which human life is founded--courage and patience, hardihood and +self-sacrifice? And which of two men who have lived those two +lives well has most right to the word 'superior'?" + +Stanley dropped the Review and for fully a minute paced the room +without reply. Then he said: + +"Felix, you're talking flat revolution." + +Felix, who, faintly smiling, had watched him up and down, up and +down the Turkey carpet, answered: + +"Not so. I am by no means a revolutionary person, because with all +the good-will in the world I have been unable to see how upheavals +from the bottom, or violence of any sort, is going to equalize +these lives or do any good. But I detest humbug, and I believe +that so long as you and your Mallorings go on blindly dosing +yourselves with humbug about duty and superiority, so long will you +see things as they are not. And until you see things as they are, +purged of all that sickening cant, you will none of you really move +to make the conditions of life more and ever more just. For, mark +you, Stanley, I, who do not believe in revolution from the bottom, +the more believe that it is up to us in honour to revolutionize +things from the top!" + +"H'm!" said Stanley; "that's all very well; but the more you give +the more they want, till there's no end to it." + +Felix stared round that room, where indeed one was all body. + +"By George," he said, "I've yet to see a beginning. But, anyway, +if you give in a grudging spirit, or the spirit of a schoolmaster, +what can you expect? If you offer out of real good-will, so it is +taken." And suddenly conscious that he had uttered a constructive +phrase, Felix cast down his eyes, and added: + +"I am going to my clean, warm bed. Good night, old man!" + +When his brother had taken up his candlestick and gone, Stanley, +uttering a dubious sound, sat down on the lounge, drank deep out of +his tumbler, and once more took up his Review. + + +CHAPTER VII + + +The next day Stanley's car, fraught with Felix and a note from +Clara, moved swiftly along the grass-bordered roads toward +Joyfields. Lying back on the cushioned seat, the warm air flying +at his face, Felix contemplated with delight his favorite +countryside. Certainly this garden of England was very lovely, its +greenness, trees, and large, pied, lazy cattle; its very emptiness +of human beings even was pleasing. + +Nearing Joyfields he noted the Mallorings' park and their long +Georgian house, carefully fronting south. There, too, was the pond +of what village there was, with the usual ducks on it; and three +well-remembered cottages in a row, neat and trim, of the old, +thatched sort, but evidently restored. Out of the door of one of +them two young people had just emerged, going in the same direction +as the car. Felix passed them and turned to look. Yes, it was +they! He stopped the car. They were walking, with eyes straight +before them, frowning. And Felix thought: 'Nothing of Tod in +either of them; regular Celts!' + +The girl's vivid, open face, crisp, brown, untidy hair, cheeks +brimful of color, thick lips, eyes that looked up and out as a Skye +terrier's eyes look out of its shagginess--indeed, her whole figure +struck Felix as almost frighteningly vital; and she walked as if +she despised the ground she covered. The boy was even more +arresting. What a strange, pale-dark face, with its black, +uncovered hair, its straight black brows; what a proud, swan's- +eyed, thin-lipped, straight-nosed young devil, marching like a very +Highlander; though still rather run-up, from sheer youthfulness! +They had come abreast of the car by now, and, leaning out, he said: + +"You don't remember me, I'm afraid!" The boy shook his head. +Wonderful eyes he had! But the girl put out her hand. + +"Of course, Derek; it's Uncle Felix." + +They both smiled now, the girl friendly, the boy rather drawn back +into himself. And feeling strangely small and ill at ease, Felix +murmured: + +"I'm going to see your father. Can I give you a lift home?" + +The answer came as he expected: + +"No, thanks." Then, as if to tone it down, the girl added: + +"We've got something to do first. You'll find him in the orchard." + +She had a ringing voice, full of warmth. Lifting his hat, Felix +passed on. They WERE a couple! Strange, attractive, almost +frightening. Kirsteen had brought his brother a formidable little +brood. + +Arriving at the cottage, he went up its mossy stones and through +the wicket gate. There was little change, indeed, since the days +of Clara's visit, save that the beehives had been moved farther +out. Nor did any one answer his knock; and mindful of the girl's +words, "You'll find him in the orchard," he made his way out among +the trees. The grass was long and starred with petals. Felix +wandered over it among bees busy with the apple-blossom. At the +very end he came on his brother, cutting down a pear-tree. Tod was +in shirt-sleeves, his brown arms bare almost to the shoulders. How +tremendous the fellow was! What resounding and terrific blows he +was dealing! Down came the tree, and Tod drew his arm across his +brow. This great, burnt, curly-headed fellow was more splendid to +look upon than even Felix had remembered, and so well built that +not a movement of his limbs was heavy. His cheek-bones were very +broad and high; his brows thick and rather darker than his bright +hair, so that his deep-set, very blue eyes seemed to look out of a +thicket; his level white teeth gleamed from under his tawny +moustache, and his brown, unshaven cheeks and jaw seemed covered +with gold powder. Catching sight of Felix, he came forward. + +"Fancy," he said, "old Gladstone spending his leisure cutting down +trees--of all melancholy jobs!" + +Felix did not quite know what to answer, so he put his arm within +his brother's. Tod drew him toward the tree. + +"Sit down!" he said. Then, looking sorrowfully at the pear-tree, +he murmured: + +"Seventy years--and down in seven minutes. Now we shall burn it. +Well, it had to go. This is the third year it's had no blossom." + +His speech was slow, like that of a man accustomed to think aloud. +Felix admired him askance. "I might live next door," he thought, +"for all the notice he's taken of my turning up!" + +"I came over in Stanley's car," he said. "Met your two coming +along--fine couple they are!" + +"Ah!" said Tod. And there was something in the way he said it that +was more than a mere declaration of pride or of affection. Then he +looked at Felix. + +"What have you come for, old man?" + +Felix smiled. Quaint way to put it! + +"For a talk." + +"Ah!" said Tod, and he whistled. + +A largish, well-made dog with a sleek black coat, white underneath, +and a black tail white-tipped, came running up, and stood before +Tod, with its head rather to one side and its yellow-brown eyes +saying: 'I simply must get at what you're thinking, you know.' + +"Go and tell your mistress to come--Mistress!" + +The dog moved his tail, lowered it, and went off. + +"A gypsy gave him to me," said Tod; "best dog that ever lived." + +"Every one thinks that of his own dog, old man." + +"Yes," said Tod; "but this IS." + +"He looks intelligent." + +"He's got a soul," said Tod. "The gypsy said he didn't steal him, +but he did." + +"Do you always know when people aren't speaking the truth, then?" + +"Yes." + +At such a monstrous remark from any other man, Felix would have +smiled; but seeing it was Tod, he only asked: "How?" + +"People who aren't speaking the truth look you in the face and +never move their eyes." + +"Some people do that when they are speaking the truth." + +"Yes; but when they aren't, you can see them struggling to keep +their eyes straight. A dog avoids your eye when he's something to +conceal; a man stares at you. Listen!" + +Felix listened and heard nothing. + +"A wren"; and, screwing up his lips, Tod emitted a sound: "Look!" + +Felix saw on the branch of an apple-tree a tiny brown bird with a +little beak sticking out and a little tail sticking up. And he +thought: 'Tod's hopeless!' + +"That fellow," said Tod softly, "has got his nest there just behind +us." Again he emitted the sound. Felix saw the little bird move +its head with a sort of infinite curiosity, and hop twice on the +branch. + +"I can't get the hen to do that," Tod murmured. + +Felix put his hand on his brother's arm--what an arm! + +"Yes," he said; "but look here, old man--I really want to talk to +you." + +Tod shook his head. "Wait for her," he said. + +Felix waited. Tod was getting awfully eccentric, living this +queer, out-of-the-way life with a cranky woman year after year; +never reading anything, never seeing any one but tramps and animals +and villagers. And yet, sitting there beside his eccentric brother +on that fallen tree, he had an extraordinary sense of rest. It +was, perhaps, but the beauty and sweetness of the day with its +dappling sunlight brightening the apple-blossoms, the wind-flowers, +the wood-sorrel, and in the blue sky above the fields those clouds +so unimaginably white. All the tiny noises of the orchard, too, +struck on his ear with a peculiar meaning, a strange fulness, as if +he had never heard such sounds before. Tod, who was looking at the +sky, said suddenly: + +"Are you hungry?" + +And Felix remembered that they never had any proper meals, but, +when hungry, went to the kitchen, where a wood-fire was always +burning, and either heated up coffee, and porridge that was already +made, with boiled eggs and baked potatoes and apples, or devoured +bread, cheese, jam, honey, cream, tomatoes, butter, nuts, and +fruit, that were always set out there on a wooden table, under a +muslin awning; he remembered, too, that they washed up their own +bowls and spoons and plates, and, having finished, went outside and +drew themselves a draught of water. Queer life, and deuced +uncomfortable--almost Chinese in its reversal of everything that +every one else was doing. + +"No," he said, "I'm not." + +"I am. Here she is." + +Felix felt his heart beating--Clara was not alone in being +frightened of this woman. She was coming through the orchard with +the dog; a remarkable-looking woman--oh, certainly remarkable! She +greeted him without surprise and, sitting down close to Tod, said: +"I'm glad to see you." + +Why did this family somehow make him feel inferior? The way she +sat there and looked at him so calmly! Still more the way she +narrowed her eyes and wrinkled her lips, as if rather malicious +thoughts were rising in her soul! Her hair, as is the way of fine, +soft, almost indigo-colored hair, was already showing threads of +silver; her whole face and figure thinner than he had remembered. +But a striking woman still--with wonderful eyes! Her dress--Felix +had scanned many a crank in his day--was not so alarming as it had +once seemed to Clara; its coarse-woven, deep-blue linen and needle- +worked yoke were pleasing to him, and he could hardly take his gaze +from the kingfisher-blue band or fillet that she wore round that +silver-threaded black hair. + +He began by giving her Clara's note, the wording of which he had +himself dictated: + + +"DEAR KIRSTEEN: + +"Though we have not seen each other for so long, I am sure you will +forgive my writing. It would give us so much pleasure if you and +the two children would come over for a night or two while Felix and +his young folk are staying with us. It is no use, I fear, to ask +Tod; but of course if he would come, too, both Stanley and myself +would be delighted. + +"Yours cordially, + +"CLARA FREELAND." + + +She read it, handed it to Tod, who also read it and handed it to +Felix. Nobody said anything. It was so altogether simple and +friendly a note that Felix felt pleased with it, thinking: 'I +expressed that well!' + +Then Tod said: "Go ahead, old man! You've got something to say +about the youngsters, haven't you?" + +How on earth did he know that? But then Tod HAD a sort of queer +prescience. + +"Well," he brought out with an effort, "don't you think it's a pity +to embroil your young people in village troubles? We've been +hearing from Stanley--" + +Kirsteen interrupted in her calm, staccato voice with just the +faintest lisp: + +"Stanley would not understand." + +She had put her arm through Tod's, but never removed her eyes from +her brother-in-law's face. + +"Possibly," said Felix, "but you must remember that Stanley, John, +and myself represent ordinary--what shall we say--level-headed +opinion." + +"With which we have nothing in common, I'm afraid." + +Felix glanced from her to Tod. The fellow had his head on one side +and seemed listening to something in the distance. And Felix felt +a certain irritation. + +"It's all very well," he said, "but I think you really have got to +look at your children's future from a larger point of view. You +don't surely want them to fly out against things before they've had +a chance to see life for themselves." + +She answered: + +"The children know more of life than most young people. They've +seen it close to, they've seen its realities. They know what the +tyranny of the countryside means." + +"Yes, yes," said Felix, "but youth is youth." + +"They are not too young to know and feel the truth." + +Felix was impressed. How those narrowing eyes shone! What +conviction in that faintly lisping voice! + +'I am a fool for my pains,' he thought, and only said: + +"Well, what about this invitation, anyway?" + +"Yes; it will be just the thing for them at the moment." + +The words had to Felix a somewhat sinister import. He knew well +enough that she did not mean by them what others would have meant. +But he said: "When shall we expect them? Tuesday, I suppose, would +be best for Clara, after her weekend. Is there no chance of you +and Tod?" + +She quaintly wrinkled her lips into not quite a smile, and +answered: + +"Tod shall say. Do you hear, Tod?" + +"In the meadow. It was there yesterday--first time this year." + +Felix slipped his arm through his brother's. + +"Quite so, old man." + +"What?" said Tod. "Ah! let's go in. I'm awfully hungry." . . . + +Sometimes out of a calm sky a few drops fall, the twigs rustle, and +far away is heard the muttering of thunder; the traveller thinks: +'A storm somewhere about.' Then all once more is so quiet and +peaceful that he forgets he ever had that thought, and goes on his +way careless. + +So with Felix returning to Becket in Stanley's car. That woman's +face, those two young heathens--the unconscious Tod! + +There was mischief in the air above that little household. But +once more the smooth gliding of the cushioned car, the soft peace +of the meadows so permanently at grass, the churches, mansions, +cottages embowered among their elms, the slow-flapping flight of +the rooks and crows lulled Felix to quietude, and the faint far +muttering of that thunder died away. + +Nedda was in the drive when he returned, gazing at a nymph set up +there by Clara. It was a good thing, procured from Berlin, well +known for sculpture, and beginning to green over already, as though +it had been there a long time--a pretty creature with shoulders +drooping, eyes modestly cast down, and a sparrow perching on her +head. + +"Well, Dad?" + +"They're coming." + +"When?" + +"On Tuesday--the youngsters, only." + +"You might tell me a little about them." + +But Felix only smiled. His powers of description faltered before +that task; and, proud of those powers, he did not choose to subject +them to failure. + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Not till three o'clock that Saturday did the Bigwigs begin to come. +Lord and Lady Britto first from Erne by car; then Sir Gerald and +Lady Malloring, also by car from Joyfields; an early afternoon +train brought three members of the Lower House, who liked a round +of golf--Colonel Martlett, Mr. Sleesor, and Sir John Fanfar--with +their wives; also Miss Bawtrey, an American who went everywhere; +and Moorsome, the landscape-painter, a short, very heavy man who +went nowhere, and that in almost perfect silence, which he +afterward avenged. By a train almost sure to bring no one else +came Literature in Public Affairs, alone, Henry Wiltram, whom some +believed to have been the very first to have ideas about the land. +He was followed in the last possible train by Cuthcott, the +advanced editor, in his habitual hurry, and Lady Maude Ughtred in +her beauty. Clara was pleased, and said to Stanley, while +dressing, that almost every shade of opinion about the land was +represented this week-end. She was not, she said, afraid of +anything, if she could keep Henry Wiltram and Cuthcott apart. The +House of Commons men would, of course, be all right. Stanley +assented: "They'll be 'fed up' with talk. But how about Britto--he +can sometimes be very nasty, and Cuthcott's been pretty rough on +him, in his rag." + +Clara had remembered that, and she was putting Lady Maude on one +side of Cuthcott, and Moorsome on the other, so that he would be +quite safe at dinner, and afterward--Stanley must look out! + +"What have you done with Nedda?" Stanley asked. + +"Given her to Colonel Martlett, with Sir John Fanfar on the other +side; they both like something fresh." She hoped, however, to +foster a discussion, so that they might really get further this +week-end; the opportunity was too good to throw away. + +"H'm!" Stanley murmured. "Felix said some very queer things the +other night. He, too, might make ructions." + +Oh, no!--Clara persisted--Felix had too much good taste. She +thought that something might be coming out of this occasion, +something as it were national, that would bear fruit. And watching +Stanley buttoning his braces, she grew enthusiastic. For, think +how splendidly everything was represented! Britto, with his view +that the thing had gone too far, and all the little efforts we +might make now were no good, with Canada and those great spaces to +outbid anything we could do; though she could not admit that he was +right, there was a lot in what he said; he had great gifts--and +some day might--who knew? Then there was Sir John--Clara pursued-- +who was almost the father of the new Tory policy: Assist the +farmers to buy their own land. And Colonel Martlett, representing +the older Tory policy of: What the devil would happen to the +landowners if they did? Secretly (Clara felt sure) he would never +go into a lobby to support that. He had said to her: 'Look at my +brother James's property; if we bring this policy in, and the +farmers take advantage, his house might stand there any day without +an acre round it.' Quite true--it might. The same might even +happen to Becket. + +Stanley grunted. + +Exactly!--Clara went on: And that was the beauty of having got the +Mallorings; theirs was such a steady point of view, and she was not +sure that they weren't right, and the whole thing really a question +of model proprietorship. + +"H'm!" Stanley muttered. "Felix will have his knife into that." + +Clara did not think that mattered. The thing was to get +everybody's opinion. Even Mr. Moorsome's would be valuable--if he +weren't so terrifically silent, for he must think a lot, sitting +all day, as he did, painting the land. + +"He's a heavy ass," said Stanley. + +Yes; but Clara did not wish to be narrow. That was why it was so +splendid to have got Mr. Sleesor. If anybody knew the Radical mind +he did, and he could give full force to what one always felt was at +the bottom of it--that the Radicals' real supporters were the urban +classes; so that their policy must not go too far with 'the Land,' +for fear of seeming to neglect the towns. For, after all, in the +end it was out of the pockets of the towns that 'the Land' would +have to be financed, and nobody really could expect the towns to +get anything out of it. Stanley paused in the adjustment of his +tie; his wife was a shrewd woman. + +"You've hit it there," he said. "Wiltram will give it him hot on +that, though." + +Of course, Clara assented. And it was magnificent that they had +got Henry Wiltram, with his idealism and his really heavy corn tax; +not caring what happened to the stunted products of the towns--and +they truly were stunted, for all that the Radicals and the half- +penny press said--till at all costs we could grow our own food. +There was a lot in that. + +"Yes," Stanley muttered, "and if he gets on to it, shan't I have a +jolly time of it in the smoking-room? I know what Cuthcott's like +with his shirt out." + +Clara's eyes brightened; she was very curious herself to see Mr. +Cuthcott with his--that is, to hear him expound the doctrine he was +always writing up, namely, that 'the Land' was gone and, short of +revolution, there was nothing for it but garden cities. She had +heard he was so cutting and ferocious that he really did seem as if +he hated his opponents. She hoped he would get a chance--perhaps +Felix could encourage him. + +"What about the women?" Stanley asked suddenly. "Will they stand a +political powwow? One must think of them a bit." + +Clara had. She was taking a farewell look at herself in the far- +away mirror through the door into her bedroom. It was a mistake-- +she added--to suppose that women were not interested in 'the Land.' +Lady Britto was most intelligent, and Mildred Malloring knew every +cottage on her estate. + +"Pokes her nose into 'em often enough," Stanley muttered. + +Lady Fanfar again, and Mrs. Sleesor, and even Hilda Martlett, were +interested in their husbands, and Miss Bawtrey, of course, +interested in everything. As for Maude Ughtred, all talk would be +the same to her; she was always week-ending. Stanley need not +worry--it would be all right; some real work would get done, some +real advance be made. So saying, she turned her fine shoulders +twice, once this way and once that, and went out. She had never +told even Stanley her ambition that at Becket, under her aegis, +should be laid the foundation-stone of the real scheme, whatever it +might be, that should regenerate 'the Land.' Stanley would only +have laughed; even though it would be bound to make him Lord +Freeland when it came to be known some day. . . . + +To the eyes and ears of Nedda that evening at dinner, all was new +indeed, and all wonderful. It was not that she was unaccustomed to +society or to conversation, for to their house at Hampstead many +people came, uttering many words, but both the people and the words +were so very different. After the first blush, the first +reconnaissance of the two Bigwigs between whom she sat, her eyes +WOULD stray and her ears would only half listen to them. Indeed, +half her ears, she soon found out, were quite enough to deal with +Colonel Martlett and Sir John Fanfar. Across the azaleas she let +her glance come now and again to anchor on her father's face, and +exchanged with him a most enjoyable blink. She tried once or twice +to get through to Alan, but he was always eating; he looked very +like a young Uncle Stanley this evening. + +What was she feeling? Short, quick stabs of self-consciousness as +to how she was looking; a sort of stunned excitement due to sheer +noise and the number of things offered to her to eat and drink; +keen pleasure in the consciousness that Colonel Martlett and Sir +John Fanfar and other men, especially that nice one with the +straggly moustache who looked as if he were going to bite, glanced +at her when they saw she wasn't looking. If only she had been +quite certain that it was not because they thought her too young to +be there! She felt a sort of continual exhilaration, that this was +the great world--the world where important things were said and +done, together with an intense listening expectancy, and a sense +most unexpected and almost frightening, that nothing important was +being said or would be done. But this she knew to be impudent. On +Sunday evenings at home people talked about a future existence, +about Nietzsche, Tolstoy, Chinese pictures, post-impressionism, and +would suddenly grow hot and furious about peace, and Strauss, +justice, marriage, and De Maupassant, and whether people were +losing their souls through materialism, and sometimes one of them +would get up and walk about the room. But to-night the only words +she could catch were the names of two politicians whom nobody +seemed to approve of, except that nice one who was going to bite. +Once very timidly she asked Colonel Martlett whether he liked +Strauss, and was puzzled by his answer: "Rather; those 'Tales of +Hoffmann' are rippin', don't you think? You go to the opera much?" +She could not, of course, know that the thought which instantly +rose within her was doing the governing classes a grave injustice-- +almost all of whom save Colonel Martlett knew that the 'Tales of +Hoffmann' were by one Offenbach. But beyond all things she felt +she would never, never learn to talk as they were all talking--so +quickly, so continuously, so without caring whether everybody or +only the person they were talking to heard what they said. She had +always felt that what you said was only meant for the person you +said it to, but here in the great world she must evidently not say +anything that was not meant for everybody, and she felt terribly +that she could not think of anything of that sort to say. And +suddenly she began to want to be alone. That, however, was surely +wicked and wasteful, when she ought to be learning such a +tremendous lot; and yet, what was there to learn? And listening +just sufficiently to Colonel Martlett, who was telling her how +great a man he thought a certain general, she looked almost +despairingly at the one who was going to bite. He was quite silent +at that moment, gazing at his plate, which was strangely empty. +And Nedda thought: 'He has jolly wrinkles about his eyes, only they +might be heart disease; and I like the color of his face, so nice +and yellow, only that might be liver. But I DO like him--I wish +I'd been sitting next to him; he looks real.' From that thought, +of the reality of a man whose name she did not know, she passed +suddenly into the feeling that nothing else of this about her was +real at all, neither the talk nor the faces, not even the things +she was eating. It was all a queer, buzzing dream. Nor did that +sensation of unreality cease when her aunt began collecting her +gloves, and they trooped forth to the drawing-room. There, seated +between Mrs. Sleesor and Lady Britto, with Lady Malloring opposite, +and Miss Bawtrey leaning over the piano toward them, she pinched +herself to get rid of the feeling that, when all these were out of +sight of each other, they would become silent and have on their +lips a little, bitter smile. Would it be like that up in their +bedrooms, or would it only be on her (Nedda's) own lips that this +little smile would come? It was a question she could not answer; +nor could she very well ask it of any of these ladies. She looked +them over as they sat there talking and felt very lonely. And +suddenly her eyes fell on her grandmother. Frances Freeland was +seated halfway down the long room in a sandalwood chair, somewhat +insulated by a surrounding sea of polished floor. She sat with a +smile on her lips, quite still, save for the continual movement of +her white hands on her black lap. To her gray hair some lace of +Chantilly was pinned with a little diamond brooch, and hung behind +her delicate but rather long ears. And from her shoulders was +depended a silvery garment, of stuff that looked like the mail +shirt of a fairy, reaching the ground on either side. A tacit +agreement had evidently been come to, that she was incapable of +discussing 'the Land' or those other subjects such as the French +murder, the Russian opera, the Chinese pictures, and the doings of +one, L---- , whose fate was just then in the air, so that she sat +alone. + +And Nedda thought: 'How much more of a lady she looks than anybody +here! There's something deep in her to rest on that isn't in the +Bigwigs; perhaps it's because she's of a different generation.' +And, getting up, she went over and sat down beside her on a little +chair. + +Frances Freeland rose at once and said: + +"Now, my darling, you can't be comfortable in that tiny chair. You +must take mine." + +"Oh, no, Granny; please!" + +"Oh, yes; but you must! It's so comfortable, and I've simply been +longing to sit in the chair you're in. Now, darling, to please +me!" + +Seeing that a prolonged struggle would follow if she did not get +up, Nedda rose and changed chairs. + +"Do you like these week-ends, Granny?" + +Frances Freeland seemed to draw her smile more resolutely across +her face. With her perfect articulation, in which there was, +however, no trace of bigwiggery, she answered: + +"I think they're most interesting, darling. It's so nice to see +new people. Of course you don't get to know them, but it's very +amusing to watch, especially the head-dresses!" And sinking her +voice: "Just look at that one with the feather going straight up; +did you ever see such a guy?" and she cackled with a very gentle +archness. Gazing at that almost priceless feather, trying to reach +God, Nedda felt suddenly how completely she was in her +grandmother's little camp; how entirely she disliked bigwiggery. + +Frances Freeland's voice brought her round. + +"Do you know, darling, I've found the most splendid thing for +eyebrows? You just put a little on every night and it keeps them +in perfect order. I must give you my little pot." + +"I don't like grease, Granny." + +"Oh! but this isn't grease, darling. It's a special thing; and you +only put on just the tiniest touch." + +Diving suddenly into the recesses of something, she produced an +exiguous round silver box. Prizing it open, she looked over her +shoulder at the Bigwigs, then placed her little finger on the +contents of the little box, and said very softly: + +"You just take the merest touch, and you put it on like that, and +it keeps them together beautifully. Let me! Nobody'll see!" + +Quite well understanding that this was all part of her +grandmother's passion for putting the best face upon things, and +having no belief in her eyebrows, Nedda bent forward; but in a +sudden flutter of fear lest the Bigwigs might observe the +operation, she drew back, murmuring: "Oh, Granny, darling! Not +just now!" + +At that moment the men came in, and, under cover of the necessary +confusion, she slipped away into the window. + +It was pitch-black outside, with the moon not yet up. The bloomy, +peaceful dark out there! Wistaria and early roses, clustering in, +had but the ghost of color on their blossoms. Nedda took a rose in +her fingers, feeling with delight its soft fragility, its coolness +against her hot palm. Here in her hand was a living thing, here +was a little soul! And out there in the darkness were millions +upon millions of other little souls, of little flame-like or +coiled-up shapes alive and true. + +A voice behind her said: + +"Nothing nicer than darkness, is there?" + +She knew at once it was the one who was going to bite; the voice +was proper for him, having a nice, smothery sound. And looking +round gratefully, she said: + +"Do you like dinner-parties?" + +It was jolly to watch his eyes twinkle and his thin cheeks puff +out. He shook his head and muttered through that straggly +moustache: + +"You're a niece, aren't you? I know your father. He's a big man." + +Hearing those words spoken of her father, Nedda flushed. + +"Yes, he is," she said fervently. + +Her new acquaintance went on: + +"He's got the gift of truth--can laugh at himself as well as +others; that's what makes him precious. These humming-birds here +to-night couldn't raise a smile at their own tomfoolery to save +their silly souls." + +He spoke still in that voice of smothery wrath, and Nedda thought: +'He IS nice!' + +"They've been talking about 'the Land'"--he raised his hands and +ran them through his palish hair--"'the Land!' Heavenly Father! +'The Land!' Why! Look at that fellow!" + +Nedda looked and saw a man, like Richard Coeur de Lion in the +history books, with a straw-colored moustache just going gray. + +"Sir Gerald Malloring--hope he's not a friend of yours! Divine +right of landowners to lead 'the Land' by the nose! And our friend +Britto!" + +Nedda, following his eyes, saw a robust, quick-eyed man with a +suave insolence in his dark, clean-shaved face. + +"Because at heart he's just a supercilious ruffian, too cold- +blooded to feel, he'll demonstrate that it's no use to feel--waste +of valuable time--ha! valuable!--to act in any direction. And +that's a man they believe things of. And poor Henry Wiltram, with +his pathetic: 'Grow our own food--maximum use of the land as food- +producer, and let the rest take care of itself!' As if we weren't +all long past that feeble individualism; as if in these days of +world markets the land didn't stand or fall in this country as a +breeding-ground of health and stamina and nothing else. Well, well!" + +"Aren't they really in earnest, then?" asked Nedda timidly. + +"Miss Freeland, this land question is a perfect tragedy. Bar one +or two, they all want to make the omelette without breaking eggs; +well, by the time they begin to think of breaking them, mark me-- +there'll be no eggs to break. We shall be all park and suburb. +The real men on the land, what few are left, are dumb and helpless; +and these fellows here for one reason or another don't mean +business--they'll talk and tinker and top-dress--that's all. Does +your father take any interest in this? He could write something +very nice." + +"He takes interest in everything," said Nedda. "Please go on, Mr.-- +Mr.--" She was terribly afraid he would suddenly remember that +she was too young and stop his nice, angry talk. + +"Cuthcott. I'm an editor, but I was brought up on a farm, and know +something about it. You see, we English are grumblers, snobs to +the backbone, want to be something better than we are; and +education nowadays is all in the direction of despising what is +quiet and humdrum. We never were a stay-at-home lot, like the +French. That's at the back of this business--they may treat it as +they like, Radicals or Tories, but if they can't get a fundamental +change of opinion into the national mind as to what is a sane and +profitable life; if they can't work a revolution in the spirit of +our education, they'll do no good. There'll be lots of talk and +tinkering, tariffs and tommy-rot, and, underneath, the land-bred +men dying, dying all the time. No, madam, industrialism and vested +interests have got us! Bar the most strenuous national heroism, +there's nothing for it now but the garden city!" + +"Then if we WERE all heroic, 'the Land' could still be saved?" + +Mr. Cuthcott smiled. + +"Of course we might have a European war or something that would +shake everything up. But, short of that, when was a country ever +consciously and homogeneously heroic--except China with its opium? +When did it ever deliberately change the spirit of its education, +the trend of its ideas; when did it ever, of its own free will, lay +its vested interests on the altar; when did it ever say with a +convinced and resolute heart: 'I will be healthy and simple before +anything. I will not let the love of sanity and natural conditions +die out of me!' When, Miss Freeland, when?" + +And, looking so hard at Nedda that he almost winked, he added: + +"You have the advantage of me by thirty years. You'll see what I +shall not--the last of the English peasant. Did you ever read +'Erewhon,' where the people broke up their machines? It will take +almost that sort of national heroism to save what's left of him, +even." + +For answer, Nedda wrinkled her brows horribly. Before her there +had come a vision of the old, lame man, whose name she had found +out was Gaunt, standing on the path under the apple-trees, looking +at that little something he had taken from his pocket. Why she +thought of him thus suddenly she had no idea, and she said quickly: + +"It's awfully interesting. I do so want to hear about 'the Land.' +I only know a little about sweated workers, because I see something +of them." + +"It's all of a piece," said Mr. Cuthcott; "not politics at all, but +religion--touches the point of national self-knowledge and faith, +the point of knowing what we want to become and of resolving to +become it. Your father will tell you that we have no more idea of +that at present than a cat of its own chemical composition. As for +these good people here to-night--I don't want to be disrespectful, +but if they think they're within a hundred miles of the land +question, I'm a--I'm a Jingo--more I can't say." + +And, as if to cool his head, he leaned out of the window. + +"Nothing is nicer than darkness, as I said just now, because you +can only see the way you MUST go instead of a hundred and fifty +ways you MIGHT. In darkness your soul is something like your own; +in daylight, lamplight, moonlight, never." + +Nedda's spirit gave a jump; he seemed almost at last to be going to +talk about the things she wanted, above all, to find out. Her +cheeks went hot, she clenched her hands and said resolutely: + +"Mr. Cuthcott, do you believe in God?" + +Mr. Cuthcott made a queer, deep little noise; it was not a laugh, +however, and it seemed as if he knew she could not bear him to look +at her just then. + +"H'm!" he said. "Every one does that--according to their natures. +Some call God IT, some HIM, some HER, nowadays--that's all. You +might as well ask--do I believe that I'm alive?" + +"Yes," said Nedda, "but which do YOU call God?" + +As she asked that, he gave a wriggle, and it flashed through her: +'He must think me an awful enfant terrible!' His face peered round +at her, queer and pale and puffy, with nice, straight eyes; and she +added hastily: + +"It isn't a fair question, is it? Only you talked about darkness, +and the only way--so I thought--" + +"Quite a fair question. My answer is, of course: 'All three'; but +the point is rather: Does one wish to make even an attempt to +define God to oneself? Frankly, I don't! I'm content to feel that +there is in one some kind of instinct toward perfection that one +will still feel, I hope, when the lights are going out; some kind +of honour forbidding one to let go and give up. That's all I've +got; I really don't know that I want more." + +Nedda clasped her hands. + +"I like that," she said; "only--what is perfection, Mr. Cuthcott?" + +Again he emitted that deep little sound. + +"Ah!" he repeated, "what is perfection? Awkward, that--isn't it?" + +"Is it"--Nedda rushed the words out--"is it always to be sacrificing +yourself, or is it--is it always to be--to be expressing yourself?" + +"To some--one; to some--the other; to some--half one, half the +other." + +"But which is it to me?" + +"Ah! that you've got to find out for yourself. There's a sort of +metronome inside us--wonderful, sell-adjusting little machine; most +delicate bit of mechanism in the world--people call it conscience-- +that records the proper beat of our tempos. I guess that's all we +have to go by." + +Nedda said breathlessly: + +"Yes; and it's frightfully hard, isn't it?" + +"Exactly," Mr. Cuthcott answered. "That's why people devised +religions and other ways of having the thing done second-hand. We +all object to trouble and responsibility if we can possibly avoid +it. Where do you live?" + +"In Hampstead." + +"Your father must be a stand-by, isn't he?" + +"Oh, yes; Dad's splendid; only, you see, I AM a good deal younger +than he. There was just one thing I was going to ask you. Are +these very Bigwigs?" + +Mr. Cuthcott turned to the room and let his screwed-up glance +wander. He looked just then particularly as if he were going to +bite. + +"If you take 'em at their own valuation: Yes. If at the +country's: So-so. If at mine: Ha! I know what you'd like to +ask: Should I be a Bigwig in THEIR estimation? Not I! As you +knock about, Miss Freeland, you'll find out one thing--all +bigwiggery is founded on: Scratch my back, and I'll scratch yours. +Seriously, these are only tenpenny ones; but the mischief is, that +in the matter of 'the Land,' the men who really are in earnest are +precious scarce. Nothing short of a rising such as there was in +1832 would make the land question real, even for the moment. Not +that I want to see one--God forbid! Those poor doomed devils were +treated worse than dogs, and would be again." + +Before Nedda could pour out questions about the rising in 1832, +Stanley's voice said: + +"Cuthcott, I want to introduce you!" + +Her new friend screwed his eyes up tighter and, muttering +something, put out his hand to her. + +"Thank you for our talk. I hope we shall meet again. Any time you +want to know anything--I'll be only too glad. Good night!" + +She felt the squeeze of his hand, warm and dry, but rather soft, as +of a man who uses a pen too much; saw him following her uncle +across the room, with his shoulders a little hunched, as if +preparing to inflict, and ward off, blows. And with the thought: +'He must be jolly when he gives them one!' she turned once more to +the darkness, than which he had said there was nothing nicer. It +smelled of new-mown grass, was full of little shiverings of leaves, +and all colored like the bloom of a black grape. And her heart +felt soothed. + + +CHAPTER IX + + +". . . When I first saw Derek I thought I should never feel +anything but shy and hopeless. In four days, only in four days, +the whole world is different. . . . And yet, if it hadn't been for +that thunder-storm, I shouldn't have got over being shy in time. +He has never loved anybody--nor have I. It can't often be like +that--it makes it solemn. There's a picture somewhere--not a good +one, I know--of a young Highlander being taken away by soldiers +from his sweetheart. Derek is fiery and wild and shy and proud and +dark--like the man in that picture. That last day along the hills-- +along and along--with the wind in our faces, I could have walked +forever; and then Joyfields at the end! Their mother's wonderful; +I'm afraid of her. But Uncle Tod is a perfect dear. I never saw +any one before who noticed so many things that I didn't, and +nothing that I did. I am sure he has in him what Mr. Cuthcott said +we were all losing--the love of simple, natural conditions. And +then, THE moment, when I stood with Derek at the end of the +orchard, to say good-by. The field below covered with those moony- +white flowers, and the cows all dark and sleepy; the holy feeling +down there was wonderful, and in the branches over our heads, too, +and the velvety, starry sky, and the dewiness against one's face, +and the great, broad silence--it was all worshipping something, and +I was worshipping--worshipping happiness. I WAS happy, and I think +HE was. Perhaps I shall never be so happy again. When he kissed +me I didn't think the whole world had so much happiness in it. I +know now that I'm not cold a bit; I used to think I was. I believe +I could go with him anywhere, and do anything he wanted. What +would Dad think? Only the other day I was saying I wanted to know +everything. One only knows through love. It's love that makes the +world all beautiful--makes it like those pictures that seem to be +wrapped in gold, makes it like a dream--no, not like a dream--like +a wonderful tune. I suppose that's glamour--a goldeny, misty, +lovely feeling, as if my soul were wandering about with his--not in +my body at all. I want it to go on and on wandering--oh! I don't +want it back in my body, all hard and inquisitive and aching! I +shall never know anything so lovely as loving him and being loved. +I don't want anything more--nothing! Stay with me, please-- +Happiness! Don't go away and leave me! . . . They frighten me, +though; he frightens me--their idealism; wanting to do great +things, and fight for justice. If only I'd been brought up more +like that--but everything's been so different. It's their mother, +I think, even more than themselves. I seem to have grown up just +looking on at life as at a show; watching it, thinking about it, +trying to understand--not living it at all. I must get over that; +I will. I believe I can tell the very moment I began to love him. +It was in the schoolroom the second evening. Sheila and I were +sitting there just before dinner, and he came, in a rage, looking +splendid. 'That footman put out everything just as if I were a +baby--asked me for suspenders to fasten on my socks; hung the +things on a chair in order, as if I couldn't find out for myself +what to put on first; turned the tongues of my shoes out!--curled +them over!' Then Derek looked at me and said: 'Do they do that for +you?--And poor old Gaunt, who's sixty-six and lame, has three +shillings a week to buy him everything. Just think of that! If we +had the pluck of flies--' And he clenched his fists. But Sheila +got up, looked hard at me, and said: 'That'll do, Derek.' Then he +put his hand on my arm and said: 'It's only Cousin Nedda!' I began +to love him then; and I believe he saw it, because I couldn't take +my eyes away. But it was when Sheila sang 'The Red Sarafan,' after +dinner, that I knew for certain. 'The Red Sarafan'--it's a +wonderful song, all space and yearning, and yet such calm--it's the +song of the soul; and he was looking at me while she sang. How can +he love me? I am nothing--no good for anything! Alan calls him a +'run-up kid, all legs and wings.' Sometimes I hate Alan; he's +conventional and stodgy--the funny thing is that he admires Sheila. +She'll wake him up; she'll stick pins into him. No, I don't want +Alan hurt--I want every one in the world to be happy, happy--as I +am. . . . The next day was the thunder-storm. I never saw +lightning so near--and didn't care a bit. If he were struck I knew +I should be; that made it all right. When you love, you don't +care, if only the something must happen to you both. When it was +over, and we came out from behind the stack and walked home through +the fields, all the beasts looked at us as if we were new and had +never been seen before; and the air was ever so sweet, and that +long, red line of cloud low down in the purple, and the elm-trees +so heavy and almost black. He put his arm round me, and I let +him. . . . It seems an age to wait till they come to stay with us +next week. If only Mother likes them, and I can go and stay at +Joyfields. Will she like them? It's all so different to what it +would be if they were ordinary. But if he were ordinary I +shouldn't love him; it's because there's nobody like him. That +isn't a loverish fancy--you only have to look at him against Alan +or Uncle Stanley or even Dad. Everything he does is so different; +the way he walks, and the way he stands drawn back into himself, +like a stag, and looks out as if he were burning and smouldering +inside; even the way he smiles. Dad asked me what I thought of +him! That was only the second day. I thought he was too proud, +then. And Dad said: 'He ought to be in a Highland regiment; pity-- +great pity!' He is a fighter, of course. I don't like fighting, +but if I'm not ready to, he'll stop loving me, perhaps. I've got +to learn. O Darkness out there, help me! And Stars, help me! O +God, make me brave, and I will believe in you forever! If you are +the spirit that grows in things in spite of everything, until +they're like the flowers, so perfect that we laugh and sing at +their beauty, grow in me, too; make me beautiful and brave; then I +shall be fit for him, alive or dead; and that's all I want. Every +evening I shall stand in spirit with him at the end of that orchard +in the darkness, under the trees above the white flowers and the +sleepy cows, and perhaps I shall feel him kiss me again. . . . I'm +glad I saw that old man Gaunt; it makes what they feel more real to +me. He showed me that poor laborer Tryst, too, the one who mustn't +marry his wife's sister, or have her staying in the house without +marrying her. Why should people interfere with others like that? +It does make your blood boil! Derek and Sheila have been brought +up to be in sympathy with the poor and oppressed. If they had +lived in London they would have been even more furious, I expect. +And it's no use my saying to myself 'I don't know the laborer, I +don't know his hardships,' because he is really just the country +half of what I do know and see, here in London, when I don't hide +my eyes. One talk showed me how desperately they feel; at night, +in Sheila's room, when we had gone up, just we four. Alan began +it; they didn't want to, I could see; but he was criticising what +some of those Bigwigs had said--the 'Varsity makes boys awfully +conceited. It was such a lovely night; we were all in the big, +long window. A little bat kept flying past; and behind the copper- +beech the moon was shining on the lake. Derek sat in the +windowsill, and when he moved he touched me. To be touched by him +gives me a warm shiver all through. I could hear him gritting his +teeth at what Alan said--frightfully sententious, just like a +newspaper: 'We can't go into land reform from feeling, we must go +into it from reason.' Then Derek broke out: 'Walk through this +country as we've walked; see the pigsties the people live in; see +the water they drink; see the tiny patches of ground they have; see +the way their roofs let in the rain; see their peeky children; see +their patience and their hopelessness; see them working day in and +day out, and coming on the parish at the end! See all that, and +then talk about reason! Reason! It's the coward's excuse, and the +rich man's excuse, for doing nothing. It's the excuse of the man +who takes jolly good care not to see for fear that he may come to +feel! Reason never does anything, it's too reasonable. The thing +is to act; then perhaps reason will be jolted into doing +something.' But Sheila touched his arm, and he stopped very +suddenly. She doesn't trust us. I shall always be being pushed +away from him by her. He's just twenty, and I shall be eighteen in +a week; couldn't we marry now at once? Then, whatever happened, I +couldn't be cut off from him. If I could tell Dad, and ask him to +help me! But I can't--it seems desecration to talk about it, even +to Dad. All the way up in the train to-day, coming back home, I +was struggling not to show anything; though it's hateful to keep +things from Dad. Love alters everything; it melts up the whole +world and makes it afresh. Love is the sun of our spirits, and +it's the wind. Ah, and the rain, too! But I won't think of +that! . . . I wonder if he's told Aunt Kirsteen! . . ." + + +CHAPTER X + + +While Nedda sat, long past midnight, writing her heart out in her +little, white, lilac-curtained room of the old house above the +Spaniard's Road, Derek, of whom she wrote, was walking along the +Malvern hills, hurrying upward in the darkness. The stars were his +companions; though he was no poet, having rather the fervid temper +of the born swordsman, that expresses itself in physical ecstasies. +He had come straight out from a stormy midnight talk with Sheila. +What was he doing--had been the burden of her cry--falling in love +just at this moment when they wanted all their wits and all their +time and strength for this struggle with the Mallorings? It was +foolish, it was weak; and with a sweet, soft sort of girl who could +be no use. Hotly he had answered: What business was it of hers? +As if one fell in love when one wished! She didn't know--her blood +didn't run fast enough! Sheila had retorted, "I've more blood in +my big toe than Nedda in all her body! A lot of use you'll be, +with your heart mooning up in London!" And crouched together on +the end of her bed, gazing fixedly up at him through her hair, she +had chanted mockingly: "Here we go gathering wool and stars--wool +and stars--wool and stars!" + +He had not deigned to answer, but had gone out, furious with her, +striding over the dark fields, scrambling his way through the +hedges toward the high loom of the hills. Up on the short grass in +the cooler air, with nothing between him and those swarming stars, +he lost his rage. It never lasted long--hers was more enduring. +With the innate lordliness of a brother he already put it down to +jealousy. Sheila was hurt that he should want any one but her; as +if his love for Nedda would make any difference to their resolution +to get justice for Tryst and the Gaunts, and show those landed +tyrants once for all that they could not ride roughshod. + +Nedda! with her dark eyes, so quick and clear, so loving when they +looked at him! Nedda, soft and innocent, the touch of whose lips +had turned his heart to something strange within him, and wakened +such feelings of chivalry! Nedda! To see whom for half a minute +he felt he would walk a hundred miles. + +This boy's education had been administered solely by his mother +till he was fourteen, and she had brought him up on mathematics, +French, and heroism. His extensive reading of history had been +focussed on the personality of heroes, chiefly knights errant, and +revolutionaries. He had carried the worship of them to the +Agricultural College, where he had spent four years; and a rather +rough time there had not succeeded in knocking romance out of him. +He had found that you could not have such beliefs comfortably +without fighting for them, and though he ended his career with the +reputation of a rebel and a champion of the weak, he had had to +earn it. To this day he still fed himself on stories of rebellions +and fine deeds. The figures of Spartacus, Montrose, Hofer, +Garibaldi, Hampden, and John Nicholson, were more real to him than +the people among whom he lived, though he had learned never to +mention--especially not to the matter-of-fact Sheila--his +encompassing cloud of heroes; but, when he was alone, he pranced a +bit with them, and promised himself that he too would reach the +stars. So you may sometimes see a little, grave boy walking +through a field, unwatched as he believes, suddenly fling his feet +and his head every which way. An active nature, romantic, without +being dreamy and book-loving, is not too prone to the attacks of +love; such a one is likely to survive unscathed to a maturer age. +But Nedda had seduced him, partly by the appeal of her touchingly +manifest love and admiration, and chiefly by her eyes, through +which he seemed to see such a loyal, and loving little soul +looking. She had that indefinable something which lovers know that +they can never throw away. And he had at once made of her, +secretly, the crown of his active romanticism--the lady waiting for +the spoils of his lance. Queer is the heart of a boy--strange its +blending of reality and idealism! + +Climbing at a great pace, he reached Malvern Beacon just as it came +dawn, and stood there on the top, watching. He had not much +aesthetic sense; but he had enough to be impressed by the slow +paling of the stars over space that seemed infinite, so little were +its dreamy confines visible in the May morning haze, where the +quivering crimson flags and spears of sunrise were forging up in a +march upon the sky. That vision of the English land at dawn, wide +and mysterious, hardly tallied with Mr. Cuthcott's view of a future +dedicate to Park and Garden City. While Derek stood there gazing, +the first lark soared up and began its ecstatic praise. Save for +that song, silence possessed all the driven dark, right out to the +Severn and the sea, and the fastnesses of the Welsh hills, and the +Wrekin, away in the north, a black point in the gray. For a moment +dark and light hovered and clung together. Would victory wing back +into night or on into day? Then, as a town is taken, all was over +in one overmastering rush, and light proclaimed. Derek tightened +his belt and took a bee-line down over the slippery grass. He +meant to reach the cottage of the laborer Tryst before that early +bird was away to the fields. He meditated as he went. Bob Tryst +was all right! If they only had a dozen or two like him! A dozen +or two whom they could trust, and who would trust each other and +stand firm to form the nucleus of a strike, which could be timed +for hay harvest. What slaves these laborers still were! If only +they could be relied on, if only they would stand together! +Slavery! It WAS slavery; so long as they could be turned out of +their homes at will in this fashion. His rebellion against the +conditions of their lives, above all against the manifold petty +tyrannies that he knew they underwent, came from use of his eyes +and ears in daily contact with a class among whom he had been more +or less brought up. In sympathy with, and yet not of them, he had +the queer privilege of feeling their slights as if they were his +own, together with feelings of protection, and even of contempt +that they should let themselves be slighted. He was near enough to +understand how they must feel; not near enough to understand why, +feeling as they did, they did not act as he would have acted. In +truth, he knew them no better than he should. + +He found Tryst washing at his pump. In the early morning light the +big laborer's square, stubborn face, with its strange, dog-like +eyes, had a sodden, hungry, lost look. Cutting short ablutions +that certainly were never protracted, he welcomed Derek, and +motioned him to pass into the kitchen. The young man went in, and +perched himself on the window-sill beside a pot of Bridal Wreath. +The cottage was one of the Mallorings', and recently repaired. A +little fire was burning, and a teapot of stewed tea sat there +beside it. Four cups and spoons and some sugar were put out on a +deal table, for Tryst was, in fact, brewing the morning draught of +himself and children, who still lay abed up-stairs. The sight made +Derek shiver and his eyes darken. He knew the full significance of +what he saw. + +"Did you ask him again, Bob?" + +"Yes, I asked 'im." + +"What did he say?" + +"Said as orders was plain. 'So long as you lives there,' he says, +'along of yourself alone, you can't have her come back.'" + +"Did you say the children wanted looking after badly? Did you make +it clear? Did you say Mrs. Tryst wished it, before she--" + +"I said that." + +"What did he say then?" + +"'Sorry for you, m'lad, but them's m'lady's orders, an' I can't go +contrary. I don't wish to go into things,' he says; 'you know +better'n I how far 'tis gone when she was 'ere before; but seein' +as m'lady don't never give in to deceased wife's sister marryin', +if she come back 'tis certain to be the other thing. So, as that +won't do neither, you go elsewhere,' he says." + +Having spoken thus at length, Tryst lifted the teapot and poured +out the dark tea into the three cups. + +"Will 'ee have some, sir?" + +Derek shook his head. + +Taking the cups, Tryst departed up the narrow stairway. And Derek +remained motionless, staring at the Bridal Wreath, till the big man +came down again and, retiring into a far corner, sat sipping at his +own cup. + +"Bob," said the boy suddenly, "do you LIKE being a dog; put to what +company your master wishes?" + +Tryst set his cup down, stood up, and crossed his thick arms--the +swift movement from that stolid creature had in it something +sinister; but he did not speak. + +"Do you like it, Bob?" + +"I'll not say what I feels, Mr. Derek; that's for me. What I +does'll be for others, p'raps." + +And he lifted his strange, lowering eyes to Derek's. For a full +minute the two stared, then Derek said: + +"Look out, then; be ready!" and, getting off the sill, he went out. + +On the bright, slimy surface of the pond three ducks were quietly +revelling in that hour before man and his damned soul, the dog, +rose to put the fear of God into them. In the sunlight, against +the green duckweed, their whiteness was truly marvellous; difficult +to believe that they were not white all through. Passing the three +cottages, in the last of which the Gaunts lived, he came next to +his own home, but did not turn in, and made on toward the church. +It was a very little one, very old, and had for him a curious +fascination, never confessed to man or beast. To his mother, and +Sheila, more intolerant, as became women, that little, lichened, +gray stone building was the very emblem of hypocrisy, of a creed +preached, not practised; to his father it was nothing, for it was +not alive, and any tramp, dog, bird, or fruit-tree meant far more. +But in Derek it roused a peculiar feeling, such as a man might have +gazing at the shores of a native country, out of which he had been +thrown for no fault of his own--a yearning deeply muffled up in +pride and resentment. Not infrequently he would come and sit +brooding on the grassy hillock just above the churchyard. Church- +going, with its pageantry, its tradition, dogma, and demand for +blind devotion, would have suited him very well, if only blind +devotion to his mother had not stood across that threshold; he +could not bring himself to bow to that which viewed his rebellious +mother as lost. And yet the deep fibres of heredity from her +papistic Highland ancestors, and from old pious Moretons, drew him +constantly to this spot at times when no one would be about. It +was his enemy, this little church, the fold of all the instincts +and all the qualities against which he had been brought up to +rebel; the very home of patronage and property and superiority; the +school where his friends the laborers were taught their place! And +yet it had that queer, ironical attraction for him. In some such +sort had his pet hero Montrose rebelled, and then been drawn +despite himself once more to the side of that against which he had +taken arms. + +While he leaned against the rail, gazing at that ancient edifice, +he saw a girl walk into the churchyard at the far end, sit down on +a gravestone, and begin digging a little hole in the grass with the +toe of her boot. She did not seem to see him, and at his ease he +studied her face, one of those broad, bright English country faces +with deep-set rogue eyes and red, thick, soft lips, smiling on +little provocation. In spite of her disgrace, in spite of the fact +that she was sitting on her mother's grave, she did not look +depressed. And Derek thought: 'Wilmet Gaunt is the jolliest of +them all! She isn't a bit a bad girl, as they say; it's only that +she must have fun. If they drive her out of here, she'll still +want fun wherever she is; she'll go to a town and end up like those +girls I saw in Bristol.' And the memory of those night girls, with +their rouged faces and cringing boldness, came back to him with +horror. + +He went across the grass toward her. + +She looked round as he came, and her face livened. + +"Well, Wilmet?" + +"You're an early bird, Mr. Derek." + +"Haven't been to bed." + +"Oh!" + +"Been up Malvern Beacon to see the sun rise." + +"You're tired, I expect!" + +"No." + +"Must be fine up there. You'd see a long ways from there; near to +London I should think. Do you know London, Mr. Derek?" + +"No." + +"They say 'tis a funny place, too." Her rogue eyes gleamed from +under a heavy frown. "It'd not be all 'Do this' an' 'Do that'; an' +'You bad girl' an' 'You little hussy!' in London. They say there's +room for more'n one sort of girl there." + +"All towns are beastly places, Wilmet." + +Again her rogue's eyes gleamed. "I don' know so much about that, +Mr. Derek. I'm going where I won't be chivied about and pointed +at, like what I am here." + +"Your dad's stuck to you; you ought to stick to him." + +"Ah, Dad! He's losin' his place for me, but that don't stop his +tongue at home. 'Tis no use to nag me--nag me. Suppose one of +m'lady's daughters had a bit of fun--they say there's lots as do-- +I've heard tales--there'd be none comin' to chase her out of her +home. 'No, my girl, you can't live here no more, endangerin' the +young men. You go away. Best for you's where they'll teach you to +be'ave. Go on! Out with you! I don't care where you go; but you +just go!' 'Tis as if girls were all pats o' butter--same square, +same pattern on it, same weight, an' all." + +Derek had come closer; he put his hand down and gripped her arm. +Her eloquence dried up before the intentness of his face, and she +just stared up at him. + +"Now, look here, Wilmet; you promise me not to scoot without +letting us know. We'll get you a place to go to. Promise." + +A little sheepishly the rogue-girl answered: + +"I promise; only, I'm goin'." + +Suddenly she dimpled and broke into her broad smile. + +"Mr. Derek, d'you know what they say--they say you're in love. You +was seen in th' orchard. Ah! 'tis all right for you and her! But +if any one kiss and hug ME, I got to go!" + +Derek drew back among the graves, as if he had been struck with a +whip. + +She looked up at him with coaxing sweetness. + +"Don't you mind me, Mr. Derek, and don't you stay here neither. If +they saw you here with me, they'd say: 'Aw--look! Endangerin' +another young man--poor young man!' Good mornin', Mr. Derek!" + +The rogue eyes followed him gravely, then once more began examining +the grass, and the toe of her boot again began kicking a little +hole. But Derek did not look back. + + +CHAPTER XI + + +It is in the nature of men and angels to pursue with death such +birds as are uncommon, such animals as are rare; and Society had no +use for one like Tod, so uncut to its pattern as to be practically +unconscious of its existence. Not that he had deliberately turned +his back on anything; he had merely begun as a very young man to +keep bees. The better to do that he had gone on to the cultivation +of flowers and fruit, together with just enough farming as kept his +household in vegetables, milk, butter, and eggs. Living thus +amongst insects, birds, cows, and the peace of trees, he had become +queer. His was not a very reflective mind, it distilled but slowly +certain large conclusions, and followed intently the minute +happenings of his little world. To him a bee, a bird, a flower, a +tree was well-nigh as interesting as a man; yet men, women, and +especially children took to him, as one takes to a Newfoundland +dog, because, though capable of anger, he seemed incapable of +contempt, and to be endowed with a sort of permanent wonder at +things. Then, too, he was good to look at, which counts for more +than a little in the scales of our affections; indeed, the slight +air of absence in his blue eyes was not chilling, as is that which +portends a wandering of its owner on his own business. People +recognized that it meant some bee or other in that bonnet, or +elsewhere, some sound or scent or sight of life, suddenly +perceived--always of life! He had often been observed gazing with +peculiar gravity at a dead flower, bee, bird, or beetle, and, if +spoken to at such a moment, would say, "Gone!" touching a wing or +petal with his finger. To conceive of what happened after death +did not apparently come within the few large conclusions of his +reflective powers. That quaint grief of his in the presence of the +death of things that were not human had, more than anything, +fostered a habit among the gentry and clergy of the neighborhood of +drawing up the mouth when they spoke of him, and slightly raising +the shoulders. For the cottagers, to be sure, his eccentricity +consisted rather in his being a 'gentleman,' yet neither eating +flesh, drinking wine, nor telling them how they ought to behave +themselves, together with the way he would sit down on anything and +listen to what they had to tell him, without giving them the +impression that he was proud of himself for doing so. In fact, it +was the extraordinary impression he made of listening and answering +without wanting anything either for himself or for them, that they +could not understand. How on earth it came about that he did not +give them advice about their politics, religion, morals, or +monetary states, was to them a never-ending mystery; and though +they were too well bred to shrug their shoulders, there did lurk in +their dim minds the suspicion that 'the good gentleman,' as they +called him, was 'a tiddy-bit off.' He had, of course, done many +practical little things toward helping them and their beasts, but +always, as it seemed, by accident, so that they could never make up +their minds afterward whether he remembered having done them, +which, in fact, he probably did not; and this seemed to them +perhaps the most damning fact of all about his being--well, about +his being--not quite all there. Another worrying habit he had, +too, that of apparently not distinguishing between them and any +tramps or strangers who might happen along and come across him. +This was, in their eyes, undoubtedly a fault; for the village was, +after all, their village, and he, as it were, their property. To +crown all, there was a story, full ten years old now, which had +lost nothing in the telling, of his treatment of a cattle-drover. +To the village it had an eerie look, that windmill-like rage let +loose upon a man who, after all, had only been twisting a bullock's +tail and running a spiked stick into its softer parts, as any +drover might. People said--the postman and a wagoner had seen the +business, raconteurs born, so that the tale had perhaps lost +nothing--that he had positively roared as he came leaping down into +the lane upon the man, a stout and thick-set fellow, taken him up +like a baby, popped him into a furzebush, and held him there. +People said that his own bare arms had been pricked to the very +shoulder from pressing the drover down into that uncompromising +shrub, and the man's howls had pierced the very heavens. The +postman, to this day, would tell how the mere recollection of +seeing it still made him sore all over. Of the words assigned to +Tod on this occasion, the mildest and probably most true were: "By +the Lord God, if you treat a beast like that again, I'll cut your +liver out, you hell-hearted sweep!" + +The incident, which had produced a somewhat marked effect in regard +to the treatment of animals all round that neighborhood, had never +been forgotten, nor in a sense forgiven. In conjunction with the +extraordinary peace and mildness of his general behavior, it had +endowed Tod with mystery; and people, especially simple folk, +cannot bring themselves to feel quite at home with mystery. +Children only--to whom everything is so mysterious that nothing can +be--treated him as he treated them, giving him their hands with +confidence. But children, even his own, as they grew up, began to +have a little of the village feeling toward Tod; his world was not +theirs, and what exactly his world was they could not grasp. +Possibly it was the sense that they partook of his interest and +affection too much on a level with any other kind of living thing +that might happen to be about, which discomfited their +understanding. They held him, however, in a certain reverence. + +That early morning he had already done a good two hours' work in +connection with broad beans, of which he grew, perhaps, the best in +the whole county, and had knocked off for a moment, to examine a +spider's web. This marvellous creation, which the dew had visited +and clustered over, as stars over the firmament, was hung on the +gate of the vegetable garden, and the spider, a large and active +one, was regarding Tod with the misgiving natural to its species. +Intensely still Tod stood, absorbed in contemplation of that bright +and dusty miracle. Then, taking up his hoe again, he went back to +the weeds that threatened his broad beans. Now and again he +stopped to listen, or to look at the sky, as is the way of +husbandmen, thinking of nothing, enjoying the peace of his muscles. + +"Please, sir, father's got into a fit again." + +Two little girls were standing in the lane below. The elder, who +had spoken in that small, anxious voice, had a pale little face +with pointed chin; her hair, the color of over-ripe corn, hung +fluffy on her thin shoulders, her flower-like eyes, with something +motherly in them already, were the same hue as her pale-blue, +almost clean, overall. She had her smaller, chubbier sister by the +hand, and, having delivered her message, stood still, gazing up at +Tod, as one might at God. Tod dropped his hoe. + +"Biddy come with me; Susie go and tell Mrs. Freeland, or Miss +Sheila." + +He took the frail little hand of the elder Tryst and ran. They ran +at the child's pace, the one so very massive, the other such a +whiff of flesh and blood. + +"Did you come at once, Biddy?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Where was he taken?" + +"In the kitchen--just as I was cookin' breakfast." + +"Ah! Is it a bad one?" + +"Yes, sir, awful bad--he's all foamy." + +"What did you do for it?" + +"Susie and me turned him over, and Billy's seein' he don't get his +tongue down his throat--like what you told us, and we ran to you. +Susie was frightened, he hollered so." + +Past the three cottages, whence a woman at a window stared in amaze +to see that queer couple running, past the pond where the ducks, +whiter than ever in the brightening sunlight, dived and circled +carelessly, into the Tryst kitchen. There on the brick floor lay +the distressful man, already struggling back out of epilepsy, while +his little frightened son sat manfully beside him. + +"Towels, and hot water, Biddy!" + +With extraordinary calm rapidity the small creature brought what +might have been two towels, a basin, and the kettle; and in silence +she and Tod steeped his forehead. + +"Eyes look better, Biddy?" + +"He don't look so funny now, sir." + +Picking up that form, almost as big as his own, Tod carried it up +impossibly narrow stairs and laid it on a dishevelled bed. + +"Phew! Open the window, Biddy." + +The small creature opened what there was of window. + +"Now, go down and heat two bricks and wrap them in something, and +bring them up." + +Tryst's boots and socks removed, Tod rubbed the large, warped feet. +While doing this he whistled, and the little boy crept up-stairs +and squatted in the doorway, to watch and listen. The morning air +overcame with its sweetness the natural odor of that small room, +and a bird or two went flirting past. The small creature came back +with the bricks, wrapped in petticoats of her own, and, placing +them against the soles of her father's feet, she stood gazing at +Tod, for all the world like a little mother dog with puppies. + +"You can't go to school to-day, Biddy." + +"Is Susie and Billy to go?" + +"Yes; there's nothing to be frightened of now. He'll be nearly all +right by evening. But some one shall stay with you." + +At this moment Tryst lifted his hand, and the small creature went +and stood beside him, listening to the whispering that emerged from +his thick lips. + +"Father says I'm to thank you, please." + +"Yes. Have you had your breakfasts?" + +The small creature and her smaller brother shook their heads. + +"Go down and get them." + +Whispering and twisting back, they went, and by the side of the bed +Tod sat down. In Tryst's eyes was that same look of dog-like +devotion he had bent on Derek earlier that morning. Tod stared out +of the window and gave the man's big hand a squeeze. Of what did +he think, watching a lime-tree outside, and the sunlight through +its foliage painting bright the room's newly whitewashed wall, +already gray-spotted with damp again; watching the shadows of the +leaves playing in that sunlight? Almost cruel, that lovely shadow +game of outside life so full and joyful, so careless of man and +suffering; too gay almost, too alive! Of what did he think, +watching the chase and dart of shadow on shadow, as of gray +butterflies fluttering swift to the sack of flowers, while beside +him on the bed the big laborer lay? . . . + +When Kirsteen and Sheila came to relieve him of that vigil he went +down-stairs. There in the kitchen Biddy was washing up, and Susie +and Billy putting on their boots for school. They stopped to gaze +at Tod feeling in his pockets, for they knew that things sometimes +happened after that. To-day there came out two carrots, some lumps +of sugar, some cord, a bill, a pruning knife, a bit of wax, a bit +of chalk, three flints, a pouch of tobacco, two pipes, a match-box +with a single match in it, a six-pence, a necktie, a stick of +chocolate, a tomato, a handkerchief, a dead bee, an old razor, a +bit of gauze, some tow, a stick of caustic, a reel of cotton, a +needle, no thimble, two dock leaves, and some sheets of yellowish +paper. He separated from the rest the sixpence, the dead bee, and +what was edible. And in delighted silence the three little Trysts +gazed, till Biddy with the tip of one wet finger touched the bee. + +"Not good to eat, Biddy." + +At those words, one after the other, cautiously, the three little +Trysts smiled. Finding that Tod smiled too, they broadened, and +Billy burst into chuckles. Then, clustering in the doorway, +grasping the edibles and the sixpence, and consulting with each +other, they looked long after his big figure passing down the road. + + +CHAPTER XII + + +Still later, that same morning, Derek and Sheila moved slowly up +the Mallorings' well-swept drive. Their lips were set, as though +they had spoken the last word before battle, and an old cock +pheasant, running into the bushes close by, rose with a whir and +skimmed out toward his covert, scared, perhaps, by something +uncompromising in the footsteps of those two. + +Only when actually under the shelter of the porch, which some folk +thought enhanced the old Greek-temple effect of the Mallorings' +house, Derek broke through that taciturnity: + +"What if they won't?" + +"Wait and see; and don't lose your head, Derek." The man who stood +there when the door opened was tall, grave, wore his hair in +powder, and waited without speech. + +"Will you ask Sir Gerald and Lady Malloring if Miss Freeland and +Mr. Derek Freeland could see them, please; and will you say the +matter is urgent?" + +The man bowed, left them, and soon came back. + +"My lady will see you, miss; Sir Gerald is not in. This way." + +Past the statuary, flowers, and antlers of the hall, they traversed +a long, cool corridor, and through a white door entered a white +room, not very large, and very pretty. Two children got up as they +came in and flapped out past them like young partridges, and Lady +Malloring rose from her writing-table and came forward, holding out +her hand. The two young Freelands took it gravely. For all their +hostility they could not withstand the feeling that she would think +them terrible young prigs if they simply bowed. And they looked +steadily at one with whom they had never before been at quite such +close quarters. Lady Malloring, who had originally been the +Honorable Mildred Killory, a daughter of Viscount Silport, was +tall, slender, and not very striking, with very fair hair going +rather gray; her expression in repose was pleasant, a little +anxious; only by her eyes was the suspicion awakened that she was a +woman of some character. They had that peculiar look of belonging +to two worlds, so often to be met with in English eyes, a look of +self-denying aspiration, tinctured with the suggestion that denial +might not be confined to self. + +In a quite friendly voice she said: + +"Can I do anything for you?" And while she waited for an answer +her glance travelled from face to face of the two young people, +with a certain curiosity. After a silence of several seconds, +Sheila answered: + +"Not for us, thank you; for others, you can." + +Lady Malloring's eyebrows rose a little, as if there seemed to her +something rather unjust in those words--'for others.' + +"Yes?" she said. + +Sheila, whose hands were clenched, and whose face had been fiery +red, grew suddenly almost white. + +"Lady Malloring, will you please let the Gaunts stay in their +cottage and Tryst's wife's sister come to live with the children +and him?" + +Lady Malloring raised one hand; the motion, quite involuntary, +ended at the tiny cross on her breast. She said quietly: + +"I'm afraid you don't understand." + +"Yes," said Sheila, still very pale, "we understand quite well. We +understand that you are acting in what you believe to be the +interests of morality. All the same, won't you? Do!" + +"I'm very sorry, but I can't." + +"May we ask why?" + +Lady Malloring started, and transferred her glance to Derek. + +"I don't know," she said with a smile, "that I am obliged to +account for my actions to you two young people. Besides, you must +know why, quite well." + +Sheila put out her hand. + +"Wilmet Gaunt will go to the bad if you turn them out." + +"I am afraid I think she has gone to the bad already, and I do not +mean her to take others there with her. I am sorry for poor Tryst, +and I wish he could find some nice woman to marry; but what he +proposes is impossible." + +The blood had flared up again in Sheila's cheeks; she was as red as +the comb of a turkey-cock. + +"Why shouldn't he marry his wife's sister? It's legal, now, and +you've no right to stop it." + +Lady Malloring bit her lips; she looked straight and hard at +Sheila. + +"I do not stop it; I have no means of stopping it. Only, he cannot +do it and live in one of our cottages. I don't think we need +discuss this further." + +"I beg your pardon--" + +The words had come from Derek. Lady Malloring paused in her walk +toward the bell. With his peculiar thin-lipped smile the boy went +on: + +"We imagined you would say no; we really came because we thought it +fair to warn you that there may be trouble." + +Lady Malloring smiled. + +"This is a private matter between us and our tenants, and we should +be so glad if you could manage not to interfere." + +Derek bowed, and put his hand within his sister's arm. But Sheila +did not move; she was trembling with anger. + +"Who are you," she suddenly burst out, "to dispose of the poor, +body and soul? Who are you, to dictate their private lives? If +they pay their rent, that should be enough for you." + +Lady Malloring moved swiftly again toward the bell. She paused +with her hand on it, and said: + +"I am sorry for you two; you have been miserably brought up!" + +There was a silence; then Derek said quietly: + +"Thank you; we shall remember that insult to our people. Don't +ring, please; we're going." + +In a silence if anything more profound than that of their approach, +the two young people retired down the drive. They had not yet +learned--most difficult of lessons--how to believe that people +could in their bones differ from them. It had always seemed to +them that if only they had a chance of putting directly what they +thought, the other side must at heart agree, and only go on saying +they didn't out of mere self-interest. They came away, therefore, +from this encounter with the enemy a little dazed by the discovery +that Lady Malloring in her bones believed that she was right. It +confused them, and heated the fires of their anger. + +They had shaken off all private dust before Sheila spoke. + +"They're all like that--can't see or feel--simply certain they're +superior! It makes--it makes me hate them! It's terrible, +ghastly." And while she stammered out those little stabs of +speech, tears of rage rolled down her cheeks. + +Derek put his arm round her waist. + +"All right! No good groaning; let's think seriously what to do." + +There was comfort to the girl in that curiously sudden reversal of +their usual attitudes. + +"Whatever's done," he went on, "has got to be startling. It's no +good pottering and protesting, any more. And between his teeth he +muttered: "'Men of England, wherefore plough?' . . ." + + +In the room where the encounter had taken place Mildred Malloring +was taking her time to recover. From very childhood she had felt +that the essence of her own goodness, the essence of her duty in +life, was the doing of 'good' to others; from very childhood she +had never doubted that she was in a position to do this, and that +those to whom she did good, although they might kick against it as +inconvenient, must admit that it WAS their 'good.' The thought: +'They don't admit that I am superior!' had never even occurred to +her, so completely was she unselfconscious, in her convinced +superiority. It was hard, indeed, to be flung against such +outspoken rudeness. It shook her more than she gave sign of, for +she was not by any means an insensitive woman--shook her almost to +the point of feeling that there was something in the remonstrance +of those dreadful young people. Yet, how could there be, when no +one knew better than she that the laborers on the Malloring estate +were better off than those on nine out of ten estates; better paid +and better housed, and--better looked after in their morals. Was +she to give up that?--when she knew that she WAS better able to +tell what was good for them than they were themselves. After all, +without stripping herself naked of every thought, experience, and +action since her birth, how could she admit that she was not better +able? And slowly, in the white room with the moss-green carpet, +she recovered, till there was only just a touch of soreness left, +at the injustice implicit in their words. Those two had been +'miserably brought up,' had never had a chance of finding their +proper place, of understanding that they were just two callow young +things, for whom Life had some fearful knocks in store. She could +even feel now that she had meant that saying: 'I am sorry for you +two!' She WAS sorry for them, sorry for their want of manners and +their point of view, neither of which they could help, of course, +with a mother like that. For all her gentleness and sensibility, +there was much practical directness about Mildred Malloring; for +her, a page turned was a page turned, an idea absorbed was never +disgorged; she was of religious temperament, ever trimming her +course down the exact channel marked out with buoys by the Port +Authorities, and really incapable of imagining spiritual wants in +others that could not be satisfied by what satisfied herself. And +this pathetic strength she had in common with many of her fellow +creatures in every class. Sitting down at the writing-table from +which she had been disturbed, she leaned her thin, rather long, +gentle, but stubborn face on her hand, thinking. These Gaunts were +a source of irritation in the parish, a kind of open sore. It +would be better if they could be got rid of before quarter day, up +to which she had weakly said they might remain. Far better for +them to go at once, if it could be arranged. As for the poor +fellow Tryst, thinking that by plunging into sin he could improve +his lot and his poor children's, it was really criminal of those +Freelands to encourage him. She had refrained hitherto from +seriously worrying Gerald on such points of village policy--his +hands were so full; but he must now take his part. And she rang +the bell. + +"Tell Sir Gerald I'd like to see him, please, as soon as he gets +back." + +"Sir Gerald has just come in, my lady." + +"Now, then!" + +Gerald Malloring--an excellent fellow, as could be seen from his +face of strictly Norman architecture, with blue stained-glass +windows rather deep set in--had only one defect: he was not a poet. +Not that this would have seemed to him anything but an advantage, +had he been aware of it. His was one of those high-principled +natures who hold that breadth is synonymous with weakness. It may +be said without exaggeration that the few meetings of his life with +those who had a touch of the poet in them had been exquisitely +uncomfortable. Silent, almost taciturn by nature, he was a great +reader of poetry, and seldom went to sleep without having digested +a page or two of Wordsworth, Milton, Tennyson, or Scott. Byron, +save such poems as 'Don Juan' or 'The Waltz,' he could but did not +read, for fear of setting a bad example. Burns, Shelley, and Keats +he did not care for. Browning pained him, except by such things +as: 'How They Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix' and the +'Cavalier Tunes'; while of 'Omar Khayyam' and 'The Hound of Heaven' +he definitely disapproved. For Shakespeare he had no real liking, +though he concealed this, from humility in the face of accepted +opinion. His was a firm mind, sure of itself, but not self- +assertive. His points were so good, and he had so many of them, +that it was only when he met any one touched with poetry that his +limitations became apparent; it was rare, however, and getting more +so every year, for him to have this unpleasant experience. + +When summoned by his wife, he came in with a wrinkle between his +straight brows; he had just finished a morning's work on a drainage +scheme, like the really good fellow that he was. She greeted him +with a little special smile. Nothing could be friendlier than the +relations between these two. Affection and trust, undeviating +undemonstrativeness, identity of feeling as to religion, children, +property; and, in regard to views on the question of sex, a really +strange unanimity, considering that they were man and woman. + +"It's about these Gaunts, Gerald. I feel they must go at once. +They're only creating bad feeling by staying till quarter day. I +have had the young Freelands here." + +"Those young pups!" + +"Can't it be managed?" + +Malloring did not answer hastily. He had that best point of the +good Englishman, a dislike to being moved out of a course of +conduct by anything save the appeal of his own conscience. + +"I don't know," he said, "why we should alter what we thought was +just. Must give him time to look round and get a job elsewhere." + +"I think the general state of feeling demands it. It's not fair to +the villagers to let the Freelands have such a handle for +agitating. Labor's badly wanted everywhere; he can't have any +difficulty in getting a place, if he likes." + +"No. Only, I rather admire the fellow for sticking by his girl, +though he is such a 'land-lawyer.' I think it's a bit harsh to +move him suddenly." + +"So did I, till I saw from those young furies what harm it's doing. +They really do infect the cottagers. You know how discontent +spreads. And Tryst--they're egging him on, too." + +Malloring very thoughtfully filled a pipe. He was not an alarmist; +if anything, he erred on the side of not being alarmed until it was +all over and there was no longer anything to be alarmed at! His +imagination would then sometimes take fire, and he would say that +such and such, or so and so, was dangerous. + +"I'd rather go and have a talk with Freeland," he said. "He's +queer, but he's not at all a bad chap." + +Lady Malloring rose, and took one of his real-leather buttons in +her hand. + +"My dear Gerald, Mr. Freeland doesn't exist." + +"Don't know about that; a man can always come to life, if he likes, +in his own family." + +Lady Malloring was silent. It was true. For all their unanimity +of thought and feeling, for all the latitude she had in domestic +and village affairs, Gerald had a habit of filling his pipe with +her decisions. Quite honestly, she had no objection to their +becoming smoke through HIS lips, though she might wriggle just a +little. To her credit, she did entirely carry out in her life her +professed belief that husbands should be the forefronts of their +wives. For all that, there burst from her lips the words: + +"That Freeland woman! When I think of the mischief she's always +done here, by her example and her irreligion--I can't forgive her. +I don't believe you'll make any impression on Mr. Freeland; he's +entirely under her thumb." + +Smoking slowly, and looking just over the top of his wife's head, +Malioring answered: + +"I'll have a try; and don't you worry!" + +Lady Malloring turned away. Her soreness still wanted salve. + +"Those two young people," she murmured, "said some very unpleasant +things to me. The boy, I believe, might have some good in him, but +the girl is simply terrible." + +"H'm! I think just the reverse, you know." + +"They'll come to awful grief if they're not brought up sharp. They +ought to be sent to the colonies to learn reality." + +Malloring nodded. + +"Come out, Mildred, and see how they're getting on with the new +vinery." And they went out together through the French window. + +The vinery was of their own designing, and of extraordinary +interest. In contemplation of its lofty glass and aluminium-cased +pipes the feeling of soreness left her. It was very pleasant, +standing with Gerald, looking at what they had planned together; +there was a soothing sense of reality about that visit, after the +morning's happening, with its disappointment, its reminder of +immorality and discontent, and of folk ungrateful for what was done +for their good. And, squeezing her husband's arm, she murmured: + +"It's really exactly what we thought it would be, Gerald!" + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +About five o'clock of that same afternoon, Gerald Malloring went to +see Tod. An open-air man himself, who often deplored the long +hours he was compelled to spend in the special atmosphere of the +House of Commons, he rather envied Tod his existence in this +cottage, crazed from age, and clothed with wistaria, rambler roses, +sweetbrier, honeysuckle, and Virginia creeper. Freeland had, in +his opinion, quite a jolly life of it--the poor fellow not being +able, of course, to help having a cranky wife and children like +that. He pondered, as he went along, over a talk at Becket, when +Stanley, still under the influence of Felix's outburst, had uttered +some rather queer sayings. For instance, he had supposed that they +(meaning, apparently, himself and Malloring) WERE rather unable to +put themselves in the position of these Trysts and Gaunts. He +seemed to speak of them as one might speak generically of Hodge, +which had struck Malloring as singular, it not being his habit to +see anything in common between an individual case, especially on +his own estate, and the ethics of a general proposition. The place +for general propositions was undoubtedly the House of Commons, +where they could be supported one way or the other, out of blue +books. He had little use for them in private life, where +innumerable things such as human nature and all that came into +play. He had stared rather hard at his host when Stanley had +followed up that first remark with: "I'm bound to say, I shouldn't +care to have to get up at half past five, and go out without a +bath!" What that had to do with the land problem or the regulation +of village morality Malloring had been unable to perceive. It all +depended on what one was accustomed to; and in any case threw no +light on the question, as to whether or not he was to tolerate on +his estate conduct of which his wife and himself distinctly +disapproved. At the back of national life there was always this +problem of individual conduct, especially sexual conduct--without +regularity in which, the family, as the unit of national life, was +gravely threatened, to put it on the lowest ground. And he did not +see how to bring it home to the villagers that they had got to be +regular, without making examples now and then. + +He had hoped very much to get through his call without coming +across Freeland's wife and children, and was greatly relieved to +find Tod, seated on a window-sill in front of his cottage, smoking, +and gazing apparently at nothing. In taking the other corner of +the window-sill, the thought passed through his mind that Freeland +was really a very fine-looking fellow. Tod was, indeed, about +Malloring's own height of six feet one, with the same fairness and +straight build of figure and feature. But Tod's head was round and +massive, his hair crisp and uncut; Malloring's head long and +narrow, his hair smooth and close-cropped. Tod's eyes, blue and +deep-set, seemed fixed on the horizon, Malloring's, blue and deep- +set, on the nearest thing they could light on. Tod smiled, as it +were, without knowing; Malloring seemed to know what he was smiling +at almost too well. It was comforting, however, that Freeland was +as shy and silent as himself, for this produced a feeling that +there could not be any real difference between their points of +view. Perceiving at last that if he did not speak they would +continue sitting there dumb till it was time for him to go, +Malloring said: + +"Look here, Freeland; about my wife and yours and Tryst and the +Gaunts, and all the rest of it! It's a pity, isn't it? This is a +small place, you know. What's your own feeling?" + +Tod answered: + +"A man has only one life." + +Malloring was a little puzzled. + +"In this world. I don't follow." + +"Live and let live." + +A part of Malloring undoubtedly responded to that curt saying, a +part of him as strongly rebelled against it; and which impulse he +was going to follow was not at first patent. + +"You see, YOU keep apart," he said at last. "You couldn't say that +so easily if you had, like us, to take up the position in which we +find ourselves." + +"Why take it up?" + +Malloring frowned. "How would things go on?" + +"All right," said Tod. + +Malloring got up from the sill. This was 'laisser-faire' with a +vengeance! Such philosophy had always seemed to him to savor +dangerously of anarchism. And yet twenty years' experience as a +neighbor had shown him that Tod was in himself perhaps the most +harmless person in Worcestershire, and held in a curious esteem by +most of the people about. He was puzzled, and sat down again. + +"I've never had a chance to talk things over with you," he said. +"There are a good few people, Freeland, who can't behave +themselves; we're not bees, you know!" + +He stopped, having an uncomfortable suspicion that his hearer was +not listening. + +"First I've heard this year," said Tod. + +For all the rudeness of that interruption, Malloring felt a stir of +interest. He himself liked birds. Unfortunately, he could hear +nothing but the general chorus of their songs. + +"Thought they'd gone," murmured Tod. + +Malloring again got up. "Look here, Freeland," he said, "I wish +you'd give your mind to this. You really ought not to let your +wife and children make trouble in the village." + +Confound the fellow! He was smiling; there was a sort of twinkle +in his smile, too, that Malloring found infectious! + +"No, seriously," he said, "you don't know what harm you mayn't do." + +"Have you ever watched a dog looking at a fire?" asked Tod. + +"Yes, often; why?" + +"He knows better than to touch it." + +"You mean you're helpless? But you oughtn't to be." + +The fellow was smiling again! + +"Then you don't mean to do anything?" + +Tod shook his head. + +Malloring flushed. "Now, look here, Freeland," he said, "forgive +my saying so, but this strikes me as a bit cynical. D'you think I +enjoy trying to keep things straight?" + +Tod looked up. + +"Birds," he said, "animals, insects, vegetable life--they all eat +each other more or less, but they don't fuss about it." + +Malloring turned abruptly and went down the path. Fuss! He never +fussed. Fuss! The word was an insult, addressed to him! If there +was one thing he detested more than another, whether in public or +private life, it was 'fussing.' Did he not belong to the League +for Suppression of Interference with the Liberty of the Subject? +Was he not a member of the party notoriously opposed to fussy +legislation? Had any one ever used the word in connection with +conduct of his, before? If so, he had never heard them. Was it +fussy to try and help the Church to improve the standard of morals +in the village? Was it fussy to make a simple decision and stick +to it? The injustice of the word really hurt him. And the more it +hurt him, the slower and more dignified and upright became his +march toward his drive gate. + +'Wild geese' in the morning sky had been forerunners; very heavy +clouds were sweeping up from the west, and rain beginning to fall. +He passed an old man leaning on the gate of a cottage garden and +said: "Good evening!" + +The old man touched his hat but did not speak. + +"How's your leg, Gaunt?" + +"'Tis much the same, Sir Gerald." + +"Rain coming makes it shoot, I expect." + +"It do." + +Malloring stood still. The impulse was on him to see if, after +all, the Gaunts' affair could not be disposed of without turning +the old fellow and his son out. + +"Look here!" he said; "about this unfortunate business. Why don't +you and your son make up your minds without more ado to let your +granddaughter go out to service? You've been here all your lives; +I don't want to see you go." + +The least touch of color invaded the old man's carved and grayish +face. + +"Askin' your pardon," he said, "my son sticks by his girl, and I +sticks by my son!" + +"Oh! very well; you know your own business, Gaunt. I spoke for +your good." + +A faint smile curled the corners of old Gaunt's mouth downward +beneath his gray moustaches. + +"Thank you kindly," he said. + +Malloring raised a finger to his cap and passed on. Though he felt +a longing to stride his feelings off, he did not increase his pace, +knowing that the old man's eyes were following him. But how pig- +headed they were, seeing nothing but their own point of view! +Well, he could not alter his decision. They would go at the June +quarter--not a day before, nor after. + +Passing Tryst's cottage, he noticed a 'fly' drawn up outside, and +its driver talking to a woman in hat and coat at the cottage +doorway. She avoided his eye. + +'The wife's sister again!' he thought. 'So that fellow's going to +be an ass, too? Hopeless, stubborn lot!' And his mind passed on +to his scheme for draining the bottom fields at Cantley Bromage. +This village trouble was too small to occupy for long the mind of +one who had so many duties. . . . + +Old Gaunt remained at the gate watching till the tall figure passed +out of sight, then limped slowly down the path and entered his +son's cottage. Tom Gaunt, not long in from work, was sitting in +his shirtsleeves, reading the paper--a short, thick-set man with +small eyes, round, ruddy cheeks, and humorous lips indifferently +concealed by a ragged moustache. Even in repose there was about +him something talkative and disputatious. He was clearly the kind +of man whose eyes and wit would sparkle above a pewter pot. A good +workman, he averaged out an income of perhaps eighteen shillings a +week, counting the two shillings' worth of vegetables that he grew. +His erring daughter washed for two old ladies in a bungalow, so +that with old Gaunt's five shillings from the parish, the total +resources of this family of five, including two small boys at +school, was seven and twenty shillings a week. Quite a sum! His +comparative wealth no doubt contributed to the reputation of Tom +Gaunt, well known as local wag and disturber of political meetings. +His method with these gatherings, whether Liberal or Tory, had a +certain masterly simplicity. By interjecting questions that could +not be understood, and commenting on the answers received, he +insured perpetual laughter, with the most salutary effects on the +over-consideration of any political question, together with a +tendency to make his neighbors say: "Ah! Tom Gaunt, he's a proper +caution, he is!" An encomium dear to his ears. What he seriously +thought about anything in this world, no one knew; but some +suspected him of voting Liberal, because he disturbed their +meetings most. His loyalty to his daughter was not credited to +affection. It was like Tom Gaunt to stick his toes in and kick-- +the Quality, for choice. To look at him and old Gaunt, one would +not have thought they could be son and father, a relationship +indeed ever dubious. As for his wife, she had been dead twelve +years. Some said he had joked her out of life, others that she had +gone into consumption. He was a reader--perhaps the only one in +all the village, and could whistle like a blackbird. To work hard, +but without too great method, to drink hard, but with perfect +method, and to talk nineteen to the dozen anywhere except at home-- +was his mode of life. In a word, he was a 'character.' + +Old Gaunt sat down in a wooden rocking-chair, and spoke. + +"Sir Gerald 'e've a-just passed." + +"Sir Gerald 'e can goo to hell. They'll know un there, by 'is +little ears." + +"'E've a-spoke about us stoppin'; so as Mettie goes out to +sarvice." + +"'E've a-spoke about what 'e don't know 'bout, then. Let un do +what they like, they can't put Tom Gaunt about; he can get work +anywhere--Tom Gaunt can, an' don't you forget that, old man." + +The old man, placing his thin brown hands on his knees, was silent. +And thoughts passed through and through him. 'If so be as Tom +goes, there'll be no one as'll take me in for less than three bob a +week. Two bob a week, that's what I'll 'ave to feed me--Two bob a +week--two bob a week! But if so be's I go with Tom, I'll 'ave to +reg'lar sit down under he for me bread and butter.' And he +contemplated his son. + +"Where are you goin', then?" he said. + +Tom Gaunt rustled the greenish paper he was reading, and his +little, hard gray eyes fixed his father. + +"Who said I was going?" + +Old Gaunt, smoothing and smoothing the lined, thin cheeks of the +parchmenty, thin-nosed face that Frances Freeland had thought to be +almost like a gentleman's, answered: "I thart you said you was +goin'." + +"You think too much, then--that's what 'tis. You think too much, +old man." + +With a slight deepening of the sardonic patience in his face, old +Gaunt rose, took a bowl and spoon down from a shelf, and very +slowly proceeded to make himself his evening meal. It consisted of +crusts of bread soaked in hot water and tempered with salt, pepper, +onion, and a touch of butter. And while he waited, crouched over +the kettle, his son smoked his grayish clay and read his greenish +journal; an old clock ticked and a little cat purred without +provocation on the ledge of the tight-closed window. Then the door +opened and the rogue-girl appeared. She shook her shoulders as +though to dismiss the wetting she had got, took off her turn-down, +speckly, straw hat, put on an apron, and rolled up her sleeves. +Her arms were full and firm and red; the whole of her was full and +firm. From her rosy cheeks to her stout ankles she was +superabundant with vitality, the strangest contrast to her shadowy, +thin old grandfather. About the preparation of her father's tea +she moved with a sort of brooding stolidity, out of which would +suddenly gleam a twinkle of rogue-sweetness, as when she stopped to +stroke the little cat or to tickle the back of her grandfather's +lean neck in passing. Having set the tea, she stood by the table +and said slowly: "Tea's ready, father. I'm goin' to London." + +Tom Gaunt put down his pipe and journal, took his seat at the +table, filled his mouth with sausage, and said: "You're goin' where +I tell you." + +"I'm goin' to London." + +Tom Gaunt stayed the morsel in one cheek and fixed her with his +little, wild boar's eye. + +"Ye're goin' to catch the stick," he said. "Look here, my girl, +Tom Gaunt's been put about enough along of you already. Don't you +make no mistake." + +"I'm goin' to London," repeated the rogue-girl stolidly. "You can +get Alice to come over." + +"Oh! Can I? Ye're not goin' till I tell you. Don't you think +it!" + +"I'm goin'. I saw Mr. Derek this mornin'. They'll get me a place +there." + +Tom Gaunt remained with his fork as it were transfixed. The effort +of devising contradiction to the chief supporters of his own +rebellion was for the moment too much for him. He resumed +mastication. + +"You'll go where I want you to go; and don't you think you can tell +me where that is." + +In the silence that ensued the only sound was that of old Gaunt +supping at his crusty-broth. Then the rogue-girl went to the +window and, taking the little cat on her breast, sat looking out +into the rain. Having finished his broth, old Gaunt got up, and, +behind his son's back, he looked at his granddaughter and thought: + +'Goin' to London! 'Twud be best for us all. WE shudn' need to be +movin', then. Goin' to London!' But he felt desolate. + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +When Spring and first love meet in a girl's heart, then the birds +sing. + +The songs that blackbirds and dusty-coated thrushes flung through +Nedda's window when she awoke in Hampstead those May mornings +seemed to have been sung by herself all night. Whether the sun +were flashing on the leaves, or rain-drops sieving through on a +sou'west wind, the same warmth glowed up in her the moment her eyes +opened. Whether the lawn below were a field of bright dew, or dry +and darkish in a shiver of east wind, her eyes never grew dim all +day; and her blood felt as light as ostrich feathers. + +Stormed by an attack of his cacoethes scribendi, after those few +blank days at Becket, Felix saw nothing amiss with his young +daughter. The great observer was not observant of things that +other people observed. Neither he nor Flora, occupied with matters +of more spiritual importance, could tell, offhand, for example, on +which hand a wedding-ring was worn. They had talked enough of +Becket and the Tods to produce the impression on Flora's mind that +one day or another two young people would arrive in her house on a +visit; but she had begun a poem called 'Dionysus at the Well,' and +Felix himself had plunged into a satiric allegory entitled 'The +Last of the Laborers.' Nedda, therefore, walked alone; but at her +side went always an invisible companion. In that long, imaginary +walking-out she gave her thoughts and the whole of her heart, and +to be doing this never surprised her, who, before, had not given +them whole to anything. A bee knows the first summer day and +clings intoxicated to its flowers; so did Nedda know and cling. +She wrote him two letters and he wrote her one. It was not poetry; +indeed, it was almost all concerned with Wilmet Gaunt, asking Nedda +to find a place in London where the girl could go; but it ended +with the words: + + +"Your lover, + +"DEREK." + + +This letter troubled Nedda. She would have taken it at once to +Felix or to Flora if it had not been for the first words, "Dearest +Nedda," and those last three. Except her mother, she instinctively +distrusted women in such a matter as that of Wilmet Gaunt, feeling +they would want to know more than she could tell them, and not be +too tolerant of what they heard. Casting about, at a loss, she +thought suddenly of Mr. Cuthcott. + +At dinner that day she fished round carefully. Felix spoke of him +almost warmly. What Cuthcott could have been doing at Becket, of +all places, he could not imagine--the last sort of man one expected +to see there; a good fellow, rather desperate, perhaps, as men of +his age were apt to get if they had too many women, or no woman, +about them. + +Which, said Nedda, had Mr. Cuthcott? + +Oh! None. How had he struck Nedda? And Felix looked at his +little daughter with a certain humble curiosity. He always felt +that the young instinctively knew so much more than he did. + +"I liked him awfully. He was like a dog." + +"Ah!" said Felix, "he IS like a dog--very honest; he grins and runs +about the city, and might be inclined to bay the moon." + +'I don't mind that,' Nedda thought, 'so long as he's not +"superior."' + +"He's very human," Felix added. + +And having found out that he lived in Gray's Inn, Nedda thought: 'I +will; I'll ask him.' + +To put her project into execution, she wrote this note: + + +"DEAR MR. CUTHCOTT: + +"You were so kind as to tell me you wouldn't mind if I bothered you +about things. I've got a very bothery thing to know what to do +about, and I would be so glad of your advice. It so happens that I +can't ask my father and mother. I hope you won't think me very +horrible, wasting your time. And please say no, if you'd rather. + +"Yours sincerely, + +"NEDDA FREELAND." + + +The answer came: + + +"DEAR MISS FREELAND: + +"Delighted. But if very bothery, better save time and ink, and +have a snack of lunch with me to-morrow at the Elgin restaurant, +close to the British Museum. Quiet and respectable. No flowers by +request. One o'clock. + +"Very truly yours, + +"GILES CUTHCOTT." + + +Putting on 'no flowers' and with a fast-beating heart, Nedda, went +on her first lonely adventure. To say truth she did not know in +the least how ever she was going to ask this almost strange man +about a girl of doubtful character. But she kept saying to +herself: 'I don't care--he has nice eyes.' And her spirit would +rise as she got nearer, because, after all, she was going to find +things out, and to find things out was jolly. The new warmth and +singing in her heart had not destroyed, but rather heightened, her +sense of the extraordinary interest of all things that be. And +very mysterious to her that morning was the kaleidoscope of Oxford +Street and its innumerable girls, and women, each going about her +business, with a life of her own that was not Nedda's. For men she +had little use just now, they had acquired a certain insignificance, +not having gray-black eyes that smoked and flared, nor Harris tweed +suits that smelled delicious. Only once on her journey from Oxford +Circus she felt the sense of curiosity rise in her, in relation to +a man, and this was when she asked a policeman at Tottenham Court +Road, and he put his head down fully a foot to listen to her. So +huge, so broad, so red in the face, so stolid, it seemed wonderful +to her that he paid her any attention! If he were a human being, +could she really be one, too? But that, after all, was no more +odd than everything. Why, for instance, the spring flowers in +that woman's basket had been born; why that high white cloud +floated over; why and what was Nedda Freeland? + +At the entrance of the little restaurant she saw Mr. Cuthcott +waiting. In a brown suit, with his pale but freckled face, and his +gnawed-at, sandy moustache, and his eyes that looked out and +beyond, he was certainly no beauty. But Nedda thought: 'He's even +nicer than I remembered, and I'm sure he knows a lot.' + +At first, to be sitting opposite to him, in front of little plates +containing red substances and small fishes, was so exciting that +she simply listened to his rapid, rather stammering voice +mentioning that the English had no idea of life or cookery, that +God had so made this country by mistake that everything, even the +sun, knew it. What, however, would she drink? Chardonnet? It +wasn't bad here. + +She assented, not liking to confess that she did not know what +Chardonnet might be, and hoping it was some kind of sherbet. She +had never yet drunk wine, and after a glass felt suddenly extremely +strong. + +"Well," said Mr. Cuthcott, and his eyes twinkled, "what's your +botheration? I suppose you want to strike out for yourself. MY +daughters did that without consulting me." + +"Oh! Have you got daughters?" + +"Yes--funny ones; older than you." + +"That's why you understand, then" + +Mr. Cuthcott smiled. "They WERE a liberal education!" + +And Nedda thought: 'Poor Dad, I wonder if I am!' + +"Yes," Mr. Cuthcott murmured, "who would think a gosling would ever +become a goose?" + +"Ah!" said Nedda eagerly, "isn't it wonderful how things grow?" + +She felt his eyes suddenly catch hold of hers. + +"You're in love!" he said. + +It seemed to her a great piece of luck that he had found that out. +It made everything easy at once, and her words came out pell-mell. + +"Yes, and I haven't told my people yet. I don't seem able. He's +given me something to do, and I haven't much experience." + +A funny little wriggle passed over Mr. Cuthcott's face. "Yes, yes; +go on! Tell us about it." + +She took a sip from her glass, and the feeling that he had been +going to laugh passed away. + +"It's about the daughter of a laborer, down there in Worcestershire, +where he lives, not very far from Becket. He's my cousin, Derek, +the son of my other uncle at Joyfields. He and his sister feel +most awfully strongly about the laborers." + +"Ah!" said Mr. Cuthcott, "the laborers! Queer how they're in the +air, all of a sudden." + +"This girl hasn't been very good, and she has to go from the +village, or else her family have. He wants me to find a place for +her in London." + +"I see; and she hasn't been very good?" + +"Not very." She knew that her cheeks were flushing, but her eyes +felt steady, and seeing that his eyes never moved, she did not +mind. She went on: + +"It's Sir Gerald Malloring's estate. Lady Malloring--won't--" + +She heard a snap. Mr. Cuthcott's mouth had closed. + +"Oh!" he said, "say no more!" + +'He CAN bite nicely!' she thought. + +Mr. Cuthcott, who had begun lightly thumping the little table with +his open hand, broke out suddenly: + +"That petty bullying in the country! I know it! My God! Those +prudes, those prisms! They're the ruination of half the girls on +the--" He looked at Nedda and stopped short. "If she can do any +kind of work, I'll find her a place. In fact, she'd better come, +for a start, under my old housekeeper. Let your cousin know; she +can turn up any day. Name? Wilmet Gaunt? Right you are!" He +wrote it on his cuff. + +Nedda rose to her feet, having an inclination to seize his hand, or +stroke his head, or something. She subsided again with a fervid +sigh, and sat exchanging with him a happy smile. At last she said: + +"Mr. Cuthcott, is there any chance of things like that changing?" + +"Changing?" He certainly had grown paler, and was again lightly +thumping the table. "Changing? By gum! It's got to change! This +d--d pluto-aristocratic ideal! The weed's so grown up that it's +choking us. Yes, Miss Freeland, whether from inside or out I don't +know yet, but there's a blazing row coming. Things are going to be +made new before long." + +Under his thumps the little plates had begun to rattle and leap. +And Nedda thought: 'I DO like him.' + +But she said anxiously: + +"You believe there's something to be done, then? Derek is simply +full of it; I want to feel like that, too, and I mean to." + +His face grew twinkly; he put out his hand. And wondering a little +whether he meant her to, Nedda timidly stretched forth her own and +grasped it. + +"I like you," he said. "Love your cousin and don't worry." + +Nedda's eyes slipped into the distance. + +"But I'm afraid for him. If you saw him, you'd know." + +"One's always afraid for the fellows that are worth anything. +There was another young Freeland at your uncle's the other night--" + +"My brother Alan!" + +"Oh! your brother? Well, I wasn't afraid for him, and it seemed a +pity. Have some of this; it's about the only thing they do well +here." + +"Oh, thank you, no. I've had a lovely lunch. Mother and I +generally have about nothing." And clasping her hands she added: + +"This is a secret, isn't it, Mr. Cuthcott?" + +"Dead." + +He laughed and his face melted into a mass of wrinkles. Nedda +laughed also and drank up the rest of her wine. She felt blissful. + +"Yes," said Mr. Cuthcott, "there's nothing like loving. How long +have you been at it?" + +"Only five days, but it's everything." + +Mr. Cuthcott sighed. "That's right. When you can't love, the only +thing is to hate." + +"Oh!" said Nedda. + +Mr. Cuthcott again began banging on the little table. "Look at +them, look at them!" His eyes wandered angrily about the room, +wherein sat some few who had passed though the mills of gentility. +"What do they know of life? Where are their souls and sympathies? +They haven't any. I'd like to see their blood flow, the silly +brutes." + +Nedda looked at them with alarm and curiosity. They seemed to her +somewhat like everybody she knew. She said timidly: "Do you think +OUR blood ought to flow, too?" + +Mr. Cuthcott relapsed into twinkles. "Rather! Mine first!" + +'He IS human!' thought Nedda. And she got up: "I'm afraid I ought +to go now. It's been awfully nice. Thank you so very much. Good- +by!" + +He shook her firm little hand with his frail thin one, and stood +smiling till the restaurant door cut him off from her view. + +The streets seemed so gorgeously full of life now that Nedda's head +swam. She looked at it all with such absorption that she could not +tell one thing from another. It seemed rather long to the +Tottenham Court Road, though she noted carefully the names of all +the streets she passed, and was sure she had not missed it. She +came at last to one called POULTRY. 'Poultry!' she thought; 'I +should have remembered that--Poultry?' And she laughed. It was so +sweet and feathery a laugh that the driver of an old four-wheeler +stopped his horse. He was old and anxious-looking, with a gray +beard and deep folds in his red cheeks. + +"Poultry!" she said. "Please, am I right for the Tottenham Court +Road?" + +The old man answered: "Glory, no, miss; you're goin' East!" + +'East!' thought Nedda; 'I'd better take him.' And she got in. She +sat in the four-wheeler, smiling. And how far this was due to +Chardonnet she did not consider. She was to love and not worry. +It was wonderful! In this mood she was put down, still smiling, at +the Tottenham Court Road Tube, and getting out her purse she +prepared to pay the cabman. The fare would be a shilling, but she +felt like giving him two. He looked so anxious and worn, in spite +of his red face. He took them, looked at her, and said: "Thank +you, miss; I wanted that." + +"Oh!" murmured Nedda, "then please take this, too. It's all I +happen to have, except my Tube fare." + +The old man took it, and water actually ran along his nose. + +"God bless yer!" he said. And taking up his whip, he drove off +quickly. + +Rather choky, but still glowing, Nedda descended to her train. It +was not till she was walking to the Spaniard's Road that a cloud +seemed to come over her sky, and she reached home dejected. + +In the garden of the Freelands' old house was a nook shut away by +berberis and rhododendrons, where some bees were supposed to make +honey, but, knowing its destination, and belonging to a union, made +no more than they were obliged. In this retreat, which contained a +rustic bench, Nedda was accustomed to sit and read; she went there +now. And her eyes began filling with tears. Why must the poor old +fellow who had driven her look so anxious and call on God to bless +her for giving him that little present? Why must people grow old +and helpless, like that Grandfather Gaunt she had seen at Becket? +Why was there all the tyranny that made Derek and Sheila so wild? +And all the grinding poverty that she herself could see when she +went with her mother to their Girls' Club, in Bethnal Green? What +was the use of being young and strong if nothing happened, nothing +was really changed, so that one got old and died seeing still the +same things as before? What was the use even of loving, if love +itself had to yield to death? The trees! How they grew from tiny +seeds to great and beautiful things, and then slowly, slowly dried +and decayed away to dust. What was the good of it all? What +comfort was there in a God so great and universal that he did not +care to keep her and Derek alive and loving forever, and was not +interested enough to see that the poor old cab-driver should not be +haunted day and night with fear of the workhouse for himself and an +old wife, perhaps? Nedda's tears fell fast, and how far THIS was +Chardonnet no one could tell. + +Felix, seeking inspiration from the sky in regard to 'The Last of +the Laborers,' heard a noise like sobbing, and, searching, found +his little daughter sitting there and crying as if her heart would +break. The sight was so unusual and so utterly disturbing that he +stood rooted, quite unable to bring her help. Should he sneak +away? Should he go for Flora? What should he do? Like many men +whose work keeps them centred within themselves, he instinctively +avoided everything likely to pain or trouble him; for this reason, +when anything did penetrate those mechanical defences he became +almost strangely tender. Loath, for example, to believe that any +one was ill, if once convinced of it, he made so good a nurse that +Flora, at any rate, was in the habit of getting well with +suspicious alacrity. Thoroughly moved now, he sat down on the +bench beside Nedda, and said: + +"My darling!" + +She leaned her forehead against his arm and sobbed the more. + +Felix waited, patting her far shoulder gently. + +He had often dealt with such situations in his books, and now that +one had come true was completely at a loss. He could not even +begin to remember what was usually said or done, and he only made +little soothing noises. + +To Nedda this tenderness brought a sudden sharp sense of guilt and +yearning. She began: + +"It's not because of that I'm crying, Dad, but I want you to know +that Derek and I are in love." + +The words: 'You! What! In those few days!' rose, and got as far +as Felix's teeth; he swallowed them and went on patting her +shoulder. Nedda in love! He felt blank and ashy. That special +feeling of owning her more than any one else, which was so warming +and delightful, so really precious--it would be gone! What right +had she to take it from him, thus, without warning! Then he +remembered how odious he had always said the elderly were, to spoke +the wheels of youth, and managed to murmur: + +"Good luck to you, my pretty!" + +He said it, conscious that a father ought to be saying: + +'You're much too young, and he's your cousin!' But what a father +ought to say appeared to him just then both sensible and +ridiculous. Nedda rubbed her cheek against his hand. + +"It won't make any difference, Dad, I promise you!" + +And Felix thought: 'Not to you, only to me!' But he said: + +"Not a scrap, my love! What WERE you crying about?" + +"About the world; it seems so heartless." + +And she told him about the water that had run along the nose of the +old four-wheeler man. + +But while he seemed to listen, Felix thought: 'I wish to God I were +made of leather; then I shouldn't feel as if I'd lost the warmth +inside me. I mustn't let her see. Fathers ARE queer--I always +suspected that. There goes my work for a good week!' Then he +answered: + +"No, my dear, the world is not heartless; it's only arranged +according to certain necessary contraries: No pain, no pleasure; no +dark, no light, and the rest of it. If you think, it couldn't be +arranged differently." + +As he spoke a blackbird came running with a chuckle from underneath +the berberis, looked at them with alarm, and ran back. Nedda +raised her face. + +"Dad, I mean to do something with my life!" + +Felix answered: + +"Yes. That's right." + +But long after Nedda had fallen into dreams that night, he lay +awake, with his left foot enclosed between Floras', trying to +regain that sense of warmth which he knew he must never confess to +having lost. + + +CHAPTER XV + + +Flora took the news rather with the air of a mother-dog that says +to her puppy: "Oh, very well, young thing! Go and stick your teeth +in it and find out for yourself!" Sooner or later this always +happened, and generally sooner nowadays. Besides, she could not +help feeling that she would get more of Felix, to her a matter of +greater importance than she gave sign of. But inwardly the news +had given her a shock almost as sharp as that felt by him. Was she +really the mother of one old enough to love? Was the child that +used to cuddle up to her in the window-seat to be read to, gone +from her; that used to rush in every morning at all inconvenient +moments of her toilet; that used to be found sitting in the dark on +the stairs, like a little sleepy owl, because, for-sooth, it was so +'cosey'? + +Not having seen Derek, she did not as yet share her husband's +anxiety on that score, though his description was dubious: + +"Upstanding young cockerel, swinging his sporran and marching to +pipes--a fine spurn about him! Born to trouble, if I know +anything, trying to sweep the sky with his little broom!" + +"Is he a prig?" + +"No-o. There's simplicity about his scorn, and he seems to have +been brought up on facts, not on literature, like most of these +young monkeys. The cousinship I don't think matters; Kirsteen +brings in too strong an out-strain. He's HER son, not Tod's. But +perhaps," he added, sighing, "it won't last." + +Flora shook her head. "It will last!" she said; "Nedda's deep." + +And if Nedda held, so would Fate; no one would throw Nedda over! +They naturally both felt that. 'Dionysus at the Well,' no less +than 'The Last of the Laborers,' had a light week of it. + +Though in a sense relieved at having parted with her secret, Nedda +yet felt that she had committed desecration. Suppose Derek should +mind her people knowing! + +On the day that he and Sheila were to come, feeling she could not +trust herself to seem even reasonably calm, she started out, +meaning to go to the South Kensington Museum and wander the time +away there; but once out-of-doors the sky seemed what she wanted, +and, turning down the hill on the north side, she sat down under a +gorse bush. Here tramps, coming in to London, passed the night +under the stars; here was a vision, however dim, of nature. And +nature alone could a little soothe her ecstatic nerves. + +How would he greet her? Would he be exactly as he was when they +stood at the edge of Tod's orchard, above the dreamy, darkening +fields, joining hands and lips, moved as they had never been moved +before? + +May blossom was beginning to come out along the hedge of the +private grounds that bordered that bit of Cockney Common, and from +it, warmed by the sun, the scent stole up to her. Familiar, like +so many children of the cultured classes, with the pagan and fairy- +tales of nature, she forgot them all the moment she was really by +herself with earth and sky. In their breadth, their soft and +stirring continuity, they rejected bookish fancy, and woke in her +rapture and yearning, a sort of long delight, a never-appeased +hunger. Crouching, hands round knees, she turned her face to get +the warmth of the sun, and see the white clouds go slowly by, and +catch all the songs that the birds sang. And every now and then +she drew a deep breath. It was true what Dad had said: There was +no real heartlessness in nature. It was warm, beating, breathing. +And if things ate each other, what did it matter? They had lived +and died quickly, helping to make others live. The sacred swing +and circle of it went on forever, full and harmonious under the +lighted sky, under the friendly stars. It was wonderful to be +alive! And all done by love. Love! More, more, more love! And +then death, if it must come! For, after all, to Nedda death was so +far away, so unimaginably dim and distant, that it did not really +count. + +While she sat, letting her fingers, that were growing slowly black, +scrabble the grass and fern, a feeling came on her of a Presence, a +creature with wings above and around, that seemed to have on its +face a long, mysterious smile of which she, Nedda, was herself a +tiny twinkle. She would bring Derek here. They two would sit +together and let the clouds go over them, and she would learn all +that he really thought, and tell him all her longings and fears; +they would be silent, too, loving each other too much to talk. She +made elaborate plans of what they were to do and see, beginning +with the East End and the National Gallery, and ending with sunrise +from Parliament Hill; but she somehow knew that nothing would +happen as she had designed. If only the first moment were not +different from what she hoped! + +She sat there so long that she rose quite stiff, and so hungry that +she could not help going home and stealing into the kitchen. It +was three o'clock, and the old cook, as usual, asleep in an +armchair, with her apron thrown up between her face and the fire. +What would Cookie say if she knew? In that oven she had been +allowed to bake in fancy perfect little doll loaves, while Cookie +baked them in reality. Here she had watched the mysterious making +of pink cream, had burned countless 'goes' of toffy, and cocoanut +ice; and tasted all kinds of loveliness. Dear old Cookie! +Stealing about on tiptoe, seeking what she might devour, she found +four small jam tarts and ate them, while the cook snored softly. +Then, by the table, that looked so like a great loaf-platter, she +stood contemplating cook. Old darling, with her fat, pale, crumply +face! Hung to the dresser, opposite, was a little mahogany +looking-glass tilted forward. Nedda could see herself almost down +to her toes. 'I mean to be prettier than I am!' she thought, +putting her hands on her waist. 'I wonder if I can pull them in a +bit!' Sliding her fingers under her blouse, she began to pull at +certain strings. They would not budge. They were loose, yes, +really too comfortable. She would have to get the next size +smaller! And dropping her chin, she rubbed it on the lace edging +of her chest, where it felt warm and smelled piny. Had Cookie ever +been in love? Her gray hairs were coming, poor old duck! The +windows, where a protection of wire gauze kept out the flies, were +opened wide, and the sun shone in and dimmed the fire. The kitchen +clock ticked like a conscience; a faint perfume of frying-pan and +mint scented the air. And, for the first time since this new +sensation of love had come to her, Nedda felt as if a favorite +book, read through and done with, were dropping from her hands. +The lovely times in that kitchen, in every nook of that old house +and garden, would never come again! Gone! She felt suddenly cast +down to sadness. They HAD been lovely times! To be deserting in +spirit all that had been so good to her--it seemed like a crime! +She slid down off the table and, passing behind the cook, put her +arms round those substantial sides. Without meaning to, out of +sheer emotion, she pressed them somewhat hard, and, as from a +concertina emerges a jerked and drawn-out chord, so from the cook +came a long, quaking sound; her apron fell, her body heaved, and +her drowsy, flat, soft voice, greasy from pondering over dishes, +murmured: + +"Ah, Miss Nedda! it's you, my dear! Bless your pretty 'eart." + +But down Nedda's cheeks, behind her, rolled two tears. + +"Cookie, oh, Cookie!" And she ran out. . . . + +And the first moment? It was like nothing she had dreamed of. +Strange, stiff! One darting look, and then eyes down; one +convulsive squeeze, then such a formal shake of hot, dry hands, and +off he had gone with Felix to his room, and she with Sheila to +hers, bewildered, biting down consternation, trying desperately to +behave 'like a little lady,' as her old nurse would have put it-- +before Sheila, especially, whose hostility she knew by instinct she +had earned. All that evening, furtive watching, formal talk, and +underneath a ferment of doubt and fear and longing. All a mistake! +An awful mistake! Did he love her? Heaven! If he did not, she +could never face any one again. He could not love her! His eyes +were like those of a swan when its neck is drawn up and back in +anger. Terrible--having to show nothing, having to smile at +Sheila, at Dad, and Mother! And when at last she got to her room, +she stood at the window and at first simply leaned her forehead +against the glass and shivered. What had she done? Had she +dreamed it all--dreamed that they had stood together under those +boughs in the darkness, and through their lips exchanged their +hearts? She must have dreamed it! Dreamed that most wonderful, +false dream! And the walk home in the thunder-storm, and his arm +round her, and her letters, and his letter--dreamed it all! And +now she was awake! From her lips came a little moan, and she sank +down huddled, and stayed there ever so long, numb and chilly. +Undress--go to bed? Not for the world. By the time the morning +came she had got to forget that she had dreamed. For very shame +she had got to forget that; no one should see. Her cheeks and ears +and lips were burning, but her body felt icy cold. Then--what time +she did not know at all--she felt she must go out and sit on the +stairs. They had always been her comforters, those wide, shallow, +cosey stairs. Out and down the passage, past all their rooms--his +the last--to the dark stairs, eerie at night, where the scent of +age oozed out of the old house. All doors below, above, were +closed; it was like looking down into a well, to sit with her head +leaning against the banisters. And silent, so silent--just those +faint creakings that come from nowhere, as it might be the +breathing of the house. She put her arms round a cold banister and +hugged it hard. It hurt her, and she embraced it the harder. The +first tears of self-pity came welling up, and without warning a +great sob burst out of her. Alarmed at the sound, she smothered +her mouth with her arm. No good; they came breaking out! A door +opened; all the blood rushed to her heart and away from it, and +with a little dreadful gurgle she was silent. Some one was +listening. How long that terrible listening lasted she had no +idea; then footsteps, and she was conscious that it was standing in +the dark behind her. A foot touched her back. She gave a little +gasp. Derek's voice whispered hoarsely: + +"What? Who are you?" + +And, below her breath, she answered: "Nedda." + +His arms wrenched her away from the banister, his voice in her ear +said: + +"Nedda, darling, Nedda!" + +But despair had sunk too deep; she could only quiver and shake and +try to drive sobbing out of her breath. Then, most queer, not his +words, nor the feel of his arms, comforted her--any one could +pity!--but the smell and the roughness of his Norfolk jacket. So +he, too, had not been in bed; he, too, had been unhappy! And, +burying her face in his sleeve, she murmured: + +"Oh, Derek! Why?" + +"I didn't want them all to see. I can't bear to give it away. +Nedda, come down lower and let's love each other!" + +Softly, stumbling, clinging together, they went down to the last +turn of the wide stairs. How many times had she not sat there, in +white frocks, her hair hanging down as now, twisting the tassels of +little programmes covered with hieroglyphics only intelligible to +herself, talking spasmodically to spasmodic boys with budding +'tails,' while Chinese lanterns let fall their rose and orange +light on them and all the other little couples as exquisitely +devoid of ease. Ah! it was worth those hours of torture to sit +there together now, comforting each other with hands and lips and +whisperings. It was more, as much more than that moment in the +orchard, as sun shining after a Spring storm is more than sun in +placid mid-July. To hear him say: "Nedda, I love you!" to feel it +in his hand clasped on her heart was much more, now that she knew +how difficult it was for him to say or show it, except in the dark +with her alone. Many a long day they might have gone through +together that would not have shown her so much of his real heart as +that hour of whispering and kisses. + +He had known she was unhappy, and yet he couldn't! It had only +made him more dumb! It was awful to be like that! But now that +she knew, she was glad to think that it was buried so deep in him +and kept for her alone. And if he did it again she would just know +that it was only shyness and pride. And he was not a brute and a +beast, as he insisted. But suppose she had chanced not to come +out! Would she ever have lived through the night? And she shivered. + +"Are you cold, darling? Put on my coat." + +It was put on her in spite of all effort to prevent him. Never was +anything so warm, so delicious, wrapping her in something more than +Harris tweed. And the hall clock struck--Two! + +She could just see his face in the glimmer that filtered from the +skylight at the top. And she felt that he was learning her, +learning all that she had to give him, learning the trust that was +shining through her eyes. There was just enough light for them to +realize the old house watching from below and from above--a glint +on the dark floor there, on the dark wall here; a blackness that +seemed to be inhabited by some spirit, so that their hands clutched +and twitched, when the tiny, tiny noises of Time, playing in wood +and stone, clicked out. + +That stare of the old house, with all its knowledge of lives past, +of youth and kisses spent and gone, of hopes spun and faiths +abashed, the old house cynical, stirred in them desire to clutch +each other close and feel the thrill of peering out together into +mystery that must hold for them so much of love and joy and +trouble! And suddenly she put her fingers to his face, passed them +softly, clingingly, over his hair, forehead, eyes, traced the sharp +cheek-bones down to his jaw, round by the hard chin up to his lips, +over the straight bone of his nose, lingering, back, to his eyes +again. + +"Now, if I go blind, I shall know you. Give me one kiss, Derek. +You MUST be tired." + +Buried in the old dark house that kiss lasted long; then, +tiptoeing--she in front--pausing at every creak, holding breath, +they stole up to their rooms. And the clock struck--Three! + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +Felix (nothing if not modern) had succumbed already to the feeling +that youth ruled the roost. Whatever his misgivings, his and +Flora's sense of loss, Nedda must be given a free hand! Derek gave +no outward show of his condition, and but for his little daughter's +happy serenity Felix would have thought as she had thought that +first night. He had a feeling that his nephew rather despised one +so soaked in mildness and reputation as Felix Freeland; and he got +on better with Sheila, not because she was milder, but because she +was devoid of that scornful tang which clung about her brother. +No! Sheila was not mild. Rich-colored, downright of speech, with +her mane of short hair, she was a no less startling companion. The +smile of Felix had never been more whimsically employed than during +that ten-day visit. The evening John Freeland came to dinner was +the highwater mark of his alarmed amusement. Mr. Cuthcott, also +bidden, at Nedda's instigation, seemed to take a mischievous +delight in drawing out those two young people in face of their +official uncle. The pleasure of the dinner to Felix--and it was +not too great--was in watching Nedda's face. She hardly spoke, but +how she listened! Nor did Derek say much, but what he did say had +a queer, sarcastic twinge about it. + +"An unpleasant young man," was John's comment afterward. "How the +deuce did he ever come to be Tod's son? Sheila, of course, is one +of these hot-headed young women that make themselves a nuisance +nowadays, but she's intelligible. By the way, that fellow +Cuthcott's a queer chap!" + +One subject of conversation at dinner had been the morality of +revolutionary violence. And the saying that had really upset John +had been Derek's: "Conflagration first--morality afterward!" He +had looked at his nephew from under brows which a constant need for +rejecting petitions to the Home Office had drawn permanently down +and in toward the nose, and made no answer. + +To Felix these words had a more sinister significance. With his +juster appreciation both of the fiery and the official points of +view, his far greater insight into his nephew than ever John would +have, he saw that they were more than a mere arrow of controversy. +And he made up his mind that night that he would tackle his nephew +and try to find out exactly what was smouldering within that crisp, +black pate. + +Following him into the garden next morning, he said to himself: 'No +irony--that's fatal. Man to man--or boy to boy--whichever it is!' +But, on the garden path, alongside that young spread-eagle, whose +dark, glowering, self-contained face he secretly admired, he merely +began: + +"How do you like your Uncle John?" + +"He doesn't like me, Uncle Felix." + +Somewhat baffled, Felix proceeded: + +"I say, Derek, fortunately or unfortunately, I've some claim now to +a little knowledge of you. You've got to open out a bit to me. +What are you going to do with yourself in life? You can't support +Nedda on revolution." + +Having drawn this bow at a venture, he paused, doubtful of his +wisdom. A glance at Derek's face confirmed his doubt. It was +closer than ever, more defiant. + +"There's a lot of money in revolution, Uncle Felix--other +people's." + +Dash the young brute! There was something in him! He swerved off +to a fresh line. + +"How do you like London?" + +"I don't like it. But, Uncle Felix, don't you wish YOU were seeing +it for the first time? What books you'd write!" + +Felix felt that unconscious thrust go 'home.' Revolt against +staleness and clipped wings, against the terrible security of his +too solid reputation, smote him. + +"What strikes you most about it, then?" he asked. + +"That it ought to be jolly well blown up. Everybody seems to know +that, too--they look it, anyway, and yet they go on as if it +oughtn't." + +"Why ought it to be blown up?" + +"Well, what's the good of anything while London and all these other +big towns are sitting on the country's chest? England must have +been a fine place once, though!" + +"Some of us think it a fine place still." + +"Of course it is, in a way. But anything new and keen gets sat on. +England's like an old tom-cat by the fire: too jolly comfortable +for anything!" + +At this support to his own theory that the country was going to the +dogs, owing to such as John and Stanley, Felix thought: 'Out of the +mouths of babes!' But he merely said: "You're a cheerful young +man!" + +"It's got cramp," Derek muttered; "can't even give women votes. +Fancy my mother without a vote! And going to wait till every +laborer is off the land before it attends to them. It's like the +port you gave us last night, Uncle Felix, wonderful crust!" + +"And what is to be your contribution to its renovation?" + +Derek's face instantly resumed its peculiar defiant smile, and +Felix thought: 'Young beggar! He's as close as wax.' After their +little talk, however, he had more understanding of his nephew. His +defiant self-sufficiency seemed more genuine. . . . + +In spite of his sensations when dining with Felix, John Freeland +(little if not punctilious) decided that it was incumbent on him to +have the 'young Tods' to dinner, especially since Frances Freeland +had come to stay with him the day after the arrival of those two +young people at Hampstead. She had reached Porchester Gardens +faintly flushed from the prospect of seeing darling John, with one +large cane trunk, and a hand-bag of a pattern which the man in the +shop had told her was the best thing out. It had a clasp which had +worked beautifully in the shop, but which, for some reason, on the +journey had caused her both pain and anxiety. Convinced, however, +that she could cure it and open the bag the moment she could get to +that splendid new pair of pincers in her trunk, which a man had +only yesterday told her were the latest, she still felt that she +had a soft thing, and dear John must have one like it if she could +get him one at the Stores to-morrow. + +John, who had come away early from the Home Office, met her in that +dark hall, to which he had paid no attention since his young wife +died, fifteen years ago. Embracing him, with a smile of love +almost timorous from intensity, Frances Freeland looked him up and +down, and, catching what light there was gleaming on his temples, +determined that she had in her bag, as soon as she could get it +open, the very thing for dear John's hair. He had such a nice +moustache, and it was a pity he was getting bald. Brought to her +room, she sat down rather suddenly, feeling, as a fact, very much +like fainting--a condition of affairs to which she had never in the +past and intended never in the future to come, making such a fuss! +Owing to that nice new patent clasp, she had not been able to get +at her smelling-salts, nor the little flask of brandy and the one +hard-boiled egg without which she never travelled; and for want of +a cup of tea her soul was nearly dying within her. Dear John would +never think she had not had anything since breakfast (she travelled +always by a slow train, disliking motion), and she would not for +the world let him know--so near dinner-time, giving a lot of +trouble! She therefore stayed quite quiet, smiling a little, for +fear he might suspect her. Seeing John, however, put her bag down +in the wrong place, she felt stronger. + +"No, darling--not there--in the window." + +And while he was changing the position of the bag, her heart +swelled with joy because his back was so straight, and with the +thought: 'What a pity the dear boy has never married again! It +does so keep a man from getting moony!' With all that writing and +thinking he had to do, such important work, too, it would have been +so good for him, especially at night. She would not have expressed +it thus in words--that would not have been quite nice--but in +thought Frances Freeland was a realist. + +When he was gone, and she could do as she liked, she sat stiller +than ever, knowing by long experience that to indulge oneself in +private only made it more difficult not to indulge oneself in +public. It really was provoking that this nice new clasp should go +wrong just this once, and that the first time it was used! And she +took from her pocket a tiny prayer-book, and, holding it to the +light, read the eighteenth psalm--it was a particularly good one, +that never failed her when she felt low--she used no glasses, and +up to the present had avoided any line between the brows, knowing +it was her duty to remain as nice as she could to look at, so as +not to spoil the pleasure of people round about her. Then saying +to herself firmly, "I do not, I WILL not want any tea--but I shall +be glad of dinner!" she rose and opened her cane trunk. Though she +knew exactly where they were, she was some time finding the +pincers, because there were so many interesting things above them, +each raising a different train of thought. A pair of field- +glasses, the very latest--the man had said--for darling Derek; they +would be so useful to keep his mind from thinking about things that +it was no good thinking about. And for dear Flora (how wonderful +that she could write poetry--poetry!) a really splendid, and +perfectly new, little pill. She herself had already taken two, and +they had suited her to perfection. For darling Felix a new kind of +eau de cologne, made in Worcester, because that was the only scent +he would use. For her pet Nedda, a piece of 'point de Venise' that +she really could not be selfish enough to keep any longer, +especially as she was particularly fond of it. For Alan, a new +kind of tin-opener that the dear boy would like enormously; he was +so nice and practical. For Sheila, such a nice new novel by Mr. +and Mrs. Whirlingham--a bright, wholesome tale, with such a good +description of quite a new country in it--the dear child was so +clever, it would be a change for her. Then, actually resting on +the pincers, she came on her pass-book, recently made up, +containing little or no balance, just enough to get darling John +that bag like hers with the new clasp, which would be so handy for +his papers when he went travelling. And having reached the +pincers, she took them in her hand, and sat down again to be quite +quiet a moment, with her still-dark eyelashes resting on her ivory +cheeks and her lips pressed to a colorless line; for her head swam +from stooping over. In repose, with three flies circling above her +fine gray hair, she might have served a sculptor for a study of the +stoic spirit. Then, going to the bag, her compressed lips +twitching, her gray eyes piercing into its clasp with a kind of +distrustful optimism, she lifted the pincers and tweaked it hard. + +If the atmosphere of that dinner, to which all six from Hampstead +came, was less disturbed than John anticipated, it was due to his +sense of hospitality, and to every one's feeling that controversy +would puzzle and distress Granny. That there were things about +which people differed, Frances Freeland well knew, but that they +should so differ as to make them forget to smile and have good +manners would not have seemed right to her at all. And of this, in +her presence, they were all conscious; so that when they had +reached the asparagus there was hardly anything left that could by +any possibility be talked about. And this--for fear of seeming +awkward--they at once proceeded to discuss, Flora remarking that +London was very full. John agreed. + +Frances Freeland, smiling, said: + +"It's so nice for Derek and Sheila to be seeing it like this for +the first time." + +Sheila said: + +"Why? Isn't it always as full as this?" + +John answered: + +"In August practically empty. They say a hundred thousand people, +at least, go away." + +"Double!" remarked Felix. + +"The figures are variously given. My estimate--" + +"One in sixty. That shows you!" + +At this interruption of Derek's John frowned slightly. "What does +it show you?" he said. + +Derek glanced at his grandmother. + +"Oh, nothing!" + +"Of course it shows you," exclaimed Sheila, "what a heartless great +place it is. All 'the world' goes out of town, and 'London's +empty!' But if you weren't told so you'd never know the +difference." + +Derek muttered: "I think it shows more than that." + +Under the table Flora was touching John's foot warningly; Nedda +attempting to touch Derek's; Felix endeavoring to catch John's eye; +Alan trying to catch Sheila's; John biting his lip and looking +carefully at nothing. Only Frances Freeland was smiling and gazing +lovingly at dear Derek, thinking he would be so handsome when he +had grown a nice black moustache. And she said: + +"Yes, dear. What were you going to say?" + +Derek looked up. + +"Do you really want it, Granny?" + +Nedda murmured across the table: "No, Derek." + +Frances Freeland raised her brows quizzically. She almost looked +arch. + +"But of course I do, darling. I want to hear immensely. It's so +interesting." + +"Derek was going to say, Mother"--every one at once looked at +Felix, who had thus broken in--"that all we West-End people--John +and I and Flora and Stanley, and even you--all we people born in +purple and fine linen, are so accustomed to think we're all that +matters, that when we're out of London there's nobody in it. He +meant to say that this is appalling enough, but that what is still +more appalling is the fact that we really ARE all that matters, and +that if people try to disturb us, we can, and jolly well will, take +care they don't disturb us long. Is that what you meant, Derek?" + +Derek turned a rather startled look on Felix. + +"What he meant to say," went on Felix, "was, that age and habit, +vested interests, culture and security sit so heavy on this +country's chest, that aspiration may wriggle and squirm but will +never get from under. That, for all we pretend to admire +enthusiasm and youth, and the rest of it, we push it out of us just +a little faster than it grows up. Is that what you meant, Derek?" + +"You'll try to, but you won't succeed!" + +"I'm afraid we shall, and with a smile, too, so that you won't see +us doing it." + +"I call that devilish." + +"I call it natural. Look at a man who's growing old; notice how +very gracefully and gradually he does it. Take my hair--your aunt +says she can't tell the difference from month to month. And there +it is, or rather isn't--little by little." + +Frances Freeland, who during Felix's long speech had almost closed +her eyes, opened them, and looked piercingly at the top of his +head. + +"Darling," she said, "I've got the very thing for it. You must +take some with you when you go tonight. John is going to try it." + +Checked in the flow of his philosophy, Felix blinked like an owl +surprised. + +"Mother," he said, "YOU only have the gift of keeping young." + +"Oh! my dear, I'm getting dreadfully old. I have the greatest +difficulty in keeping awake sometimes when people are talking. But +I mean to fight against it. It's so dreadfully rude, and ugly, +too; I catch myself sometimes with my mouth open." + +Flora said quietly: "Granny, I have the very best thing for that-- +quite new!" + +A sweet but rather rueful smile passed over Frances Freeland's +face. "Now," she said, "you're chaffing me," and her eyes looked +loving. + +It is doubtful if John understood the drift of Felix's exordium, it +is doubtful if he had quite listened--he having so much to not +listen to at the Home Office that the practice was growing on him. +A vested interest to John was a vested interest, culture was +culture, and security was certainly security--none of them were +symbols of age. Further, the social question--at least so far as +it had to do with outbreaks of youth and enthusiasm--was too +familiar to him to have any general significance whatever. What +with women, labor people, and the rest of it, he had no time for +philosophy--a dubious process at the best. A man who had to get +through so many daily hours of real work did not dissipate his +energy in speculation. But, though he had not listened to Felix's +remarks, they had ruffled him. There is no philosophy quite so +irritating as that of a brother! True, no doubt, that the country +was in a bad way, but as to vested interests and security, that was +all nonsense! The guilty causes were free thought and industrialism. + +Having seen them all off to Hampstead, he gave his mother her good- +night kiss. He was proud of her, a wonderful woman, who always put +a good face on everything! Even her funny way of always having +some new thing or other to do you good--even that was all part of +her wanting to make the best of things. She never lost her 'form'! + +John worshipped that kind of stoicism which would die with its head +up rather than live with its tail down. Perhaps the moment of +which he was most proud in all his life was that, when, at the +finish of his school mile, he overheard a vulgar bandsman say: "I +like that young ----'s running; he breathes through his ---- nose." +At that moment, if he had stooped to breathe through his mouth, he +must have won; as it was he had lost in great distress and perfect +form. + +When, then, he had kissed Frances Freeland, and watched her ascend +the stairs, breathless because she WOULD breathe through her nose +to the very last step, he turned into his study, lighted his pipe, +and sat down to a couple of hours of a report upon the forces of +constabulary available in the various counties, in the event of any +further agricultural rioting, such as had recently taken place on a +mild scale in one or two districts where there was still Danish +blood. He worked at the numbers steadily, with just that +engineer's touch of mechanical invention which had caused him to be +so greatly valued in a department where the evolution of twelve +policemen out of ten was constantly desired. His mastery of +figures was highly prized, for, while it had not any of that +flamboyance which has come from America and the game of poker, it +possessed a kind of English optimism, only dangerous when, as +rarely happened, it was put to the test. He worked two full pipes +long, and looked at the clock. Twelve! No good knocking off just +yet! He had no liking for bed this many a long year, having, from +loyalty to memory and a drier sense of what became one in the Home +Department, preserved his form against temptations of the flesh. +Yet, somehow, to-night he felt no spring, no inspiration, in his +handling of county constabulary. A kind of English stolidity about +them baffled him--ten of them remained ten. And leaning that +forehead, whose height so troubled Frances Freeland, on his neat +hand, he fell to brooding. Those young people with everything +before them! Did he envy them? Or was he glad of his own age? +Fifty! Fifty already; a fogey! An official fogey! For all the +world like an umbrella, that every day some one put into a stand +and left there till it was time to take it out again. Neatly +rolled, too, with an elastic and button! And this fancy, which had +never come to him before, surprised him. One day he, too, would +wear out, slit all up his seams, and they would leave him at home, +or give him away to the butler. + +He went to the window. A scent of--of May, or something! And +nothing in sight save houses just like his own! He looked up at +the strip of sky privileged to hang just there. He had got a bit +rusty with his stars. There, however, certainly was Venus. And he +thought of how he had stood by the ship's rail on that honeymoon +trip of his twenty years ago, giving his young wife her first +lesson in counting the stars. And something very deep down, very +mossed and crusted over in John's heart, beat and stirred, and hurt +him. Nedda--he had caught her looking at that young fellow just as +Anne had once looked at him, John Freeland, now an official fogey, +an umbrella in a stand. There was a policeman! How ridiculous the +fellow looked, putting one foot before the other, flirting his +lantern and trying the area gates! This confounded scent of +hawthorn--could it be hawthorn?--got here into the heart of London! +The look in that girl's eyes! What was he about, to let them make +him feel as though he could give his soul for a face looking up +into his own, for a breast touching his, and the scent of a woman's +hair. Hang it! He would smoke a cigarette and go to bed! He +turned out the light and began to mount the stairs; they creaked +abominably--the felt must be wearing out. A woman about the place +would have kept them quiet. Reaching the landing of the second +floor, he paused a moment from habit, to look down into the dark +hall. A voice, thin, sweet, almost young, said: + +"Is that you, darling?" John's heart stood still. What--was that? +Then he perceived that the door of the room that had been his +wife's was open, and remembered that his mother was in there. + +"What! Aren't you asleep, Mother?" + +Frances Freeland's voice answered cheerfully :"Oh, no, dear; I'm +never asleep before two. Come in." + +John entered. Propped very high on her pillows, in perfect +regularity, his mother lay. Her carved face was surmounted by a +piece of fine lace, her thin, white fingers on the turnover of the +sheet moved in continual interlocking, her lips smiled. + +"There's something you must have," she said. "I left my door open +on purpose. Give me that little bottle, darling." + +John took from a small table by the bed a still smaller bottle. +Frances Freeland opened it, and out came three tiny white globules. + +"Now," she said, "pop them in! You've no idea how they'll send you +to sleep! They're the most splendid things; perfectly harmless. +Just let them rest on the tongue and swallow!" + +John let them rest--they were sweetish--and swallowed. + +"How is it, then," he said, "that you never go to sleep before +two?" + +Frances Freeland corked the little bottle, as if enclosing within +it that awkward question. + +"They don't happen to act with me, darling; but that's nothing. +It's the very thing for any one who has to sit up so late," and her +eyes searched his face. Yes--they seemed to say--I know you +pretend to have work; but if you only had a dear little wife! + +"I shall leave you this bottle when I go. Kiss me." + +John bent down, and received one of those kisses of hers that had +such sudden vitality in the middle of them, as if her lips were +trying to get inside his cheek. From the door he looked back. She +was smiling, composed again to her stoic wakefulness. + +"Shall I shut the door, Mother?" + +"Please, darling." + +With a little lump in his throat John closed the door. + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +The London which Derek had said should be blown up was at its +maximum of life those May days. Even on this outer rampart of +Hampstead, people, engines, horses, all had a touch of the spring +fever; indeed, especially on this rampart of Hampstead was there +increase of the effort to believe that nature was not dead and +embalmed in books. The poets, painters, talkers who lived up there +were at each other all the time in their great game of make- +believe. How could it be otherwise, when there was veritably +blossom on the trees and the chimneys were ceasing to smoke? How +otherwise, when the sun actually shone on the ponds? But the four +young people (for Alan joined in--hypnotized by Sheila) did not +stay in Hampstead. Chiefly on top of tram and 'bus they roamed the +wilderness. Bethnal Green and Leytonstone, Kensington and Lambeth, +St. James's and Soho, Whitechapel, Shoreditch, West Ham, and +Piccadilly, they traversed the whole ant-heap at its most ebullient +moment. They knew their Whitman and their Dostoievsky sufficiently +to be aware that they ought to love and delight in everything--in +the gentleman walking down Piccadilly with a flower in his +buttonhole, and in the lady sewing that buttonhole in Bethnal +Green; in the orator bawling himself hoarse close to the Marble +Arch, the coster loading his barrow in Covent Garden; and in Uncle +John Freeland rejecting petitions in Whitehall. All these things, +of course, together with the long lines of little gray houses in +Camden Town, long lines of carts with bobtail horses rattling over +Blackfriars' Bridge, long smells drifting behind taxicabs--all +these things were as delightful and as stimulating to the soul as +the clouds that trailed the heavens, the fronds of the lilac, and +Leonardo's Cartoon in the Diploma Gallery. All were equal +manifestations of that energy in flower known as 'Life.' They knew +that everything they saw and felt and smelled OUGHT equally to make +them long to catch creatures to their hearts and cry: Hosanna! And +Nedda and Alan, bred in Hampstead, even knew that to admit that +these things did not all move them in the same way would be +regarded as a sign of anaemia. Nevertheless--most queerly--these +four young people confessed to each other all sorts of sensations +besides that 'Hosanna' one. They even confessed to rage and pity +and disgust one moment, and to joy and dreams the next, and they +differed greatly as to what excited which. It was truly odd! The +only thing on which they did seem to agree was that they were +having 'a thundering good time.' A sort of sense of "Blow +everything!" was in their wings, and this was due not to the fact +that they were thinking of and loving and admiring the little gray +streets and the gentleman in Piccadilly--as, no doubt, in +accordance with modern culture, they should have been--but to the +fact that they were loving and admiring themselves, and that +entirely without the trouble of thinking about it at all. The +practice, too, of dividing into couples was distinctly precious to +them, for, though they never failed to start out together, they +never failed to come home two by two. In this way did they put to +confusion Whitman and Dostoievsky, and all the other thinkers in +Hampstead. In the daytime they all, save Alan, felt that London +ought to be blown up; but at night it undermined their philosophies +so that they sat silent on the tops of their respective 'buses, +with arms twined in each other's. For then a something seemed to +have floated up from that mass of houses and machines, of men and +trees, and to be hovering above them, violet-colored, caught +between the stars and the lights, a spirit of such overpowering +beauty that it drenched even Alan in a kind of awe. After all, the +huge creature that sat with such a giant's weight on the country's +chest, the monster that had spoiled so many fields and robbed so +many lives of peace and health, could fly at night upon blue and +gold and purple wings, murmur a passionate lullaby, and fall into +deep sleep! + +One such night they went to the gallery at the opera, to supper at +an oyster-shop, under Alan's pilotage, and then set out to walk +back to Hampstead, timing themselves to catch the dawn. They had +not gone twenty steps up Southampton Row before Alan and Sheila +were forty steps in front. A fellow-feeling had made Derek and +Nedda stand to watch an old man who walked, tortuous, extremely +happy, bidding them all come. And when they moved on, it was very +slowly, just keeping sight of the others across the lumbered +dimness of Covent Garden, where tarpaulin-covered carts and barrows +seemed to slumber under the blink of lamps and watchmen's lanterns. +Across Long Acre they came into a street where there was not a soul +save the two others, a long way ahead. Walking with his arm +tightly laced with hers, touching her all down one side, Derek felt +that it would be glorious to be attacked by night-birds in this +dark, lonely street, to have a splendid fight and drive them off, +showing himself to Nedda for a man, and her protector. But nothing +save one black cat came near, and that ran for its life. He bent +round and looked under the blue veil-thing that wrapped Nedda's +head. Her face seemed mysteriously lovely, and her eyes, lifted so +quickly, mysteriously true. She said: + +"Derek, I feel like a hill with the sun on it!" + +"I feel like that yellow cloud with the wind in it." + +"I feel like an apple-tree coming into blossom." + +"I feel like a giant." + +"I feel like a song." + +"I feel I could sing you." + +"On a river, floating along." + +"A wide one, with great plains on each side, and beasts coming down +to drink, and either the sun or a yellow moon shining, and some one +singing, too, far off." + +"The Red Sarafan." + +"Let's run!" + +From that yellow cloud sailing in moonlight a spurt of rain had +driven into their faces, and they ran as fast as their blood was +flowing, and the raindrops coming down, jumping half the width of +the little dark streets, clutching each other's arms. And peering +round into her face, so sweet and breathless, into her eyes, so +dark and dancing, he felt he could run all night if he had her +there to run beside him through the dark. Into another street they +dashed, and again another, till she stopped, panting. + +"Where are we now?" + +Neither knew. A policeman put them right for Portland Place. Half +past one! And it would be dawn soon after three! They walked +soberly again now into the outer circle of Regent's Park; talked +soberly, too, discussing sublunary matters, and every now and then, +their arms, round each other, gave little convulsive squeezes. The +rain had stopped and the moon shone clear; by its light the trees +and flowers were clothed in colors whose blood had spilled away; +the town's murmur was dying, the house lights dead already. They +came out of the park into a road where the latest taxis were +rattling past; a face, a bare neck, silk hat, or shirt-front +gleamed in the window-squares, and now and then a laugh came +floating through. They stopped to watch them from under the low- +hanging branches of an acacia-tree, and Derek, gazing at her face, +still wet with rain, so young and round and soft, thought: 'And she +loves me!' Suddenly she clutched him round the neck, and their +lips met. + +They talked not at all for a long time after that kiss, walking +slowly up the long, empty road, while the whitish clouds sailed +across the dark river of the sky and the moon slowly sank. This +was the most delicious part of all that long walk home, for the +kiss had made them feel as though they had no bodies, but were just +two spirits walking side by side. This is its curious effect +sometimes in first love between the very young. . . . + + +Having sent Flora to bed, Felix was sitting up among his books. +There was no need to do this, for the young folk had latch-keys, +but, having begun the vigil, he went on with it, a volume about +Eastern philosophies on his knee, a bowl of narcissus blooms, +giving forth unexpected whiffs of odor, beside him. And he sank +into a long reverie. + +Could it be said--as was said in this Eastern book--that man's life +was really but a dream; could that be said with any more truth than +it had once been said, that he rose again in his body, to perpetual +life? Could anything be said with truth, save that we knew +nothing? And was that not really what had always been said by man-- +that we knew nothing, but were just blown over and about the world +like soughs of wind, in obedience to some immortal, unknowable +coherence! But had that want of knowledge ever retarded what was +known as the upward growth of man? Had it ever stopped man from +working, fighting, loving, dying like a hero if need were? Had +faith ever been anything but embroidery to an instinctive heroism, +so strong that it needed no such trappings? Had faith ever been +anything but anodyne, or gratification of the aesthetic sense? Or +had it really body and substance of its own? Was it something +absolute and solid, that he--Felix Freeland--had missed? Or again, +was it, perhaps, but the natural concomitant of youth, a naive +effervescence with which thought and brooding had to part? And, +turning the page of his book, he noticed that he could no longer +see to read, the lamp had grown too dim, and showed but a +decorative glow in the bright moonlight flooding through the study +window. He got up and put another log on the fire, for these last +nights of May were chilly. + +Nearly three! Where were these young people? Had he been asleep, +and they come in? Sure enough, in the hall Alan's hat and Sheila's +cloak--the dark-red one he had admired when she went forth--were +lying on a chair. But of the other two--nothing! He crept up- +stairs. Their doors were open. They certainly took their time-- +these young lovers. And the same sore feeling which had attacked +Felix when Nedda first told him of her love came on him badly in +that small of the night when his vitality was lowest. All the +hours she had spent clambering about him, or quietly resting on his +knee with her head tucked in just where his arm and shoulder met, +listening while he read or told her stories, and now and again +turning those clear eyes of hers wide open to his face, to see if +he meant it; the wilful little tugs of her hand when they two went +exploring the customs of birds, or bees, or flowers; all her +'Daddy, I love yous!' and her rushes to the front door, and long +hugs when he came back from a travel; all those later crookings of +her little finger in his, and the times he had sat when she did not +know it, watching her, and thinking: 'That little creature, with +all that's before her, is my very own daughter to take care of, and +share joy and sorrow with. . . .' Each one of all these seemed to +come now and tweak at him, as the songs of blackbirds tweak the +heart of one who lies, unable to get out into the Spring. His lamp +had burned itself quite out; the moon was fallen below the clump of +pines, and away to the north-east something stirred in the stain +and texture of the sky. Felix opened the window. What peace out +there! The chill, scentless peace of night, waiting for dawn's +renewal of warmth and youth. Through that bay window facing north +he could see on one side the town, still wan with the light of its +lamps, on the other the country, whose dark bloom was graying fast. +Suddenly a tiny bird twittered, and Felix saw his two truants +coming slowly from the gate across the grass, his arm round her +shoulders, hers round his waist. With their backs turned to him, +they passed the corner of the house, across where the garden sloped +away. There they stood above the wide country, their bodies +outlined against a sky fast growing light, evidently waiting for +the sun to rise. Silent they stood, while the birds, one by one, +twittered out their first calls. And suddenly Felix saw the boy +fling his hand up into the air. The Sun! Far away on the gray +horizon was a flare of red! + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +The anxieties of the Lady Mallorings of this life concerning the +moral welfare of their humbler neighbors are inclined to march in +front of events. The behavior in Tryst's cottage was more correct +than it would have been in nine out of ten middle or upper class +demesnes under similar conditions. Between the big laborer and +'that woman,' who, since the epileptic fit, had again come into +residence, there had passed nothing whatever that might not have +been witnessed by Biddy and her two nurslings. For love is an +emotion singularly dumb and undemonstrative in those who live the +life of the fields; passion a feeling severely beneath the thumb of +a propriety born of the age-long absence of excitants, +opportunities, and the aesthetic sense; and those two waited, +almost as a matter of course, for the marriage which was forbidden +them in this parish. The most they did was to sit and look at one +another. + +On the day of which Felix had seen the dawn at Hampstead, Sir +Gerald's agent tapped on the door of Tryst's cottage, and was +answered by Biddy, just in from school for the midday meal. + +"Your father home, my dear?" + +"No, sir; Auntie's in." + +"Ask your auntie to come and speak to me." + +The mother-child vanished up the narrow stairs, and the agent +sighed. A strong-built, leathery-skinned man in a brown suit and +leggings, with a bristly little moustache and yellow whites to his +eyes, he did not, as he had said to his wife that morning, 'like +the job a little bit.' And while he stood there waiting, Susie and +Billy emerged from the kitchen and came to stare at him. The agent +returned that stare till a voice behind him said: "Yes, sir?" + +'That woman' was certainly no great shakes to look at: a fresh, +decent, faithful sort of body! And he said gruffly: "Mornin', +miss. Sorry to say my orders are to make a clearance here. I +suppose Tryst didn't think we should act on it, but I'm afraid I've +got to put his things out, you know. Now, where are you all going; +that's the point?" + +"I shall go home, I suppose; but Tryst and the children--we don't +know." + +The agent tapped his leggings with a riding-cane. "So you've been +expecting it!" he said with relief. "That's right." And, staring +down at the mother-child, he added: "Well, what d'you say, my dear; +you look full of sense, you do!" + +Biddy answered: "I'll go and tell Mr. Freeland, sir." + +"Ah! You're a bright maid. He'll know where to put you for the +time bein'. Have you had your dinner?" + +"No, sir; it's just ready." + +"Better have it--better have it first. No hurry. What've you got +in the pot that smells so good?" + +"Bubble and squeak, sir." + +"Bubble and squeak! Ah!" And with those words the agent withdrew +to where, in a farm wagon drawn up by the side of the road, three +men were solemnly pulling at their pipes. He moved away from them +a little, for, as he expressed it to his wife afterward: "Look bad, +you know, look bad--anybody seeing me! Those three little children-- +that's where it is! If our friends at the Hall had to do these jobs +for themselves, there wouldn't be any to do!" + +Presently, from his discreet distance, he saw the mother-child +going down the road toward Tod's, in her blue 'pinny' and corn- +colored hair. Nice little thing! Pretty little thing, too! Pity, +great pity! And he went back to the cottage. On his way a thought +struck him so that he well-nigh shivered. Suppose the little thing +brought back that Mrs. Freeland, the lady who always went about in +blue, without a hat! Phew! Mr. Freeland--he was another sort; a +bit off, certainly--harmless, quite harmless! But that lady! And +he entered the cottage. The woman was washing up; seemed a +sensible body. When the two kids cleared off to school he could go +to work and get it over; the sooner the better, before people came +hanging round. A job of this kind sometimes made nasty blood! His +yellowish eyes took in the nature of the task before him. Funny +jam-up they did get about them, to be sure! Every blessed little +thing they'd ever bought, and more, too! Have to take precious +good care nothing got smashed, or the law would be on the other +leg! And he said to the woman: + +"Now, miss, can I begin?" + +"I can't stop you, sir." + +'No,' he thought, 'you can't stop me, and I blamed well wish you +could!' But he said: "Got an old wagon out here. Thought I'd save +him damage by weather or anything; we'll put everything in that, +and run it up into the empty barn at Marrow and leave it. And +there they'll be for him when he wants 'em." + +The woman answered: "You're very kind, I'm sure." + +Perceiving that she meant no irony, the agent produced a sound from +somewhere deep and went out to summon his men. + +With the best intentions, however, it is not possible, even in +villages so scattered that they cannot be said to exist, to do +anything without every one's knowing; and the work of 'putting out' +the household goods of the Tryst family, and placing them within +the wagon, was not an hour in progress before the road in front of +the cottage contained its knot of watchers. Old Gaunt first, +alone--for the rogue-girl had gone to Mr. Cuthcott's and Tom Gaunt +was at work. The old man had seen evictions in his time, and +looked on silently, with a faint, sardonic grin. Four children, so +small that not even school had any use for them as yet, soon +gathered round his legs, followed by mothers coming to retrieve +them, and there was no longer silence. Then came two laborers, on +their way to a job, a stone-breaker, and two more women. It was +through this little throng that the mother-child and Kirsteen +passed into the fast-being-gutted cottage. + +The agent was standing by Tryst's bed, keeping up a stream of +comment to two of his men, who were taking that aged bed to pieces. +It was his habit to feel less when he talked more; but no one could +have fallen into a more perfect taciturnity than he when he saw +Kirsteen coming up those narrow stairs. In so small a space as +this room, where his head nearly touched the ceiling, was it fair +to be confronted by that lady--he put it to his wife that same +evening--"Was it fair?" He had seen a mother wild duck look like +that when you took away its young--snaky fierce about the neck, and +its dark eye! He had seen a mare, going to bite, look not half so +vicious! "There she stood, and--let me have it?--not a bit! Too +much the lady for that, you know!--Just looked at me, and said very +quiet: 'Ah! Mr. Simmons, and are you really doing this?' and put +her hand on that little girl of his. 'Orders are orders, ma'am!' +What could I say? 'Ah!' she said, 'yes, orders are orders, but +they needn't be obeyed.' 'As to that, ma'am,' I said--mind you, +she's a lady; you can't help feeling that 'I'm a working man, the +same as Tryst here; got to earn my living.' 'So have slave- +drivers, Mr. Simmons.' 'Every profession,' I said, 'has got its +dirty jobs, ma'am. And that's a fact.' 'And will have,' she said, +'so long as professional men consent to do the dirty work of their +employers.' 'And where should I be, I should like to know,' I +said, 'if I went on that lay? I've got to take the rough with the +smooth.' 'Well,' she said, 'Mr. Freeland and I will take Tryst and +the little ones in at present.' Good-hearted people, do a lot for +the laborers, in their way. All the same, she's a bit of a vixen. +Picture of a woman, too, standin' there; shows blood, mind you! +Once said, all over--no nagging. She took the little girl off with +her. And pretty small I felt, knowing I'd got to finish that job, +and the folk outside gettin' nastier all the time--not sayin' much, +of course, but lookin' a lot!" The agent paused in his recital and +gazed fixedly at a bluebottle crawling up the windowpane. +Stretching out his thumb and finger, he nipped it suddenly and +threw it in the grate. "Blest if that fellow himself didn't turn +up just as I was finishing. I was sorry for the man, you know. +There was his home turned out-o'-doors. Big man, too! 'You +blanky-blank!' he says; 'if I'd been here you shouldn't ha' done +this!' Thought he was goin' to hit me. 'Come, Tryst!' I said, +'it's not my doing, you know!' 'Ah!' he said, 'I know that; and +it'll be blanky well the worse for THEM!' Rough tongue; no class +of man at all, he is! 'Yes,' he said, 'let 'em look out; I'll be +even with 'em yet!' 'None o' that!' I told him; 'you know which +side the law's buttered. I'm making it easy for you, too, keeping +your things in the wagon, ready to shift any time!' He gave me a +look--he's got very queer eyes, swimmin', sad sort of eyes, like a +man in liquor--and he said: 'I've been here twenty years,' he said. +'My wife died here.' And all of a sudden he went as dumb as a +fish. Never let his eyes off us, though, while we finished up the +last of it; made me feel funny, seein' him glowering like that all +the time. He'll savage something over this, you mark my words!" +Again the agent paused, and remained as though transfixed, holding +that face of his, whose yellow had run into the whites of the eyes, +as still as wood. "He's got some feeling for the place, I +suppose," he said suddenly; "or maybe they've put it into him about +his rights; there's plenty of 'em like that. Well, anyhow, nobody +likes his private affairs turned inside out for every one to gape +at. I wouldn't myself." And with that deeply felt remark the +agent put out his leathery-yellow thumb and finger and nipped a +second bluebottle. . . . + +While the agent was thus recounting to his wife the day's doings, +the evicted Tryst sat on the end of his bed in a ground-floor room +of Tod's cottage. He had taken off his heavy boots, and his feet, +in their thick, soiled socks, were thrust into a pair of Tod's +carpet slippers. He sat without moving, precisely as if some one +had struck him a blow in the centre of the forehead, and over and +over again he turned the heavy thought: 'They've turned me out o' +there--I done nothing, and they turned me out o' there! Blast +them--they turned me out o' there!' . . . + +In the orchard Tod sat with a grave and puzzled face, surrounded by +the three little Trysts. And at the wicket gate Kirsteen, awaiting +the arrival of Derek and Sheila--summoned home by telegram--stood +in the evening glow, her blue-clad figure still as that of any +worshipper at the muezzin-call. + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +"A fire, causing the destruction of several ricks and an empty +cowshed, occurred in the early morning of Thursday on the home farm +of Sir Gerald Malloring's estate in Worcestershire. Grave +suspicions of arson are entertained, but up to the present no +arrest has been made. The authorities are in doubt whether the +occurrence has any relation with recent similar outbreaks in the +eastern counties." + + +So Stanley read at breakfast, in his favorite paper; and the little +leader thereon: + + +"The outbreak of fire on Sir Gerald Malloring's Worcestershire +property may or may not have any significance as a symptom of +agrarian unrest. We shall watch the upshot with some anxiety. +Certain it is that unless the authorities are prepared to deal +sharply with arson, or other cases of deliberate damage to the +property of landlords, we may bid good-by to any hope of +ameliorating the lot of the laborer" + + +--and so on. + +If Stanley had risen and paced the room there would have been a +good deal to be said for him; for, though he did not know as much +as Felix of the nature and sentiments of Tod's children, he knew +enough to make any but an Englishman uneasy. The fact that he went +on eating ham, and said to Clara, "Half a cup!" was proof positive +of that mysterious quality called phlegm which had long enabled his +country to enjoy the peace of a weedy duck-pond. + +Stanley, a man of some intelligence--witness his grasp of the +secret of successful plough-making (none for the home market!)--had +often considered this important proposition of phlegm. People said +England was becoming degenerate and hysterical, growing soft, and +nervous, and towny, and all the rest of it. In his view there was +a good deal of bosh about that! "Look," he would say, "at the +weight that chauffeurs put on! Look at the House of Commons, and +the size of the upper classes!" If there were growing up little +shrill types of working men and Socialists, and new women, and +half-penny papers, and a rather larger crop of professors and long- +haired chaps--all the better for the rest of the country! The +flesh all these skimpy ones had lost, solid people had put on. The +country might be suffering a bit from officialism, and the tendency +of modern thought, but the breed was not changing. John Bull was +there all right under his moustache. Take it off and clap on +little side-whiskers, and you had as many Bulls as you liked, any +day. There would be no social upheaval so long as the climate was +what it was! And with this simple formula, and a kind of very +deep-down throaty chuckle, he would pass to a subject of more +immediate importance. There was something, indeed, rather masterly +in his grasp of the fact that rain might be trusted to put out any +fire--give it time. And he kept a special vessel in a special +corner which recorded for him faithfully the number of inches that +fell; and now and again he wrote to his paper to say that there +were more inches in his vessel than there had been "for thirty +years." His conviction that the country was in a bad way was +nothing but a skin affection, causing him local irritation rather +than affecting the deeper organs of his substantial body. + +He did not readily confide in Clara concerning his own family, +having in a marked degree the truly domestic quality of thinking it +superior to his wife's. She had been a Tomson, not one of THE +Tomsons, and it was quite a question whether he or she were trying +to forget that fact the faster. But he did say to her as he was +getting into the car: + +"It's just possible I might go round by Tod's on my way home. I +want a run." + +She answered: "Be careful what you say to that woman. I don't want +her here by any chance. The young ones were quite bad enough." + +And when he had put in his day at the works he did turn the nose of +his car toward Tod's. Travelling along grass-bordered roads, the +beauty of this England struck his not too sensitive spirit and made +him almost gasp. It was that moment of the year when the +countryside seems to faint from its own loveliness, from the +intoxication of its scents and sounds. Creamy-white may, splashed +here and there with crimson, flooded the hedges in breaking waves +of flower-foam; the fields were all buttercup glory; every tree had +its cuckoo, calling; every bush its blackbird or thrush in full +even-song. Swallows were flying rather low, and the sky, whose +moods they watch, had the slumberous, surcharged beauty of a long, +fine day, with showers not far away. Some orchards were still in +blossom, and the great wild bees, hunting over flowers and grasses +warm to their touch, kept the air deeply murmurous. Movement, +light, color, song, scent, the warm air, and the fluttering leaves +were confused, till one had almost become the other. + +And Stanley thought, for he was not rhapsodic 'Wonderful pretty +country! The way everything's looked after--you never see it +abroad!' + +But the car, a creature with little patience for natural beauty, +had brought him to the crossroads and stood, panting slightly, +under the cliff-bank whereon grew Tod's cottage, so loaded now with +lilac, wistaria, and roses that from the road nothing but a peak or +two of the thatched roof could be seen. + +Stanley was distinctly nervous. It was not a weakness his face and +figure were very capable of showing, but he felt that dryness of +mouth and quivering of chest which precede adventures of the soul. +Advancing up the steps and pebbled path, which Clara had trodden +once, just nineteen years ago, and he himself but three times as +yet in all, he cleared his throat and said to himself: 'Easy, old +man! What is it, after all? She won't bite!' And in the very +doorway he came upon her. + +What there was about this woman to produce in a man of common sense +such peculiar sensations, he no more knew after seeing her than +before. Felix, on returning from his visit, had said, "She's like +a Song of the Hebrides sung in the middle of a programme of English +ballads." The remark, as any literary man's might, had conveyed +nothing to Stanley, and that in a far-fetched way. Still, when she +said: "Will you come in?" he felt heavier and thicker than he had +ever remembered feeling; as a glass of stout might feel coming +across a glass of claret. It was, perhaps, the gaze of her eyes, +whose color he could not determine, under eyebrows that waved in +the middle and twitched faintly, or a dress that was blue, with the +queerest effect of another color at the back of it, or perhaps the +feeling of a torrent flowing there under a coat of ice, that might +give way in little holes, so that your leg went in but not the +whole of you. Something, anyway, made him feel both small and +heavy--that awkward combination for a man accustomed to associate +himself with cheerful but solid dignity. In seating himself by +request at a table, in what seemed to be a sort of kitchen, he +experienced a singular sensation in the legs, and heard her say, as +it might be to the air: + +"Biddy, dear, take Susie and Billy out." + +And thereupon a little girl with a sad and motherly face came +crawling out from underneath the table, and dropped him a little +courtesy. Then another still smaller girl came out, and a very +small boy, staring with all his eyes. + +All these things were against Stanley, and he felt that if he did +not make it quite clear that he was there he would soon not know +where he was. + +"I came," he said, "to talk about this business up at Malloring's." +And, encouraged by having begun, he added: "Whose kids were those?" + +A level voice with a faint lisp answered him: + +"They belong to a man called Tryst; he was turned out of his +cottage on Wednesday because his dead wife's sister was staying +with him, so we've taken them in. Did you notice the look on the +face of the eldest?" + +Stanley nodded. In truth, he had noticed something, though what he +could not have said. + +"At nine years old she has to do the housework and be a mother to +the other two, besides going to school. This is all because Lady +Malloring has conscientious scruples about marriage with a deceased +wife's sister." + +'Certainly'--thought Stanley--'that does sound a bit thick!' And +he asked: + +"Is the woman here, too?" + +"No, she's gone home for the present." + +He felt relief. + +"I suppose Malloring's point is," he said, "whether or not you're +to do what you like with your own property. For instance, if you +had let this cottage to some one you thought was harming the +neighborhood, wouldn't you terminate his tenancy?" + +She answered, still in that level voice: + +"Her action is cowardly, narrow, and tyrannical, and no amount of +sophistry will make me think differently." + +Stanley felt precisely as if one of his feet had gone through the +ice into water so cold that it seemed burning hot! Sophistry! In +a plain man like himself! He had always connected the word with +Felix. He looked at her, realizing suddenly that the association +of his brother's family with the outrage on Malloring's estate was +probably even nearer than he had feared. + +"Look here, Kirsteen!" he said, uttering the unlikely name with +resolution, for, after all, she was his sister-in-law: "Did this +fellow set fire to Malloring's ricks?" + +He was aware of a queer flash, a quiver, a something all over her +face, which passed at once back to its intent gravity. + +"We have no reason to suppose so. But tyranny produces revenge, as +you know." + +Stanley shrugged his shoulders. "It's not my business to go into +the rights and wrongs of what's been done. But, as a man of the +world and a relative, I do ask you to look after your youngsters +and see they don't get into a mess. They're an inflammable young +couple--young blood, you know!" + +Having made this speech, Stanley looked down, with a feeling that +it would give her more chance. + +"You are very kind," he heard her saying in that quiet, faintly +lisping voice; "but there are certain principles involved." + +And, suddenly, his curious fear of this woman took shape. +Principles! He had unconsciously been waiting for that word, than +which none was more like a red rag to him. + +"What principles can possibly be involved in going against the law?" + +"And where the law is unjust?" + +Stanley was startled, but he said: "Remember that your principles, +as you call them, may hurt other people besides yourself; Tod and +your children most of all. How is the law unjust, may I ask?" + +She had been sitting at the table opposite, but she got up now and +went to the hearth. For a woman of forty-two--as he supposed she +would be--she was extraordinarily lithe, and her eyes, fixed on him +from under those twitching, wavy brows, had a curious glow in their +darkness. The few silver threads in the mass of her over-fine +black hair seemed to give it extra vitality. The whole of her had +a sort of intensity that made him profoundly uncomfortable. And he +thought suddenly: 'Poor old Tod! Fancy having to go to bed with +that woman!' + +Without raising her voice, she began answering his question. + +"These poor people have no means of setting law in motion, no means +of choosing where and how they will live, no means of doing +anything except just what they are told; the Mallorings have the +means to set the law in motion, to choose where and how to live, +and to dictate to others. That is why the law is unjust. With +every independent pound a year, this equal law of yours--varies!" + +"Phew!" said Stanley. "That's a proposition!" + +"I give you a simple case. If I had chosen not to marry Tod but to +live with him in free love, we could have done it without +inconvenience. We have some independent income; we could have +afforded to disregard what people thought or did. We could have +bought (as we did buy) our piece of land and our cottage, out of +which we could not have been turned. Since we don't care for +society, it would have made absolutely no difference to our present +position. But Tryst, who does not even want to defy the law--what +happens to him? What happens to hundreds of laborers all over the +country who venture to differ in politics, religion, or morals from +those who own them?" + +'By George!' thought Stanley, 'it's true, in a way; I never looked +at it quite like that.' But the feeling that he had come to +persuade her to be reasonable, and the deeply rooted Englishry of +him, conspired to make him say: + +"That's all very well; but, you see, it's only a necessary incident +of property-holding. You can't interfere with plain rights." + +"You mean--an evil inherent in property-holding?" + +"If you like; I don't split words. The lesser of two evils. +What's your remedy? You don't want to abolish property; you've +confessed that property gives YOU your independence!" + +Again that curious quiver and flash! + +"Yes; but if people haven't decency enough to see for themselves +how the law favors their independence, they must be shown that it +doesn't pay to do to others as they would hate to be done by." + +"And you wouldn't try reasoning?" + +"They are not amenable to reason." + +Stanley took up his hat. + +"Well, I think some of us are. I see your point; but, you know, +violence never did any good; it isn't--isn't English." + +She did not answer. And, nonplussed thereby, he added lamely: "I +should have liked to have seen Tod and your youngsters. Remember +me to them. Clara sent her regards"; and, looking round the room +in a rather lost way, he held out his hand. + +He had an impression of something warm and dry put into it, with +even a little pressure. + +Back in the car, he said to his chauffeur, "Go home the other way, +Batter, past the church." + +The vision of that kitchen, with its brick floor, its black oak +beams, bright copper pans, the flowers on the window-sill, the +great, open hearth, and the figure of that woman in her blue dress +standing before it, with her foot poised on a log, clung to his +mind's eye with curious fidelity. And those three kids, popping +out like that--proof that the whole thing was not a rather bad +dream! 'Queer business!' he thought; 'bad business! That woman's +uncommonly all there, though. Lot in what she said, too. Where +the deuce should we all be if there were many like her!' And +suddenly he noticed, in a field to the right, a number of men +coming along the hedge toward the road--evidently laborers. What +were they doing? He stopped the car. There were fifteen or twenty +of them, and back in the field he could see a girl's red blouse, +where a little group of four still lingered. 'By George!' he +thought, 'those must be the young Tods going it!' And, curious to +see what it might mean, Stanley fixed his attention on the gate +through which the men were bound to come. First emerged a fellow +in corduroys tied below the knee, with long brown moustaches +decorating a face that, for all its haggardness, had a jovial look. +Next came a sturdy little red-faced, bow-legged man in shirt- +sleeves rolled up, walking alongside a big, dark fellow with a cap +pushed up on his head, who had evidently just made a joke. Then +came two old men, one of whom was limping, and three striplings. +Another big man came along next, in a little clearance, as it were, +between main groups. He walked heavily, and looked up lowering at +the car. The fellow's eyes were queer, and threatening, and sad-- +giving Stanley a feeling of discomfort. Then came a short, square +man with an impudent, loquacious face and a bit of swagger in his +walk. He, too, looked up at Stanley and made some remark which +caused two thin-faced fellows with him to grin sheepishly. A spare +old man, limping heavily, with a yellow face and drooping gray +moustaches, walked next, alongside a warped, bent fellow, with +yellowish hair all over his face, whose expression struck Stanley +as half-idiotic. Then two more striplings of seventeen or so, +whittling at bits of sticks; an active, clean-shorn chap with +drawn-in cheeks; and, last of all, a small man by himself, without +a cap on a round head covered with thin, light hair, moving at a +'dot-here, dot-there' walk, as though he had beasts to drive. + +Stanley noted that all--save the big man with the threatening, sad +eyes, the old, yellow-faced man with a limp, and the little man who +came out last, lost in his imaginary beasts--looked at the car +furtively as they went their ways. And Stanley thought: 'English +peasant! Poor devil! Who is he? What is he? Who'd miss him if +he did die out? What's the use of all this fuss about him? He's +done for! Glad I've nothing to do with him at Becket, anyway! +"Back to the land!" "Independent peasantry!" Not much! Shan't +say that to Clara, though; knock the bottom out of her week-ends!' +And to his chauffeur he muttered: + +"Get on, Batter!" + +So, through the peace of that country, all laid down in grass, +through the dignity and loveliness of trees and meadows, this May +evening, with the birds singing under a sky surcharged with warmth +and color, he sped home to dinner. + + +CHAPTER XX + + +But next morning, turning on his back as it came dawn, Stanley +thought, with the curious intensity which in those small hours so +soon becomes fear: 'By Jove! I don't trust that woman a yard! I +shall wire for Felix!' And the longer he lay on his back, the more +the conviction bored a hole in him. There was a kind of fever in +the air nowadays, that women seemed to catch, as children caught +the measles. What did it all mean? England used to be a place to +live in. One would have thought an old country like this would +have got through its infantile diseases! Hysteria! No one gave in +to that. Still, one must look out! Arson was about the limit! +And Stanley had a vision, suddenly, of his plough-works in flames. +Why not? The ploughs were not for the English market. Who knew +whether these laboring fellows mightn't take that as a grievance, +if trouble began to spread? This somewhat far-fetched notion, +having started to burrow, threw up a really horrid mole-hill on +Stanley. And it was only the habit, in the human mind, of saying +suddenly to fears: Stop! I'm tired of you! that sent him to sleep +about half past four. + +He did not, however, neglect to wire to Felix: + + +"If at all possible, come down again at once; awkward business at +Joyfields." + + +Nor, on the charitable pretext of employing two old fellows past +ordinary work, did he omit to treble his night-watchman. . . + +On Wednesday, the day of which he had seen the dawn rise, Felix had +already been startled, on returning from his constitutional, to +discover his niece and nephew in the act of departure. All the +explanation vouchsafed had been: "Awfully sorry, Uncle Felix; +Mother's wired for us." Save for the general uneasiness which +attended on all actions of that woman, Felix would have felt +relieved at their going. They had disturbed his life, slipped +between him and Nedda! So much so that he did not even expect her +to come and tell him why they had gone, nor feel inclined to ask +her. So little breaks the fine coherence of really tender ties! +The deeper the quality of affection, the more it 'starts and +puffs,' and from sheer sensitive feeling, each for the other, +spares attempt to get back into touch! + +His paper--though he did not apply to it the word 'favorite,' +having that proper literary feeling toward all newspapers, that +they took him in rather than he them--gave him on Friday morning +precisely the same news, of the rick-burning, as it gave to Stanley +at breakfast and to John on his way to the Home Office. To John, +less in the know, it merely brought a knitting of the brow and a +vague attempt to recollect the numbers of the Worcestershire +constabulary. To Felix it brought a feeling of sickness. Men +whose work in life demands that they shall daily whip their nerves, +run, as a rule, a little in advance of everything. And goodness +knows what he did not see at that moment. He said no word to +Nedda, but debated with himself and Flora what, if anything, was to +be done. Flora, whose sense of humor seldom deserted her, held the +more comfortable theory that there was nothing to be done as yet. +Soon enough to cry when milk was spilled! He did not agree, but, +unable to suggest a better course, followed her advice. On +Saturday, however, receiving Stanley's wire, he had much difficulty +in not saying to her, "I told you so!" The question that agitated +him now was whether or not to take Nedda with him. Flora said: +"Yes. The child will be the best restraining influence, if there +is really trouble brewing!" Some feeling fought against this in +Felix, but, suspecting it to be mere jealousy, he decided to take +her. And, to the girl's rather puzzled delight, they arrived at +Becket that day in time for dinner. It was not too reassuring to +find John there, too. Stanley had also wired to him. The matter +must indeed be serious! + +The usual week-end was in progress. Clara had made one of her +greatest efforts. A Bulgarian had providentially written a book in +which he showed, beyond doubt, that persons fed on brown bread, +potatoes, and margarine, gave the most satisfactory results of all. +It was a discovery of the first value as a topic for her dinner- +table--seeming to solve the whole vexed problem of the laborers +almost at one stroke. If they could only be got to feed themselves +on this perfect programme, what a saving of the situation! On +those three edibles, the Bulgarian said--and he had been well +translated--a family of five could be maintained at full efficiency +for a shilling per day. Why! that would leave nearly eight +shillings a week, in many cases more, for rent, firing, insurance, +the man's tobacco, and the children's boots. There would be no +more of that terrible pinching by the mothers, to feed the husband +and children properly, of which one heard so much; no more +lamentable deterioration in our stock! Brown bread, potatoes, +margarine--quite a great deal could be provided for seven +shillings! And what was more delicious than a well-baked potato +with margarine of good quality? The carbohydrates--or was it +hybocardrates--ah, yes! the kybohardrates--would be present in +really sufficient quantity! Little else was talked of all through +dinner at her end of the table. Above the flowers which Frances +Freeland always insisted on arranging--and very charmingly--when +she was there--over bare shoulders and white shirt-fronts, those +words bombed and rebombed. Brown bread, potatoes, margarine, +carbohydrates, calorific! They mingled with the creaming sizzle of +champagne, with the soft murmur of well-bred deglutition. White +bosoms heaved and eyebrows rose at them. And now and again some +Bigwig versed in science murmured the word 'Fats.' An agricultural +population fed to the point of efficiency without disturbance of +the existing state of things! Eureka! If only into the bargain +they could be induced to bake their own brown bread and cook their +potatoes well! Faces flushed, eyes brightened, and teeth shone. +It was the best, the most stimulating, dinner ever swallowed in +that room. Nor was it until each male guest had eaten, drunk, and +talked himself into torpor suitable to the company of his wife, +that the three brothers could sit in the smoking-room together, +undisturbed. + +When Stanley had described his interview with 'that woman,' his +glimpse of the red blouse, and the laborers' meeting, there was a +silence before John said: + +"It might be as well if Tod would send his two youngsters abroad +for a bit." + +Felix shook his head. + +"I don't think he would, and I don't think they'd go. But we might +try to get those two to see that anything the poor devils of +laborers do is bound to recoil on themselves, fourfold. I +suppose," he added, with sudden malice, "a laborers' rising would +have no chance?" + +Neither John nor Stanley winced. + +"Rising? Why should they rise?" + +"They did in '32." + +"In '32!" repeated John. "Agriculture had its importance then. +Now it has none. Besides, they've no cohesion, no power, like the +miners or railway men. Rising? No chance, no earthly! Weight of +metal's dead against it." + +Felix smiled. + +"Money and guns! Guns and money! Confess with me, brethren, that +we're glad of metal." + +John stared and Stanley drank off his whiskey and potash. Felix +really was a bit 'too thick' sometimes. Then Stanley said: + +"Wonder what Tod thinks of it all. Will you go over, Felix, and +advise that our young friends be more considerate to these poor +beggars?" + +Felix nodded. And with 'Good night, old man' all round, and no +shaking of the hands, the three brothers dispersed. + +But behind Felix, as he opened his bedroom door, a voice whispered: + +"Dad!" And there, in the doorway of the adjoining room, was Nedda +in her dressing-gown. + +"Do come in for a minute. I've been waiting up. You ARE late." + +Felix followed her into her room. The pleasure he would once have +had in this midnight conspiracy was superseded now, and he stood +blinking at her gravely. In that blue gown, with her dark hair +falling on its lace collar and her face so round and childish, she +seemed more than ever to have defrauded him. Hooking her arm in +his, she drew him to the window; and Felix thought: 'She just wants +to talk to me about Derek. Dog in the manger that I am! Here goes +to be decent!' So he said: + +"Well, my dear?" + +Nedda pressed his hand with a little coaxing squeeze. + +"Daddy, darling, I do love you!" + +And, though Felix knew that she had grasped what he was feeling, a +sort of warmth spread in him. She had begun counting his fingers +with one of her own, sitting close beside him. The warmth in Felix +deepened, but he thought: 'She must want a good deal out of me!' +Then she began: + +"Why did we come down again? I know there's something wrong! It's +hard not to know, when you're anxious." And she sighed. That +little sigh affected Felix. + +"I'd always rather know the truth, Dad. Aunt Clara said something +about a fire at the Mallorings'." + +Felix stole a look at her. Yes! There was a lot in this child of +his! Depth, warmth, and strength to hold to things. No use to +treat her as a child! And he answered: + +"My dear, there's really nothing beyond what you know--our young +man and Sheila are hotheads, and things over there are working up a +bit. We must try and smooth them down." + +"Dad, ought I to back him whatever he does?" + +What a question! The more so that one cannot answer superficially +the questions of those whom one loves. + +"Ah!" he said at last. "I don't know yet. Some things it's not +your duty to do; that's certain. It can't be right to do things +simply because he does them--THAT'S not real--however fond one is." + +"No; I feel that. Only, it's so hard to know what I do really +think--there's always such a lot trying to make one feel that only +what's nice and cosey is right!" + +And Felix thought: 'I've been brought up to believe that only +Russian girls care for truth. It seems I was wrong. The saints +forbid I should be a stumbling-block to my own daughter searching +for it! And yet--where's it all leading? Is this the same child +that told me only the other night she wanted to know everything? +She's a woman now! So much for love!' And he said: + +"Let's go forward quietly, without expecting too much of ourselves." + +"Yes, Dad; only I distrust myself so." + +"No one ever got near the truth who didn't." + +"Can we go over to Joyfields to-morrow? I don't think I could bear +a whole day of Bigwigs and eating, with this hanging--" + +"Poor Bigwigs! All right! We'll go. And now, bed; and think of +nothing!" + +Her whisper tickled his ear: + +"You are a darling to me, Dad!" + +He went out comforted. + +And for some time after she had forgotten everything he leaned out +of his window, smoking cigarettes, and trying to see the body and +soul of night. How quiet she was--night, with her mystery, bereft +of moon, in whose darkness seemed to vibrate still the song of the +cuckoos that had been calling so all day! And whisperings of +leaves communed with Felix. + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +What Tod thought of all this was, perhaps, as much of an enigma to +Tod as to his three brothers, and never more so than on that Sunday +morning when two police constables appeared at his door with a +warrant for the arrest of Tryst. After regarding them fixedly for +full thirty seconds, he said, "Wait!" and left them in the doorway. + +Kirsteen was washing breakfast things which had a leadless glaze, +and Tryst's three children, extremely tidy, stood motionless at the +edge of the little scullery, watching. + +When she had joined him in the kitchen Tod shut the door. + +"Two policemen," he said, "want Tryst. Are they to have him?" + +In the life together of these two there had, from the very start, +been a queer understanding as to who should decide what. It had +become by now so much a matter of instinct that combative +consultations, which bulk so large in married lives, had no place +in theirs. A frowning tremor passed over her face. + +"I suppose they must. Derek is out. Leave it to me, Tod, and take +the tinies into the orchard." + +Tod took the three little Trysts to the very spot where Derek and +Nedda had gazed over the darkening fields in exchanging that first +kiss, and, sitting on the stump of the apple-tree he had cut down, +he presented each of them with an apple. While they ate, he +stared. And his dog stared at him. How far there worked in Tod +the feelings of an ordinary man watching three small children whose +only parent the law was just taking into its charge it would be +rash to say, but his eyes were extremely blue and there was a frown +between them. + +"Well, Biddy?" he said at last. + +Biddy did not reply; the habit of being a mother had imposed on +her, together with the gravity of her little, pale, oval face, a +peculiar talent for silence. But the round-cheeked Susie said: + +"Billy can eat cores." + +After this statement, silence was broken only by munching, till Tod +remarked: + +"What makes things?" + +The children, having the instinct that he had not asked them, but +himself, came closer. He had in his hand a little beetle. + +"This beetle lives in rotten wood; nice chap, isn't he?" + +"We kill beetles; we're afraid of them." So Susie. + +They were now round Tod so close that Billy was standing on one of +his large feet, Susie leaning her elbows on one of his broad knees, +and Biddy's slender little body pressed against his huge arm. + +"No," said Tod; "beetles are nice chaps." + +"The birds eats them," remarked Billy. + +"This beetle," said Tod, "eats wood. It eats through trees and the +trees get rotten." + +Biddy spoke: + +"Then they don't give no more apples." Tod put the beetle down and +Billy got off his foot to tread on it. When he had done his best +the beetle emerged and vanished in the grass. Tod, who had offered +no remonstrance, stretched out his hand and replaced Billy on his +foot. + +"What about my treading on you, Billy?" he said. + +"Why?" + +"I'm big and you're little." + +On Billy's square face came a puzzled defiance. If he had not been +early taught his station he would evidently have found some +poignant retort. An intoxicated humblebee broke the silence by +buzzing into Biddy's fluffed-out, corn-gold hair. Tod took it off +with his hand. + +"Lovely chap, isn't he?" + +The children, who had recoiled, drew close again, while the drunken +bee crawled feebly in the cage of Tod's large hand. + +"Bees sting," said Biddy; "I fell on a bee and it stang me!" + +"You stang it first," said Tod. "This chap wouldn't sting--not for +worlds. Stroke it!" + +Biddy put out her little, pale finger but stayed it a couple of +inches from the bee. + +"Go on," said Tod. + +Opening her mouth a little, Biddy went on and touched the bee. + +"It's soft," she said. "Why don't it buzz?" + +"I want to stroke it, too," said Susie. And Billy stamped a little +on Tod's foot. + +"No," said Tod; "only Biddy." + +There was perfect silence till the dog, rising, approached its +nose, black with a splash of pinky whiteness on the end of the +bridge, as if to love the bee. + +"No," said Tod. The dog looked at him, and his yellow-brown eyes +were dark with anxiety. + +"It'll sting the dog's nose," said Biddy, and Susie and Billy came +yet closer. + +It was at this moment, when the heads of the dog, the bee, Tod, +Biddy, Susie, and Billy might have been contained within a noose +three feet in diameter, that Felix dismounted from Stanley's car +and, coming from the cottage, caught sight of that little idyll +under the dappled sunlight, green, and blossom. It was something +from the core of life, out of the heartbeat of things--like a rare +picture or song, the revelation of the childlike wonder and +delight, to which all other things are but the supernumerary +casings--a little pool of simplicity into which fever and yearning +sank and were for a moment drowned. And quite possibly he would +have gone away without disturbing them if the dog had not growled +and wagged his tail. + +But when the children had been sent down into the field he +experienced the usual difficulty in commencing a talk with Tod. +How far was his big brother within reach of mere unphilosophic +statements; how far was he going to attend to facts? + +"We came back yesterday," he began; "Nedda and I. You know all +about Derek and Nedda, I suppose?" + +Tod nodded. + +"What do you think of it?" + +"He's a good chap." + +"Yes," murmured Felix, "but a firebrand. This business at +Malloring's--what's it going to lead to, Tod? We must look out, +old man. Couldn't you send Derek and Sheila abroad for a bit?" + +"Wouldn't go." + +"But, after all, they're dependent on you." + +"Don't say that to them; I should never see them again." + +Felix, who felt the instinctive wisdom of that remark, answered +helplessly: + +"What's to be done, then?" + +"Sit tight." And Tod's hand came down on Felix's shoulder. + +"But suppose they get into real trouble? Stanley and John don't +like it; and there's Mother." And Felix added, with sudden heat, +"Besides, I can't stand Nedda being made anxious like this." + +Tod removed his hand. Felix would have given a good deal to have +been able to see into the brain behind the frowning stare of those +blue eyes. + +"Can't help by worrying. What must be, will. Look at the birds!" + +The remark from any other man would have irritated Felix +profoundly; coming from Tod, it seemed the unconscious expression +of a really felt philosophy. And, after all, was he not right? +What was this life they all lived but a ceaseless worrying over +what was to come? Was not all man's unhappiness caused by nervous +anticipations of the future? Was not that the disease, and the +misfortune, of the age; perhaps of all the countless ages man had +lived through? + +With an effort he recalled his thoughts from that far flight. What +if Tod had rediscovered the secret of the happiness that belonged +to birds and lilies of the field--such overpowering interest in the +moment that the future did not exist? Why not? Were not the only +minutes when he himself was really happy those when he lost himself +in work, or love? And why were they so few? For want of pressure +to the square moment. Yes! All unhappiness was fear and lack of +vitality to live the present fully. That was why love and fighting +were such poignant ecstasies--they lived their present to the full. +And so it would be almost comic to say to those young people: Go +away; do nothing in this matter in which your interest and your +feelings are concerned! Don't have a present, because you've got +to have a future! And he said: + +"I'd give a good deal for your power of losing yourself in the +moment, old boy!" + +"That's all right," said Tod. He was examining the bark of a tree, +which had nothing the matter with it, so far as Felix could see; +while his dog, who had followed them, carefully examined Tod. Both +were obviously lost in the moment. And with a feeling of defeat +Felix led the way back to the cottage. + +In the brick-floored kitchen Derek was striding up and down; while +around him, in an equilateral triangle, stood the three women, +Sheila at the window, Kirsteen by the open hearth, Nedda against +the wall opposite. Derek exclaimed at once: + +"Why did you let them, Father? Why didn't you refuse to give him +up?" + +Felix looked at his brother. In the doorway, where his curly head +nearly touched the wood, Tod's face was puzzled, rueful. He did +not answer. + +"Any one could have said he wasn't here. We could have smuggled +him away. Now the brutes have got him! I don't know that, though--" +And he made suddenly for the door. + +Tod did not budge. "No," he said. + +Derek turned; his mother was at the other door; at the window, the +two girls. + +The comedy of this scene, if there be comedy in the face of grief, +was for the moment lost on Felix. + +'It's come,' he thought. 'What now?' + +Derek had flung himself down at the table and was burying his head +in his hands. Sheila went up to him. + +"Don't be a fool, Derek." + +However right and natural that remark, it seemed inadequate. + +And Felix looked at Nedda. The blue motor scarf she had worn had +slipped off her dark head; her face was white; her eyes, fixed +immovably on Derek, seemed waiting for him to recognize that she +was there. The boy broke out again: + +"It was treachery! We took him in; and now we've given him up. +They wouldn't have touched US if we'd got him away. Not they!" + +Felix literally heard the breathing of Tod on one side of him and +of Kirsteen on the other. He crossed over and stood opposite his +nephew. + +"Look here, Derek," he said; "your mother was quite right. You +might have put this off for a day or two; but it was bound to come. +You don't know the reach of the law. Come, my dear fellow! It's +no good making a fuss, that's childish--the thing is to see that +the man gets every chance." + +Derek looked up. Probably he had not yet realized that his uncle +was in the room; and Felix was astonished at his really haggard +face; as if the incident had bitten and twisted some vital in his +body. + +"He trusted us." + +Felix saw Kirsteen quiver and flinch, and understood why they had +none of them felt quite able to turn their backs on that display of +passion. Something deep and unreasoning was on the boy's side; +something that would not fit with common sense and the habits of +civilized society; something from an Arab's tent or a Highland +glen. Then Tod came up behind and put his hands on his son's +shoulders. + +"Come!" he said; "milk's spilt." + +"All right!" said Derek gruffly, and he went to the door. + +Felix made Nedda a sign and she slipped out after him. + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +Nedda, her blue head-gear trailing, followed along at the boy's +side while he passed through the orchard and two fields; and when +he threw himself down under an ash-tree she, too, subsided, waiting +for him to notice her. + +"I am here," she said at last. + +At that ironic little speech Derek sat up. + +"It'll kill him," he said. + +"But--to burn things, Derek! To light horrible cruel flames, and +burn things, even if they aren't alive!" + +Derek said through his teeth: + +"It's I who did it! If I'd never talked to him he'd have been like +the others. They were taking him in a cart, like a calf." + +Nedda got possession of his hand and held it tight. + +That was a bitter and frightening hour under the faintly rustling +ash-tree, while the wind sprinkled over her flakes of the may +blossom, just past its prime. Love seemed now so little a thing, +seemed to have lost warmth and power, seemed like a suppliant +outside a door. Why did trouble come like this the moment one felt +deeply? + +The church bell was tolling; they could see the little congregation +pass across the churchyard into that weekly dream they knew too +well. And presently the drone emerged, mingling with the voices +outside, of sighing trees and trickling water, of the rub of wings, +birds' songs, and the callings of beasts everywhere beneath the sky. + +In spite of suffering because love was not the first emotion in his +heart, the girl could only feel he was right not to be loving her; +that she ought to be glad of what was eating up all else within +him. It was ungenerous, unworthy, to want to be loved at such a +moment. Yet she could not help it! This was her first experience +of the eternal tug between self and the loved one pulled in the +hearts of lovers. Would she ever come to feel happy when he was +just doing what he thought was right? And she drew a little away +from him; then perceived that unwittingly she had done the right +thing, for he at once tried to take her hand again. And this was +her first lesson, too, in the nature of man. If she did not give +her hand, he wanted it! But she was not one of those who calculate +in love; so she gave him her hand at once. That went to his heart; +and he put his arm round her, till he could feel the emotion under +those stays that would not be drawn any closer. In this nest +beneath the ash-tree they sat till they heard the organ wheeze and +the furious sound of the last hymn, and saw the brisk coming-forth +with its air of, 'Thank God! And now, to eat!' till at last there +was no stir again about the little church--no stir at all save that +of nature's ceaseless thanksgiving. . . . + +Tod, his brown face still rueful, had followed those two out into +the air, and Sheila had gone quickly after him. Thus left alone +with his sister-in-law, Felix said gravely: + +"If you don't want the boy to get into real trouble, do all you can +to show him that the last way in the world to help these poor +fellows is to let them fall foul of the law. It's madness to light +flames you can't put out. What happened this morning? Did the man +resist?" + +Her face still showed how bitter had been her mortification, and he +was astonished that she kept her voice so level and emotionless. + +"No. He went with them quite quietly. The back door was open; he +could have walked out. I did not advise him to. I'm glad no one +saw his face except myself. You see," she added, "he's devoted to +Derek, and Derek knows it; that's why he feels it so, and will feel +it more and more. The boy has a great sense of honour, Felix." + +Under that tranquillity Felix caught the pain and yearning in her +voice. Yes! This woman really felt and saw. She was not one of +those who make disturbance with their brains and powers of +criticism; rebellion leaped out from the heat in her heart. But he +said: + +"Is it right to fan this flame? Do you think any good end is being +served?" Waiting for her answer, he found himself gazing at the +ghost of dark down on her upper lip, wondering that he had never +noticed it before. + +Very low, as if to herself, she said: + +"I would kill myself to-day if I didn't believe that tyranny and +injustice must end." + +"In our time?" + +"Perhaps not." + +"Are you content to go on working for an Utopia that you will never +see?" + +"While our laborers are treated and housed more like dogs than +human beings, while the best life under the sun--because life on +the soil might be the best life--is despised and starved, and made +the plaything of people's tongues, neither I nor mine are going to +rest." + +The admiration she inspired in Felix at that moment was mingled +with a kind of pity. He said impressively: + +"Do you know the forces you are up against? Have you looked into +the unfathomable heart of this trouble? Understood the tug of the +towns, the call of money to money; grasped the destructive +restlessness of modern life; the abysmal selfishness of people when +you threaten their interests; the age-long apathy of those you want +to help? Have you grasped all these?" + +"And more!" + +Felix held out his hand. "Then," he said, "you are truly brave!" + +She shook her head. + +"It got bitten into me very young. I was brought up in the +Highlands among the crofters in their worst days. In some ways the +people here are not so badly off, but they're still slaves." + +"Except that they can go to Canada if they want, and save old +England." + +She flushed. "I hate irony." + +Felix looked at her with ever-increasing interest; she certainly +was of the kind that could be relied on to make trouble. + +"Ah!" he murmured. "Don't forget that when we can no longer smile +we can only swell and burst. It IS some consolation to reflect +that by the time we've determined to do something really effectual +for the ploughmen of England there'll be no ploughmen left!" + +"I cannot smile at that." + +And, studying her face, Felix thought, 'You're right there! You'll +get no help from humor.' . . . + +Early that afternoon, with Nedda between them, Felix and his nephew +were speeding toward Transham. + +The little town--a hamlet when Edmund Moreton dropped the E from +his name and put up the works which Stanley had so much enlarged-- +had monopolized by now the hill on which it stood. Living entirely +on its ploughs, it yet had but little of the true look of a British +factory town, having been for the most part built since ideas came +into fashion. With its red roofs and chimneys, it was only +moderately ugly, and here and there an old white, timbered house +still testified to the fact that it had once been country. On this +fine Sunday afternoon the population were in the streets, and +presented all that long narrow-headedness, that twist and +distortion of feature, that perfect absence of beauty in face, +figure, and dress, which is the glory of the Briton who has been +for three generations in a town. 'And my great-grandfather'-- +thought Felix--'did all this! God rest his soul!' + +At a rather new church on the very top they halted, and went in to +inspect the Morton memorials. There they were, in dedicated +corners. 'Edmund and his wife Catherine'--'Charles Edmund and his +wife Florence'--'Maurice Edmund and his wife Dorothy.' Clara had +set her foot down against 'Stanley and his wife Clara' being in the +fourth; her soul was above ploughs, and she, of course, intended to +be buried at Becket, as Clara, dowager Lady Freeland, for her +efforts in regard to the land. Felix, who had a tendency to note +how things affected other people, watched Derek's inspection of +these memorials and marked that they excited in him no tendency to +ribaldry. The boy, indeed, could hardly be expected to see in them +what Felix saw--an epitome of the great, perhaps fatal, change that +had befallen his native country; a record of the beginning of that +far-back fever, whose course ran ever faster, which had emptied +country into town and slowly, surely, changed the whole spirit of +life. When Edmund Moreton, about 1780, took the infection +disseminated by the development of machinery, and left the farming +of his acres to make money, that thing was done which they were all +now talking about trying to undo, with their cries of: "Back to the +land! Back to peace and sanity in the shade of the elms! Back to +the simple and patriarchal state of feeling which old documents +disclose. Back to a time before these little squashed heads and +bodies and features jutted every which way; before there were long +squashed streets of gray houses; long squashed chimneys emitting +smoke-blight; long squashed rows of graves; and long squashed +columns of the daily papers. Back to well-fed countrymen who could +not read, with Common rights, and a kindly feeling for old +'Moretons,' who had a kindly feeling for them!" Back to all that? +A dream! Sirs! A dream! There was nothing for it now, but-- +progress! Progress! On with the dance! Let engines rip, and the +little, squash-headed fellows with them! Commerce, literature, +religion, science, politics, all taking a hand; what a glorious +chance had money, ugliness, and ill will! Such were the +reflections of Felix before the brass tablet: + + + "IN LOVING MEMORY OF + EDMUND MORTON + AND + HIS DEVOTED WIFE + CATHERINE. + + AT REST IN THE LORD. A.D., 1816." + + +From the church they went about their proper business, to interview +a Mr. Pogram, of the firm of Pogram & Collet, solicitors, in whose +hands the interests of many citizens of Transham and the country +round were almost securely deposited. He occupied, curiously +enough, the house where Edmund Morton himself had lived, conducting +his works on the one hand and the squirearchy of the parish on the +other. Incorporated now into the line of a long, loose street, it +still stood rather apart from its neighbors, behind some large +shrubs and trees of the holmoak variety. + +Mr. Pogram, who was finishing his Sunday after-lunch cigar, was a +short, clean-shaved man with strong cheeks and those rather lustful +gray-blue eyes which accompany a sturdy figure. He rose when they +were introduced, and, uncrossing his fat little thighs, asked what +he could do for them. + +Felix propounded the story of the arrest, so far as might be, in +words of one syllable, avoiding the sentimental aspect of the +question, and finding it hard to be on the side of disorder, as any +modern writer might. There was something, however, about Mr. +Pogram that reassured him. The small fellow looked a fighter-- +looked as if he would sympathize with Tryst's want of a woman about +him. The tusky but soft-hearted little brute kept nodding his +round, sparsely covered head while he listened, exuding a smell of +lavender-water, cigars, and gutta-percha. When Felix ceased he +said, rather dryly: + +"Sir Gerald Malloring? Yes. Sir Gerald's country agents, I rather +think, are Messrs. Porter of Worcester. Quite so." + +And a conviction that Mr. Pogram thought they should have been +Messrs. Pogram & Collet of Transham confirmed in Felix the feeling +that they had come to the right man. + +"I gather," Mr. Pogram said, and he looked at Nedda with a glance +from which he obviously tried to remove all earthly desires, "that +you, sir, and your nephew wish to go and see the man. Mrs. Pogram +will be delighted to show Miss Freeland our garden. Your great- +grandfather, sir, on the mother's side, lived in this house. +Delighted to meet you; often heard of your books; Mrs. Pogram has +read one--let me see--'The Bannister,' was it?" + +"'The Balustrade,'" Felix answered gently. + +Mr. Pogram rang the bell. "Quite so," he said. "Assizes are just +over so that he can't come up for trial till August or September; +pity--great pity! Bail in cases of arson--for a laborer, very +doubtful! Ask your mistress to come, please." + +There entered a faded rose of a woman on whom Mr. Pogram in his +time had evidently made a great impression. A vista of two or +three little Pograms behind her was hastily removed by the maid. +And they all went into the garden. + +"Through here," said Mr. Pogram, coming to a side door in the +garden wall, "we can make a short cut to the police station. As we +go along I shall ask you one or two blunt questions." And he +thrust out his under lip: + +"For instance, what's your interest in this matter?" + +Before Felix could answer, Derek had broken in: + +"My uncle has come out of kindness. It's my affair, sir. The man +has been tyrannously treated." + +Mr. Pogram cocked his eye. "Yes, yes; no doubt, no doubt! He's +not confessed, I understand?" + +"No; but--" + +Mr. Pogram laid a finger on his lips. + +"Never say die; that's what we're here for. So," he went on, +"you're a rebel; Socialist, perhaps. Dear me! Well, we're all of +us something, nowadays--I'm a humanitarian myself. Often say to +Mrs. Pogram--humanity's the thing in this age--and so it is! Well, +now, what line shall we take?" And he rubbed his hands. "Shall we +have a try at once to upset what evidence they've got? We should +want a strong alibi. Our friends here will commit if they can-- +nobody likes arson. I understand he was sleeping in your cottage. +His room, now? Was it on the ground floor?" + +"Yes; but--" + +Mr. Pogram frowned, as who should say: Ah! Be careful! "He had +better reserve his defence and give us time to turn round," he said +rather shortly. + +They had arrived at the police station and after a little parley +were ushered into the presence of Tryst. + +The big laborer was sitting on the stool in his cell, leaning back +against the wall, his hands loose and open at his sides. His gaze +passed at once from Felix and Mr. Pogram, who were in advance, to +Derek; and the dumb soul seemed suddenly to look through, as one +may see all there is of spirit in a dog reach out to its master. +This was the first time Felix had seen him who had caused already +so much anxiety, and that broad, almost brutal face, with the +yearning fidelity in its tragic eyes, made a powerful impression on +him. It was the sort of face one did not forget and might be glad +of not remembering in dreams. What had put this yearning spirit +into so gross a frame, destroying its solid coherence? Why could +not Tryst have been left by nature just a beer-loving serf, devoid +of grief for his dead wife, devoid of longing for the nearest he +could get to her again, devoid of susceptibility to this young +man's influence? And the thought of all that was before the mute +creature, sitting there in heavy, hopeless patience, stung Felix's +heart so that he could hardly bear to look him in the face. + +Derek had taken the man's thick, brown hand; Felix could see with +what effort the boy was biting back his feelings. + +"This is Mr. Pogram, Bob. A solicitor who'll do all he can for +you." + +Felix looked at Mr. Pogram. The little man was standing with arms +akimbo; his face the queerest mixture of shrewdness and compassion, +and he was giving off an almost needlessly strong scent of gutta- +percha. + +"Yes, my man," he said, "you and I are going to have a talk when +these gentlemen have done with you," and, turning on his heel, he +began to touch up the points of his little pink nails with a +penknife, in front of the constable who stood outside the cell +door, with his professional air of giving a man a chance. + +Invaded by a feeling, apt to come to him in Zoos, that he was +watching a creature who had no chance to escape being watched, +Felix also turned; but, though his eyes saw not, his ears could not +help hearing. + +"Forgive me, Bob! It's I who got you into this!" + +"No, sir; naught to forgive. I'll soon be back, and then they'll +see!" + +By the reddening of Mr. Pogram's ears Felix formed the opinion that +the little man, also, could hear. + +"Tell her not to fret, Mr. Derek. I'd like a shirt, in case I've +got to stop. The children needn' know where I be; though I an't +ashamed." + +"It may be a longer job than you think, Bob." + +In the silence that followed Felix could not help turning. The +laborer's eyes were moving quickly round his cell, as if for the +first time he realized that he was shut up; suddenly he brought +those big hands of his together and clasped them between his knees, +and again his gaze ran round the cell. Felix heard the clearing of +a throat close by, and, more than ever conscious of the scent of +gutta-percha, grasped its connection with compassion in the heart +of Mr. Pogram. He caught Derek's muttered, "Don't ever think we're +forgetting you, Bob," and something that sounded like, "And don't +ever say you did it." Then, passing Felix and the little lawyer, +the boy went out. His head was held high, but tears were running +down his cheeks. Felix followed. + +A bank of clouds, gray-white, was rising just above the red-tiled +roofs, but the sun still shone brightly. And the thought of the +big laborer sitting there knocked and knocked at Felix's heart +mournfully, miserably. He had a warmer feeling for his young +nephew than he had ever had. Mr. Pogram rejoined them soon, and +they walked on together, + +"Well?" said Felix. + +Mr. Pogram answered in a somewhat grumpy voice: + +"Not guilty, and reserve defence. You have influence, young man! +Dumb as a waiter. Poor devil!" And not another word did he say +till they had re-entered his garden. + +Here the ladies, surrounded by many little Pograms, were having +tea. And seated next the little lawyer, whose eyes were fixed on +Nedda, Felix was able to appreciate that in happier mood he exhaled +almost exclusively the scent of lavender-water and cigars. + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +On their way back to Becket, after the visit to Tryst, Felix and +Nedda dropped Derek half-way on the road to Joyfields. They found +that the Becket household already knew of the arrest. Woven into a +dirge on the subject of 'the Land,' the last town doings, and +adventures on golf courses, it formed the genial topic of the +dinner-table; for the Bulgarian with his carbohydrates was already +a wonder of the past. The Bigwigs of this week-end were quite a +different lot from those of three weeks ago, and comparatively +homogeneous, having only three different plans for settling the +land question, none of which, fortunately, involved any more real +disturbance of the existing state of things than the potato, brown- +bread plan, for all were based on the belief held by the +respectable press, and constructive portions of the community, that +omelette can be made without breaking eggs. On one thing alone, +the whole house party was agreed--the importance of the question. +Indeed, a sincere conviction on this point was like the card one +produces before one is admitted to certain functions. No one came +to Becket without it; or, if he did, he begged, borrowed, or stole +it the moment he smelled Clara's special pot-pourri in the hall; +and, though he sometimes threw it out of the railway-carriage +window in returning to town, there was nothing remarkable about +that. The conversational debauch of the first night's dinner--and, +alas! there were only two even at Becket during a week-end--had +undoubtedly revealed the feeling, which had set in of late, that +there was nothing really wrong with the condition of the +agricultural laborer, the only trouble being that the unreasonable +fellow did not stay on the land. It was believed that Henry +Wiltram, in conjunction with Colonel Martlett, was on the point of +promoting a policy for imposing penalties on those who attempted to +leave it without good reason, such reason to be left to the +discretion of impartial district boards, composed each of one +laborer, one farmer, and one landowner, decision going by favor of +majority. And though opinion was rather freely expressed that, +since the voting would always be two to one against, this might +trench on the liberty of the subject, many thought that the +interests of the country were so much above this consideration that +something of the sort would be found, after all, to be the best +arrangement. The cruder early notions of resettling the land by +fostering peasant proprietorship, with habitable houses and +security of tenure, were already under a cloud, since it was more +than suspected that they would interfere unduly with the game laws +and other soundly vested interests. Mere penalization of those who +(or whose fathers before them) had at great pains planted so much +covert, enclosed so much common, and laid so much country down in +grass was hardly a policy for statesmen. A section of the guests, +and that perhaps strongest because most silent, distinctly favored +this new departure of Henry Wiltram's. Coupled with his swinging +corn tax, it was indubitably a stout platform. + +A second section of the guests spoke openly in favor of Lord +Settleham's policy of good-will. The whole thing, they thought, +must be voluntary, and they did not see any reason why, if it were +left to the kindness and good intentions of the landowner, there +should be any land question at all. Boards would be formed in +every county on which such model landowners as Sir Gerald +Malloring, or Lord Settleham himself, would sit, to apply the +principles of goodwill. Against this policy the only criticism was +levelled by Felix. He could have agreed, he said, if he had not +noticed that Lord Settleham, and nearly all landowners, were +thoroughly satisfied with their existing good-will and averse to +any changes in their education that might foster an increase of it. +If--he asked--landowners were so full of good-will, and so +satisfied that they could not be improved in that matter, why had +they not already done what was now proposed, and settled the land +question? He himself believed that the land question, like any +other, was only capable of settlement through improvement in the +spirit of all concerned, but he found it a little difficult to +credit Lord Settleham and the rest of the landowners with sincerity +in the matter so long as they were unconscious of any need for +their own improvement. According to him, they wanted it both ways, +and, so far as he could see, they meant to have it! + +His use of the word sincere, in connection with Lord Settleham, was +at once pounced on. He could not know Lord Settleham--one of the +most sincere of men. Felix freely admitted that he did not, and +hastened to explain that he did not question the--er--parliamentary +sincerity of Lord Settleham and his followers. He only ventured to +doubt whether they realized the hold that human nature had on them. +His experience, he said, of the houses where they had been bred, +and the seminaries where they had been trained, had convinced him +that there was still a conspiracy on foot to blind Lord Settleham +and those others concerning all this; and, since they were +themselves part of the conspiracy, there was very little danger of +their unmasking it. At this juncture Felix was felt to have +exceeded the limit of fair criticism, and only that toleration +toward literary men of a certain reputation, in country houses, as +persons brought there to say clever and irresponsible things, +prevented people from taking him seriously. + +The third section of the guests, unquestionably more static than +the others, confined themselves to pointing out that, though the +land question was undoubtedly serious, nothing whatever would +result from placing any further impositions upon landowners. For, +after all, what was land? Simply capital invested in a certain +way, and very poorly at that. And what was capital? Simply a +means of causing wages to be paid. And whether they were paid to +men who looked after birds and dogs, loaded your guns, beat your +coverts, or drove you to the shoot, or paid to men who ploughed and +fertilized the land, what did it matter? To dictate to a man to +whom he was to pay wages was, in the last degree, un-English. +Everybody knew the fate which had come, or was coming, upon +capital. It was being driven out of the country by leaps and +bounds--though, to be sure, it still perversely persisted in +yielding every year a larger revenue by way of income tax. And it +would be dastardly to take advantage of land just because it was +the only sort of capital which could not fly the country in times +of need. Stanley himself, though--as became a host--he spoke +little and argued not at all, was distinctly of this faction; and +Clara sometimes felt uneasy lest her efforts to focus at Becket all +interest in the land question should not quite succeed in +outweighing the passivity of her husband's attitude. But, knowing +that it is bad policy to raise the whip too soon, she trusted to +her genius to bring him 'with one run at the finish,' as they say, +and was content to wait. + +There was universal sympathy with the Mallorings. If a model +landlord like Malloring had trouble with his people, who--who +should be immune? Arson! It was the last word! Felix, who +secretly shared Nedda's horror of the insensate cruelty of flames, +listened, nevertheless, to the jubilation that they had caught the +fellow, with profound disturbance. For the memory of the big +laborer seated against the wall, his eyes haunting round his cell, +quarrelled fiercely with his natural abhorrence of any kind of +violence, and his equally natural dislike of what brought anxiety +into his own life--and the life, almost as precious, of his little +daughter. Scarcely a word of the evening's conversation but gave +him in high degree the feeling: How glib all this is, how far from +reality! How fatted up with shell after shell of comfort and +security! What do these people know, what do they realize, of the +pressure and beat of raw life that lies behind--what do even I, who +have seen this prisoner, know? For us it's as simple as killing a +rat that eats our corn, or a flea that sucks our blood. Arson! +Destructive brute--lock him up! And something in Felix said: For +order, for security, this may be necessary. But something also +said: Our smug attitude is odious! + +He watched his little daughter closely, and several times marked +the color rush up in her face, and once could have sworn he saw +tears in her eyes. If the temper of this talk were trying to him, +hardened at a hundred dinner-tables, what must it be to a young and +ardent creature! And he was relieved to find, on getting to the +drawing-room, that she had slipped behind the piano and was +chatting quietly with her Uncle John. . . . + +As to whether this or that man liked her, Nedda perhaps was not +more ignorant than other women; and she had noted a certain warmth +and twinkle in Uncle John's eyes the other evening, a certain +rather jolly tendency to look at her when he should have been +looking at the person to whom he was talking; so that she felt +toward him a trustful kindliness not altogether unmingled with a +sense that he was in that Office which controls the destinies of +those who 'get into trouble.' The motives even of statesmen, they +say, are mixed; how much more so, then, of girls in love! Tucked +away behind a Steinway, which instinct told her was not for use, +she looked up under her lashes at her uncle's still military figure +and said softly: + +"It was awfully good of you to come, too, Uncle John." + +And John, gazing down at that round, dark head, and those slim, +pretty, white shoulders, answered: + +"Not at all--very glad to get a breath of fresh air." + +And he stealthily tightened his white waistcoat--a rite neglected +of late; the garment seemed to him at the moment unnecessarily +loose. + +"You have so much experience, Uncle. Do you think violent +rebellion is ever justifiable?" + +"I do not." + +Nedda sighed. "I'm glad you think that," she murmured, "because I +don't think it is, either. I do so want you to like Derek, Uncle +John, because--it's a secret from nearly every one--he and I are +engaged." + +John jerked his head up a little, as though he had received a +slight blow. The news was not palatable. He kept his form, +however, and answered: + +"Oh! Really! Ah!" + +Nedda said still more softly: "Please don't judge him by the other +night; he wasn't very nice then, I know." + +John cleared his throat. + +Instinct warned her that he agreed, and she said rather sadly: + +"You see, we're both awfully young. It must be splendid to have +experience." + +Over John's face, with its double line between the brows, its +double line in the thin cheeks, its single firm line of mouth +beneath a gray moustache, there passed a little grimace. + +"As to being young," he said, "that'll change for the--er--better +only too fast." + +What was it in this girl that reminded him of that one with whom he +had lived but two years, and mourned fifteen? Was it her youth? +Was it that quick way of lifting her eyes, and looking at him with +such clear directness? Or the way her hair grew? Or what? + +"Do you like the people here, Uncle John?" + +The question caught John, as it were, between wind and water. +Indeed, all her queries seemed to be trying to incite him to those +wide efforts of mind which bring into use the philosophic nerve; +and it was long since he had generalized afresh about either things +or people, having fallen for many years past into the habit of +reaching his opinions down out of some pigeonhole or other. To +generalize was a youthful practice that one took off as one takes +certain garments off babies when they come to years of discretion. +But since he seemed to be in for it, he answered rather shortly: +"Not at all." + +Nedda sighed again. + +"Nor do I. They make me ashamed of myself." + +John, whose dislike of the Bigwigs was that of the dogged worker of +this life for the dogged talkers, wrinkled his brows: + +"How's that?" + +"They make me feel as if I were part of something heavy sitting on +something else, and all the time talking about how to make things +lighter for the thing it's sitting on." + +A vague recollection of somebody--some writer, a dangerous one-- +having said something of this sort flitted through John. + +"Do YOU think England is done for, Uncle--I mean about 'the Land'?" + +In spite of his conviction that 'the country was in a bad way,' +John was deeply, intimately shocked by that simple little question. +Done for! Never! Whatever might be happening underneath, there +must be no confession of that. No! the country would keep its +form. The country would breathe through its nose, even if it did +lose the race. It must never know, or let others know, even if it +were beaten. And he said: + +"What on earth put that into your head?" + +"Only that it seems funny, if we're getting richer and richer, and +yet all the time farther and farther away from the life that every +one agrees is the best for health and happiness. Father put it +into my head, making me look at the little, towny people in +Transham this afternoon. I know I mean to begin at once to learn +about farm work." + +"You?" This pretty young thing with the dark head and the pale, +slim shoulders! Farm work! Women were certainly getting queer. +In his department he had almost daily evidence of that! + +"I should have thought art was more in your line!" + +Nedda looked up at him; and he was touched by that look, so +straight and young. + +"It's this. I don't believe Derek will be able to stay in England. +When you feel very strongly about things it must be awfully +difficult to." + +In bewilderment John answered: + +"Why! I should have said this was the country of all others for +movements, and social work, and--and--cranks--" he paused. + +"Yes; but those are all for curing the skin, and I suppose we're +really dying of heart disease, aren't we? Derek feels that, +anyway, and, you see, he's not a bit wise, not even patient--so I +expect he'll have to go. I mean to be ready, anyway." + +And Nedda got up. "Only, if he does something rash, don't let them +hurt him, Uncle John, if you can help it." + +John felt her soft fingers squeezing his almost desperately, as if +her emotions had for the moment got out of hand. And he was moved, +though he knew that the squeeze expressed feeling for his nephew, +not for himself. When she slid away out of the big room all +friendliness seemed to go out with her, and very soon after he +himself slipped away to the smoking-room. There he was alone, and, +lighting a cigar, because he still had on his long-tailed coat +which did not go with that pipe he would so much have preferred, he +stepped out of the French window into the warm, dark night. He +walked slowly in his evening pumps up a thin path between +columbines and peonies, late tulips, forget-me-nots, and pansies +peering up in the dark with queer, monkey faces. He had a love for +flowers, rather starved for a long time past, and, strangely, liked +to see them, not in the set and orderly masses that should +seemingly have gone with his character, but in wilder beds, where +one never knew what flower was coming next. Once or twice he +stopped and bent down, ascertaining which kind it was, living its +little life down there, then passed on in that mood of stammering +thought which besets men of middle age who walk at night--a mood +caught between memory of aspirations spun and over, and vision of +aspirations that refuse to take shape. Why should they, any more-- +what was the use? And turning down another path he came on +something rather taller than himself, that glowed in the darkness +as though a great moon, or some white round body, had floated to +within a few feet of the earth. Approaching, he saw it for what it +was--a little magnolia-tree in the full of its white blossoms. +Those clustering flower-stars, printed before him on the dark coat +of the night, produced in John more feeling than should have been +caused by a mere magnolia-tree; and he smoked somewhat furiously. +Beauty, seeking whom it should upset, seemed, like a girl, to +stretch out arms and say: "I am here!" And with a pang at heart, +and a long ash on his cigar, between lips that quivered oddly, John +turned on his heel and retraced his footsteps to the smoking-room. +It was still deserted. Taking up a Review, he opened it at an +article on 'the Land,' and, fixing his eyes on the first page, did +not read it, but thought: 'That child! What folly! Engaged! H'm! +To that young--! Why, they're babes! And what is it about her +that reminds me--reminds me-- What is it? Lucky devil, Felix--to +have her for daughter! Engaged! The little thing's got her +troubles before her. Wish I had! By George, yes--wish I had!' +And with careful fingers he brushed off the ash that had fallen on +his lapel. . . . + +The little thing who had her troubles before her, sitting in her +bedroom window, had watched his white front and the glowing point +of his cigar passing down there in the dark, and, though she did +not know that they belonged to him, had thought: 'There's some one +nice, anyway, who likes being out instead of in that stuffy +drawing-room, playing bridge, and talking, talking.' Then she felt +ashamed of her uncharitableness. After all, it was wrong to think +of them like that. They did it for rest after all their hard work; +and she--she did not work at all! If only Aunt Kirsteen would let +her stay at Joyfields, and teach her all that Sheila knew! And +lighting her candles, she opened her diary to write. + +"Life," she wrote, "is like looking at the night. One never knows +what's coming, only suspects, as in the darkness you suspect which +trees are what, and try to see whether you are coming to the edge +of anything. . . . A moth has just flown into my candle before I +could stop it! Has it gone quite out of the world? If so, why +should it be different for us? The same great Something makes all +life and death, all light and dark, all love and hate--then why one +fate for one living thing, and the opposite for another? But +suppose there IS nothing after death--would it make me say: 'I'd +rather not live'? It would only make me delight more in life of +every kind. Only human beings brood and are discontented, and +trouble about future life. While Derek and I were sitting in that +field this morning, a bumblebee flew to the bank and tucked its +head into the grass and went to sleep, just tired out with flying +and working at its flowers; it simply snoozed its head down and +went off. We ought to live every minute to the utmost, and when +we're tired out, tuck in our heads and sleep. . . . If only Derek +is not brooding over that poor man! Poor man--all alone in the +dark, with months of misery before him! Poor soul! Oh! I am sorry +for all the unhappiness of people! I can't bear to think of it. I +simply can't." And dropping her pen, Nedda went again to her +window and leaned out. So sweet the air smelled that it made her +ache with delight to breathe it in. Each leaf that lived out +there, each flower, each blade of grass, were sworn to conspiracy +of perfume. And she thought: 'They MUST all love each other; it +all goes together so beautifully!' Then, mingled with the incense +of the night, she caught the savor of woodsmoke. It seemed to make +the whole scent even more delicious, but she thought, bewildered: +'Smoke! Cruel fire--burning the wood that once grew leaves like +those. Oh! it IS so mixed!' It was a thought others have had +before her. + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +To see for himself how it fared with the big laborer at the hands +of Preliminary Justice, Felix went into Transham with Stanley the +following morning. John having departed early for town, the +brothers had not further exchanged sentiments on the subject of +what Stanley called 'the kick-up at Joyfields.' And just as night +will sometimes disperse the brooding moods of nature, so it had +brought to all three the feeling: 'Haven't we made too much of +this? Haven't we been a little extravagant, and aren't we rather +bored with the whole subject?' Arson was arson; a man in prison +more or less was a man in prison more or less! This was especially +Stanley's view, and he took the opportunity to say to Felix: "Look +here, old man, the thing is, of course, to see it in proportion." + +It was with this intention, therefore, that Felix entered the +building where the justice of that neighborhood was customarily +dispensed. It was a species of small hall, somewhat resembling a +chapel, with distempered walls, a platform, and benches for the +public, rather well filled that morning--testimony to the stir the +little affair had made. Felix, familiar with the appearance of +London police courts, noted the efforts that had been made to +create resemblance to those models of administration. The justices +of the peace, hastily convoked and four in number, sat on the +platform, with a semicircular backing of high gray screens and a +green baize barrier in front of them, so that their legs and feet +were quite invisible. In this way had been preserved the really +essential feature of all human justice--at whose feet it is well +known one must not look! Their faces, on the contrary, were +entirely exposed to view, and presented that pleasing variety of +type and unanimity of expression peculiar to men keeping an open +mind. Below them, with his face toward the public, was placed a +gray-bearded man at a table also covered with green baize, that +emblem of authority. And to the side, at right angles, raised into +the air, sat a little terrier of a man, with gingery, wired hair, +obviously the more articulate soul of these proceedings. As Felix +sat down to worship, he noticed Mr. Pogram at the green baize +table, and received from the little man a nod and the faintest +whiff of lavender and gutta-percha. The next moment he caught +sight of Derek and Sheila, screwed sideways against one of the +distempered walls, looking, with their frowning faces, for all the +world like two young devils just turned out of hell. They did not +greet him, and Felix set to work to study the visages of Justice. +They impressed him, on the whole, more favorably than he had +expected. The one to his extreme left, with a gray-whiskered face, +was like a large and sleepy cat of mature age, who moved not, +except to write a word now and then on the paper before him, or to +hand back a document. Next to him, a man of middle age with bald +forehead and dark, intelligent eyes seemed conscious now and again +of the body of the court, and Felix thought: 'You have not been a +magistrate long.' The chairman, who sat next, with the moustache +of a heavy dragoon and gray hair parted in the middle, seemed, on +the other hand, oblivious of the public, never once looking at +them, and speaking so that they could not hear him, and Felix +thought: 'You have been a magistrate too long.' Between him and +the terrier man, the last of the four wrote diligently, below a +clean, red face with clipped white moustache and little peaked +beard. And Felix thought: 'Retired naval!' Then he saw that they +were bringing in Tryst. The big laborer advanced between two +constables, his broad, unshaven face held high, and his lowering +eyes, through which his strange and tragical soul seemed looking, +turned this way and that. Felix, who, no more than any one else, +could keep his gaze off the trapped creature, felt again all the +sensations of the previous afternoon. + +"Guilty? or, Not guilty?" As if repeating something learned by +heart, Tryst answered: "Not guilty, sir." And his big hands, at +his sides, kept clenching and unclenching. The witnesses, four in +number, began now to give their testimony. A sergeant of police +recounted how he had been first summoned to the scene of burning, +and afterward arrested Tryst; Sir Gerald's agent described the +eviction and threats uttered by the evicted man; two persons, a +stone-breaker and a tramp, narrated that they had seen him going in +the direction of the rick and barn at five o'clock, and coming away +therefrom at five-fifteen. Punctuated by the barking of the +terrier clerk, all this took time, during which there passed +through Felix many thoughts. Here was a man who had done a wicked, +because an antisocial, act; the sort of act no sane person could +defend; an act so barbarous, stupid, and unnatural that the very +beasts of the field would turn noses away from it! How was it, +then, that he himself could not feel incensed? Was it that in +habitually delving into the motives of men's actions he had lost +the power of dissociating what a man did from what he was; had come +to see him, with his thoughts, deeds, and omissions, as a coherent +growth? And he looked at Tryst. The big laborer was staring with +all his soul at Derek. And, suddenly, he saw his nephew stand up-- +tilt his dark head back against the wall--and open his mouth to +speak. In sheer alarm Felix touched Mr. Pogram on the arm. The +little square man had already turned; he looked at that moment +extremely like a frog. + +"Gentlemen, I wish to say--" + +"Who are you? Sit down!" It was the chairman, speaking for the +first time in a voice that could be heard. + +"I wish to say that he is not responsible. I--" + +"Silence! Silence, sir! Sit down!" + +Felix saw his nephew waver, and Sheila pulling at his sleeve; then, +to his infinite relief, the boy sat down. His sallow face was red; +his thin lips compressed to a white line. And slowly under the +eyes of the whole court he grew deadly pale. + +Distracted by fear that the boy might make another scene, Felix +followed the proceedings vaguely. They were over soon enough: +Tryst committed, defence reserved, bail refused--all as Mr. Pogram +had predicted. + +Derek and Sheila had vanished, and in the street outside, idle at +this hour of a working-day, were only the cars of the four +magistrates; two or three little knots of those who had been in +court, talking of the case; and in the very centre of the street, +an old, dark-whiskered man, lame, and leaning on a stick. + +"Very nearly being awkward," said the voice of Mr. Pogram in his +ear. "I say, do you think--no hand himself, surely no real hand +himself?" + +Felix shook his head violently. If the thought had once or twice +occurred to him, he repudiated it with all his force when shaped by +another's mouth--and such a mouth, so wide and rubbery! + +"No, no! Strange boy! Extravagant sense of honour--too sensitive, +that's all!" + +"Quite so," murmured Mr. Pogram soothingly. "These young people! +We live in a queer age, Mr. Freeland. All sorts of ideas about, +nowadays. Young men like that--better in the army--safe in the +army. No ideas there!" + +"What happens now?" said Felix. + +"Wait!" said Mr. Pogram. "Nothing else for it--wait. Three +months--twiddle his thumbs. Bad system! Rotten!" + +"And suppose in the end he's proved innocent?" + +Mr. Pogram shook his little round head, whose ears were very red. + +"Ah!" he said: "Often say to my wife: 'Wish I weren't a +humanitarian!' Heart of india-rubber--excellent thing--the +greatest blessing. Well, good-morning! Anything you want to say +at any time, let me know!" And exhaling an overpowering whiff of +gutta-percha, he grasped Felix's hand and passed into a house on +the door of which was printed in brazen letters: "Edward Pogram, +James Collet. Solicitors. Agents." + +On leaving the little humanitarian, Felix drifted back toward the +court. The cars were gone, the groups dispersed; alone, leaning on +his stick, the old, dark-whiskered man stood like a jackdaw with a +broken wing. Yearning, at that moment, for human intercourse, +Felix went up to him. + +"Fine day," he said. + +"Yes, sir, 'tis fine enough." And they stood silent, side by side. +The gulf fixed by class and habit between soul and human soul +yawned before Felix as it had never before. Stirred and troubled, +he longed to open his heart to this old, ragged, dark-eyed, +whiskered creature with the game leg, who looked as if he had +passed through all the thorns and thickets of hard and primitive +existence; he longed that the old fellow should lay bare to him his +heart. And for the life of him he could not think of any mortal +words which might bridge the unreal gulf between them. At last he +said: + +"You a native here?" + +"No, sir. From over Malvern way. Livin' here with my darter, +owin' to my leg. Her 'usband works in this here factory." + +"And I'm from London," Felix said. + +"Thart you were. Fine place, London, they say!" + +Felix shook his head. "Not so fine as this Worcestershire of +yours." + +The old man turned his quick, dark gaze. "Aye!" he said, +"people'll be a bit nervy-like in towns, nowadays. The country be +a good place for a healthy man, too; I don't want no better place +than the country--never could abide bein' shut in." + +"There aren't so very many like you, judging by the towns." + +The old man smiled--that smile was the reverse of a bitter tonic +coated with sweet stuff to make it palatable. + +"'Tes the want of a life takes 'em," he said. "There's not a many +like me. There's not so many as can't do without the smell of the +earth. With these 'ere newspapers--'tesn't taught nowadays. The +boys and gells they goes to school, and 'tes all in favor of the +towns there. I can't work no more; I'm 's good as gone meself; but +I feel sometimes I'll 'ave to go back. I don't like the streets, +an' I guess 'tes worse in London." + +"Ah! Perhaps," Felix said, "there are more of us like you than you +think." + +Again the old man turned his dark, quick glance. + +"Well, an' I widden say no to that, neither. I've seen 'em +terrible homesick. 'Tes certain sure there's lots would never go, +ef 'twasn't so mortial hard on the land. 'Tisn't a bare livin', +after that. An' they're put upon, right and left they're put upon. +'Tes only a man here and there that 'as something in 'im too +strong. I widden never 'ave stayed in the country ef 'twasn't that +I couldn't stand the town life. 'Tes like some breeds o' cattle-- +you take an' put 'em out o' their own country, an' you 'ave to take +an' put 'em back again. Only some breeds, though. Others they +don' mind where they go. Well, I've seen the country pass in my +time, as you might say; where you used to see three men you only +see one now." + +"Are they ever going back onto the land?" + +"They tark about it. I read my newspaper reg'lar. In some places +I see they're makin' unions. That an't no good." + +"Why?" + +The old man smiled again. + +"Why! Think of it! The land's different to anythin' else--that's +why! Different work, different hours, four men's work to-day and +one's to-morrow. Work land wi' unions, same as they've got in this +'ere factory, wi' their eight hours an' their do this an' don' do +that? No! You've got no weather in factories, an' such-like. On +the land 'tes a matter o' weather. On the land a man must be ready +for anythin' at any time; you can't work it no other way. 'Tes +along o' God's comin' into it; an' no use pullin' this way an' +that. Union says to me: You mustn't work after hours. Hoh! I've +'ad to set up all night wi' ship an' cattle hundreds o' times, an' +no extra for it. 'Tes not that way they'll do any good to keep +people on the land. Oh, no!" + +"How, then?" + +"Well, you'll want new laws, o' course, to prevent farmers an' +landowners takin' their advantage; you want laws to build new +cottages; but mainly 'tes a case of hands together; can't be no +other--the land's so ticklish. If 'tesn't hands together, 'tes +nothing. I 'ad a master once that was never content so long's we +wasn't content. That farm was better worked than any in the +parish." + +"Yes, but the difficulty is to get masters that can see the other +side; a man doesn't care much to look at home." + +The old man's dark eyes twinkled. + +'No; an' when 'e does, 'tes generally to say: 'Lord, an't I right, +an' an't they wrong, just?' That's powerful customary!" + +"It is," said Felix; "God bless us all!" + +"Ah! You may well say that, sir; an' we want it, too. A bit more +wages wouldn't come amiss, neither. An' a bit more freedom; 'tes a +man's liberty 'e prizes as well as money." + +"Did you hear about this arson case?" + +The old man cast a glance this way and that before he answered in a +lower voice: + +"They say 'e was put out of his cottage. I've seen men put out for +votin' Liberal; I've seen 'em put out for free-thinkin'; all sorts +o' things I seen em put out for. 'Tes that makes the bad blood. A +man wants to call 'is soul 'is own, when all's said an' done. An' +'e can't, not in th' old country, unless 'e's got the dibs." + +"And yet you never thought of emigrating?" + +"Thart of it--ah! thart of it hundreds o' times; but some'ow cudden +never bring mysel' to the scratch o' not seein' th' Beacon any +more. I can just see it from 'ere, you know. But there's not so +many like me, an' gettin' fewer every day." + +"Yes," murmured Felix, "that I believe." + +"'Tes a 'and-made piece o' goods--the land! You has to be fond of +it, same as of your missis and yer chillen. These poor pitiful +fellows that's workin' in this factory, makin' these here Colonial +ploughs--union's all right for them--'tes all mechanical; but a man +on the land, 'e's got to put the land first, whether 'tes his own +or some one else's, or he'll never do no good; might as well go for +a postman, any day. I'm keepin' of you, though, with my tattle!" + +In truth, Felix had looked at the old man, for the accursed +question had begun to worry him: Ought he or not to give the lame +old fellow something? Would it hurt his feelings? Why could he +not say simply: 'Friend, I'm better off than you; help me not to +feel so unfairly favored'? Perhaps he might risk it. And, diving +into his trousers pockets, he watched the old man's eyes. If they +followed his hand, he would risk it. But they did not. +Withdrawing his hand, he said: + +"Have a cigar?" + +The old fellow's dark face twinkled. + +"I don' know," he said, "as I ever smoked one; but I can have a +darned old try!" + +"Take the lot," said Felix, and shuffled into the other's pocket +the contents of his cigar-case. "If you get through one, you'll +want the rest. They're pretty good." + +"Ah!" said the old man. "Shuldn' wonder, neither." + +"Good-by. I hope your leg will soon be better." + +"Thank 'ee, sir. Good-by, thank 'ee!" + +Looking back from the turning, Felix saw him still standing there +in the middle of the empty street. + +Having undertaken to meet his mother, who was returning this +afternoon to Becket, he had still two hours to put away, and +passing Mr. Pogram's house, he turned into a path across a clover- +field and sat down on a stile. He had many thoughts, sitting at +the foot of this little town--which his great-grandfather had +brought about. And chiefly he thought of the old man he had been +talking to, sent there, as it seemed to him, by Providence, to +afford a prototype for his 'The Last of the Laborers.' Wonderful +that the old fellow should talk of loving 'the Land,' whereon he +must have toiled for sixty years or so, at a number of shillings +per week, that would certainly not buy the cigars he had shovelled +into that ragged pocket. Wonderful! And yet, a marvellous sweet +thing, when all was said--this land! Changing its sheen and +texture, the feel of its air, its very scent, from day to day. +This land with myriad offspring of flowers and flying folk; the +majestic and untiring march of seasons: Spring and its wistful +ecstasy of saplings, and its yearning, wild, wind-loosened heart; +gleam and song, blossom and cloud, and the swift white rain; each +upturned leaf so little and so glad to flutter; each wood and field +so full of peeping things! Summer! Ah! Summer, when on the +solemn old trees the long days shone and lingered, and the glory of +the meadows and the murmur of life and the scent of flowers +bewildered tranquillity, till surcharge of warmth and beauty +brooded into dark passion, and broke! And Autumn, in mellow haze +down on the fields and woods; smears of gold already on the +beeches, smears of crimson on the rowans, the apple-trees still +burdened, and a flax-blue sky well-nigh merging with the misty air; +the cattle browsing in the lingering golden stillness; not a breath +to fan the blue smoke of the weed-fires--and in the fields no one +moving--who would disturb such mellow peace? And Winter! The long +spaces, the long dark; and yet--and yet, what delicate loveliness +of twig tracery; what blur of rose and brown and purple caught in +the bare boughs and in the early sunset sky! What sharp dark +flights of birds in the gray-white firmament! Who cared what +season held in its arms this land that had bred them all! + +Not wonderful that into the veins of those who nursed it, tending, +watching its perpetual fertility, should be distilled a love so +deep and subtle that they could not bear to leave it, to abandon +its hills, and greenness, and bird-songs, and all the impress of +their forefathers throughout the ages. + +Like so many of his fellows--cultured moderns, alien to the larger +forms of patriotism, that rich liquor brewed of maps and figures, +commercial profit, and high-cockalorum, which served so perfectly +to swell smaller heads--Felix had a love of his native land +resembling love for a woman, a kind of sensuous chivalry, a passion +based on her charm, on her tranquillity, on the power she had to +draw him into her embrace, to make him feel that he had come from +her, from her alone, and into her alone was going back. And this +green parcel of his native land, from which the half of his blood +came, and that the dearest half, had a potency over his spirit that +he might well be ashamed of in days when the true Briton was a +town-bred creature with a foot of fancy in all four corners of the +globe. There was ever to him a special flavor about the elm-girt +fields, the flowery coppices, of this country of the old Moretons, +a special fascination in its full, white-clouded skies, its grass- +edged roads, its pied and creamy cattle, and the blue-green loom of +the Malvern hills. If God walked anywhere for him, it was surely +here. Sentiment! Without sentiment, without that love, each for +his own corner, 'the Land' was lost indeed! Not if all Becket blew +trumpets till kingdom came, would 'the Land' be reformed, if they +lost sight of that! To fortify men in love for their motherland, +to see that insecurity, grinding poverty, interference, petty +tyranny, could no longer undermine that love--this was to be, +surely must be, done! Monotony? Was that cry true? What work now +performed by humble men was less monotonous than work on the land? +What work was even a tenth part so varied? Never quite the same +from day to day: Now weeding, now hay, now roots, now hedging; now +corn, with sowing, reaping, threshing, stacking, thatching; the +care of beasts, and their companionship; sheep-dipping, shearing, +wood-gathering, apple-picking, cider-making; fashioning and tarring +gates; whitewashing walls; carting; trenching--never, never two +days quite the same! Monotony! The poor devils in factories, in +shops, in mines; poor devils driving 'busses, punching tickets, +cleaning roads; baking; cooking; sewing; typing! Stokers; machine- +tenders; brick-layers; dockers; clerks! Ah! that great company +from towns might well cry out: Monotony! True, they got their +holidays; true, they had more social life--a point that might well +be raised at Becket: Holidays and social life for men on the soil! +But--and suddenly Felix thought of the long, long holiday that was +before the laborer Tryst. 'Twiddle his thumbs'--in the words of +the little humanitarian--twiddle his thumbs in a space twelve feet +by seven! No sky to see, no grass to smell, no beast to bear him +company; no anything--for, what resources in himself had this poor +creature? No anything, but to sit with tragic eyes fixed on the +wall before him for eighty days and eighty nights, before they +tried him. And then--not till then--would his punishment for that +moment's blind revenge for grievous wrong begin! What on this +earth of God's was more disproportioned, and wickedly extravagant, +more crassly stupid, than the arrangements of his most perfect +creature, man? What a devil was man, who could yet rise to such +sublime heights of love and heroism! What a ferocious brute, the +most ferocious and cold-blooded brute that lived! Of all creatures +most to be stampeded by fear into a callous torturer! 'Fear'-- +thought Felix--'fear! Not momentary panic, such as makes our +brother animals do foolish things; conscious, calculating fear, +paralyzing the reason of our minds and the generosity of our +hearts. A detestable thing Tryst has done, a hateful act; but his +punishment will be twentyfold as hateful!' + +And, unable to sit and think of it, Felix rose and walked on +through the fields. . . . + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +He was duly at Transham station in time for the London train, and, +after a minute consecrated to looking in the wrong direction, he +saw his mother already on the platform with her bag, an air- +cushion, and a beautifully neat roll. + +'Travelling third!' he thought. 'Why will she do these things?' + +Slightly flushed, she kissed Felix with an air of abstraction. + +"How good of you to meet me, darling!" + +Felix pointed in silence to the crowded carriage from which she had +emerged. Frances Freeland looked a little rueful. "It would have +been delightful," she said. "There was a dear baby there and, of +course, I couldn't have the window down, so it WAS rather hot." + +Felix, who could just see the dear baby, said dryly: + +"So that's how you go about, is it? Have you had any lunch?" + +Frances Freeland put her hand under his arm. "Now, don't fuss, +darling! Here's sixpence for the porter. There's only one trunk-- +it's got a violet label. Do you know them? They're so useful. +You see them at once. I must get you some." + +"Let me take those things. You won't want this cushion. I'll let +the air out." + +"I'm afraid you won't be able, dear. It's quite the best screw +I've ever come across--a splendid thing; I can't get it undone." + +"Ah!" said Felix. "And now we may as well go out to the car!" + +He was conscious of a slight stoppage in his mother's footsteps and +rather a convulsive squeeze of her hand on his arm. Looking at her +face, he discovered it occupied with a process whose secret he +could not penetrate, a kind of disarray of her features, rapidly +and severely checked, and capped with a resolute smile. They had +already reached the station exit, where Stanley's car was snorting. +Frances Freeland looked at it, then, mounting rather hastily, sat, +compressing her lips. + +When they were off, Felix said: + +"Would you like to stop at the church and have a look at the +brasses to your grandfather and the rest of them?" + +His mother, who had slipped her hand under his arm again, answered: + +"No, dear; I've seen them. The church is not at all beautiful. I +like the old church at Becket so much better; it is such a pity +your great-grandfather was not buried there." + +She had never quite got over the lack of 'niceness' about those +ploughs. + +Going, as was the habit of Stanley's car, at considerable speed, +Felix was not at first certain whether the peculiar little squeezes +his arm was getting were due to the bounds of the creature under +them or to some cause more closely connected with his mother, and +it was not till they shaved a cart at the turning of the Becket +drive that it suddenly dawned on him that she was in terror. He +discovered it in looking round just as she drew her smile over a +spasm of her face and throat. And, leaning out of the car, he +said: + +"Drive very slowly, Batter; I want to look at the trees." + +A little sigh rewarded him. Since SHE had said nothing, He said +nothing, and Clara's words in the hall seemed to him singularly +tactless: + +"Oh! I meant to have reminded you, Felix, to send the car back and +take a fly. I thought you knew that Mother's terrified of motors." +And at his mother's answer: + +"Oh! no; I quite enjoyed it, dear," he thought: 'Bless her heart! +She IS a stoic!' + +Whether or no to tell her of the 'kick-up at Joyfields' exercised +his mind. The question was intricate, for she had not yet been +informed that Nedda and Derek were engaged, and Felix did not feel +at liberty to forestall the young people. That was their business. +On the other hand, she would certainly glean from Clara a garbled +understanding of the recent events at Joyfields, if she were not +first told of them by himself. And he decided to tell her, with +the natural trepidation of one who, living among principles and +theories, never quite knew what those, for whom each fact is +unrelated to anything else under the moon, were going to think. +Frances Freeland, he knew well, kept facts and theories especially +unrelated, or, rather, modified her facts to suit her theories, +instead of, like Felix, her theories to suit her facts. For +example, her instinctive admiration for Church and State, her +instinctive theory that they rested on gentility and people who +were nice, was never for a moment shaken when she saw a half- +starved baby of the slums. Her heart would impel her to pity and +feed the poor little baby if she could, but to correlate the +creature with millions of other such babies, and those millions +with the Church and State, would not occur to her. And if Felix +made an attempt to correlate them for her she would look at him and +think: 'Dear boy! How good he is! I do wish he wouldn't let that +line come in his forehead; it does so spoil it!' And she would +say: "Yes, darling, I know, it's very sad; only I'm NOT clever." +And, if a Liberal government chanced to be in power, would add: "Of +course, I do think this Government is dreadful. I MUST show you a +sermon of the dear Bishop of Walham. I cut it out of the 'Daily +Mystery.' He puts things so well--he always has such nice ideas." + +And Felix, getting up, would walk a little and sit down again too +suddenly. Then, as if entreating him to look over her want of +'cleverness,' she would put out a hand that, for all its whiteness, +had never been idle and smooth his forehead. It had sometimes +touched him horribly to see with what despair she made attempts to +follow him in his correlating efforts, and with what relief she +heard him cease enough to let her say: "Yes, dear; only, I must +show you this new kind of expanding cork. It's simply splendid. +It bottles up everything!" And after staring at her just a moment +he would acquit her of irony. Very often after these occasions he +had thought, and sometimes said: "Mother, you're the best +Conservative I ever met." She would glance at him then, with a +special loving doubtfulness, at a loss as to whether or no he had +designed to compliment her. + +When he had given her half an hour to rest he made his way to the +blue corridor, where a certain room was always kept for her, who +never occupied it long enough at a time to get tired of it. She +was lying on a sofa in a loose gray cashmere gown. The windows +were open, and the light breeze just moved in the folds of the +chintz curtains and stirred perfume from a bowl of pinks--her +favorite flowers. There was no bed in this bedroom, which in all +respects differed from any other in Clara's house, as though the +spirit of another age and temper had marched in and dispossessed +the owner. Felix had a sensation that one was by no means all body +here. On the contrary. There was not a trace of the body +anywhere; as if some one had decided that the body was not quite +nice. No bed, no wash-stand, no chest of drawers, no wardrobe, no +mirror, not even a jar of Clara's special pot-pourri. And Felix +said: + +"This can't be your bedroom, Mother?" + +Frances Freeland answered, with a touch of deprecating quizzicality: + +"Oh yes, darling. I must show you my arrangements." And she rose. +"This," she said, "you see, goes under there, and that under here; +and that again goes under this. Then they all go under that, and +then I pull this. It's lovely." + +"But why?" said Felix. + +"Oh! but don't you see? It's so nice; nobody can tell. And it +doesn't give any trouble." + +"And when you go to bed?" + +"Oh! I just pop my clothes into this and open that. And there I +am. It's simply splendid." + +"I see," said Felix. "Do you think I might sit down, or shall I go +through?" + +Frances Freeland loved him with her eyes, and said: + +"Naughty boy!" + +And Felix sat down on what appeared to be a window-seat. + +"Well," he said, with slight uneasiness, for she was hovering, "I +think you're wonderful." + +Frances Freeland put away an impeachment that she evidently felt to +be too soft. + +"Oh! but it's all so simple, darling." And Felix saw that she had +something in her hand, and mind. + +"This is my little electric brush. It'll do wonders with your +hair. While you sit there, I'll just try it." + +A clicking and a whirring had begun to occur close to his ear, and +something darted like a gadfly at his scalp. + +"I came to tell you something serious, Mother." + +"Yes, darling; it'll be simply lovely to hear it; and you mustn't +mind this, because it really is a first-rate thing--quite new." + +Now, how is it, thought Felix, that any one who loves the new as +she does, when it's made of matter, will not even look at it when +it's made of mind? And, while the little machine buzzed about his +head, he proceeded to detail to her the facts of the state of +things that existed at Joyfields. + +When he had finished, she said: + +"Now, darling, bend down a little." + +Felix bent down. And the little machine began severely tweaking +the hairs on the nape of his neck. He sat up again rather suddenly. + +Frances Freeland was contemplating the little machine. + +"How very provoking! It's never done that before!" + +"Quite so!" Felix murmured. "But about Joyfields?" + +"Oh, my dear, it IS such a pity they don't get on with those +Mallorings! I do think it sad they weren't brought up to go to +church." + +Felix stared, not knowing whether to be glad or sorry that his +recital had not roused within her the faintest suspicion of +disaster. How he envied her that single-minded power of not seeing +further than was absolutely needful! And suddenly he thought: 'She +really is wonderful! With her love of church, how it must hurt her +that we none of us go, not even John! And yet she never says a +word. There really is width about her; a power of accepting the +inevitable. Never was woman more determined to make the best of a +bad job. It's a great quality!' And he heard her say: + +"Now, darling, if I give you this, you must promise me to use it +every morning. You'll find you'll soon have a splendid crop of +little young hairs." + +"I know," he said gloomily; "but they won't come to anything. Age +has got my head, Mother, just as it's got 'the Land's.'" + +"Oh, nonsense! You must go on with it, that's all!" + +Felix turned so that he could look at her. She was moving round +the room now, meticulously adjusting the framed photographs of her +family that were the only decoration of the walls. How formal, +chiselled, and delicate her face, yet how almost fanatically +decisive! How frail and light her figure, yet how indomitably +active! And the memory assailed him of how, four years ago, she +had defeated double pneumonia without having a doctor, simply by +lying on her back. 'She leaves trouble,' he thought, 'until it's +under her nose, then simply tells it that it isn't there. There's +something very English about that.' + +She was chasing a bluebottle now with a little fan made of wire, +and, coming close to Felix, said: + +"Have you seen these, darling? You've only to hit the fly and it +kills him at once." + +"But do you ever hit the fly?" + +"Oh, yes!" And she waved the fan at the bluebottle, which avoided +it without seeming difficulty. + +"I can't bear hurting them, but I DON'T like flies. There!" + +The bluebottle flew out of the window behind Felix and in at the +one that was not behind him. He rose. + +"You ought to rest before tea, Mother." + +He felt her searching him with her eyes, as if trying desperately +to find something she might bestow upon or do for him. + +"Would you like this wire--" + +With a feeling that he was defrauding love, he turned and fled. +She would never rest while he was there! And yet there was that in +her face which made him feel a brute to go. + +Passing out of the house, sunk in its Monday hush, no vestige of a +Bigwig left, Felix came to that new-walled mound where the old +house of the Moretons had been burned 'by soldiers from Tewkesbury +and Gloucester,' as said the old chronicles dear to the heart of +Clara. And on the wall he sat him down. Above, in the uncut +grass, he could see the burning blue of a peacock's breast, where +the heraldic bird stood digesting grain in the repose of perfect +breeding, and below him gardeners were busy with the gooseberries. +'Gardeners and the gooseberries of the great!' he thought. 'Such +is the future of our Land.' And he watched them. How methodically +they went to work! How patient and well-done-for they looked! +After all, was it not the ideal future? Gardeners, gooseberries, +and the great! Each of the three content in that station of life +into which--! What more could a country want? Gardeners, +gooseberries, and the great! The phrase had a certain hypnotic +value. Why trouble? Why fuss? Gardeners, gooseberries, and the +great! A perfect land! A land dedicate to the week-end! +Gardeners, goose--! And suddenly he saw that he was not alone. +Half hidden by the angle of the wall, on a stone of the +foundations, carefully preserved and nearly embedded in the nettles +which Clara had allowed to grow because they added age to the +appearance, was sitting a Bigwig. One of the Settleham faction, he +had impressed Felix alike by his reticence, the steady sincerity of +his gray eyes, a countenance that, beneath a simple and delicate +urbanity, had still in it something of the best type of schoolboy. +'How comes he to have stayed?' he mused. 'I thought they always +fed and scattered!' And having received an answer to his +salutation, he moved across and said: + +"I imagined you'd gone." + +"I've been having a look round. It's very jolly here. My +affections are in the North, but I suppose this is pretty well the +heart of England." + +"Near 'the big song,'" Felix answered. "There'll never be anything +more English than Shakespeare, when all's said and done." And he +took a steady, sidelong squint at his companion. 'This is another +of the types I've been looking for,' he reflected. The peculiar +'don't-quite-touch-me' accent of the aristocrat--and of those who +would be--had almost left this particular one, as though he +secretly aspired to rise superior and only employed it in the +nervousness of his first greetings. 'Yes,' thought Felix, 'he's +just about the very best we can do among those who sit upon 'the +Land.' I would wager there's not a better landlord nor a better +fellow in all his class, than this one. He's chalks away superior +to Malloring, if I know anything of faces--would never have turned +poor Tryst out. If this exception were the rule! And yet--! Does +he, can he, go quite far enough to meet the case? If not--what +hope of regeneration from above? Would he give up his shooting? +Could he give up feeling he's a leader? Would he give up his town +house and collecting whatever it is he collects? Could he let +himself sink down and merge till he was just unseen leaven of good- +fellowship and good-will, working in the common bread?' And +squinting at that sincere, clean, charming, almost fine face, he +answered himself unwillingly: 'He could not!' And suddenly he knew +that he was face to face with the tremendous question which soon or +late confronts all thinkers. Sitting beside him--was the highest +product of the present system! With its charm, humanity, courage, +chivalry up to a point, its culture, and its cleanliness, this +decidedly rare flower at the end of a tall stalk, with dark and +tortuous roots and rank foliage, was in a sense the sole +justification of power wielded from above. And was it good enough? +Was it quite good enough? Like so many other thinkers, Felix +hesitated to reply. If only merit and the goods of this world +could be finally divorced! If the reward of virtue were just men's +love and an unconscious self-respect! If only 'to have nothing' +were the highest honour! And yet, to do away with this beside him +and put in its place--What? No kiss-me-quick change had a chance +of producing anything better. To scrap the long growth of man and +start afresh was but to say: 'Since in the past the best that man +has done has not been good enough, I have a perfect faith in him +for the future!' No! That was a creed for archangels and other +extremists. Safer to work on what we had! And he began: + +"Next door to this estate I'm told there's ten thousand acres +almost entirely grass and covert, owned by Lord Baltimore, who +lives in Norfolk, London, Cannes, and anywhere else that the whim +takes him. He comes down here twice a year to shoot. The case is +extremely common. Surely it spells paralysis. If land is to be +owned at all in such great lumps, owners ought at least to live on +the lumps, and to pass very high examinations as practical farmers. +They ought to be the life and soul, the radiating sun, of their +little universes; or else they ought to be cleared out. How expect +keen farming to start from such an example? It really looks to me +as if the game laws would have to go." And he redoubled his +scrutiny of the Bigwig's face. A little furrow in its brow had +deepened visibly, but nodding, he said: + +"The absentee landlord is a curse, of course. I'm afraid I'm a bit +of a one myself. And I'm bound to say--though I'm keen on +shooting--if the game laws were abolished, it might do a lot." + +"YOU wouldn't move in that direction, I suppose?" + +The Bigwig smiled--charming, rather whimsical, that smile. + +"Honestly, I'm not up to it. The spirit, you know, but the flesh--! +My line is housing and wages, of course." + +'There it is,' thought Felix. 'Up to a point, they'll move--not up +to THE point. It's all fiddling. One won't give up his shooting; +another won't give up his power; a third won't give up her week- +ends; a fourth won't give up his freedom. Our interest in the +thing is all lackadaisical, a kind of bun-fight of pet notions. +There's no real steam.' And abruptly changing the subject, he +talked of pictures to the pleasant Bigwig in the sleepy afternoon. +Of how this man could paint, and that man couldn't. And in the +uncut grass the peacock slowly moved, displaying his breast of +burning blue; and below, the gardeners worked among the gooseberries. + + +CHAPTER XXVI + + +Nedda, borrowing the bicycle of Clara's maid, Sirrett, had been +over to Joyfields, and only learned on her return of her +grandmother's arrival. In her bath before dinner there came to her +one of those strategic thoughts that even such as are no longer +quite children will sometimes conceive. She hurried desperately +into her clothes, and, ready full twenty minutes before the gong +was due to sound, made her way to her grandmother's room. Frances +Freeland had just pulled THIS, and, to her astonishment, THAT had +not gone in properly. She was looking at it somewhat severely, +when she heard Nedda's knock. Drawing a screen temporarily over +the imperfection, she said: "Come in!" + +The dear child looked charming in her white evening dress with one +red flower in her hair; and while she kissed her, she noted that +the neck of her dress was just a little too open to be quite nice, +and at once thought: 'I've got the very thing for that.' + +Going to a drawer that no one could have suspected of being there, +she took from it a little diamond star. Getting delicate but firm +hold of the Mechlin at the top of the frock, she popped it in, so +that the neck was covered at least an inch higher, and said: + +"Now, ducky, you're to keep that as a little present. You've no +idea how perfectly it suits you just like this." And having +satisfied for the moment her sense of niceness and that continual +itch to part with everything she had, she surveyed her +granddaughter, lighted up by that red flower, and said: + +"How sweet you look!" + +Nedda, looking down past cheeks colored by pleasure at the new +little star on a neck rather browned by her day in the sun, +murmured: + +"Oh, Granny! it's much too lovely! You mustn't give it to me!" + +These were moments that Frances Freeland loved best in life; and, +with the untruthfulness in which she only indulged when she gave +things away, or otherwise benefited her neighbors with or without +their will, she added: "It's quite wasted; I never wear it myself." +And, seeing Nedda's smile, for the girl recollected perfectly +having admired it during dinner at Uncle John's, and at Becket +itself, she said decisively, "So that's that!" and settled her down +on the sofa. But just as she was thinking, 'I have the very thing +for the dear child's sunburn,' Nedda said: "Granny, dear, I've been +meaning to tell you--Derek and I are engaged." + +For the moment Frances Freeland could do nothing but tremulously +interlace her fingers. + +"Oh, but, darling," she said very gravely, "have you thought?" + +"I think of nothing else, Granny." + +"But has he thought?" + +Nedda nodded. + +Frances Freeland sat staring straight before her. Nedda and Derek, +Derek and Nedda! The news was almost unintelligible; those two +were still for her barely more than little creatures to be tucked +up at night. Engaged! Marriage! Between those who were both as +near to her, almost, as her own children had been! The effort was +for the moment quite too much for her, and a sort of pain disturbed +her heart. Then the crowning principle of her existence came a +little to her aid. No use in making a fuss; must put the best face +on it, whether it were going to come to anything or not! And she +said: + +"Well, darling, I don't know, I'm sure. I dare say it's very +lovely for you. But do you think you've seen enough of him?" + +Nedda gave her a swift look, then dropped her lashes, so that her +eyes seemed closed. Snuggling up, she said: + +"No, Granny, I do wish I could see more; if only I could go and +stay with them a little!" + +And as she planted that dart of suggestion, the gong sounded. + +In Frances Freeland, lying awake till two, as was her habit, the +suggestion grew. To this growth not only her custom of putting the +best face on things, but her incurable desire to make others happy, +and an instinctive sympathy with love-affairs, all contributed; +moreover, Felix had said something about Derek's having been +concerned in something rash. If darling Nedda were there it would +occupy his mind and help to make him careful. Never dilatory in +forming resolutions, she decided to take the girl over with her on +the morrow. Kirsteen had a dear little spare room, and Nedda +should take her bag. It would be a nice surprise for them all. +Accordingly, next morning, not wanting to give any trouble, she +sent Thomas down to the Red Lion, where they had a comfortable fly, +with a very steady, respectable driver, and ordered it to come at +half past two. Then, without saying anything to Clara, she told +Nedda to be ready to pop in her bag, trusting to her powers of +explaining everything to everybody without letting anybody know +anything. Little difficulties of this sort never bunkered her; she +was essentially a woman of action. And on the drive to Joyfields +she stilled the girl's quavering with: + +"It's all right, darling; it'll be very nice for them." + +She was perhaps the only person in the world who was not just a +little bit afraid of Kirsteen. Indeed, she was constitutionally +unable to be afraid of anything, except motor-cars, and, of course, +earwigs, and even them one must put up with. Her critical sense +told her that this woman in blue was just like anybody else, +besides her father had been the colonel of a Highland regiment, +which was quite nice, and one must put the best face on her. + +In this way, pointing out the beauty of each feature of the +scenery, and not permitting herself or Nedda to think about the +bag, they drove until they came to Joyfields. + +Kirsteen alone was in, and, having sent Nedda into the orchard to +look for her uncle, Frances Freeland came at once to the point. It +was so important, she thought, that darling Nedda should see more +of dear Derek. They were very young, and if she could stay for a +few weeks, they would both know their minds so much better. She +had made her bring her bag, because she knew dear Kirsteen would +agree with her; and it would be so nice for them all. Felix had +told her about that poor man who had done this dreadful thing, and +she thought that if Nedda were here it would be a distraction. She +was a very good child, and quite useful in the house. And while +she was speaking she watched Kirsteen, and thought: 'She is very +handsome, and altogether ladylike; only it is such a pity she wears +that blue thing in her hair--it makes her so conspicuous.' And +rather unexpectedly she said: + +"Do you know, dear, I believe I know the very thing to keep your +hair from getting loose. It's such lovely hair. And this is quite +a new thing, and doesn't show at all; invented by a very nice +hairdresser in Worcester. It's simplicity itself. Do let me show +you!" Quickly going over, she removed the kingfisher-blue fillet, +and making certain passes with her fingers through the hair, +murmured: + +"It's so beautifully fine; it seems such a pity not to show it all, +dear. Now look at yourself!" And from the recesses of her pocket +she produced a little mirror. "I'm sure Tod will simply love it +like that. It'll be such a nice change for him." + +Kirsteen, with just a faint wrinkling of her lips and eyebrows, +waited till she had finished. Then she said: + +"Yes, Mother, dear, I'm sure he will," and replaced the fillet. A +patient, half-sad, half-quizzical smile visited Frances Freeland's +lips, as who should say: 'Yes, I know you think that I'm a fuss- +box, but it really is a pity that you wear it so, darling!' + +At sight of that smile, Kirsteen got up and kissed her gravely on +the forehead. + +When Nedda came back from a fruitless search for Tod, her bag was +already in the little spare bedroom and Frances Freeland gone. The +girl had never yet been alone with her aunt, for whom she had a +fervent admiration not unmixed with awe. She idealized her, of +course, thinking of her as one might think of a picture or statue, +a symbolic figure, standing for liberty and justice and the redress +of wrong. Her never-varying garb of blue assisted the girl's +fancy, for blue was always the color of ideals and aspiration--was +not blue sky the nearest one could get to heaven--were not blue +violets the flowers of spring? Then, too, Kirsteen was a woman +with whom it would be quite impossible to gossip or small-talk; +with her one could but simply and directly say what one felt, and +only that over things which really mattered. And this seemed to +Nedda so splendid that it sufficed in itself to prevent the girl +from saying anything whatever. She longed to, all the same, +feeling that to be closer to her aunt meant to be closer to Derek. +Yet, with all, she knew that her own nature was very different; +this, perhaps, egged her on, and made her aunt seem all the more +exciting. She waited breathless till Kirsteen said: + +"Yes, you and Derek must know each other better. The worst kind of +prison in the world is a mistaken marriage." + +Nedda nodded fervently. "It must be. But I think one knows, Aunt +Kirsteen!" + +She felt as if she were being searched right down to the soul +before the answer came: + +"Perhaps. I knew myself. I have seen others who did--a few. I +think you might." + +Nedda flushed from sheer joy. "I could never go on if I didn't +love. I feel I couldn't, even if I'd started." + +With another long look through narrowing eyes, Kirsteen answered: + +"Yes. You would want truth. But after marriage truth is an +unhappy thing, Nedda, if you have made a mistake." + +"It must be dreadful. Awful." + +"So don't make a mistake, my dear--and don't let him." + +Nedda answered solemnly: + +"I won't--oh, I won't!" + +Kirsteen had turned away to the window, and Nedda heard her say +quietly to herself: + +"'Liberty's a glorious feast!'" + +Trembling all over with the desire to express what was in her, +Nedda stammered: + +"I would never keep anything that wanted to be free--never, never! +I would never try to make any one do what they didn't want to!" + +She saw her aunt smile, and wondered whether she had said anything +exceptionally foolish. But it was not foolish--surely not--to say +what one really felt. + +"Some day, Nedda, all the world will say that with you. Until then +we'll fight those who won't say it. Have you got everything in +your room you want? Let's come and see." + +To pass from Becket to Joyfields was really a singular experience. +At Becket you were certainly supposed to do exactly what you liked, +but the tyranny of meals, baths, scents, and other accompaniments +of the 'all-body' regime soon annihilated every impulse to do +anything but just obey it. At Joyfields, bodily existence was a +kind of perpetual skirmish, a sort of grudged accompaniment to a +state of soul. You might be alone in the house at any meal-time. +You might or might not have water in your jug. And as to baths, +you had to go out to a little white-washed shed at the back, with a +brick floor, where you pumped on yourself, prepared to shout out, +"Halloo! I'm here!" in case any one else came wanting to do the +same. The conditions were in fact almost perfect for seeing more +of one another. Nobody asked where you were going, with whom +going, or how going. You might be away by day or night without +exciting curiosity or comment. And yet you were conscious of a +certain something always there, holding the house together; some +principle of life, or perhaps--just a woman in blue. There, too, +was that strangest of all phenomena in an English home--no game +ever played, outdoors or in. + +The next fortnight, while the grass was ripening, was a wonderful +time for Nedda, given up to her single passion--of seeing more of +him who so completely occupied her heart. She was at peace now +with Sheila, whose virility forbade that she should dispute pride +of place with this soft and truthful guest, so evidently immersed +in rapture. Besides, Nedda had that quality of getting on well +with her own sex, found in those women who, though tenacious, are +not possessive; who, though humble, are secretly very self- +respecting; who, though they do not say much about it, put all +their eggs in one basket; above all, who disengage, no matter what +their age, a candid but subtle charm. + +But that fortnight was even more wonderful for Derek, caught +between two passions--both so fervid. For though the passion of +his revolt against the Mallorings did not pull against his passion +for Nedda, they both tugged at him. And this had one curious +psychological effect. It made his love for Nedda more actual, less +of an idealization. Now that she was close to him, under the same +roof, he felt the full allurement of her innocent warmth; he would +have been cold-blooded indeed if he had not taken fire, and, his +pride always checking the expression of his feelings, they glowed +ever hotter underneath. + +Yet, over those sunshiny days there hung a shadow, as of something +kept back, not shared between them; a kind of waiting menace. +Nedda learned of Kirsteen and Sheila all the useful things she +could; the evenings she passed with Derek, those long evenings of +late May and early June, this year so warm and golden. They walked +generally in the direction of the hills. A favorite spot was a +wood of larches whose green shoots had not yet quite ceased to +smell of lemons. Tall, slender things those trees, whose stems and +dried lower branch-growth were gray, almost sooty, up to the +feathery green of the tops, that swayed and creaked faintly in a +wind, with a soughing of their branches like the sound of the sea. +From the shelter of those Highland trees, rather strange in such a +countryside, they two could peer forth at the last sunlight gold- +powdering the fringed branches, at the sunset flush dyeing the sky +above the Beacon; watch light slowly folding gray wings above the +hay-fields and the elms; mark the squirrels scurry along, and the +pigeons' evening flight. A stream ran there at the edge, and +beech-trees grew beside it. In the tawny-dappled sand bed of that +clear water, and the gray-green dappled trunks of those beeches +with their great, sinuous, long-muscled roots, was that something +which man can never tame or garden out of the land: the strength of +unconquerable fertility--the remote deep life in Nature's heart. +Men and women had their spans of existence; those trees seemed as +if there forever! From generation to generation lovers might come +and, looking on this strength and beauty, feel in their veins the +sap of the world. Here the laborer and his master, hearing the +wind in the branches and the water murmuring down, might for a +brief minute grasp the land's unchangeable wild majesty. And on +the far side of that little stream was a field of moon-colored +flowers that had for Nedda a strange fascination. Once the boy +jumped across and brought her back a handkerchief full. They were +of two kinds: close to the water's edge the marsh orchis, and +farther back, a small marguerite. Out of this they made a crown of +the alternate flowers, and a girdle for her waist. That was an +evening of rare beauty, and warm enough already for an early chafer +to go blooming in the dusk. An evening when they wandered with +their arms round each other a long time, silent, stopping to listen +to an owl; stopping to point out each star coming so shyly up in +the gray-violet of the sky. And that was the evening when they had +a strange little quarrel, sudden as a white squall on a blue sea, +or the tiff of two birds shooting up in a swift spiral of attack +and then--all over. Would he come to-morrow to see her milking? +He could not. Why? He could not; he would be out. Ah! he never +told her where he went; he never let her come with him among the +laborers like Sheila. + +"I can't; I'm pledged not." + +"Then you don't trust me!" + +"Of course I trust you; but a promise is a promise. You oughtn't +to ask me, Nedda." + +"No; but I would never have promised to keep anything from you." + +"You don't understand." + +"Oh! yes, I do. Love doesn't mean the same to you that it does to me." + +"How do you know what it means to me?" + +"I couldn't have a secret from you." + +"Then you don't count honour." + +"Honour only binds oneself!" + +"What d'you mean by that?" + +"I include you--you don't include me in yourself, that's all." + +"I think you're very unjust. I was obliged to promise; it doesn't +only concern myself." + +Then silent, motionless, a yard apart, they looked fiercely at each +other, their hearts stiff and sore, and in their brains no glimmer +of perception of anything but tragedy. What more tragic than to +have come out of an elysium of warm arms round each other, to this +sudden hostility! And the owl went on hooting, and the larches +smelled sweet! And all around was the same soft dusk wherein the +flowers in her hair and round her waist gleamed white! But for +Nedda the world had suddenly collapsed. Tears rushed into her eyes; +she shook her head and turned away, hiding them passionately. . . . +A full minute passed, each straining to make no sound and catch +the faintest sound from the other, till in her breathing there was +a little clutch. His fingers came stealing round, touched her +cheeks, and were wetted. His arms suddenly squeezed all breath +out of her; his lips fastened on hers. She answered those lips +with her own desperately, bending her head back, shutting her wet +eyes. And the owl hooted, and the white flowers fell into the dusk +off her hair and waist. + +After that, they walked once more enlaced, avoiding with what +perfect care any allusion to the sudden tragedy, giving themselves +up to the bewildering ecstasy that had started throbbing in their +blood with that kiss, longing only not to spoil it. And through +the sheltering larch wood their figures moved from edge to edge, +like two little souls in paradise, unwilling to come forth. + +After that evening love had a poignancy it had not quite had +before; at once deeper, sweeter, tinged for both of them with the +rich darkness of passion, and with discovery that love does not +mean a perfect merger of one within another. For both felt +themselves in the right over that little quarrel. The boy that he +could not, must not, resign what was not his to resign; feeling +dimly, without being quite able to shape the thought even to +himself, that a man has a life of action into which a woman cannot +always enter, with which she cannot always be identified. The girl +feeling that she did not want any life into which he did not enter, +so that it was hard that he should want to exclude her from +anything. For all that, she did not try again to move him to let +her into the secret of his plans of revolt and revenge, and +disdained completely to find them out from Sheila or her aunt. + +And the grass went on ripening. Many and various as the breeds of +men, or the trees of a forest, were the stalks that made up that +greenish jungle with the waving, fawn-colored surface; of rye-grass +and brome-grass, of timothy, plantain, and yarrow; of bent-grass +and quake-grass, foxtail, and the green-hearted trefoil; of +dandelion, dock, musk-thistle, and sweet-scented vernal. + +On the 10th of June Tod began cutting his three fields; the whole +family, with Nedda and the three Tryst children, working like +slaves. Old Gaunt, who looked to the harvests to clothe him for +the year, came to do his share of raking, and any other who could +find some evening hours to spare. The whole was cut and carried in +three days of glorious weather. + +The lovers were too tired the last evening of hay harvest to go +rambling, and sat in the orchard watching the moon slide up through +the coppice behind the church. They sat on Tod's log, deliciously +weary, in the scent of the new-mown hay, while moths flitted gray +among the blue darkness of the leaves, and the whitened trunks of +the apple-trees gleamed ghostly. It was very warm; a night of +whispering air, opening all hearts. And Derek said: + +"You'll know to-morrow, Nedda." + +A flutter of fear overtook her. What would she know? + + +CHAPTER XXVII + + +On the 13th of June Sir Gerald Malloring, returning home to dinner +from the House of Commons, found on his hall table, enclosed in a +letter from his agent, the following paper: + + +"We, the undersigned laborers on Sir Gerald Malloring's estate, beg +respectfully to inform him that we consider it unjust that any +laborer should be evicted from his cottage for any reason connected +with private life, or social or political convictions. And we +respectfully demand that, before a laborer receives notice to quit +for any such reason, the case shall be submitted to all his fellow +laborers on the estate; and that in the future he shall only +receive such notice if a majority of his fellow laborers record +their votes in favor of the notice being given. In the event of +this demand being refused, we regretfully decline to take any hand +in getting in the hay on Sir Gerald Malloring's estate." + + +Then followed ninety-three signatures, or signs of the cross with +names printed after them. + +The agent's letter which enclosed this document mentioned that the +hay was already ripe for cutting; that everything had been done to +induce the men to withdraw the demand, without success, and that +the farmers were very much upset. The thing had been sprung on +them, the agent having no notion that anything of the sort was on +foot. It had been very secretly, very cleverly, managed; and, in +the agent's opinion, was due to Mr. Freeland's family. He awaited +Sir Gerald's instructions. Working double tides, with luck and +good weather, the farmers and their families might perhaps save +half of the hay. + +Malloring read this letter twice, and the enclosure three times, +and crammed them deep down into his pocket. + +It was pre-eminently one of those moments which bring out the +qualities of Norman blood. And the first thing he did was to look +at the barometer. It was going slowly down. After a month of +first-class weather it would not do that without some sinister +intention. An old glass, he believed in it implicitly. He tapped, +and it sank further. He stood there frowning. Should he consult +his wife? General friendliness said: Yes! A Norman instinct of +chivalry, and perhaps the deeper Norman instinct, that, when it +came to the point, women were too violent, said, No! He went up- +stairs three at a time, and came down two. And all through dinner +he sat thinking it over, and talking as if nothing had happened; so +that he hardly spoke. Three-quarters of the hay at stake, if it +rained soon! A big loss to the farmers, a further reduction in +rents already far too low. Should he grin and bear it, and by +doing nothing show these fellows that he could afford to despise +their cowardly device? For it WAS cowardly to let his grass get +ripe and play it this low trick! But if he left things unfought +this time, they would try it on again with the corn--not that there +was much of that on the estate of a man who only believed in corn +as a policy. + +Should he make the farmers sack the lot and get in other labor? +But where? Agricultural laborers were made, not born. And it took +a deuce of a lot of making, at that! Should he suspend wages till +they withdrew their demand? That might do--but he would still lose +the hay. The hay! After all, anybody, pretty well, could make +hay; it was the least skilled of all farm work, so long as the +farmers were there to drive the machines and direct. Why not act +vigorously? And his jaws set so suddenly on a piece of salmon that +he bit his tongue. The action served to harden a growing purpose. +So do small events influence great! Suspend those fellows' wages, +get down strike-breakers, save the hay! And if there were a row-- +well, let there be a row! The constabulary would have to act. It +was characteristic of his really Norman spirit that the notion of +agreeing to the demand, or even considering whether it were just, +never once came into his mind. He was one of those, comprising +nowadays nearly all his class, together with their press, who +habitually referred to his country as a democratic power, a +champion of democracy--but did not at present suspect the meaning +of the word; nor, to say truth, was it likely they ever would. +Nothing, however, made him more miserable than indecision. And so, +now that he was on the point of deciding, and the decision promised +vigorous consequences, he felt almost elated. Closing his jaws +once more too firmly, this time on lamb, he bit his tongue again. +It was impossible to confess what he had done, for two of his +children were there, expected to eat with that well-bred detachment +which precludes such happenings; and he rose from dinner with his +mind made up. Instead of going back to the House of Commons, he +went straight to a strike-breaking agency. No grass should grow +under the feet of his decision! Thence he sought the one post- +office still open, despatched a long telegram to his agent, another +to the chief constable of Worcestershire; and, feeling he had done +all he could for the moment, returned to the 'House,' where they +were debating the rural housing question. He sat there, paying +only moderate attention to a subject on which he was acknowledged +an authority. To-morrow, in all probability, the papers would have +got hold of the affair! How he loathed people poking their noses +into his concerns! And suddenly he was assailed, very deep down, +by a feeling with which in his firmness he had not reckoned--a sort +of remorse that he was going to let a lot of loafing blackguards +down onto his land, to toss about his grass, and swill their +beastly beer above it. And all the real love he had for his fields +and coverts, all the fastidiousness of an English gentleman, and, +to do him justice, the qualms of a conscience telling him that he +owed better things than this to those born on his estate, assaulted +him in force. He sat back in his seat, driving his long legs hard +against the pew in front. His thick, wavy, still brown hair was +beautifully parted above the square brow that frowned over deep-set +eyes and a perfectly straight nose. Now and again he bit into a +side of his straw-colored moustache, or raised a hand and twisted +the other side. Without doubt one of the handsomest and perhaps +the most Norman-looking man in the whole 'House.' There was a +feeling among those round him that he was thinking deeply. And so +he was. But he had decided, and he was not a man who went back on +his decisions. + +Morning brought even worse sensations. Those ruffians that he had +ordered down--the farmers would never consent to put them up! They +would have to camp. Camp on his land! It was then that for two +seconds the thought flashed through him: Ought I to have considered +whether I could agree to that demand? Gone in another flash. If +there was one thing a man could not tolerate, it was dictation! +Out of the question! But perhaps he had been a little hasty about +strike-breakers. Was there not still time to save the situation +from that, if he caught the first train? The personal touch was +everything. If he put it to the men on the spot, with these +strike-breakers up his sleeve, surely they must listen! After all, +they were his own people. And suddenly he was overcome with +amazement that they should have taken such a step. What had got +into them? Spiritless enough, as a rule, in all conscience; the +sort of fellows who hadn't steam even to join the miniature rifle- +range that he had given them! And visions of them, as he was +accustomed to pass them in the lanes, slouching along with their +straw bags, their hoes, and their shamefaced greetings, passed +before him. Yes! It was all that fellow Freeland's family! The +men had been put up to it--put up to it! The very wording of their +demand showed that! Very bitterly he thought of the unneighborly +conduct of that woman and her cubs. It was impossible to keep it +from his wife! And so he told her. Rather to his surprise, she +had no scruples about the strike-breakers. Of course, the hay must +be saved! And the laborers be taught a lesson! All the +unpleasantness he and she had gone through over Tryst and that +Gaunt girl must not go for nothing! It must never be said or +thought that the Freeland woman and her children had scored over +them! If the lesson were once driven home, they would have no +further trouble. + +He admired her firmness, though with a certain impatience. Women +never quite looked ahead; never quite realized all the consequences +of anything. And he thought: 'By George! I'd no idea she was so +hard! But, then, she always felt more strongly about Tryst and +that Gaunt girl than I did.' + +In the hall the glass was still going down. He caught the 9.15, +wiring to his agent to meet him at the station, and to the +impresario of the strike-breakers to hold up their departure until +he telegraphed. The three-mile drive up from the station, fully +half of which was through his own land, put him in possession of +all the agent had to tell: Nasty spirit abroad--men dumb as fishes-- +the farmers, puzzled and angry, had begun cutting as best they +could. Not a man had budged. He had seen young Mr. and Miss +Freeland going about. The thing had been worked very cleverly. He +had suspected nothing--utterly unlike the laborers as he knew them. +They had no real grievance, either! Yes, they were going on with +all their other work--milking, horses, and that; it was only the +hay they wouldn't touch. Their demand was certainly a very funny +one--very funny--had never heard of anything like it. Amounted +almost to security of tenure. The Tryst affair no doubt had done +it! Malloring cut him short: + +"Till they've withdrawn this demand, Simmons, I can't discuss that +or anything." + +The agent coughed behind his hand. + +Naturally! Only perhaps there might be a way of wording it that +would satisfy them. Never do to really let them have such +decisions in their hands, of course! + +They were just passing Tod's. The cottage wore its usual air of +embowered peace. And for the life of him Malloring could not +restrain a gesture of annoyance. + +On reaching home he sent gardeners and grooms in all directions +with word that he would be glad to meet the men at four o'clock at +the home farm. Much thought, and interviews with several of the +farmers, who all but one--a shaky fellow at best--were for giving +the laborers a sharp lesson, occupied the interval. Though he had +refused to admit the notion that the men could be chicaned, as his +agent had implied, he certainly did wonder a little whether a +certain measure of security might not in some way be guaranteed, +which would still leave him and the farmers a free hand. But the +more he meditated on the whole episode, the more he perceived how +intimately it interfered with the fundamental policy of all good +landowners--of knowing what was good for their people better than +those people knew themselves. + +As four o'clock approached, he walked down to the home farm. The +sky was lightly overcast, and a rather chill, draughty, rustling +wind had risen. Resolved to handle the men with the personal +touch, he had discouraged his agent and the farmers from coming to +the conference, and passed the gate with the braced-up feeling of +one who goes to an encounter. In that very spick-and-span farmyard +ducks were swimming leisurely on the greenish pond, white pigeons +strutting and preening on the eaves of the barn, and his keen eye +noted that some tiles were out of order up there. Four o'clock! +Ah, here was a fellow coming! And instinctively he crisped his +hands that were buried in his pockets, and ran over to himself his +opening words. Then, with a sensation of disgust, he saw that the +advancing laborer was that incorrigible 'land lawyer' Gaunt. The +short, square man with the ruffled head and the little bright-gray +eyes saluted, uttered an "Afternoon, Sir Gerald!" in his teasing +voice, and stood still. His face wore the jeering twinkle that had +disconcerted so many political meetings. Two lean fellows, rather +alike, with lined faces and bitten, drooped moustaches, were the +next to come through the yard gate. They halted behind Gaunt, +touching their forelocks, shuffling a little, and looking sidelong +at each other. And Malloring waited. Five past four! Ten past! +Then he said: + +"D'you mind telling the others that I'm here?" + +Gaunt answered: + +"If so be as you was waitin' for the meetin', I fancy as 'ow you've +got it, Sir Gerald!" + +A wave of anger surged up in Malloring, dyeing his face brick-red. +So! He had come all that way with the best intentions--to be +treated like this; to meet this 'land lawyer,' who, he could see, +was only here to sharpen his tongue, and those two scarecrow- +looking chaps, who had come to testify, no doubt, to his +discomfiture. And he said sharply: + +"So that's the best you can do to meet me, is it?" + +Gaunt answered imperturbably: + +"I think it is, Sir Gerald." + +"Then you've mistaken your man." + +"I don't think so, Sir Gerald." + +Without another look Malloring passed the three by, and walked back +to the house. In the hall was the agent, whose face clearly showed +that he had foreseen this defeat. Malloring did not wait for him +to speak. + +"Make arrangements. The strike-breakers will be down by noon to- +morrow. I shall go through with it now, Simmons, if I have to +clear the whole lot out. You'd better go in and see that they're +ready to send police if there's any nonsense. I'll be down again +in a day or two." And, without waiting for reply, he passed into +his study. There, while the car was being got ready, he stood in +the window, very sore; thinking of what he had meant to do; +thinking of his good intentions; thinking of what was coming to the +country, when a man could not even get his laborers to come and +hear what he had to say. And a sense of injustice, of anger, of +bewilderment, harrowed his very soul. + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + + +For the first two days of this new 'kick-up,' that 'fellow +Freeland's' family undoubtedly tasted the sweets of successful +mutiny. The fellow himself alone shook his head. He, like Nedda, +had known nothing, and there was to him something unnatural and +rather awful in this conduct toward dumb crops. + +From the moment he heard of it he hardly spoke, and a perpetual +little frown creased a brow usually so serene. In the early +morning of the day after Malloring went back to town, he crossed +the road to a field where the farmer, aided by his family and one +of Malloring's gardeners, was already carrying the hay; and, taking +up a pitchfork, without a word to anybody, he joined in the work. +The action was deeper revelation of his feeling than any +expostulation, and the young people watched it rather aghast. + +"It's nothing," Derek said at last; "Father never has understood, +and never will, that you can't get things without fighting. He +cares more for trees and bees and birds than he does for human +beings." + +"That doesn't explain why he goes over to the enemy, when it's only +a lot of grass." + +Kirsteen answered: + +"He hasn't gone over to the enemy, Sheila. You don't understand +your father; to neglect the land is sacrilege to him. It feeds us-- +he would say--we live on it; we've no business to forget that but +for the land we should all be dead." + +"That's beautiful," said Nedda quickly; "and true." + +Sheila answered angrily: + +"It may be true in France with their bread and wine. People don't +live off the land here; they hardly eat anything they grow +themselves. How can we feel like that when we're all brought up on +mongrel food? Besides, it's simply sentimental, when there are +real wrongs to fight about." + +"Your father is not sentimental, Sheila. It's too deep with him +for that, and too unconscious. He simply feels so unhappy about +the waste of that hay that he can't keep his hands off it." + +Derek broke in: "Mother's right. And it doesn't matter, except +that we've got to see that the men don't follow his example. +They've a funny feeling about him." + +Kirsteen shook her head. + +"You needn't be afraid. He's always been too strange to them!" + +"Well, I'm going to stiffen their backs. Coming Sheila?" And they +went. + +Left, as she seemed always to be in these days of open mutiny, +Nedda said sadly: + +"What is coming, Aunt Kirsteen?" + +Her aunt was standing in the porch, looking straight before her; a +trail of clematis had drooped over her fine black hair down on to +the blue of her linen dress. She answered, without turning: + +"Have you ever seen, on jubilee nights, bonfire to bonfire, from +hill to hill, to the end of the land? This is the first lighted." + +Nedda felt something clutch her heart. What was that figure in +blue? Priestess? Prophetess? And for a moment the girl felt +herself swept into the vision those dark glowing eyes were seeing; +some violent, exalted, inexorable, flaming vision. Then something +within her revolted, as though one had tried to hypnotize her into +seeing what was not true; as though she had been forced for the +moment to look, not at what was really there, but at what those +eyes saw projected from the soul behind them. And she said quietly: + +"I don't believe, Aunt Kirsteen. I don't really believe. I think +it must go out." + +Kirsteen turned. + +"You are like your father," she said--"a doubter." + +Nedda shook her head. + +"I can't persuade myself to see what isn't there. I never can, +Aunt Kirsteen." + +Without reply, save a quiver of her brows, Kirsteen went back into +the house. And Nedda stayed on the pebbled path before the +cottage, unhappy, searching her own soul. Did she fail to see +because she was afraid to see, because she was too dull to see; or +because, as she had said, there was really nothing there--no flames +to leap from hill to hill, no lift, no tearing in the sky that hung +over the land? And she thought: 'London--all those big towns, +their smoke, the things they make, the things we want them to make, +that we shall always want them to make. Aren't they there? For +every laborer who's a slave Dad says there are five town workers +who are just as much slaves! And all those Bigwigs with their +great houses, and their talk, and their interest in keeping things +where they are! Aren't they there? I don't--I can't believe +anything much can happen, or be changed. Oh! I shall never see +visions, and dream dreams!' And from her heart she sighed. + +In the meantime Derek and Sheila were going their round on +bicycles, to stiffen the backs of the laborers. They had hunted +lately, always in a couple, desiring no complications, having +decided that it was less likely to provoke definite assault and +opposition from the farmers. To their mother was assigned all +correspondence; to themselves the verbal exhortations, the personal +touch. It was past noon, and they were already returning, when +they came on the char-a-bancs containing the head of the strike- +breaking column. The two vehicles were drawn up opposite the gate +leading to Marrow Farm, and the agent was detaching the four men +destined to that locality, with their camping-gear. By the open +gate the farmer stood eying his new material askance. Dejected +enough creatures they looked--poor devils picked up at ten pound +the dozen, who, by the mingled apathy and sheepish amusement on +their faces, might never have seen a pitchfork, or smelled a field +of clover, in their lives. + +The two young Freelands rode slowly past; the boy's face scornfully +drawn back into itself; the girl's flaming scarlet. + +"Don't take notice," Derek said; "we'll soon stop that." + +And they had gone another mile before he added: + +"We've got to make our round again; that's all." + +The words of Mr. Pogram, 'You have influence, young man,' were +just. There was about Derek the sort of quality that belongs to +the good regimental officer; men followed and asked themselves why +the devil they had, afterward. And if it be said that no worse +leader than a fiery young fool can be desired for any movement, it +may also be said that without youth and fire and folly there is +usually no movement at all. + +Late in the afternoon they returned home, dead beat. That evening +the farmers and their wives milked the cows, tended the horses, did +everything that must be done, not without curses. And next morning +the men, with Gaunt and a big, dark fellow, called Tulley, for +spokesmen, again proffered their demand. The agent took counsel +with Malloring by wire. His answer, "Concede nothing," was +communicated to the men in the afternoon, and received by Gaunt +with the remark: "I thart we should be hearin' that. Please to +thank Sir Gerald. The men concedes their gratitood." . . . + +That night it began to rain. Nedda, waking, could hear the heavy +drops pattering on the sweetbrier and clematis thatching her open +window. The scent of rain-cooled leaves came in drifts, and it +seemed a shame to sleep. She got up; put on her dressing-gown, and +went to thrust her nose into that bath of dripping sweetness. Dark +as the clouds had made the night, there was still the faint light +of a moon somewhere behind. The leaves of the fruit-trees joined +in the long, gentle hissing, and now and again rustled and sighed +sharply; a cock somewhere, as by accident, let off a single crow. +There were no stars. All was dark and soft as velvet. And Nedda +thought: 'The world is dressed in living creatures! Trees, +flowers, grass, insects, ourselves--woven together--the world is +dressed in life! I understand Uncle Tod's feeling! If only it +would rain till they have to send these strike-breakers back +because there's no hay worth fighting about!' Suddenly her heart +beat fast. The wicket gate had clicked. There was something +darker than the darkness coming along the path! Scared, but with +all protective instinct roused, she leaned out, straining to see. +A faint grating sound from underneath came up to her. A window +being opened! And she flew to her door. She neither barred it, +however, nor cried out, for in that second it had flashed across +her: 'Suppose it's he! Gone out to do something desperate, as +Tryst did!' If it were, he would come up-stairs and pass her door, +going to his room. She opened it an inch, holding her breath. At +first, nothing! Was it fancy? Or was some one noiselessly rifling +the room down-stairs? But surely no one would steal of Uncle Tod, +who, everybody knew, had nothing valuable. Then came a sound as of +bootless feet pressing the stairs stealthily! And the thought +darted through her, 'If it isn't he, what shall I do?' And then-- +'What shall I do--if it IS!' + +Desperately she opened the door, clasping her hands on the place +whence her heart had slipped down to her bare feet. But she knew +it was he before she heard him whisper: "Nedda!" and, clutching him +by the sleeve, she drew him in and closed the door. He was wet +through, dripping; so wet that the mere brushing against him made +her skin feel moist through its thin coverings. + +"Where have you been? What have you been doing? Oh, Derek!" + +There was just light enough to see his face, his teeth, the whites +of his eyes. + +"Cutting their tent-ropes in the rain. Hooroosh!" + +It was such a relief that she just let out a little gasping "Oh!" +and leaned her forehead against his coat. Then she felt his wet +arms round her, his wet body pressed to hers, and in a second he +was dancing with her a sort of silent, ecstatic war dance. +Suddenly he stopped, went down on his knees, pressing his face to +her waist, and whispering: "What a brute, what a brute! Making her +wet! Poor little Nedda!" + +Nedda bent over him; her hair covered his wet head, her hands +trembled on his shoulders. Her heart felt as if it would melt +right out of her; she longed so to warm and dry him with herself. +And, in turn, his wet arms clutched her close, his wet hands could +not keep still on her. Then he drew back, and whispering: "Oh, +Nedda! Nedda!" fled out like a dark ghost. Oblivious that she was +damp from head to foot, Nedda stood swaying, her eyes closed and +her lips just open; then, putting out her arms, she drew them +suddenly in and clasped herself. . . . + +When she came down to breakfast the next morning, he had gone out +already, and Uncle Tod, too; her aunt was writing at the bureau. +Sheila greeted her gruffly, and almost at once went out. Nedda +swallowed coffee, ate her egg, and bread and honey, with a heavy +heart. A newspaper lay open on the table; she read it idly till +these words caught her eye: + + +"The revolt which has paralyzed the hay harvest on Sir Gerald +Malloring's Worcestershire estate and led to the introduction of +strike-breakers, shows no sign of abatement. A very wanton spirit +of mischief seems to be abroad in this neighborhood. No reason can +be ascertained for the arson committed a short time back, nor for +this further outbreak of discontent. The economic condition of the +laborers on this estate is admittedly rather above than below the +average." + + +And at once she thought: '"Mischief!" What a shame!' Were people, +then, to know nothing of the real cause of the revolt--nothing of +the Tryst eviction, the threatened eviction of the Gaunts? Were +they not to know that it was on principle, and to protest against +that sort of petty tyranny to the laborers all over the country, +that this rebellion had been started? For liberty! only simple +liberty not to be treated as though they had no minds or souls of +their own--weren't the public to know that? If they were allowed +to think that it was all wanton mischief--that Derek was just a +mischief-maker--it would be dreadful! Some one must write and make +this known? Her father? But Dad might think it too personal--his +own relations! Mr. Cuthcott! Into whose household Wilmet Gaunt +had gone. Ah! Mr. Cuthcott who had told her that he was always at +her service! Why not? And the thought that she might really do +something at last to help made her tingle all over. If she +borrowed Sheila's bicycle she could catch the nine-o'clock train to +London, see him herself, make him do something, perhaps even bring +him back with her! She examined her purse. Yes, she had money. +She would say nothing, here, because, of course, he might refuse! +At the back of her mind was the idea that, if a real newspaper took +the part of the laborers, Derek's position would no longer be so +dangerous; he would be, as it were, legally recognized, and that, +in itself, would make him more careful and responsible. Whence she +got this belief in the legalizing power of the press it is +difficult to say, unless that, reading newspapers but seldom, she +still took them at their own valuation, and thought that when they +said: "We shall do this," or "We must do that," they really were +speaking for the country, and that forty-five millions of people +were deliberately going to do something, whereas, in truth, as was +known to those older than Nedda, they were speaking, and not too +conclusively at that, for single anonymous gentlemen in a hurry who +were not going to do anything. She knew that the press had power, +great power--for she was always hearing that--and it had not +occurred to her as yet to examine the composition of that power so +as to discover that, while the press certainly had a certain +monopoly of expression, and that same 'spirit of body' which makes +police constables swear by one another, it yet contained within its +ring fence the sane and advisable futility of a perfectly balanced +contradiction; so that its only functions, practically speaking, +were the dissemination of news, seven-tenths of which would have +been happier in obscurity; and--'irritation of the Dutch!' Not, of +course, that the press realized this; nor was it probable that any +one would tell it, for it had power--great power. + +She caught her train--glowing outwardly from the speed of her ride, +and inwardly from the heat of adventure and the thought that at +last she was being of some use. + +The only other occupants of her third-class compartment were a +friendly looking man, who might have been a sailor or other +wanderer on leave, and his thin, dried-up, black-clothed cottage +woman of an old mother. They sat opposite each other. The son +looked at his mother with beaming eyes, and she remarked: "An' I +says to him, says I, I says, 'What?' I says; so 'e says to me, he +says, 'Yes,' he says; 'that's what I say,' he says." And Nedda +thought: 'What an old dear! And the son looks nice too; I do like +simple people.' + +They got out at the first stop and she journeyed on alone. Taking +a taxicab from Paddington, she drove toward Gray's Inn. But now +that she was getting close she felt very nervous. How expect a +busy man like Mr. Cuthcott to spare time to come down all that way? +It would be something, though, if she could get him even to +understand what was really happening, and why; so that he could +contradict that man in the other paper. It must be wonderful to be +writing, daily, what thousands and thousands of people read! Yes! +It must be a very sacred-feeling life! To be able to say things in +that particularly authoritative way which must take such a lot of +people in--that is, make such a lot of people think in the same +way! It must give a man a terrible sense of responsibility, make +him feel that he simply must be noble, even if he naturally wasn't. +Yes! it must be a wonderful profession, and only fit for the +highest! In addition to Mr. Cuthcott, she knew as yet but three +young journalists, and those all weekly. + +At her timid ring the door was opened by a broad-cheeked girl, +enticingly compact in apron and black frock, whose bright color, +thick lips, and rogue eyes came of anything but London. It flashed +across Nedda that this must be the girl for whose sake she had +faced Mr. Cuthcott at the luncheon-table! And she said: "Are you +Wilmet Gaunt?" + +The girl smiled till her eyes almost disappeared, and answered: +"Yes, miss." + +"I'm Nedda Freeland, Miss Sheila's cousin. I've just come from +Joyfields. How are you getting on?" + +"Fine, thank you, miss. Plenty of life here." + +Nedda thought: 'That's what Derek said of her. Bursting with life! +And so she is.' And she gazed doubtfully at the girl, whose prim +black dress and apron seemed scarcely able to contain her. + +"Is Mr. Cuthcott in?" + +"No, miss; he'll be down at the paper. Two hundred and five +Floodgate Street." + +'Oh!' thought Nedda with dismay; 'I shall never venture there!' +And glancing once more at the girl, whose rogue slits of eyes, deep +sunk between check-bones and brow, seemed to be quizzing her and +saying: 'You and Mr. Derek--oh! I know!' she went sadly away. And +first she thought she would go home to Hampstead, then that she +would go back to the station, then: 'After all, why shouldn't I go +and try? They can't eat me. I will!' + +She reached her destination at the luncheon-hour, so that the +offices of the great evening journal were somewhat deserted. +Producing her card, she was passed from hand to hand till she +rested in a small bleak apartment where a young woman was typing +fast. She longed to ask her how she liked it, but did not dare. +The whole atmosphere seemed to her charged with a strenuous +solemnity, as though everything said, 'We have power--great power.' +And she waited, sitting by the window which faced the street. On +the buildings opposite she could read the name of another great +evening journal. Why, it was the one which had contained the +paragraph she had read at breakfast! She had bought a copy of it +at the station. Its temperament, she knew, was precisely opposed +to that of Mr. Cuthcott's paper. Over in that building, no doubt +there would be the same strenuously loaded atmosphere, so that if +they opened the windows on both sides little puffs of power would +meet in mid-air, above the heads of the passers-by, as might the +broadsides of old three-deckers, above the green, green sea. + +And for the first time an inkling of the great comic equipoise in +Floodgate Street and human affairs stole on Nedda's consciousness. +They puffed and puffed, and only made smoke in the middle! That +must be why Dad always called them: 'Those fellows!' She had +scarcely, however, finished beginning to think these thoughts when +a handbell sounded sharply in some adjoining room, and the young +woman nearly fell into her typewriter. Readjusting her balance, +she rose, and, going to the door, passed out in haste. Through the +open doorway Nedda could see a large and pleasant room, whose walls +seemed covered with prints of men standing in attitudes such that +she was almost sure they were statesmen; and, at a table in the +centre, the back of Mr. Cuthcott in a twiddly chair, surrounded by +sheets of paper reposing on the floor, shining like autumn leaves +on a pool of water. She heard his voice, smothery, hurried, but +still pleasant, say: "Take these, Miss Mayne, take these! Begin on +them, begin! Confound it! What's the time?" And the young +woman's voice: "Half past one, Mr. Cuthcott!" And a noise from Mr. +Cuthcott's throat that sounded like an adjuration to the Deity not +to pass over something. Then the young woman dipped and began +gathering those leaves of paper, and over her comely back Nedda had +a clear view of Mr. Cuthcott hunching one brown shoulder as though +warding something off, and of one of his thin hands ploughing up +and throwing back his brown hair on one side, and heard the sound +of his furiously scratching pen. And her heart pattered; it was so +clear that he was 'giving them one' and had no time for her. And +involuntarily she looked at the windows beyond him to see if there +were any puffs of power issuing therefrom. But they were closed. +She saw the young woman rise and come back toward her, putting the +sheets of paper in order; and, as the door was closing, from the +twiddly chair a noise that seemed to couple God with the +condemnation of silly souls. When the young woman was once more at +the typewriter she rose and said: "Have you given him my card yet?" + +The young woman looked at her surprised, as if she had broken some +rule of etiquette, and answered: "No." + +"Then don't, please. I can see that he's too busy. I won't wait." + +The young woman abstractedly placed a sheet of paper in her typewriter. + +"Very well," she said. "Good morning!" + +And before Nedda reached the door she heard the click-click of the +machine, reducing Mr. Cuthcott to legibility. + +'I was stupid to come,' she thought. 'He must be terribly +overworked. Poor man! He does say lovely things!' And, +crestfallen, she went along the passages, and once more out into +Floodgate Street. She walked along it frowning, till a man who was +selling newspapers said as she passed: "Mind ye don't smile, lydy!" + +Seeing that he was selling Mr. Cuthcott's paper, she felt for a +coin to buy one, and, while searching, scrutinized the newsvender's +figure, almost entirely hidden by the words: + + + GREAT HOUSING SCHEME + + HOPE FOR THE MILLION! + + +on a buff-colored board; while above it, his face, that had not +quite blood enough to be scorbutic, was wrapped in the expression +of those philosophers to whom a hope would be fatal. He was, in +fact, just what he looked--a street stoic. And a dim perception of +the great social truth: "The smell of half a loaf is not better +than no bread!" flickered in Nedda's brain as she passed on. Was +that what Derek was doing with the laborers--giving them half the +smell of a liberty that was not there? And a sudden craving for +her father came over her. He--he only, was any good, because he, +only, loved her enough to feel how distracted and unhappy she was +feeling, how afraid of what was coming. So, making for a Tube +station, she took train to Hampstead. . . . + +It was past two, and Felix, on the point of his constitutional. He +had left Becket the day after Nedda's rather startling removal to +Joyfields, and since then had done his level best to put the whole +Tryst affair, with all its somewhat sinister relevance to her life +and his own, out of his mind as something beyond control. He had +but imperfectly succeeded. + +Flora, herself not too present-minded, had in these days occasion +to speak to him about the absent-minded way in which he fulfilled +even the most domestic duties, and Alan was always saying to him, +"Buck up, Dad!" With Nedda's absorption into the little Joyfields +whirlpool, the sun shone but dimly for Felix. And a somewhat +febrile attention to 'The Last of the Laborers' had not brought it +up to his expectations. He fluttered under his buff waistcoat when +he saw her coming in at the gate. She must want something of him! +For to this pitch of resignation, as to his little daughter's love +for him, had he come! And if she wanted something of him, things +would be going wrong again down there! Nor did the warmth of her +embrace, and her: "Oh! Dad, it IS nice to see you!" remove that +instinctive conviction; though delicacy, born of love, forbade him +to ask her what she wanted. Talking of the sky and other matters, +thinking how pretty she was looking, he waited for the new, +inevitable proof that youth was first, and a mere father only +second fiddle now. A note from Stanley had already informed him of +the strike. The news had been something of a relief. Strikes, at +all events, were respectable and legitimate means of protest, and +to hear that one was in progress had not forced him out of his +laborious attempt to believe the whole affair only a mole-hill. He +had not, however, heard of the strike-breakers, nor had he seen any +newspaper mention of the matter; and when she had shown him the +paragraph; recounted her visit to Mr. Cuthcott, and how she had +wanted to take him back with her to see for himself--he waited a +moment, then said almost timidly: "Should I be of any use, my +dear?" She flushed and squeezed his hand in silence; and he knew +he would. + +When he had packed a handbag and left a note for Flora, he rejoined +her in the hall. + +It was past seven when they reached their destination, and, taking +the station 'fly,' drove slowly up to Joyfields, under a showery +sky. + + +CHAPTER XXIX + + +When Felix and Nedda reached Tod's cottage, the three little +Trysts, whose activity could never be quite called play, were all +the living creatures about the house. + +"Where is Mrs. Freeland, Biddy?" + +"We don't know; a man came, and she went." + +"And Miss Sheila?" + +"She went out in the mornin'. And Mr. Freeland's gone." + +Susie added: "The dog's gone, too." + +"Then help me to get some tea." + +"Yes." + +With the assistance of the mother-child, and the hindrance of Susie +and Billy, Nedda made and laid tea, with an anxious heart. The +absence of her aunt, who so seldom went outside the cottage, +fields, and orchard, disturbed her; and, while Felix refreshed +himself, she fluttered several times on varying pretexts to the +wicket gate. + +At her third visit, from the direction of the church, she saw +figures coming on the road--dark figures carrying something, +followed by others walking alongside. What sun there had been had +quite given in to heavy clouds; the light was dull, the elm-trees +dark; and not till they were within two hundred yards could Nedda +make out that these were figures of policemen. Then, alongside +that which they were carrying, she saw her aunt's blue dress. WHAT +were they carrying like that? She dashed down the steps, and +stopped. No! If it were HE they would bring him in! She rushed +back again, distracted. She could see now a form stretched on a +hurdle. It WAS he! + +"Dad! Quick!" + +Felix came, startled at that cry, to find his little daughter on +the path wringing her hands and flying back to the wicket gate. +They were close now. She saw them begin to mount the steps, those +behind raising their arms so that the hurdle should be level. +Derek lay on his back, with head and forehead swathed in wet blue +linen, torn from his mother's skirt; and the rest of his face very +white. He lay quite still, his clothes covered with mud. +Terrified, Nedda plucked at Kirsteen's sleeve. + +"What is it?" + +"Concussion!" The stillness of that blue-clothed figure, so calm +beside her, gave her strength to say quietly: + +"Put him in my room, Aunt Kirsteen; there's more air there!" And +she flew up-stairs, flinging wide her door, making the bed ready, +snatching her night things from the pillow; pouring out cold water, +sprinkling the air with eau de cologne. Then she stood still. +Perhaps, they would not bring him there? Yes, they were coming up. +They brought him in, and laid him on the bed. She heard one say: +"Doctor'll be here directly, ma'am. Let him lie quiet." Then she +and his mother were alone beside him. + +"Undo his boots," said Kirsteen. + +Nedda's fingers trembled, and she hated them for fumbling so, while +she drew off those muddy boots. Then her aunt said softly: "Hold +him up, dear, while I get his things off." + +And, with a strange rapture that she was allowed to hold him thus, +she supported him against her breast till he was freed and lying +back inert. Then, and only then, she whispered: + +"How long before he--?" + +Kirsteen shook her head; and, slipping her arm round the girl, +murmured: "Courage, Nedda!" + +The girl felt fear and love rush up desperately to overwhelm her. +She choked them back, and said quite quietly: "I will. I promise. +Only let me help nurse him!" + +Kirsteen nodded. And they sat down to wait. + +That quarter of an hour was the longest of her life. To see him +thus, living, yet not living, with the spirit driven from him by a +cruel blow, perhaps never to come back! Curious, how things still +got themselves noticed when all her faculties were centred in +gazing at his face. She knew that it was raining again; heard the +swish and drip, and smelled the cool wet perfume through the scent +of the eau de cologne that she had spilled. She noted her aunt's +arm, as it hovered, wetting the bandage; the veins and rounded +whiteness from under the loose blue sleeve slipped up to the elbow. +One of his feet lay close to her at the bed's edge; she stole her +hand beneath the sheet. That foot felt very cold, and she grasped +it tight. If only she could pass life into him through her hot +hand. She heard the ticking of her little travelling-clock, and +was conscious of flies wheeling close up beneath the white ceiling, +of how one by one they darted at each other, making swift zigzags +in the air. And something in her she had not yet known came +welling up, softening her eyes, her face, even the very pose of her +young body--the hidden passion of a motherliness, that yearned so +to 'kiss the place,' to make him well, to nurse and tend, restore +and comfort him. And with all her might she watched the movements +of those rounded arms under the blue sleeves--how firm and exact +they were, how soft and quiet and swift, bathing the dark head! +Then from beneath the bandage she caught sight suddenly of his +eyes. And her heart turned sick. Oh, they were not quite closed! +As if he hadn't life enough to close them! She bit into her lip to +stop a cry. It was so terrible to see them without light. Why did +not that doctor come? Over and over and over again within her the +prayer turned: Let him live! Oh, let him live! + +The blackbirds out in the orchard were tuning up for evening. It +seemed almost dreadful they should be able to sing like that. All +the world was going on just the same! If he died, the world would +have no more light for her than there was now in his poor eyes--and +yet it would go on the same! How was that possible? It was not +possible, because she would die too! She saw her aunt turn her +head like a startled animal; some one was coming up the stairs! It +was the doctor, wiping his wet face--a young man in gaiters. How +young--dreadfully young! No; there was a little gray at the sides +of his hair! What would he say? And Nedda sat with hands tight +clenched in her lap, motionless as a young crouching sphinx. An +interminable testing, and questioning, and answer! Never smoked-- +never drank--never been ill! The blow--ah, here! Just here! +Concussion--yes! Then long staring into the eyes, the eyelids +lifted between thumb and finger. And at last (how could he talk so +loud! Yet it was a comfort too--he would not talk like that if +Derek were going to die!)--Hair cut shorter--ice--watch him like a +lynx! This and that, if he came to. Nothing else to be done. And +then those blessed words: + +"But don't worry too much. I think it'll be all right." She could +not help a little sigh escaping her clenched teeth. + +The doctor was looking at her. His eyes were nice. + +"Sister?" + +"Cousin." + +"Ah! Well, I'll get back now, and send you out some ice, at once." + +More talk outside the door. Nedda, alone with her lover, crouched +forward on her knees, and put her lips to his. They were not so +cold as his foot, and the first real hope and comfort came to her. +Watch him like a lynx--wouldn't she? But how had it all happened? +And where was Sheila? and Uncle Tod? + +Her aunt had come back and was stroking her shoulder. There had +been fighting in the barn at Marrow Farm. They had arrested +Sheila. Derek had jumped down to rescue her and struck his head +against a grindstone. Her uncle had gone with Sheila. They would +watch, turn and turn about. Nedda must go now and eat something, +and get ready to take the watch from eight to midnight. + +Following her resolve to make no fuss, the girl went out. The +police had gone. The mother-child was putting her little folk to +bed; and in the kitchen Felix was arranging the wherewithal to eat. +He made her sit down and kept handing things; watching like a cat +to see that she put them in her mouth, in the way from which only +Flora had suffered hitherto; he seemed so anxious and unhappy, and +so awfully sweet, that Nedda forced herself to swallow what she +thought would never go down a dry and choky throat. He kept coming +up and touching her shoulder or forehead. Once he said: + +"It's all right, you know, my pet; concussion often takes two +days." + +Two days with his eyes like that! The consolation was not so vivid +as Felix might have wished; but she quite understood that he was +doing his best to give it. She suddenly remembered that he had no +room to sleep in. He must use Derek's. No! That, it appeared, +was to be for her when she came off duty. Felix was going to have +an all-night sitting in the kitchen. He had been looking forward +to an all-night sitting for many years, and now he had got his +chance. It was a magnificent opportunity--"without your mother, my +dear, to insist on my sleeping." And staring at his smile, Nedda +thought: 'He's like Granny--he comes out under difficulties. If +only I did!' + +The ice arrived by motor-cycle just before her watch began. It was +some comfort to have that definite thing to see to. How timorous +and humble are thoughts in a sick-room, above all when the sick are +stretched behind the muffle of unconsciousness, withdrawn from the +watcher by half-death! And yet, for him or her who loves, there is +at least the sense of being alone with the loved one, of doing all +that can be done; and in some strange way of twining hearts with +the exiled spirit. To Nedda, sitting at his feet, and hardly ever +turning eyes away from his still face, it sometimes seemed that the +flown spirit was there beside her. And she saw into his soul in +those hours of watching, as one looking into a stream sees the +leopard-like dapple of its sand and dark-strewn floor, just reached +by sunlight. She saw all his pride, courage, and impatience, his +reserve, and strange unwilling tenderness, as she had never seen +them. And a queer dreadful feeling moved her that in some previous +existence she had looked at that face dead on a field of battle, +frowning up at the stars. That was absurd--there were no previous +existences! Or was it prevision of what would come some day? + +When, at half past nine, the light began to fail, she lighted two +candles in tall, thin, iron candlesticks beside her. They burned +without flicker, those spires of yellow flame, slowly conquering +the dying twilight, till in their soft radiance the room was full +of warm dusky shadows, the night outside ever a deeper black. Two +or three times his mother came, looked at him, asked her if she +should stay, and, receiving a little silent shake of the head, went +away again. At eleven o'clock, when once more she changed the ice- +cap, his eyes had still no lustre, and for a moment her courage +failed her utterly. It seemed to her that he could never win back, +that death possessed the room already, possessed those candle- +flames, the ticking of the clock, the dark, dripping night, +possessed her heart. Could he be gone before she had been his! +Gone! Where? She sank down on her knees, covering her eyes. What +good to watch, if he were never coming back! A long time--it +seemed hours--passed thus, with the feeling growing deeper in her +that no good would come while she was watching. And behind the +barrier of her hands she tried desperately to rally courage. If +things were--they were! One must look them in the face! She took +her hands away. His eyes! Was it light in them? Was it? They +were seeing--surely they saw. And his lips made the tiniest +movement. In that turmoil of exultation she never knew how she +managed to continue kneeling there, with her hands on his. But all +her soul shone down to him out of her eyes, and drew and drew at +his spirit struggling back from the depths of him. For many +minutes that struggle lasted; then he smiled. It was the feeblest +smile that ever was on lips, but it made the tears pour down +Nedda's cheeks and trickle off on to his hands. Then, with a +stoicism that she could not believe in, so hopelessly unreal it +seemed, so utterly the negation of the tumult within her, she +settled back again at his feet to watch and not excite him. And +still his lips smiled that faint smile, and his opened eyes grew +dark and darker with meaning. + +So at midnight Kirsteen found them. + + +CHAPTER XXX + + +In the early hours of his all-night sitting Felix had first only +memories, and then Kirsteen for companion. + +"I worry most about Tod," she said. "He had that look in his face +when he went off from Marrow Farm. He might do something terrible +if they ill-treat Sheila. If only she has sense enough to see and +not provoke them." + +"Surely she will," Felix murmured. + +"Yes, if she realizes. But she won't, I'm afraid. Even I have +only known him look like that three times. Tod is so gentle-- +passion stores itself in him; and when it comes, it's awful. If he +sees cruelty, he goes almost mad. Once he would have killed a man +if I hadn't got between them. He doesn't know what he's doing at +such moments. I wish--I wish he were back. It's hard one can't +pierce through, and see him." + +Gazing at her eyes so dark and intent, Felix thought: 'If YOU can't +pierce through--none can.' + +He learned the story of the disaster. + +Early that morning Derek had assembled twenty of the strongest +laborers, and taken them a round of the farms to force the strike- +breakers to desist. There had been several fights, in all of which +the strike-breakers had been beaten. Derek himself had fought +three times. In the afternoon the police had come, and the +laborers had rushed with Derek and Sheila, who had joined them, +into a barn at Marrow Farm, barred it, and thrown mangolds at the +police, when they tried to force an entrance. One by one the +laborers had slipped away by a rope out of a ventilation-hole high +up at the back, and they had just got Sheila down when the police +appeared on that side, too. Derek, who had stayed to the last, +covering their escape with mangolds, had jumped down twenty feet +when he saw them taking Sheila, and, pitching forward, hit his head +against a grindstone. Then, just as they were marching Sheila and +two of the laborers away, Tod had arrived and had fallen in +alongside the policemen--he and the dog. It was then she had seen +that look on his face. + +Felix, who had never beheld his big brother in Berserk mood, could +offer no consolation; nor had he the heart to adorn the tale, and +inflict on this poor woman his reflection: 'This, you see, is what +comes of the ferment you have fostered. This is the reward of +violence!' He longed, rather, to comfort her; she seemed so lonely +and, in spite of all her stoicism, so distraught and sad. His +heart went out, too, to Tod. How would he himself have felt, +walking by the side of policemen whose arms were twisted in +Nedda's! But so mixed are the minds of men that at this very +moment there was born within him the germ of a real revolt against +the entry of his little daughter into this family of hotheads. It +was more now than mere soreness and jealousy; it was fear of a +danger hitherto but sniffed at, but now only too sharply savored. + +When she left him to go up-stairs, Felix stayed consulting the dark +night. As ever, in hours of ebbed vitality, the shapes of fear and +doubt grew clearer and more positive; they loomed huge out there +among the apple-trees, where the drip-drip of the rain made music. +But his thoughts were still nebulous, not amounting to resolve. It +was no moment for resolves--with the boy lying up there between the +tides of chance; and goodness knew what happening to Tod and +Sheila. The air grew sharper; he withdrew to the hearth, where a +wood fire still burned, gray ash, red glow, scent oozing from it. +And while he crouched there, blowing it with bellows, he heard soft +footsteps, and saw Nedda standing behind him transformed. + +But in the midst of all his glad sympathy Felix could not help +thinking: 'Better for you, perhaps, if he had never returned from +darkness!' + +She came and crouched down by him. + +"Let me sit with you, Dad. It smells so good." + +"Very well; but you must sleep." + +"I don't believe I'll ever want to sleep again." + +And at the glow in her Felix glowed too. What is so infectious as +delight? They sat a long time talking, as they had not talked +since the first fatal visit to Becket. Of how love, and mountains, +works of art, and doing things for others were the only sources of +happiness; except scents, and lying on one's back looking through +tree-tops at the sky; and tea, and sunlight, flowers, and hard +exercise; oh, and the sea! Of how, when things went hard, one +prayed--but what did one pray to? Was it not to something in +oneself? It was of no use to pray to the great mysterious Force +that made one thing a cabbage, and the other a king; for That could +obviously not be weak-minded enough to attend. And gradually +little pauses began to creep into their talk; then a big pause, and +Nedda, who would never want to sleep again, was fast asleep. + +Felix watched those long, dark lashes resting on her cheeks; the +slow, soft rise of her breast; the touching look of trust and +goodness in that young face abandoned to oblivion after these hours +of stress; watched the little tired shadows under the eyes, the +tremors of the just-parted lips. And, getting up, stealthy as a +cat, he found a light rug, and ever more stealthily laid it over +her. She stirred at that, smiled up at him, and instantly went off +again. And he thought: 'Poor little sweetheart, she WAS tired!' +And a passionate desire to guard her from trials and troubles came +on him. + +At four o'clock Kirsteen slipped in again, and whispered: "She made +me promise to come for her. How pretty she looks, sleeping!" + +"Yes," Felix answered; "pretty and good!" + +Nedda raised her head, stared up at her aunt, and a delighted smile +spread over her face. "Is it time again? How lovely!" Then, +before either could speak or stop her, she was gone. + +"She is more in love," Kirsteen murmured, "than I ever saw a girl +of her age." + +"She is more in love," Felix answered, "than is good to see." + +"She is not truer than Derek is." + +"That may be, but she will suffer from him." + +"Women who love must always suffer." + +Her cheeks were sunken, shadowy; she looked very tired. When she +had gone to get some sleep, Felix restored the fire and put on a +kettle, meaning to make himself some coffee. Morning had broken, +clear and sparkling after the long rain, and full of scent and +song. What glory equalled this early morning radiance, the dewy +wonder of everything! What hour of the day was such a web of youth +and beauty as this, when all the stars from all the skies had +fallen into the grass! A cold nose was thrust into his hand, and +he saw beside him Tod's dog. The animal was wet, and lightly moved +his white-tipped tail; while his dark-yellow eyes inquired of Felix +what he was going to give a dog to eat. Then Felix saw his brother +coming in. Tod's face was wild and absent as a man with all his +thoughts turned on something painful in the distance. His ruffled +hair had lost its brightness; his eyes looked as if driven back +into his head; he was splashed with mud, and wet from head to foot. +He walked up to the hearth without a word. + +"Well, old man?" said Felix anxiously. + +Tod looked at him, but did not answer. + +"Come," said Felix; "tell us!" + +"Locked up," said Tod in a voice unlike his own. "I didn't knock +them down." + +"Heavens! I should hope not." + +"I ought to have." + +Felix put his hand within his brother's arm. + +"They twisted her arms; one of them pushed her from behind. I +can't understand it. How was it I didn't? I can't understand." + +"I can," said Felix. "They were the Law. If they had been mere +men you'd have done it, fast enough." + +"I can't understand," Tod repeated. "I've been walking ever since." + +Felix stroked his shoulder. + +"Go up-stairs, old man. Kirsteen's anxious." + +Tod sat down and took his boots off. + +"I can't understand," he said once more. Then, without another +word, or even a look at Felix, he went out and up the stairs. + +And Felix thought: 'Poor Kirsteen! Ah, well--they're all about as +queer, one as the other! How to get Nedda out of it?' + +And, with that question gnawing at him, he went out into the +orchard. The grass was drenching wet, so he descended to the road. +Two wood-pigeons were crooning to each other, truest of all sounds +of summer; there was no wind, and the flies had begun humming. In +the air, cleared of dust, the scent of hay was everywhere. What +about those poor devils of laborers, now? They would get the sack +for this! and he was suddenly beset with a feeling of disgust. +This world where men, and women too, held what they had, took what +they could; this world of seeing only one thing at a time; this +world of force, and cunning, of struggle, and primitive appetites; +of such good things, too, such patience, endurance, heroism--and +yet at heart so unutterably savage! + +He was very tired; but it was too wet to sit down, so he walked on. +Now and again he passed a laborer going to work; but very few in +all those miles, and they quite silent. 'Did they ever really +whistle?' Felix thought. 'Were they ever jolly ploughmen? Or was +that always a fiction? Surely, if they can't give tongue this +morning, they never can!' He crossed a stile and took a slanting +path through a little wood. The scent of leaves and sap, the +dapple of sunlight--all the bright early glow and beauty struck him +with such force that he could have cried out in the sharpness of +sensation. At that hour when man was still abed and the land lived +its own life, how full and sweet and wild that life seemed, how in +love with itself! Truly all the trouble in the world came from the +manifold disharmonies of the self-conscious animal called Man! + +Then, coming out on the road again, he saw that he must be within a +mile or two of Becket; and finding himself suddenly very hungry, +determined to go there and get some breakfast. + + +CHAPTER XXXI + + +Duly shaved with one of Stanley's razors, bathed, and breakfasted, +Felix was on the point of getting into the car to return to +Joyfields when he received a message from his mother: Would he +please go up and see her before he went? + +He found her looking anxious and endeavoring to conceal it. + +Having kissed him, she drew him to her sofa and said: "Now, +darling, come and sit down here, and tell me all about this +DREADFUL business." And taking up an odorator she blew over him a +little cloud of scent. "It's quite a new perfume; isn't it +delicious?" + +Felix, who dreaded scent, concealed his feelings, sat down, and +told her. And while he told her he was conscious of how +pathetically her fastidiousness was quivering under those gruesome +details--fighting with policemen, fighting with common men, prison-- +FOR A LADY; conscious too of her still more pathetic effort to put +a good face on it. When he had finished she remained so perfectly +still, with lips so hard compressed, that he said: + +"It's no good worrying, Mother." + +Frances Freeland rose, pulled something hard, and a cupboard +appeared. She opened it, and took out a travelling-bag. + +"I must go back with you at once," she said. + +"I don't think it's in the least necessary, and you'll only knock +yourself up." + +"Oh, nonsense, darling! I must." + +Knowing that further dissuasion would harden her determination, +Felix said: "I'm going in the car." + +"That doesn't matter. I shall be ready in ten minutes. Oh! and do +you know this? It's splendid for taking lines out under the eyes!" +She was holding out a little round box with the lid off. "Just wet +your finger with it, and dab it gently on." + +Touched by this evidence of her deep desire that he should put as +good a face on it as herself, Felix dabbed himself under the eyes. + +"That's right. Now, wait for me, dear; I shan't be a minute. I've +only to get my things. They'll all go splendidly in this little bag." + +In a quarter of an hour they had started. During that journey +Frances Freeland betrayed no sign of tremor. She was going into +action, and, therefore, had no patience with her nerves. + +"Are you proposing to stay, Mother?" Felix hazarded; "because I +don't think there's a room for you." + +"Oh! that's nothing, darling. I sleep beautifully in a chair. It +suits me better than lying down." Felix cast up his eyes, and made +no answer. + +On arriving, they found that the doctor had been there, expressed +his satisfaction, and enjoined perfect quiet. Tod was on the point +of starting back to Transham, where Sheila and the two laborers +would be brought up before the magistrates. Felix and Kirsteen +took hurried counsel. Now that Mother, whose nursing was beyond +reproach, had come, it would be better if they went with Tod. All +three started forthwith in the car. + +Left alone, Frances Freeland took her bag--a noticeably old one, +without any patent clasp whatever, so that she could open it--went +noiselessly upstairs, tapped on Derek's door, and went in. A faint +but cheerful voice remarked: "Halloo, Granny!" + +Frances Freeland went up to the bed, smiled down on him ineffably, +laid a finger on his lips, and said, in the stillest voice: "You +mustn't talk, darling!" Then she sat down in the window with her +bag beside her. Half a tear had run down her nose, and she had no +intention that it should be seen. She therefore opened her bag, +and, having taken out a little bottle, beckoned Nedda. + +"Now, darling," she whispered, "you must just take one of these. +It's nothing new; they're what my mother used to give me at your +age. And for one hour you must go out and get some fresh air, and +then you can come back." + +"Must I, Granny?" + +"Yes; you must keep up your strength. Kiss me." + +Nedda kissed a cheek that seemed extraordinarily smooth and soft, +received a kiss in the middle of her own, and, having stayed a +second by the bed, looking down with all her might, went out. + +Frances Freeland, in the window, wasted no thoughts, but began to +run over in her mind the exact operations necessary to defeat this +illness of darling Derek's. Her fingers continually locked and +interlocked themselves with fresh determinations; her eyes, fixed +on imaginary foods, methods of washing, and ways of keeping him +quiet, had an almost fanatical intensity. Like a good general she +marshalled her means of attack and fixed them in perfect order. +Now and then she gazed into her bag, making quite sure that she had +everything, and nothing that was new-fangled or liable to go wrong. +For into action she never brought any of those patent novelties +that delighted her soul in times of peace. For example, when she +herself had pneumonia and no doctor, for two months, it was well +known that she had lain on her back, free from every kind of +remedy, employing only courage, nature, and beef tea, or some such +simple sustenance. + +Having now made her mental dispositions, she got up without sound +and slipped off a petticoat that she suspected of having rustled a +little when she came in; folding and popping it where it could not +be suspected any more, she removed her shoes and put on very old +velvet slippers. She walked in these toward the bed, listening to +find out whether she could hear herself, without success. Then, +standing where she could see when his eyes opened, she began to +take stock. That pillow wasn't very comfortable! A little table +was wanted on both sides, instead of on one. There was no +odorator, and she did not see one of those arrangements! All these +things would have to be remedied. + +Absorbed in this reconnoitring, she failed to observe that darling +Derek was looking at her through eyelashes that were always so nice +and black. He said suddenly, in that faint and cheerful voice: + +"All right, Granny; I'm going to get up to-morrow." + +Frances Freeland, whose principle it was that people should always +be encouraged to believe themselves better than they were, +answered. "Yes, darling, of course; you'll be up in no time. +It'll be delightful to see you in a chair to-morrow. But you +mustn't talk." + +Derek sighed, closed his eyes, and went off into a faint. + +It was in moments such as these that Frances Freeland was herself. +Her face flushed a little and grew terribly determined. Conscious +that she was absolutely alone in the house, she ran to her bag, +took out her sal volatile, applied it vigorously to his nose, and +poured a little between his lips. She did other things to him, and +not until she had brought him round, and the best of it was already +made, did she even say to herself: 'It's no use fussing; I must +make the best of it.' + +Then, having discovered that he felt quite comfortable--as he said-- +she sat down in a chair to fan him and tremble vigorously. She +would not have allowed that movement of her limbs if it had in any +way interfered with the fanning. But since, on the contrary, it +seemed to be of assistance, she certainly felt it a relief; for, +whatever age her spirit might be, her body was seventy-three. + +And while she fanned she thought of Derek as a little, black- +haired, blazing-gray-eyed slip of a sallow boy, all little thin +legs and arms moving funnily like a foal's. He had been such a +dear, gentlemanlike little chap. It was dreadful he should be +forgetting himself so, and getting into such trouble. And her +thoughts passed back beyond him to her own four little sons, among +whom she had been so careful not to have a favorite, but to love +them all equally. And she thought of how their holland suits wore +out, especially in the elastic, and got green behind, almost before +they were put on; and of how she used to cut their hairs, spending +at least three-quarters of an hour on each, because she had never +been quick at it, while they sat so good--except Stanley, and +darling Tod, who WOULD move just as she had got into the comb +particularly nice bits of his hair, always so crisp and difficult! +And of how she had cut off Felix's long golden curls when he was +four, and would have cried over it, if crying hadn't always been +silly! And of how beautifully they had all had their measles +together, so that she had been up with them day and night for about +a fortnight. And of how it was a terrible risk with Derek and +darling Nedda, not at all a wise match, she was afraid. And yet, +if they really were attached, of course one must put the best face +on it! And how lovely it would be to see another little baby some +day; and what a charming little mother Nedda would make--if only +the dear child would do her hair just a little differently! And +she perceived that Derek was asleep--and one of her own legs, from +the knee down. She would certainly have bad pins and needles if +she did not get up; but, since she would not wake him for the +world, she must do something else to cure it. And she hit upon +this plan. She had only to say, 'Nonsense, you haven't anything of +the sort!' and it was sure to go away. She said this to her leg, +but, being a realist, she only made it feel like a pin-cushion. +She knew, however, that she had only to persevere, because it would +never do to give in. She persevered, and her leg felt as if red- +hot needles were being stuck in it. Then, for the life of her, she +could not help saying a little psalm. The sensation went away and +left her leg quite dead. She would have no strength in it at all +when she got up. But that would be easily cured, when she could +get to her bag, with three globules of nux vomica--and darling +Derek must not be waked up for anything! She waited thus till +Nedda came back, and then said, "Sssh!" + +He woke at once, so that providentially she was able to get up, +and, having stood with her weight on one leg for five minutes, so +as to be quite sure she did not fall, she crossed back to the +window, took her nux vomica, and sat down with her tablets to note +down the little affairs she would require, while Nedda took her +place beside the bed, to fan him. Having made her list, she went +to Nedda and whispered that she was going down to see about one or +two little things, and while she whispered she arranged the dear +child's hair. If only she would keep it just like that, it would +be so much more becoming! And she went down-stairs. + +Accustomed to the resources of Stanley's establishment, or at least +to those of John's and Felix's, and of the hotels she stayed at, +she felt for a moment just a little nonplussed at discovering at +her disposal nothing but three dear little children playing with a +dog, and one bicycle. For a few seconds she looked at the latter +hard. If only it had been a tricycle! Then, feeling certain that +she could not make it into one, she knew that she must make the +best of it, especially as, in any case, she could not have used it, +for it would never do to leave darling Nedda alone in the house. +She decided therefore to look in every room to see if she could +find the things she wanted. The dog, who had been attracted by +her, left the children and came too, and the children, attracted by +the dog, followed; so they all five went into a room on the ground +floor. It was partitioned into two by a screen; in one portion was +a rough camp bedstead, and in the other two dear little child's +beds, that must once have been Derek's and Sheila's, and one still +smaller, made out of a large packing-case. The eldest of the +little children said: + +"That's where Billy sleeps, Susie sleeps here, and I sleeps there; +and our father sleeped in here before he went to prison." Frances +Freeland experienced a shock. To prison! The idea of letting +these little things know such a thing as that! The best face had +so clearly not been put on it that she decided to put it herself. + +"Oh, not to prison, dear! Only into a house in the town for a +little while." + +It seemed to her quite dreadful that they should know the truth--it +was simply necessary to put it out of their heads. That dear +little girl looked so old already, such a little mother! And, as +they stood about her, she gazed piercingly at their heads. They +were quite clean. + +The second dear little thing said: + +"We like bein' here; we hope Father won't be comin' back from +prison for a long time, so as we can go on stayin' here. Mr. +Freeland gives us apples." + +The failure of her attempt to put a nicer idea into their heads +disconcerted Frances Freeland for a moment only. She said: + +"Who told you he was in prison?" + +Biddy answered slowly: "Nobody didn't tell us; we picked it up." + +"Oh, but you should never pick things up! That's not at all nice. +You don't know what harm they may do you." + +Billy replied: "We picked up a dead cat yesterday. It didn't +scratch a bit, it didn't." + +And Biddy added: "Please, what is prison like?" + +Pity seized on Frances Freeland for these little derelicts, whose +heads and pinafores and faces were so clean. She pursed her lips +very tight and said: + +"Hold out your hands, all of you." + +Three small hands were held out, and three small pairs of gray-blue +eyes looked up at her. From the recesses of her pocket she drew +forth her purse, took from it three shillings, and placed one in +the very centre of each palm. The three small hands closed; two +small grave bodies dipped in little courtesies; the third remained +stock-still, but a grin spread gradually on its face from ear to ear. + +"What do you say?" said Frances Freeland. + +"Thank you." + +"Thank you--what?" + +"Thank you, ma'am." + +"That's right. Now run away and play a nice game in the orchard." + +The three turned immediately and went. A sound of whispering rose +busily outside. Frances Freeland, glancing through the window, saw +them unlatching the wicket gate. Sudden alarm seized her. She put +out her head and called. Biddy came back. + +"You mustn't spend them all at once." + +Biddy shook her head. + +"No. Once we had a shillin', and we were sick. We're goin' to +spend three pennies out of one shillin' every day, till they're +gone." + +"And aren't you going to put any by for a rainy day?" + +"No." + +Frances Freeland did not know what to answer. Dear little things! + +The dear little things vanished. + +In Tod's and Kirsteen's room she found a little table and a pillow, +and something that might do, and having devised a contrivance by +which this went into that and that into this and nothing whatever +showed, she conveyed the whole very quietly up near dear Derek's +room, and told darling Nedda to go down-stairs and look for +something that she knew she would not find, for she could not think +at the moment of any better excuse. When the child had gone, she +popped this here, and popped that there. And there she was! And +she felt better. It was no use whatever to make a fuss about that +aspect of nursing which was not quite nice. One just put the best +face upon it, quietly did what was necessary, and pretended that it +was not there. Kirsteen had not seen to things quite as she should +have. But then dear Kirsteen was so clever. + +Her attitude, indeed, to that blue bird, who had alighted now +twenty-one years ago in the Freeland nest, had always, after the +first few shocks, been duly stoical. For, however her +fastidiousness might jib at neglect of the forms of things, she was +the last woman not to appreciate really sterling qualities. Though +it was a pity dear Kirsteen did expose her neck and arms so that +they had got quite brown, a pity that she never went to church and +had brought up the dear children not to go, and to have ideas that +were not quite right about 'the Land,' still she was emphatically a +lady, and devoted to dear Tod, and very good. And her features +were so regular, and she had such a good color, and was so slim and +straight in the back, that she was always a pleasure to look at. +And if she was not quite so practical as she might have been, that +was not everything; and she would never get stout, as there was +every danger of Clara doing. So that from the first she had always +put a good face on her. Derek's voice interrupted her thoughts: + +"I'm awfully thirsty, Granny." + +"Yes, darling. Don't move your head; and just let me pop in some +of this delicious lemonade with a spoon." + +Nedda, returning, found her supporting his head with one hand, +while with the other she kept popping in the spoon, her soul +smiling at him lovingly through her lips and eyes. + + +CHAPTER XXXII + + +Felix went back to London the afternoon of Frances Freeland's +installation, taking Sheila with him. She had been 'bound over to +keep the peace'--a task which she would obviously be the better +able to accomplish at a distance. And, though to take charge of +her would be rather like holding a burning match till there was no +match left, he felt bound to volunteer. + +He left Nedda with many misgivings; but had not the heart to wrench +her away. + +The recovery of a young man who means to get up to-morrow is not so +rapid when his head, rather than his body, is the seat of trouble. +Derek's temperament was against him. He got up several times in +spirit, to find that his body had remained in bed. And this did +not accelerate his progress. It had been impossible to dispossess +Frances Freeland from command of the sick-room; and, since she was +admittedly from experience and power of paying no attention to her +own wants, the fittest person for the position, there she remained, +taking turn and turn about with Nedda, and growing a little whiter, +a little thinner, more resolute in face, and more loving in her +eyes, from day to day. That tragedy of the old--the being laid +aside from life before the spirit is ready to resign, the feeling +that no one wants you, that all those you have borne and brought up +have long passed out on to roads where you cannot follow, that even +the thought-life of the world streams by so fast that you lie up in +a backwater, feebly, blindly groping for the full of the water, and +always pushed gently, hopelessly back; that sense that you are +still young and warm, and yet so furbelowed with old thoughts and +fashions that none can see how young and warm you are, none see how +you long to rub hearts with the active, how you yearn for something +real to do that can help life on, and how no one will give it you! +All this--this tragedy--was for the time defeated. She was, in +triumph, doing something real for those she loved and longed to do +things for. She had Sheila's room. + +For a week at least Derek asked no questions, made no allusion to +the mutiny, not even to the cause of his own disablement. It had +been impossible to tell whether the concussion had driven coherent +recollection from his mind, or whether he was refraining from an +instinct of self-preservation, barring such thoughts as too +exciting. Nedda dreaded every day lest he should begin. She knew +that the questions would fall on her, since no answer could +possibly be expected from Granny except: "It's all right, darling, +everything's going on perfectly--only you mustn't talk!" + +It began the last day of June, the very first day that he got up. + +"They didn't save the hay, did they?" + +Was he fit to hear the truth? Would he forgive her if she did not +tell it? If she lied about this, could she go on lying to his +other questions? When he discovered, later, would not the effect +undo the good of lies now? She decided to lie; but, when she +opened her lips, simply could not, with his eyes on her; and said +faintly: "Yes, they did." + +His face contracted. She slipped down at once and knelt beside his +chair. He said between his teeth: + +"Go on; tell me. Did it all collapse?" + +She could only stroke his hands and bow her head. + +"I see. What's happened to them?" + +Without looking up, she murmured: + +"Some have been dismissed; the others are working again all right." + +"All right!" + +She looked up then so pitifully that he did not ask her anything +more. But the news put him back a week. And she was in despair. +The day he got up again he began afresh: + +"When are the assizes?" + +"The 7th of August." + +"Has anybody been to see Bob Tryst?" + +"Yes; Aunt Kirsteen has been twice." + +Having been thus answered, he was quiet for a long time. She had +slipped again out of her chair to kneel beside him; it seemed the +only place from which she could find courage for her answers. He +put his hand, that had lost its brown, on her hair. At that she +plucked up spirit to ask: + +"Would you like me to go and see him?" + +He nodded. + +"Then, I will--to-morrow." + +"Don't ever tell me what isn't true, Nedda! People do; that's why +I didn't ask before." + +She answered fervently: + +"I won't! Oh, I won't!" + +She dreaded this visit to the prison. Even to think of those +places gave her nightmare. Sheila's description of her night in a +cell had made her shiver with horror. But there was a spirit in +Nedda that went through with things; and she started early the next +day, refusing Kirsteen's proffered company. + +The look of that battlemented building, whose walls were pierced +with emblems of the Christian faith, turned her heartsick, and she +stood for several minutes outside the dark-green door before she +could summon courage to ring the bell. + +A stout man in blue, with a fringe of gray hair under his peaked +cap, and some keys dangling from a belt, opened, and said: + +"Yes, miss?" + +Being called 'miss' gave her a little spirit, and she produced the +card she had been warming in her hand. + +"I have come to see a man called Robert Tryst, waiting for trial at +the assizes." + +The stout man looked at the card back and front, as is the way of +those in doubt, closed the door behind her, and said: + +"Just a minute, miss." + +The shutting of the door behind her sent a little shiver down +Nedda's spine; but the temperature of her soul was rising, and she +looked round. Beyond the heavy arch, beneath which she stood, was +a courtyard where she could see two men, also in blue, with peaked +caps. Then, to her left, she became conscious of a shaven-headed +noiseless being in drab-gray clothes, on hands and knees, scrubbing +the end of a corridor. Her tremor at the stealthy ugliness of this +crouching figure yielded at once to a spasm of pity. The man gave +her a look, furtive, yet so charged with intense penetrating +curiosity that it seemed to let her suddenly into innumerable +secrets. She felt as if the whole life of people shut away in +silence and solitude were disclosed to her in the swift, +unutterably alive look of this noiseless kneeling creature, riving +out of her something to feed his soul and body on. That look +seemed to lick its lips. It made her angry, made her miserable, +with a feeling of pity she could hardly bear. Tears, too startled +to flow, darkened her eyes. Poor man! How he must hate her, who +was free, and all fresh from the open world and the sun, and people +to love and talk to! The 'poor man' scrubbed on steadily, his ears +standing out from his shaven head; then, dragging his knee-mat +skew-ways, he took the chance to look at her again. Perhaps +because his dress and cap and stubble of hair and even the color of +his face were so drab-gray, those little dark eyes seemed to her +the most terribly living things she had ever seen. She felt that +they had taken her in from top to toe, clothed and unclothed, taken +in the resentment she had felt and the pity she was feeling; they +seemed at once to appeal, to attack, and to possess her ravenously, +as though all the starved instincts in a whole prisoned world had +rushed up and for a second stood outside their bars. Then came the +clank of keys, the eyes left her as swiftly as they had seized her, +and he became again just that stealthy, noiseless creature +scrubbing a stone floor. And, shivering, Nedda thought: + +'I can't bear myself here--me with everything in the world I want-- +and these with nothing!' + +But the stout janitor was standing by her again, together with +another man in blue, who said: + +"Now, miss; this way, please!" + +And down that corridor they went. Though she did not turn, she +knew well that those eyes were following, still riving something +from her; and she heaved a sigh of real relief when she was round a +corner. Through barred windows that had no glass she could see +another court, where men in the same drab-gray clothes printed with +arrows were walking one behind the other, making a sort of moving +human hieroglyphic in the centre of the concrete floor. Two +warders with swords stood just outside its edge. Some of those +walking had their heads up, their chests expanded, some slouched +along with heads almost resting on their chests; but most had their +eyes fixed on the back of the neck of the man in front; and there +was no sound save the tramp of feet. + +Nedda put her hand to her throat. The warder beside her said in a +chatty voice: + +"That's where the 'ards takes their exercise, miss. You want to +see a man called Tryst, waitin' trial, I think. We've had a woman +here to see him, and a lady in blue, once or twice." + +"My aunt." + +"Ah! just so. Laborer, I think--case of arson. Funny thing; never +yet found a farm-laborer that took to prison well." + +Nedda shivered. The words sounded ominous. Then a little flame +lit itself within her. + +"Does anybody ever 'take to' prison?" + +The warder uttered a sound between a grunt and chuckle. + +"There's some has a better time here than they have out, any day. +No doubt about it--they're well fed here." + +Her aunt's words came suddenly into Nedda's mind: 'Liberty's a +glorious feast!' But she did not speak them. + +"Yes," the warder proceeded, "some o' them we get look as if they +didn't have a square meal outside from one year's end to the other. +If you'll just wait a minute, miss, I'll fetch the man down to you." + +In a bare room with distempered walls, and bars to a window out of +which she could see nothing but a high brick wall, Nedda waited. +So rapid is the adjustment of the human mind, so quick the blunting +of human sensation, that she had already not quite the passion of +pitiful feeling which had stormed her standing under that archway. +A kind of numbness gripped her nerves. There were wooden forms in +this room, and a blackboard, on which two rows of figures had been +set one beneath the other, but not yet added up. + +The silence at first was almost deathly. Then it was broken by a +sound as of a heavy door banged, and the shuffling tramp of +marching men--louder, louder, softer--a word of command--still +softer, and it died away. Dead silence again! Nedda pressed her +hands to her breast. Twice she added up those figures on the +blackboard; each time the number was the same. Ah, there was a +fly--two flies! How nice they looked, moving, moving, chasing each +other in the air. Did flies get into the cells? Perhaps not even +a fly came there--nothing more living than walls and wood! Nothing +living except what was inside oneself! How dreadful! Not even a +clock ticking, not even a bird's song! Silent, unliving, worse +than in this room! Something pressed against her leg. She started +violently and looked down. A little cat! Oh, what a blessed +thing! A little sandy, ugly cat! It must have crept in through +the door. She was not locked in, then, anyway! Thus far had +nerves carried her already! Scrattling the little cat's furry +pate, she pulled herself together. She would not tremble and be +nervous. It was disloyal to Derek and to her purpose, which was to +bring comfort to poor Tryst. Then the door was pushed open, and +the warder said: + +"A quarter of an hour, miss. I'll be just outside." + +She saw a big man with unshaven cheeks come in, and stretched out +her hand. + +"I am Mr. Derek's cousin, going to be married to him. He's been +ill, but he's getting well again now. We knew you'd like to hear." +And she thought: 'Oh! What a tragic face! I can't bear to look at +his eyes!' + +He took her hand, said, "Thank you, miss," and stood as still as ever. + +"Please come and sit down, and we can talk." + +Tryst moved to a form and took his seat thereon, with his hands +between his knees, as if playing with an imaginary cap. He was +dressed in an ordinary suit of laborer's best clothes, and his +stiff, dust-colored hair was not cut particularly short. The +cheeks of his square-cut face had fallen in, the eyes had sunk +back, and the prominence thus given to his cheek and jawbones and +thick mouth gave his face a savage look--only his dog-like, +terribly yearning eyes made Nedda feel so sorry that she simply +could not feel afraid. + +"The children are such dears, Mr. Tryst. Billy seems to grow every +day. They're no trouble at all, and quite happy. Biddy's +wonderful with them." + +"She's a good maid." The thick lips shaped the words as though +they had almost lost power of speech. + +"Do they let you see the newspapers we send? Have you got +everything you want?" + +For a minute he did not seem to be going to answer; then, moving +his head from side to side, he said: + +"Nothin' I want, but just get out of here." + +Nedda murmured helplessly: + +"It's only a month now to the assizes. Does Mr. Pogram come to see +you?" + +"Yes, he comes. He can't do nothin'!" + +"Oh, don't despair! Even if they don't acquit you, it'll soon be +over. Don't despair!" And she stole her hand out and timidly +touched his arm. She felt her heart turning over and over, he +looked so sad. + +He said in that stumbling, thick voice: + +"Thank you kindly. I must get out. I won't stand long of it--not +much longer. I'm not used to it--always been accustomed to the +air, an' bein' about, that's where 'tis. But don't you tell him, +miss. You say I'm goin' along all right. Don't you tell him what +I said. 'Tis no use him frettin' over me. 'Twon' do me no good." + +And Nedda murmured: + +"No, no; I won't tell him." + +Then suddenly came the words she had dreaded: + +"D'you think they'll let me go, miss?" + +"Oh, yes, I think so--I hope so!" But she could not meet his eyes, +and hearing him grit his boot on the floor knew he had not believed +her. + +He said slowly: + +"I never meant to do it when I went out that mornin'. It came on +me sudden, lookin' at the straw." + +Nedda gave a little gasp. Could that man outside hear? + +Tryst went on: "If they don't let me go, I won' stand it. 'Tis too +much for a man. I can't sleep, I can't eat, nor nothin'. I won' +stand it. It don' take long to die, if you put your mind to it." + +Feeling quite sick with pity, Nedda got up and stood beside him; +and, moved by an uncontrollable impulse, she lifted one of his +great hands and clasped it in both her own. "Oh, try and be brave +and look forward! You're going to be ever so happy some day." + +He gave her a strange long stare. + +"Yes, I'll be happy some day. Don' you never fret about me." + +And Nedda saw that the warder was standing in the doorway. + +"Sorry, miss, time's up." + +Without a word Tryst rose and went out. + +Nedda was alone again with the little sandy cat. Standing under +the high-barred window she wiped her cheeks, that were all wet. +Why, why must people suffer so? Suffer so slowly, so horribly? +What were men made of that they could go on day after day, year +after year, watching others suffer? + +When the warder came back to take her out, she did not trust +herself to speak, or even to look at him. She walked with hands +tight clenched, and eyes fixed on the ground. Outside the prison +door she drew a long, long breath. And suddenly her eyes caught +the inscription on the corner of a lane leading down alongside the +prison wall--"Love's Walk"! + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + + +Peremptorily ordered by the doctor to the sea, but with +instructions to avoid for the present all excitement, sunlight, and +color, Derek and his grandmother repaired to a spot well known to +be gray, and Nedda went home to Hampstead. This was the last week +in July. A fortnight spent in the perfect vacuity of an English +watering-place restored the boy wonderfully. No one could be +better trusted than Frances Freeland to preserve him from looking +on the dark side of anything, more specially when that thing was +already not quite nice. Their conversation was therefore free from +allusion to the laborers, the strike, or Bob Tryst. And Derek +thought the more. The approaching trial was hardly ever out of his +mind. Bathing, he would think of it; sitting on the gray jetty +looking over the gray sea, he would think of it. Up the gray +cobbled streets and away on the headlands, he would think of it. +And, so as not to have to think of it, he would try to walk himself +to a standstill. Unfortunately the head will continue working when +the legs are at rest. And when he sat opposite to her at meal- +times, Frances Freeland would gaze piercingly at his forehead and +muse: 'The dear boy looks much better, but he's getting a little +line between his brows--it IS such a pity!' It worried her, too, +that the face he was putting on their little holiday together was +not quite as full as she could have wished--though the last thing +in the world she could tolerate were really fat cheeks, those signs +of all that her stoicism abhorred, those truly unforgivable marks +of the loss of 'form.' He struck her as dreadfully silent, too, +and she would rack her brains for subjects that would interest him, +often saying to herself: 'If only I were clever!' It was natural +he should think of dear Nedda, but surely it was not that which +gave him the little line. He must be brooding about those other +things. He ought not to be melancholy like this and let anything +prevent the sea from doing him good. The habit--hard-learned by +the old, and especially the old of her particular sex--of not +wishing for the moon, or at all events of not letting others know +that you are wishing for it, had long enabled Frances Freeland to +talk cheerfully on the most indifferent subjects whether or no her +heart were aching. One's heart often did ache, of course, but it +simply didn't do to let it interfere, making things uncomfortable +for others. And once she said to him: "You know, darling, I think +it would be so nice for you to take a little interest in politics. +They're very absorbing when you once get into them. I find my +paper most enthralling. And it really has very good principles." + +"If politics did anything for those who most need things done, +Granny--but I can't see that they do." + +She thought a little, then, making firm her lips, said: + +"I don't think that's quite just, darling, there are a great many +politicians who are very much looked up to--all the bishops, for +instance, and others whom nobody could suspect of self-seeking." + +"I didn't mean that politicians were self-seeking, Granny; I meant +that they're comfortable people, and the things that interest them +are those that interest comfortable people. What have they done +for the laborers, for instance?" + +"Oh, but, darling! they're going to do a great deal. In my paper +they're continually saying that." + +"Do you believe it?" + +"I'm sure they wouldn't say so if they weren't. There's quite a +new plan, and it sounds most sensible. And so I don't think, +darling, that if I were you I should make myself unhappy about all +that kind of thing. They must know best. They're all so much +older than you. And you're getting quite a little line between +your eyes." + +Derek smiled. + +"All right, Granny; I shall have a big one soon." + + Frances Freeland smiled, too, but shook her head. + +"Yes; and that's why I really think you ought to take interest in +politics." + +"I'd rather take interest in you, Granny. You're very jolly to +look at." + +Frances Freeland raised her brows. + +"I? My dear, I'm a perfect fright nowadays." + +Thus pushing away what her stoicism and perpetual aspiration to an +impossibly good face would not suffer her to admit, she added: + +"Where would you like to drive this afternoon?" + +For they took drives in a small victoria, Frances Freeland holding +her sunshade to protect him from the sun whenever it made the +mistake of being out. + +On August the fourth he insisted that he was well and must go back +home. And, though to bring her attendance on him to an end was a +grief, she humbly admitted that he must be wanting younger company, +and, after one wistful attempt, made no further bones. The +following day they travelled. + +On getting home he found that the police had been to see little +Biddy Tryst, who was to be called as a witness. Tod would take her +over on the morning of the trial. Derek did not wait for this, but +on the day before the assizes repacked his bag and went off to the +Royal Charles Hostel at Worcester. He slept not at all that night, +and next morning was early at the court, for Tryst's case would be +the first. Anxiously he sat watching all the queer and formal +happenings that mark the initiation of the higher justice--the +assemblage of the gentlemen in wigs; the sifting, shifting, +settling of clerks, and ushers, solicitors, and the public; the +busy indifference, the cheerful professionalism of it all. He saw +little Mr. Pogram come in, more square and rubbery than ever, and +engage in conclave with one of the bewigged. The smiles, shrugs, +even the sharp expressions on that barrister's face; the way he +stood, twisting round, one hand wrapped in his gown, one foot on +the bench behind; it was all as if he had done it hundreds of times +before and cared not the snap of one of his thin, yellow fingers. +Then there was a sudden hush; the judge came in, bowed, and took +his seat. And that, too, seemed so professional. Haunted by the +thought of him to whom this was almost life and death, the boy was +incapable of seeing how natural it was that they should not all +feel as he did. + +The case was called and Tryst brought in. Derek had once more to +undergo the torture of those tragic eyes fixed on him. Round that +heavy figure, that mournful, half-brutal, and half-yearning face, +the pleadings, the questions, the answers buzzed, bringing out +facts with damning clearness, yet leaving the real story of that +early morning as hidden as if the court and all were but gibbering +figures of air. The real story of Tryst, heavy and distraught, +rising and turning out from habit into the early haze on the +fields, where his daily work had lain, of Tryst brooding, with the +slow, the wrathful incoherence that centuries of silence in those +lonely fields had passed into the blood of his forebears and +himself. Brooding, in the dangerous disproportion that enforced +continence brings to certain natures, loading the brain with +violence till the storm bursts and there leap out the lurid, dark +insanities of crime. Brooding, while in the air flies chased each +other, insects crawled together in the grass, and the first +principle of nature worked everywhere its sane fulfilment. They +might talk and take evidence as they would, be shrewd and sharp +with all the petty sharpness of the Law; but the secret springs +would still lie undisclosed, too natural and true to bear the light +of day. The probings and eloquence of justice would never paint +the picture of that moment of maniacal relief, when, with jaw +hanging loose, eyes bulging in exultation of revenge, he had struck +those matches with his hairy hands and let them flare in the straw, +till the little red flames ran and licked, rustled and licked, and +there was nothing to do but watch them lick and burn. Nor of that +sudden wildness of dumb fear that rushed into the heart of the +crouching creature, changing the madness of his face to palsy. Nor +of the recoil from the burning stack; those moments empty with +terror. Nor of how terror, through habit of inarticulate, +emotionless existence, gave place again to brute stolidity. And +so, heavily back across the dewy fields, under the larks' songs, +the cooings of pigeons, the hum of wings, and all the unconscious +rhythm of ageless Nature. No! The probings of Justice could never +reach the whole truth. And even Justice quailed at its own +probings when the mother-child was passed up from Tod's side into +the witness-box and the big laborer was seen to look at her and she +at him. She seemed to have grown taller; her pensive little face +and beautifully fluffed-out corn-brown hair had an eerie beauty, +perched up there in the arid witness-box, as of some small figure +from the brush of Botticelli. + +"Your name, my dear?" + +"Biddy Tryst." + +"How old?" + +"Ten next month, please." + +"Do you remember going to live at Mr. Freeland's cottage?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"And do you remember the first night?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Where did you sleep, Biddy?" + +"Please, sir, we slept in a big room with a screen. Billy and +Susie and me; and father behind the screen." + +"And where was the room?" + +"Down-stairs, sir." + +"Now, Biddy, what time did you wake up the first morning?" + +"When Father got up." + +"Was that early or late?" + +"Very early." + +"Would you know the time?" + +"No, sir." + +"But it was very early; how did you know that?" + +"It was a long time before we had any breakfast." + +"And what time did you have breakfast?" + +"Half past six by the kitchen clock." + +"Was it light when you woke up?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"When Father got up, did he dress or did he go to bed again?" + +"He hadn't never undressed, sir." + +"Then did he stay with you or did he go out?" + +"Out, sir." + +"And how long was it before he came back?" + +"When I was puttin' on Billy's boots." + +"What had you done in between?" + +"Helped Susie and dressed Billy." + +"And how long does that take you generally?" + +"Half an hour, sir." + +"I see. What did Father look like when he came in, Biddy?" + +The mother-child paused. For the first time it seemed to dawn on +her that there was something dangerous in these questions. She +twisted her small hands before her and gazed at her father. + +The judge said gently: + +"Well, my child?" + +"Like he does now, sir." + +"Thank you, Biddy." + +That was all; the mother-child was suffered to step down and take +her place again by Tod. And in the silence rose the short and +rubbery report of little Mr. Pogram blowing his nose. No evidence +given that morning was so conclusive, actual, terrible as that +unconscious: "Like he does now, sir." That was why even Justice +quailed a little at its own probings. + +From this moment the boy knew that Tryst's fate was sealed. What +did all those words matter, those professional patterings one way +and the other; the professional jeers: 'My friend has told you +this' and 'My friend will tell you that.' The professional +steering of the impartial judge, seated there above them all; the +cold, calculated rhapsodies about the heinousness of arson; the +cold and calculated attack on the characters of the stone-breaker +witness and the tramp witness; the cold and calculated patter of +the appeal not to condemn a father on the evidence of his little +child; the cold and calculated outburst on the right of every man +to be assumed innocent except on overwhelming evidence such as did +not here exist. The cold and calculated balancing of pro and con; +and those minutes of cold calculation veiled from the eyes of the +court. Even the verdict: 'Guilty'; even the judgment: 'Three +years' penal servitude.' All nothing, all superfluity to the boy +supporting the tragic gaze of Tryst's eyes and making up his mind +to a desperate resort. + +"Three years' penal servitude!" The big laborer paid no more +attention to those words than to any others spoken during that +hour's settlement of his fate. True, he received them standing, as +is the custom, fronting the image of Justice, from whose lips they +came. But by no single gesture did he let any one see the dumb +depths of his soul. If life had taught him nothing else, it had +taught him never to express himself. Mute as any bullock led into +the slaughtering-house, with something of a bullock's dulled and +helpless fear in his eyes, he passed down and away between his +jailers. And at once the professional noises rose, and the +professional rhapsodists, hunching their gowns, swept that little +lot of papers into their pink tape, and, turning to their +neighbors, smiled, and talked, and jerked their eyebrows. + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + + +The nest on the Spaniard's Road had not been able to contain Sheila +long. There are certain natures, such as that of Felix, to whom +the claims and exercise of authority are abhorrent, who refuse to +exercise it themselves and rage when they see it exercised over +others, but who somehow never come into actual conflict with it. +There are other natures, such as Sheila's, who do not mind in the +least exercising authority themselves, but who oppose it vigorously +when they feel it coming near themselves or some others. Of such +is the kingdom of militancy. Her experience with the police had +sunk deep into her soul. They had not, as a fact, treated her at +all badly, which did not prevent her feeling as if they had +outraged in her the dignity of woman. She arrived, therefore, in +Hampstead seeing red even where red was not. And since, +undoubtedly, much real red was to be seen, there was little other +color in the world or in her cheeks those days. Long disagreements +with Alan, to whom she was still a magnet but whose Stanley-like +nature stood firm against the blandishments of her revolting +tongue, drove her more and more toward a decision the seeds of +which had, perhaps, been planted during her former stay among the +breezy airs of Hampstead. + +Felix, coming one day into his wife's study--for the house knew not +the word drawing-room--found Flora, with eyebrows lifted up and +smiling lips, listening to Sheila proclaiming the doctrine that it +was impossible not to live 'on one's own.' Nothing else--Felix +learned--was compatible with dignity, or even with peace of mind. +She had, therefore, taken a back room high up in a back street, in +which she was going to live perfectly well on ten shillings a week; +and, having thirty-two pounds saved up, she would be all right for +a year, after which she would be able to earn her living. The +principle she purposed to keep before her eyes was that of +committing herself to nothing which would seriously interfere with +her work in life. Somehow, it was impossible to look at this girl, +with her glowing cheeks and her glowing eyes, and her hair frizzy +from ardor, and to distrust her utterances. Yes! She would +arrive, if not where she wanted, at all events somewhere; which, +after all, was the great thing. And in fact she did arrive the +very next day in the back room high up in the back street, and +neither Tod's cottage nor the house on the Spaniard's Road saw more +than flying gleams of her, thenceforth. + +Another by-product, this, of that little starting episode, the +notice given to Tryst! Strange how in life one little incident, +one little piece of living stress, can attract and gather round it +the feelings, thoughts, actions of people whose lives run far and +wide away therefrom. But episodes are thus potent only when +charged with a significance that comes from the clash of the +deepest instincts. + +During the six weeks which had elapsed between his return home from +Joyfields and the assizes, Felix had much leisure to reflect that +if Lady Malloring had not caused Tryst to be warned that he could +not marry his deceased wife's sister and continue to stay on the +estate--the lives of Felix himself, his daughter, mother, brother, +brother's wife, their son and daughter, and in less degree of his +other brothers, would have been free of a preoccupation little +short of ludicrous in proportion to the face value of the cause. +But he had leisure, too, to reflect that in reality the issue +involved in that tiny episode concerned human existence to its +depths--for, what was it but the simple, all-important question of +human freedom? The simple, all-important issue of how far men and +women should try to rule the lives of others instead of trying only +to rule their own, and how far those others should allow their +lives to be so ruled? This it was which gave that episode its +power of attracting and affecting the thoughts, feelings, actions +of so many people otherwise remote. And though Felix was paternal +enough to say to himself nearly all the time, 'I can't let Nedda +get further into this mess!' he was philosopher enough to tell +himself, in the unfatherly balance of his hours, that the mess was +caused by the fight best of all worth fighting--of democracy +against autocracy, of a man's right to do as he likes with his life +if he harms not others; of 'the Land' against the fetterers of 'the +Land.' And he was artist enough to see how from that little +starting episode the whole business had sprung--given, of course, +the entrance of the wilful force called love. But a father, +especially when he has been thoroughly alarmed, gives the artist +and philosopher in him short shrift. + +Nedda came home soon after Sheila went, and to the eyes of Felix +she came back too old and thoughtful altogether. How different a +girl from the Nedda who had so wanted 'to know everything' that +first night of May! What was she brooding over, what planning, in +that dark, round, pretty head? At what resolve were those clear +eyes so swiftly raised to look? What was going on within, when her +breast heaved so, without seeming cause, and the color rushed up in +her cheeks at a word, as though she had been so far away that the +effort of recall was alone enough to set all her veins throbbing. +And yet Felix could devise no means of attack on her infatuation. +For a man cannot cultivate the habit of never interfering and then +suddenly throw it over; least of all when the person to be +interfered with is his pet and only daughter. + +Flora, not of course in the swim of those happenings at Joyflelds, +could not be got to take the matter very seriously. In fact-- +beyond what concerned Felix himself and poetry--the matter that she +did take seriously had yet to be discovered. Hers was one of those +semi-detached natures particularly found in Hampstead. When +exhorted to help tackle the question, she could only suggest that +Felix should take them all abroad when he had finished 'The Last of +the Laborers.' A tour, for instance, in Norway and Sweden, where +none of them had ever been, and perhaps down through Finland into +Russia. + +Feeling like one who squirts on a burning haystack with a garden +syringe, Felix propounded this scheme to his little daughter. She +received it with a start, a silence, a sort of quivering all over, +as of an animal who scents danger. She wanted to know when, and +being told--'not before the middle of August', relapsed into her +preoccupation as if nothing had been said. Felix noted on the hall +table one afternoon a letter in her handwriting, addressed to a +Worcester newspaper, and remarked thereafter that she began to +receive this journal daily, obviously with a view to reports of the +coming assizes. Once he tried to break through into her +confidence. It was August Bank Holiday, and they had gone out on +to the heath together to see the people wonderfully assembled. +Coming back across the burnt-up grass, strewn with paper bags, +banana peel, and the cores of apples, he hooked his hand into her +arm. + +"What is to be done with a child that goes about all day thinking +and thinking and not telling anybody what she is thinking?" + +She smiled round at him and answered: + +"I know, Dad. She IS a pig, isn't she?" + +This comparison with an animal of proverbial stubbornness was not +encouraging. Then his hand was squeezed to her side and he heard +her murmur: + +"I wonder if all daughters are such beasts!" + +He understood well that she had meant: 'There is only one thing I +want--one thing I mean to have--one thing in the world for me now!' + +And he said soberly: + +"We can't expect anything else." + +"Oh, Daddy!" she answered, but nothing more. + +Only four days later she came to his study with a letter, and a +face so flushed and troubled that he dropped his pen and got up in +alarm. + +"Read this, Dad! It's impossible! It's not true! It's terrible! +Oh! What am I to do?" + +The letter ran thus, in a straight, boyish handwriting: + + +"ROYAL CHARLES HOSTEL, + +WORCESTER, Aug. 7th. + +"MY NEDDA, + +"I have just seen Bob tried. They have given him three years' +penal. It was awful to sit there and watch him. He can never +stand it. It was awful to watch him looking at ME. It's no good. +I'm going to give myself up. I must do it. I've got everything +ready; they'll have to believe me and squash his sentence. You +see, but for me it would never have been done. It's a matter of +honour. I can't let him suffer any more. This isn't impulse. +I've been meaning to do it for some time, if they found him guilty. +So in a way, it's an immense relief. I'd like to have seen you +first, but it would only distress you, and I might not have been +able to go through with it after. Nedda, darling, if you still +love me when I get out, we'll go to New Zealand, away from this +country where they bully poor creatures like Bob. Be brave! I'll +write to-morrow, if they let me. + +"Your + +"Derek." + + +The first sensation in Felix on reading this effusion was poignant +recollection of the little lawyer's look after Derek had made the +scene at Tryst's committal and of his words: 'Nothing in it, is +there?' His second thought: 'Is this the cutting of the knot that +I've been looking for?' His third, which swept all else away: 'My +poor little darling! What business has that boy to hurt her again +like this!' + +He heard her say: + +"Tryst told me himself he did it, Dad! He told me when I went to +see him in the prison. Honour doesn't demand what isn't true! Oh, +Dad, help me!" + +Felix was slow in getting free from the cross currents of +reflection. "He wrote this last night," he said dismally. "He may +have done it already. We must go and see John." + +Nedda clasped her hands. "Ah! Yes!" + +And Felix had not the heart to add what he was thinking: 'Not that +I see what good he can do!' But, though sober reason told him +this, it was astonishingly comforting to be going to some one who +could be relied on to see the facts of the situation without any of +that 'flimflam' with which imagination is accustomed to surround +them. "And we'll send Derek a wire for what it's worth." + +They went at once to the post-office, Felix composing this message +on the way: 'Utterly mistaken chivalry you have no right await our +arrival Felix Freeland.' He handed it to her to read, and passed +it under the brass railing to the clerk, not without the feeling of +shame due from one who uses the word chivalry in a post-office. + +On the way to the Tube station he held her arm tightly, but whether +to impart courage or receive it he could not have said, so strung- +up in spirit did he feel her. With few words exchanged they +reached Whitehall. Marking their card 'Urgent,' they were received +within ten minutes. + +John was standing in a high, white room, smelling a little of +papers and tobacco, and garnished solely by five green chairs, a +table, and a bureau with an immense number of pigeonholes, whereat +he had obviously been seated. Quick to observe what concerned his +little daughter, Felix noted how her greeting trembled up at her +uncle and how a sort of warmth thawed for the moment the regularity +of his brother's face. When they had taken two of the five green +chairs and John was back at his bureau, Felix handed over the +letter. John read it and looked at Nedda. Then taking a pipe out +of his pocket, which he had evidently filled before they came in, +he lighted it and re-read the letter. Then, looking very straight +at Nedda, he said: + +"Nothing in it? Honour bright, my dear!" + +"No, Uncle John, nothing. Only that he fancies his talk about +injustice put it into Tryst's head." + +John nodded; the girl's face was evidence enough for him. + +"Any proof?" + +"Tryst himself told me in the prison that he did it. He said it +came on him suddenly, when he saw the straw." + +A pause followed before John said: + +"Good! You and I and your father will go down and see the police." + +Nedda lifted her hands and said breathlessly: + +"But, Uncle! Dad! Have I the right? He says--honour. Won't it +be betraying him?" + +Felix could not answer, but with relief he heard John say: + +"It's not honorable to cheat the law." + +"No; but he trusted me or he wouldn't have written." + +John answered slowly: + +"I think your duty's plain, my dear. The question for the police +will be whether or not to take notice of this false confession. +For us to keep the knowledge that it's false from them, under the +circumstances, is clearly not right. Besides being, to my mind, +foolish." + +For Felix to watch this mortal conflict going on in the soul of his +daughter--that soul which used to seem, perhaps even now seemed, +part of himself; to know that she so desperately wanted help for +her decision, and to be unable to give it, unable even to trust +himself to be honest--this was hard for Felix. There she sat, +staring before her; and only her tight-clasped hands, the little +movements of her lips and throat, showed the struggle going on in +her. + +"I couldn't, without seeing him; I MUST see him first, Uncle!" + +John got up and went over to the window; he, too, had been affected +by her face. + +"You realize," he said, "that you risk everything by that. If he's +given himself up, and they've believed him, he's not the sort to +let it fall through. You cut off your chance if he won't let you +tell. Better for your father and me to see him first, anyway." +And Felix heard a mutter that sounded like: 'Confound him!' + +Nedda rose. "Can we go at once, then, Uncle?" + +With a solemnity that touched Felix, John put a hand on each side +of her face, raised it, and kissed her on the forehead. + +"All right!" he said. "Let's be off!" + +A silent trio sought Paddington in a taxi-cab, digesting this +desperate climax of an affair that sprang from origins so small. + +In Felix, contemplating his daughter's face, there was profound +compassion, but also that family dismay, that perturbation of self- +esteem, which public scandal forces on kinsmen, even the most +philosophic. He felt exasperation against Derek, against Kirsteen, +almost even against Tod, for having acquiesced passively in the +revolutionary bringing-up which had brought on such a disaster. +War against injustice; sympathy with suffering; chivalry! Yes! +But not quite to the point whence they recoiled on his daughter, +his family, himself! The situation was impossible! He was fast +resolving that, whether or no they saved Derek from this quixotry, +the boy should not have Nedda. And already his eyes found +difficulty in meeting hers. + +They secured a compartment to themselves and, having settled down +in corners, began mechanically unfolding evening journals. For +after all, whatever happens, one must read the papers! Without +that, life would indeed be insupportable! Felix had bought Mr. +Cuthcott's, but, though he turned and turned the sheets, they +seemed to have no sense till these words caught his eyes: +"Convict's tragic death! Yesterday afternoon at Worcester, while +being conveyed from the assize court back to prison, a man named +Tryst, sentenced to three years' penal servitude for arson, +suddenly attacked the warders in charge of him and escaped. He ran +down the street, hotly pursued, and, darting out into the traffic, +threw himself under a motor-car going at some speed. The car +struck him on the head, and the unfortunate man was killed on the +spot. No reason whatever can be assigned for this desperate act. +He is known, however, to have suffered from epilepsy, and it is +thought an attack may have been coming on him at the time." + +When Felix had read these words he remained absolutely still, +holding that buff-colored paper before his face, trying to decide +what he must do now. What was the significance--exactly the +significance of this? Now that Tryst was dead, Derek's quixotic +action had no meaning. But had he already 'confessed'? It seemed +from this account that the suicide was directly after the trial; +even before the boy's letter to Nedda had been written. He must +surely have heard of it since and given up his mad idea! He leaned +over, touched John on the knee, and handed him the paper. John +read the paragraph, handed it back; and the two brothers stared +fixedly at each other. Then Felix made the faintest movement of +his head toward his daughter, and John nodded. Crossing to Nedda, +Felix hooked his arm in hers and said: + +"Just look at this, my child." + +Nedda read, started to her feet, sank back, and cried out: + +"Poor, poor man! Oh, Dad! Poor man!" + +Felix felt ashamed. Though Tryst's death meant so much relief to +her, she felt first this rush of compassion; he himself, to whom it +meant so much less relief, had felt only that relief. + +"He said he couldn't stand it; he told me that. But I never +thought-- Oh! Poor man!" And, burying her face against his arm, +she gave way. + +Petrified, and conscious that John at the far end of the carriage +was breathing rather hard, Felix could only stroke her arm till at +last she whispered: + +"There's nobody now for Derek to save. Oh, if you'd seen that poor +man in prison, Dad!" + +And the only words of comfort Felix could find were: + +"My child, there are thousands and thousands of poor prisoners and +captives!" + +In a truce to agitation they spent the rest of that three hours' +journey, while the train rattled and rumbled through the quiet, +happy-looking land. + + +CHAPTER XXXV + + +It was tea-time when they reached Worcester, and at once went up to +the Royal Charles Hostel. A pretty young woman in the office there +informed them that the young gentleman had paid his bill and gone +out about ten o'clock; but had left his luggage. She had not seen +him come in. His room was up that little staircase at the end of +the passage. There was another entrance that he might have come in +at. The 'Boots' would take them. + +Past the hall stuffed with furniture and decorated with the stags' +heads and battle-prints common to English county-town hotels, they +followed the 'Boots' up five red-carpeted steps, down a dingy green +corridor, to a door at the very end. There was no answer to their +knock. The dark little room, with striped walls, and more battle- +prints, looked out on a side street and smelled dusty. On a shiny +leather sofa an old valise, strapped-up ready for departure, was +reposing with Felix's telegram, unopened, deposited thereon. +Writing on his card, "Have come down with Nedda. F. F.," and +laying it on the telegram, in case Derek should come in by the side +entrance, Felix and Nedda rejoined John in the hall. + +To wait in anxiety is perhaps the hardest thing in life; tea, +tobacco, and hot baths perhaps the only anodynes. These, except +the baths, they took. Without knowing what had happened, neither +John nor Felix liked to make inquiry at the police station, nor did +they care to try and glean knowledge from the hotel people by +questions that might lead to gossip. They could but kick their +heels till it became reasonably certain that Derek was not coming +back. The enforced waiting increased Felix's exasperation. +Everything Derek did seemed designed to cause Nedda pain. To watch +her sitting there, trying resolutely to mask her anxiety, became +intolerable. At last he got up and said to John: + +"I think we'd better go round there," and, John nodding, he added: +"Wait here, my child. One of us'll come back at once and tell you +anything we hear." + +She gave them a grateful look and the two brothers went out. They +had not gone twenty yards when they met Derek striding along, pale, +wild, unhappy-looking. When Felix touched him on the arm, he +started and stared blankly at his uncle. + +"We've seen about Tryst," Felix said: "You've not done anything?" + +Derek shook his head. + +"Good! John, tell Nedda that, and stay with her a bit. I want to +talk to Derek. We'll go in the other way." He put his hand under +the boy's arm and turned him down into the side street. When they +reached the gloomy little bedroom Felix pointed to the telegram. + +"From me. I suppose the news of his death stopped you?" + +"Yes." Derek opened the telegram, dropped it, and sat down beside +his valise on the shiny sofa. He looked positively haggard. + +Taking his stand against the chest of drawers, Felix said quietly: + +"I'm going to have it out with you, Derek. Do you understand what +all this means to Nedda? Do you realize how utterly unhappy you're +making her? I don't suppose you're happy yourself--" + +The boy's whole figure writhed. + +"Happy! When you've killed some one you don't think much of +happiness--your own or any one's!" + +Startled in his turn, Felix said sharply: + +"Don't talk like that. It's monomania." + +Derek laughed. "Bob Tryst's dead--through me! I can't get out of +that." + +Gazing at the boy's tortured face, Felix grasped the gruesome fact +that this idea amounted to obsession. + +"Derek," he said, "you've dwelt on this till you see it out of all +proportion. If we took to ourselves the remote consequences of all +our words we should none of us survive a week. You're overdone. +You'll see it differently to-morrow." + +Derek got up to pace the room. + +"I swear I would have saved him. I tried to do it when they +committed him at Transham." He looked wildly at Felix. "Didn't I? +You were there; you heard!" + +"Yes, yes; I heard." + +"They wouldn't let me then. I thought they mightn't find him +guilty here--so I let it go on. And now he's dead. You don't know +how I feel!" + +His throat was working, and Felix said with real compassion: + +"My dear boy! Your sense of honour is too extravagant altogether. +A grown man like poor Tryst knew perfectly what he was doing." + +"No. He was like a dog--he did what he thought was expected of +him. I never meant him to burn those ricks." + +"Exactly! No one can blame you for a few wild words. He might +have been the boy and you the man by the way you take it! Come!" + +Derek sat down again on the shiny sofa and buried his head in his +hands. + +"I can't get away from him. He's been with me all day. I see him +all the time." + +That the boy was really haunted was only too apparent. How to +attack this mania? If one could make him feel something else! And +Felix said: + +"Look here, Derek! Before you've any right to Nedda you've got to +find ballast. That's a matter of honour, if you like." + +Derek flung up his head as if to escape a blow. Seeing that he had +riveted him, Felix pressed on, with some sternness: + +"A man can't serve two passions. You must give up this championing +the weak and lighting flames you can't control. See what it leads +to! You've got to grow and become a man. Until then I don't trust +my daughter to you." + +The boy's lips quivered; a flush darkened his face, ebbed, and left +him paler than ever. + +Felix felt as if he had hit that face. Still, anything was better +than to leave him under this gruesome obsession! Then, to his +consternation, Derek stood up and said: + +"If I go and see his body at the prison, perhaps he'll leave me +alone a little!" + +Catching at that, as he would have caught at anything, Felix said: + +"Good! Yes! Go and see the poor fellow; we'll come, too." + +And he went out to find Nedda. + +By the time they reached the street Derek had already started, and +they could see him going along in front. Felix racked his brains +to decide whether he ought to prepare her for the state the boy was +in. Twice he screwed himself up to take the plunge, but her face-- +puzzled, as though wondering at her lover's neglect of her--stopped +him. Better say nothing! + +Just as they reached the prison she put her hand on his arm: + +"Look, Dad!" + +And Felix read on the corner of the prison lane those words: +'Love's Walk'! + +Derek was waiting at the door. After some difficulty they were +admitted and taken down the corridor where the prisoner on his +knees had stared up at Nedda, past the courtyard where those others +had been pacing out their living hieroglyphic, up steps to the +hospital. Here, in a white-washed room on a narrow bed, the body +of the big laborer lay, wrapped in a sheet. + +"We bury him Friday, poor chap! Fine big man, too!" And at the +warder's words a shudder passed through Felix. The frozen +tranquillity of that body! + +As the carved beauty of great buildings, so is the graven beauty of +death, the unimaginable wonder of the abandoned thing lying so +quiet, marvelling at its resemblance to what once lived! How +strange this thing, still stamped by all that it had felt, wanted, +loved, and hated, by all its dumb, hard, commonplace existence! +This thing with the calm, pathetic look of one who asks of his own +fled spirit: Why have you abandoned me? + +Death! What more wonderful than a dead body--that still perfect +work of life, for which life has no longer use! What more +mysterious than this sight of what still is, yet is not! + +Below the linen swathing the injured temples, those eyes were +closed through which such yearning had looked forth. From that +face, where the hair had grown faster than if it had been alive, +death's majesty had planed away the aspect of brutality, removed +the yearning, covering all with wistful acquiescence. Was his +departed soul coherent? Where was it? Did it hover in this room, +visible still to the boy? Did it stand there beside what was left +of Tryst the laborer, that humblest of all creatures who dared to +make revolt--serf, descendant of serfs, who, since the beginning, +had hewn wood, drawn water, and done the will of others? Or was it +winged, and calling in space to the souls of the oppressed? + +This body would go back to the earth that it had tended, the wild +grass would grow over it, the seasons spend wind and rain forever +above it. But that which had held this together--the inarticulate, +lowly spirit, hardly asking itself why things should be, faithful +as a dog to those who were kind to it, obeying the dumb instinct of +a violence that in his betters would be called 'high spirit,' +where--Felix wondered--where was it? + +And what were they thinking--Nedda and that haunted boy--so +motionless? Nothing showed on their faces, nothing but a sort of +living concentration, as if they were trying desperately to pierce +through and see whatever it was that held this thing before them in +such awful stillness. Their first glimpse of death; their first +perception of that terrible remoteness of the dead! No wonder they +seemed to be conjured out of the power of thought and feeling! + +Nedda was first to turn away. Walking back by her side, Felix was +surprised by her composure. The reality of death had not been to +her half so harrowing as the news of it. She said softly: + +"I'm glad to have seen him like that; now I shall think of him--at +peace; not as he was that other time." + +Derek rejoined them, and they went in silence back to the hotel. +But at the door she said: + +"Come with me to the cathedral, Derek; I can't go in yet!" + +To Felix's dismay the boy nodded, and they turned to go. Should he +stop them? Should he go with them? What should a father do? And, +with a heavy sigh, he did nothing but retire into the hotel. + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + + +It was calm, with a dark-blue sky, and a golden moon, and the +lighted street full of people out for airing. The great cathedral, +cutting the heavens with its massive towers, was shut. No means of +getting in; and while they stood there looking up the thought came +into Nedda's mind: Where would they bury poor Tryst who had killed +himself? Would they refuse to bury that unhappy one in a +churchyard? Surely, the more unhappy and desperate he was, the +kinder they ought to be to him! + +They turned away down into a little lane where an old, white, +timbered cottage presided ghostly at the corner. Some church +magnate had his garden back there; and it was quiet, along the +waving line of a high wall, behind which grew sycamores spreading +close-bunched branches, whose shadows, in the light of the corner +lamps, lay thick along the ground this glamourous August night. A +chafer buzzed by, a small black cat played with its tail on some +steps in a recess. Nobody passed. + +The girl's heart was beating fast. Derek's face was so strange and +strained. And he had not yet said one word to her. All sorts of +fears and fancies beset her till she was trembling all over. + +"What is it?" she said at last. "You haven't--you haven't stopped +loving me, Derek?" + +"No one could stop loving you." + +"What is it, then? Are you thinking of poor Tryst?" + +With a catch in his throat and a sort of choked laugh he answered: + +"Yes." + +"But it's all over. He's at peace." + +"Peace!" Then, in a queer, dead voice, he added: "I'm sorry, +Nedda. It's beastly for you. But I can't help it." + +What couldn't he help? Why did he keep her suffering like this-- +not telling her? What was this something that seemed so terribly +between them? She walked on silently at his side, conscious of the +rustling of the sycamores, of the moonlit angle of the church +magnate's house, of the silence in the lane, and the gliding of +their own shadows along the wall. What was this in his face, his +thoughts, that she could not reach! And she cried out: + +"Tell me! Oh, tell me, Derek! I can go through anything with +you!" + +"I can't get rid of him, that's all. I thought he'd go when I'd +seen him there. But it's no good!" + +Terror got hold of her then. She peered at his face--very white +and haggard. There seemed no blood in it. They were going down- +hill now, along the blank wall of a factory; there was the river in +front, with the moonlight on it and boats drawn up along the bank. +From a chimney a scroll of black smoke was flung out across the +sky, and a lighted bridge glowed above the water. They turned away +from that, passing below the dark pile of the cathedral. Here +couples still lingered on benches along the river-bank, happy in +the warm night, under the August moon! And on and on they walked +in that strange, miserable silence, past all those benches and +couples, out on the river-path by the fields, where the scent of +hay-stacks, and the freshness from the early stubbles and the +grasses webbed with dew, overpowered the faint reek of the river +mud. And still on and on in the moonlight that haunted through the +willows. At their footsteps the water-rats scuttled down into the +water with tiny splashes; a dog barked somewhere a long way off; a +train whistled; a frog croaked. From the stubbles and second crops +of sun-baked clover puffs of warm air kept stealing up into the +chillier air beneath the willows. Such moonlit nights never seem +to sleep. And there was a kind of triumph in the night's smile, as +though it knew that it ruled the river and the fields, ruled with +its gleams the silent trees that had given up all rustling. +Suddenly Derek said: + +"He's walking with us! Look! Over there!" + +And for a second there did seem to Nedda a dim, gray shape moving +square and dogged, parallel with them at the stubble edges. +Gasping out: + +"Oh, no; don't frighten me! I can't bear it tonight!" She hid her +face against his shoulder like a child. He put his arm round her +and she pressed her face deep into his coat. This ghost of Bob +Tryst holding him away from her! This enemy! This uncanny +presence! She pressed closer, closer, and put her face up to his. +It was wonderfully lonely, silent, whispering, with the moongleams +slipping through the willow boughs into the shadow where they +stood. And from his arms warmth stole through her! Closer and +closer she pressed, not quite knowing what she did, not quite +knowing anything but that she wanted him never to let her go; +wanted his lips on hers, so that she might feel his spirit pass, +away from what was haunting it, into hers, never to escape. But +his lips did not come to hers. They stayed drawn back, trembling, +hungry-looking, just above her lips. And she whispered: + +"Kiss me!" + +She felt him shudder in her arms, saw his eyes darken, his lips +quiver and quiver, as if he wanted them to, but they would not. +What was it? Oh, what was it? Wasn't he going to kiss her--not to +kiss her? And while in that unnatural pause they stood, their +heads bent back among the moongleams and those willow shadows, +there passed through Nedda such strange trouble as she had never +known. Not kiss her! Not kiss her! Why didn't he? When in her +blood and in the night all round, in the feel of his arms, the +sight of his hungry lips, was something unknown, wonderful, +terrifying, sweet! And she wailed out: + +"I want you--I don't care--I want you!" She felt him sway, reel, +and clutch her as if he were going to fall, and all other feeling +vanished in the instinct of the nurse she had already been to him. +He was ill again! Yes, he was ill! And she said: + +"Derek--don't! It's all right. Let's walk on quietly!" + +She got his arm tightly in hers and drew him along toward home. By +the jerking of that arm, the taut look on his face, she could feel +that he did not know from step to step whether he could stay +upright. But she herself was steady and calm enough, bent on +keeping emotion away, and somehow getting him back along the river- +path, abandoned now to the moon and the bright, still spaces of the +night and the slow-moving, whitened water. Why had she not felt +from the first that he was overwrought and only fit for bed? + +Thus, very slowly, they made their way up by the factory again into +the lane by the church magnate's garden, under the branches of the +sycamores, past the same white-faced old house at the corner, to +the high street where some few people were still abroad. + +At the front door of the hotel stood Felix, looking at his watch, +disconsolate as an old hen. To her great relief he went in quickly +when he saw them coming. She could not bear the thought of talk +and explanation. The one thing was to get Derek to bed. All the +time he had gone along with that taut face; and now, when he sat +down on the shiny sofa in the little bedroom, he shivered so +violently that his teeth chattered. She rang for a hot bottle and +brandy and hot water. When he had drunk he certainly shivered +less, professed himself all right, and would not let her stay. She +dared not ask, but it did seem as if the physical collapse had +driven away, for the time at all events, that ghostly visitor, and, +touching his forehead with her lips--very motherly--so that he +looked up and smiled at her--she said in a matter-of-fact voice: + +"I'll come back after a bit and tuck you up," and went out. + +Felix was waiting in the hall, at a little table on which stood a +bowl of bread and milk. He took the cover off it for her without a +word. And while she supped he kept glancing at her, trying to make +up his mind to words. But her face was sealed. And all he said was: + +"Your uncle's gone to Becket for the night. I've got you a room +next mine, and a tooth-brush, and some sort of comb. I hope you'll +be able to manage, my child." + +Nedda left him at the door of his room and went into her own. +After waiting there ten minutes she stole out again. It was all +quiet, and she went resolutely back down the stairs. She did not +care who saw her or what they thought. Probably they took her for +Derek's sister; but even if they didn't she would not have cared. +It was past eleven, the light nearly out, and the hall in the +condition of such places that await a morning's renovation. His +corridor, too, was quite dark. She opened the door without sound +and listened, till his voice said softly: + +"All right, little angel; I'm not asleep." + +And by a glimmer of moonlight, through curtains designed to keep +out nothing, she stole up to the bed. She could just see his face, +and eyes looking up at her with a sort of adoration. She put her +hand on his forehead and whispered: "Are you comfy?" + +He murmured back: "Yes, quite comfy." + +Kneeling down, she laid her face beside his on the pillow. She +could not help doing that; it made everything seem holy, cuddley, +warm. His lips touched her nose. Her eyes, for just that instant, +looked up into his, that were very dark and soft; then she got up. + +"Would you like me to stay till you're asleep?" + +"Yes; forever. But I shouldn't exactly sleep. Would you?" + +In the darkness Nedda vehemently shook her head. Sleep! No! She +would not sleep! + +"Good night, then!" + +"Good night, little dark angel!" + +"Good night!" With that last whisper she slipped back to the door +and noiselessly away. + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + + +It was long before she closed her eyes, spending the hours in fancy +where still less she would have slept. But when she did drop off +she dreamed that he and she were alone upon a star, where all the +trees were white, the water, grass, birds, everything, white, and +they were walking arm in arm, among white flowers. And just as she +had stooped to pick one--it was no flower, but--Tryst's white- +banded face! She woke with a little cry. + +She was dressed by eight and went at once to Derek's room. There +was no answer to her knock, and in a flutter of fear she opened the +door. He had gone--packed, and gone. She ran back to the hall. +There was a note for her in the office, and she took it out of +sight to read. It said: + + +"He came back this morning. I'm going home by the first train. He +seems to want me to do something. + +"DEREK." + + +Came back! That thing--that gray thing that she, too, had seemed +to see for a moment in the fields beside the river! And he was +suffering again as he had suffered yesterday! It was awful. She +waited miserably till her father came down. To find that he, too, +knew of this trouble was some relief. He made no objection when +she begged that they should follow on to Joyfields. Directly after +breakfast they set out. Once on her way to Derek again, she did +not feel so frightened. But in the train she sat very still, +gazing at her lap, and only once glanced up from under those long +lashes. + +"Can you understand it, Dad?" + +Felix, not much happier than she, answered: + +"The man had something queer about him. Besides Derek's been ill, +don't forget that. But it's too bad for you, Nedda. I don't like +it; I don't like it." + +"I can't be parted from him, Dad. That's impossible." + +Felix was silenced by the vigor of those words. + +"His mother can help, perhaps," he said. + +Ah! If his mother would help--send him away from the laborers, and +all this! + +Up from the station they took the field paths, which cut off quite +a mile. The grass and woods were shining brightly, peacefully in +the sun; it seemed incredible that there should be heartburnings +about a land so smiling, that wrongs and miseries should haunt +those who lived and worked in these bright fields. Surely in this +earthly paradise the dwellers were enviable, well-nourished souls, +sleek and happy as the pied cattle that lifted their inquisitive +muzzles! Nedda tried to stroke the nose of one--grayish, blunt, +moist. But the creature backed away from her hand, snuffling, and +its cynical, soft eyes with chestnut lashes seemed warning the girl +that she belonged to the breed that might be trusted to annoy. + +In the last fields before the Joyfields crossroads they came up +with a little, square, tow-headed man, without coat or cap, who had +just driven some cattle in and was returning with his dog, at a +'dot-here dot-there' walk, as though still driving them. He gave +them a look rather like that of the bullock Nedda had tried to +stroke. She knew he must be one of the Malloring men, and longed +to ask him questions; but he, too, looked shy and distrustful, as +if he suspected that they wanted something out of him. She +summoned up courage, however, to say: "Did you see about poor Bob +Tryst?" + +"I 'eard tell. 'E didn' like prison. They say prison takes the +'eart out of you. 'E didn' think o' that." And the smile that +twisted the little man's lips seemed to Nedda strange and cruel, as +if he actually found pleasure in the fate of his fellow. All she +could find to answer was: + +"Is that a good dog?" + +The little man looked down at the dog trotting alongside with +drooped tail, and shook his head: + +'E's no good wi' beasts--won't touch 'em!" Then, looking up +sidelong, he added surprisingly: + +"Mast' Freeland 'e got a crack on the head, though!" Again there +was that satisfied resentment in his voice and the little smile +twisting his lips. Nedda felt more lost than ever. + +They parted at the crossroads and saw him looking back at them as +they went up the steps to the wicket gate. Amongst a patch of +early sunflowers, Tod, in shirt and trousers, was surrounded by his +dog and the three small Trysts, all apparently engaged in studying +the biggest of the sunflowers, where a peacock-butterfly and a bee +were feeding, one on a gold petal, the other on the black heart. +Nedda went quickly up to them and asked: + +"Has Derek come, Uncle Tod?" + +Tod raised his eyes. He did not seem in the least surprised to see +her, as if his sky were in the habit of dropping his relatives at +ten in the morning. + +"Gone out again," he said. + +Nedda made a sign toward the children. + +"Have you heard, Uncle Tod?" + +Tod nodded and his blue eyes, staring above the children's heads, +darkened. + +"Is Granny still here?" + +Again Tod nodded. + +Leaving Felix in the garden, Nedda stole upstairs and tapped on +Frances Freeland's door. + +She, whose stoicism permitted her the one luxury of never coming +down to breakfast, had just made it for herself over a little +spirit-lamp. She greeted Nedda with lifted eyebrows. + +"Oh, my darling! Where HAVE you come from? You must have my nice +cocoa! Isn't this the most perfect lamp you ever saw? Did you +ever see such a flame? Watch!" + +She touched the spirit-lamp and what there was of flame died out. + +"Now, isn't that provoking? It's really a splendid thing, quite a +new kind. I mean to get you one. Now, drink your cocoa; it's +beautifully hot." + +"I've had breakfast, Granny." + +Frances Freeland gazed at her doubtfully, then, as a last resource, +began to sip the cocoa, of which, in truth, she was badly in want. + +"Granny, will you help me?" + +"Of course, darling. What is it?" + +"I do so want Derek to forget all about this terrible business." + +Frances Freeland, who had unscrewed the top of a little canister, +answered: + +"Yes, dear, I quite agree. I'm sure it's best for him. Open your +mouth and let me pop in one of these delicious little plasmon +biscuits. They're perfect after travelling. Only," she added +wistfully, "I'm afraid he won't pay any attention to me." + +"No, but you could speak to Aunt Kirsteen; it's for her to stop him." + +One of her most pathetic smiles came over Frances Freeland's face. + +"Yes, I could speak to her. But, you see, I don't count for +anything. One doesn't when one gets old." + +"Oh, Granny, you do! You count for a lot; every one admires you +so. You always seem to have something that--that other people +haven't got. And you're not a bit old in spirit." + +Frances Freeland was fingering her rings; she slipped one off. + +"Well," she said, "it's no good thinking about that, is it? I've +wanted to give you this for ages, darling; it IS so uncomfortable +on my finger. Now, just let me see if I can pop it on!" + +Nedda recoiled. + +"Oh, Granny!" she said. "You ARE--!" and vanished. + +There was still no one in the kitchen, and she sat down to wait for +her aunt to finish her up-stairs duties. + +Kirsteen came down at last, in her inevitable blue dress, betraying +her surprise at this sudden appearance of her niece only by a +little quivering of her brows. And, trembling with nervousness, +Nedda took her plunge, pouring out the whole story--of Derek's +letter; their journey down; her father's talk with him; the visit +to Tryst's body; their walk by the river; and of how haunted and +miserable he was. Showing the little note he had left that +morning, she clasped her hands and said: + +"Oh, Aunt Kirsteen, make him happy again! Stop that awful haunting +and keep him from all this!" + +Kirsteen had listened, with one foot on the hearth in her favorite +attitude. When the girl had finished she said quietly: + +"I'm not a witch, Nedda!" + +"But if it wasn't for you he would never have started. And now +that poor Tryst's dead he would leave it alone. I'm sure only you +can make him lose that haunted feeling." + +Kirsteen shook her head. + +"Listen, Nedda!" she said slowly, as though weighing each word. "I +should like you to understand. There's a superstition in this +country that people are free. Ever since I was a girl your age +I've known that they are not; no one is free here who can't pay for +freedom. It's one thing to see, another to feel this with your +whole being. When, like me, you have an open wound, which +something is always inflaming, you can't wonder, can you, that +fever escapes into the air. Derek may have caught the infection of +my fever--that's all! But I shall never lose that fever, Nedda-- +never!" + +"But, Aunt Kirsteen, this haunting is dreadful. I can't bear to +see it." + +"My dear, Derek is very highly strung, and he's been ill. It's in +my family to see things. That'll go away." + +Nedda said passionately: + +"I don't believe he'll ever lose it while he goes on here, tearing +his heart out. And they're trying to get me away from him. I know +they are!" + +Kirsteen turned; her eyes seemed to blaze. + +"They? Ah! Yes! You'll have to fight if you want to marry a +rebel, Nedda!" + +Nedda put her hands to her forehead, bewildered. "You see, Nedda, +rebellion never ceases. It's not only against this or that +injustice, it's against all force and wealth that takes advantage +of its force and wealth. That rebellion goes on forever. Think +well before you join in." + +Nedda turned away. Of what use to tell her to think when 'I won't-- +I can't be parted from him!' kept every other thought paralyzed. +And she pressed her forehead against the cross-bar of the window, +trying to find better words to make her appeal again. Out there +above the orchard the sky was blue, and everything light and gay, +as the very butterflies that wavered past. A motor-car seemed to +have stopped in the road close by; its whirring and whizzing was +clearly audible, mingled with the cooings of pigeons and a robin's +song. And suddenly she heard her aunt say: + +"You have your chance, Nedda! Here they are!" + +Nedda turned. There in the doorway were her Uncles John and +Stanley coming in, followed by her father and Uncle Tod. + +What did this mean? What had they come for? And, disturbed to the +heart, she gazed from one to the other. They had that curious look +of people not quite knowing what their reception will be like, yet +with something resolute, almost portentous, in their mien. She saw +John go up to her aunt and hold out his hand. + +"I dare say Felix and Nedda have told you about yesterday," he +said. "Stanley and I thought it best to come over." Kirsteen +answered: + +"Tod, will you tell Mother who's here?" + +Then none of them seemed to know quite what to say, or where to +look, till Frances Freeland, her face all pleased and anxious, came +in. When she had kissed them they all sat down. And Nedda, at the +window, squeezed her hands tight together in her lap. + +"We've come about Derek," John said. + +"Yes," broke in Stanley. "For goodness' sake, Kirsteen, don't +let's have any more of this! Just think what would have happened +yesterday if that poor fellow hadn't providentially gone off the +hooks!" + +"Providentially!" + +"Well, it was. You see to what lengths Derek was prepared to go. +Hang it all! We shouldn't have been exactly proud of a felon in +the family." + +Frances Freeland, who had been lacing and unlacing her fingers, +suddenly fixed her eyes on Kirsteen. + +"I don't understand very well, darling, but I am sure that whatever +dear John says will be wise and right. You must remember that he +is the eldest and has a great deal of experience." + +Kirsteen bent her head. If there was irony in the gesture, it was +not perceived by Frances Freeland. + +"It can't be right for dear Derek, or any gentleman, to go against +the law of the land or be mixed up with wrong-doing in any way. I +haven't said anything, but I HAVE felt it very much. Because--it's +all been not quite nice, has it?" + +Nedda saw her father wince. Then Stanley broke in again: + +"Now that the whole thing's done with, do, for Heaven's sake, let's +have a little peace!" + +At that moment her aunt's face seemed wonderful to Nedda; so quiet, +yet so burningly alive. + +"Peace! There is no peace in this world. There is death, but no +peace!" And, moving nearer to Tod, she rested her hand on his +shoulder, looking, as it seemed to Nedda, at something far away, +till John said: + +"That's hardly the point, is it? We should be awfully glad to know +that there'll be no more trouble. All this has been very worrying. +And now the cause seems to be--removed." + +There was always a touch of finality in John's voice. Nedda saw +that all had turned to Kirsteen for her answer. + +"If those up and down the land who profess belief in liberty will +cease to filch from the helpless the very crust of it, the cause +will be removed." + +"Which is to say--never!" + +At those words from Felix, Frances Freeland, gazing first at him +and then at Kirsteen, said in a pained voice: + +"I don't think you ought to talk like that, Kirsteen, dear. Nobody +who's at all nice means to be unkind. We're all forgetful +sometimes. I know I often forget to be sympathetic. It vexes me +dreadfully!" + +"Mother, don't defend tyranny!" + +"I'm sure it's often from the best motives, dear." + +"So is rebellion." + +"Well, I don't understand about that, darling. But I do think, +with dear John, it's a great pity. It will be a dreadful drawback +to Derek if he has to look back on something that he regrets when +he's older. It's always best to smile and try to look on the +bright side of things and not be grumbly-grumbly!" + +After that little speech of Frances Freeland's there was a silence +that Nedda thought would last forever, till her aunt, pressing +close to Tod's shoulder, spoke. + +"You want me to stop Derek. I tell you all what I've just told +Nedda. I don't attempt to control Derek; I never have. For +myself, when I see a thing I hate I can't help fighting against it. +I shall never be able to help that. I understand how you must +dislike all this; I know it must be painful to you, Mother. But +while there is tyranny in this land, to laborers, women, animals, +anything weak and helpless, so long will there be rebellion against +it, and things will happen that will disturb you." + +Again Nedda saw her father wince. But Frances Freeland, bending +forward, fixed her eyes piercingly on Kirsteen's neck, as if she +were noticing something there more important than that about +tyranny! + +Then John said very gravely: + +"You seem to think that we approve of such things being done to the +helpless!" + +"I know that you disapprove." + +"With the masterly inactivity," Felix said suddenly, in a voice +more bitter than Nedda had ever heard from him, "of authority, +money, culture, and philosophy. With the disapproval that lifts no +finger--winking at tyrannies lest worse befall us. Yes, WE-- +brethren--we--and so we shall go on doing. Quite right, Kirsteen!" + +"No. The world is changing, Felix, changing!" + +But Nedda had started up. There at the door was Derek. + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + + +Derek, who had slept the sleep of the dead, having had none for two +nights, woke thinking of Nedda hovering above him in the dark; of +her face laid down beside him on the pillow. And then, suddenly, +up started that thing, and stood there, haunting him! Why did it +come? What did it want of him? After writing the little note to +Nedda, he hurried to the station and found a train about to start. +To see and talk with the laborers; to do something, anything to +prove that this tragic companion had no real existence! He went +first to the Gaunts' cottage. The door, there, was opened by the +rogue-girl, comely and robust as ever, in a linen frock, with her +sleeves rolled up, and smiling broadly at his astonishment. + +"Don't be afraid, Mr. Derek; I'm only here for the week-end, just +to tiddy up a bit. 'Tis all right in London. I wouldn't come back +here, I wouldn't--not if you was to give me--" and she pouted her +red lips. + +"Where's your father, Wilmet?" + +"Over in Willey's Copse cuttin' stakes. I hear you've been ill, +Mr. Derek. You do look pale. Were you very bad?" And her eyes +opened as though the very thought of illness was difficult for her +to grasp. "I saw your young lady up in London. She's very pretty. +Wish you happiness, Mr. Derek. Grandfather, here's Mr. Derek!" + +The face of old Gaunt, carved, cynical, yellow, appeared above her +shoulder. There he stood, silent, giving Derek no greeting. And +with a sudden miserable feeling the boy said: + +"I'll go and find him. Good-by, Wilmet!" + +"Good-by, Mr. Derek. 'Tis quiet enough here now; there's changes." + +Her rogue face twinkled again, and, turning her chin, she rubbed it +on her plump shoulder, as might a heifer, while from behind her +Grandfather Gaunt's face looked out with a faint, sardonic grin. + +Derek, hurrying on to Willey's Copse, caught sight, along a far +hedge, of the big dark laborer, Tulley, who had been his chief +lieutenant in the fighting; but, whether the man heard his hail or +no, he continued along the hedgeside without response and vanished +over a stile. The field dipped sharply to a stream, and at the +crossing Derek came suddenly on the little 'dot-here dot-there' +cowherd, who, at Derek's greeting, gave him an abrupt "Good day!" +and went on with his occupation of mending a hurdle. Again that +miserable feeling beset the boy, and he hastened on. A sound of +chopping guided him. Near the edge of the coppice Tom Gaunt was +lopping at some bushes. At sight of Derek he stopped and stood +waiting, his loquacious face expressionless, his little, hard eye +cocked. + +"Good morning, Tom. It's ages since I saw you." + +"Ah, 'tis a proper long time! You 'ad a knock." + +Derek winced; it was said as if he had been disabled in an affair +in which Gaunt had neither part nor parcel. Then, with a great +effort, the boy brought out his question: + +"You've heard about poor Bob?" + +"Yaas; 'tis the end of HIM." + +Some meaning behind those words, the unsmiling twist of that hard- +bitten face, the absence of the 'sir' that even Tom Gaunt generally +gave him, all seemed part of an attack. And, feeling as if his +heart were being squeezed, Derek looked straight into his face. + +"What's the matter, Tom?" + +"Matter! I don' know as there's anything the matter, ezactly!" + +"What have I done? Tell me!" + +Tom Gaunt smiled; his little, gray eyes met Derek's full. + +"'Tisn't for a gentleman to be held responsible." + +"Come!" Derek cried passionately. "What is it? D'you think I +deserted you, or what? Speak out, man!" + +Abating nothing of his stare and drawl, Gaunt answered: + +"Deserted? Oh, dear no! Us can't afford to do no more dyin' for +you--that's all!" + +"For me! Dying! My God! D'you think I wouldn't have--? Oh! +Confound you!" + +"Aye! Confounded us you 'ave! Hope you're satisfied!" + +Pale as death and quivering all over, Derek answered: + +"So you think I've just been frying fish of my own?" + +Tom Gaunt, emitted a little laugh. + +"I think you've fried no fish at all. That's what I think. And no +one else does, neither, if you want to know--except poor Bob. +You've fried his fish, sure enough!" + +Stung to the heart, the boy stood motionless. A pigeon was cooing; +the sappy scent from the lopped bushes filled all the sun-warmed air. + +"I see!" he said. "Thanks, Tom; I'm glad to know." + +Without moving a muscle, Tom Gaunt answered: + +"Don't mention it!" and resumed his lopping. + +Derek turned and walked out of the little wood. But when he had +put a field between him and the sound of Gaunt's bill-hook, he lay +down and buried his face in the grass, chewing at its green blades, +scarce dry of dew, and with its juicy sweetness tasting the full of +bitterness. And the gray shade stalked out again, and stood there +in the warmth of the August day, with its scent and murmur of full +summer, while the pigeons cooed and dandelion fluff drifted by. . . . + +When, two hours later, he entered the kitchen at home, of the +company assembled Frances Freeland alone retained equanimity enough +to put up her face to be kissed. + +"I'm so thankful you've come back in time to see your uncles, +darling. Your Uncle John thinks, and we all agree, that to +encourage those poor laborers to do things which are not nice is-- +is--you know what I mean, darling!" + +Derek gave a bitter little laugh. + +"Criminal, Granny! Yes, and puppyish! I've learned all that." + +The sound of his voice was utterly unlike his own, and Kirsteen, +starting forward, put her arm round him. + +"It's all right, Mother. They've chucked me." + +At that moment, when all, save his mother, wanted so to express +their satisfaction, Frances Freeland alone succeeded. + +"I'm so glad, darling!" + +Then John rose and, holding out his hand to his nephew, said: + +"That's the end of the trouble, then, Derek?" + +"Yes. And I beg your pardon, Uncle John; and all--Uncle Stanley, +Uncle Felix; you, Dad; Granny." + +They had all risen now. The boy's face gave them--even John, even +Stanley--a choke in the throat. Frances Freeland suddenly took +their arms and went to the door; her other two sons followed. And +quietly they all went out. + +Derek, who had stayed perfectly still, staring past Nedda into a +corner of the room, said: + +"Ask him what he wants, Mother." + +Nedda smothered down a cry. But Kirsteen, tightening her clasp of +him and looking steadily into that corner, answered: + +"Nothing, my boy. He's quite friendly. He only wants to be with +you for a little." + +"But I can't do anything for him." + +"He knows that." + +"I wish he wouldn't, Mother. I can't be more sorry than I have been." + +Kirsteen's face quivered. + +"My dear, it will go quite soon. Love Nedda! See! She wants you!" + +Derek answered in the same quiet voice: + +"Yes, Nedda is the comfort. Mother, I want to go away--away out of +England--right away." + +Nedda rushed and flung her arms round him. + +"I, too, Derek; I, too!" + + +That evening Felix came out to the old 'fly,' waiting to take him +from Joyfields to Becket. What a sky! All over its pale blue a +far-up wind had drifted long, rosy clouds, and through one of them +the half-moon peered, of a cheese-green hue; and, framed and barred +by the elm-trees, like some roseate, stained-glass window, the +sunset blazed. In a corner of the orchard a little bonfire had +been lighted, and round it he could see the three small Trysts +dropping armfuls of leaves and pointing at the flames leaping out +of the smoulder. There, too, was Tod's big figure, motionless, and +his dog sitting on its haunches, with head poked forward, staring +at those red tongues of flame. Kirsteen had come with him to the +wicket gate. He held her hand long in his own and pressed it hard. +And while that blue figure, turned to the sunset, was still +visible, he screwed himself back to look. + +They had been in painful conclave, as it seemed to Felix, all day, +coming to the decision that those two young things should have +their wish, marry, and go out to New Zealand. The ranch of Cousin +Alick Morton (son of that brother of Frances Freeland, who, +absorbed in horses, had wandered to Australia and died in falling +from them) had extended a welcome to Derek. Those two would have a +voyage of happiness--see together the red sunsets in the +Mediterranean, Pompeii, and the dark ants of men swarming in +endless band up and down with their coal-sacks at Port Said; smell +the cinnamon gardens of Colombo; sit up on deck at night and watch +the stars. . . . Who could grudge it them? Out there youth and +energy would run unchecked. For here youth had been beaten! + +On and on the old 'fly' rumbled between the shadowy fields. 'The +world is changing, Felix--changing!' Was that defeat of youth, +then, nothing? Under the crust of authority and wealth, culture +and philosophy--was the world really changing; was liberty truly +astir, under that sky in the west all blood; and man rising at long +last from his knees before the God of force? The silent, empty +fields darkened, the air gathered dewy thickness, and the old 'fly' +rumbled and rolled as slow as fate. Cottage lamps were already +lighted for the evening meal. No laborer abroad at this hour! And +Felix thought of Tryst, the tragic fellow--the moving, lonely +figure; emanation of these solitary fields, shade of the departing +land! One might well see him as that boy saw him, silent, dogged, +in a gray light such as this now clinging above the hedgerows and +the grass! + +The old 'fly' turned into the Becket drive. It had grown dark now, +save for the half-moon; the last chafer was booming by, and a bat +flitting, a little, blind, eager bat, through the quiet trees. He +got out to walk the last few hundred yards. A lovely night, silent +below her stars--cool and dark, spread above field after field, +wood on wood, for hundreds of miles on every side. Night covering +his native land. The same silence had reigned out there, the same +perfume stolen up, the same star-shine fallen, for millions of +years in the past, and would for millions of years to come. Close +to where the half-moon floated, a slow, narrow, white cloud was +passing--curiously shaped. At one end of it Felix could see +distinctly the form of a gleaming skull, with dark sky showing +through its eyeholes, cheeks, and mouth. A queer phenomenon; +fascinating, rather ghastly! It grew sharper in outline, more +distinct. One of those sudden shudders, that seize men from the +crown of the head to the very heels, passed down his back. He shut +his eyes. And, instead, there came up before him Kirsteen's blue- +clothed figure turned to the sunset glow. Ah! Better to see that +than this skull above the land! Better to believe her words: 'The +world is changing, Felix--changing!' + + + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Freelands, by John Galsworthy + diff --git a/old/frnds10.zip b/old/frnds10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e6be3e4 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/frnds10.zip diff --git a/old/frnds11.txt b/old/frnds11.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2b6637a --- /dev/null +++ b/old/frnds11.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12300 @@ +The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Freelands, by John Galsworthy +#2 in our series by John Galsworthy + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before distributing this or any other +Project Gutenberg file. + +We encourage you to keep this file, exactly as it is, on your +own disk, thereby keeping an electronic path open for future +readers. Please do not remove this. + +This header should be the first thing seen when anyone starts to +view the etext. 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His eyes were +sad, with the swimming yet fixed stare of epileptics; his mouth +heavy-lipped, so that, but for the yearning eyes, the face would +have been almost brutal. He looked as if he suffered from silence. +The elm-trees bordering the field, though only just in leaf, showed +dark against a white sky. A light wind blew, carrying already a +scent from the earth and growth pushing up, for the year was early. +The green Malvern hills rose in the west; and not far away, +shrouded by trees, a long country house of weathered brick faced to +the south. Save for the man sowing, and some rooks crossing from +elm to elm, no life was visible in all the green land. And it was +quiet--with a strange, a brooding tranquillity. The fields and +hills seemed to mock the scars of road and ditch and furrow scraped +on them, to mock at barriers of hedge and wall--between the green +land and white sky was a conspiracy to disregard those small +activities. So lonely was it, so plunged in a ground-bass of +silence; so much too big and permanent for any figure of man. + +Across and across the brown loam the laborer doggedly finished out +his task; scattered the few last seeds into a corner, and stood +still. Thrushes and blackbirds were just beginning that even-song +whose blitheness, as nothing else on earth, seems to promise youth +forever to the land. He picked up his coat, slung it on, and, +heaving a straw bag over his shoulder, walked out on to the grass- +bordered road between the elms. + +"Tryst! Bob Tryst!" + +At the gate of a creepered cottage amongst fruit-trees, high above +the road, a youth with black hair and pale-brown face stood beside +a girl with frizzy brown hair and cheeks like poppies. + +"Have you had that notice?" + +The laborer answered slowly: + +"Yes, Mr. Derek. If she don't go, I've got to." + +"What a d--d shame!" + +The laborer moved his head, as though he would have spoken, but no +words came. + +"Don't do anything, Bob. We'll see about that." + +"Evenin', Mr. Derek. Evenin', Miss Sheila," and the laborer moved +on. + +The two at the wicket gate also turned away. A black-haired woman +dressed in blue came to the wicket gate in their place. There +seemed no purpose in her standing there; it was perhaps an evening +custom, some ceremony such as Moslems observe at the muezzin-call. +And any one who saw her would have wondered what on earth she might +be seeing, gazing out with her dark glowing eyes above the white, +grass-bordered roads stretching empty this way and that between the +elm-trees and green fields; while the blackbirds and thrushes +shouted out their hearts, calling all to witness how hopeful and +young was life in this English countryside. . . . + + +CHAPTER I + + +Mayday afternoon in Oxford Street, and Felix Freeland, a little +late, on his way from Hampstead to his brother John's house in +Porchester Gardens. Felix Freeland, author, wearing the very first +gray top hat of the season. A compromise, that--like many other +things in his life and works--between individuality and the +accepted view of things, aestheticism and fashion, the critical +sense and authority. After the meeting at John's, to discuss the +doings of the family of his brother Morton Freeland--better known +as Tod--he would perhaps look in on the caricatures at the English +Gallery, and visit one duchess in Mayfair, concerning the George +Richard Memorial. And so, not the soft felt hat which really +suited authorship, nor the black top hat which obliterated +personality to the point of pain, but this gray thing with +narrowish black band, very suitable, in truth, to a face of a pale +buff color, to a moustache of a deep buff color streaked with a few +gray hairs, to a black braided coat cut away from a buff-colored +waistcoat, to his neat boots--not patent leather--faintly buffed +with May-day dust. Even his eyes, Freeland gray, were a little +buffed over by sedentary habit, and the number of things that he +was conscious of. For instance, that the people passing him were +distressingly plain, both men and women; plain with the particular +plainness of those quite unaware of it. It struck him forcibly, +while he went along, how very queer it was that with so many plain +people in the country, the population managed to keep up even as +well as it did. To his wonderfully keen sense of defect, it seemed +little short of marvellous. A shambling, shoddy crew, this crowd +of shoppers and labor demonstrators! A conglomeration of +hopelessly mediocre visages! What was to be done about it? Ah! +what indeed!--since they were evidently not aware of their own +dismal mediocrity. Hardly a beautiful or a vivid face, hardly a +wicked one, never anything transfigured, passionate, terrible, or +grand. Nothing Greek, early Italian, Elizabethan, not even beefy, +beery, broad old Georgian. Something clutched-in, and squashed-out +about it all--on that collective face something of the look of a +man almost comfortably and warmly wrapped round by a snake at the +very beginning of its squeeze. It gave Felix Freeland a sort of +faint excitement and pleasure to notice this. For it was his +business to notice things, and embalm them afterward in ink. And +he believed that not many people noticed it, so that it contributed +in his mind to his own distinction, which was precious to him. +Precious, and encouraged to be so by the press, which--as he well +knew--must print his name several thousand times a year. And yet, +as a man of culture and of principle, how he despised that kind of +fame, and theoretically believed that a man's real distinction lay +in his oblivion of the world's opinion, particularly as expressed +by that flighty creature, the Fourth Estate. But here again, as in +the matter of the gray top hat, he had instinctively compromised, +taking in press cuttings which described himself and his works, +while he never failed to describe those descriptions--good, bad, +and indifferent--as 'that stuff,' and their writers as 'those +fellows.' + +Not that it was new to him to feel that the country was in a bad +way. On the contrary, it was his established belief, and one for +which he was prepared to furnish due and proper reasons. In the +first place he traced it to the horrible hold Industrialism had in +the last hundred years laid on the nation, draining the peasantry +from 'the Land'; and in the second place to the influence of a +narrow and insidious Officialism, sapping the independence of the +People. + +This was why, in going to a conclave with his brother John, high in +Government employ, and his brother Stanley, a captain of industry, +possessor of the Morton Plough Works, he was conscious of a certain +superiority in that he, at all events, had no hand in this +paralysis which was creeping on the country. + +And getting more buff-colored every minute, he threaded his way on, +till, past the Marble Arch, he secured the elbow-room of Hyde Park. +Here groups of young men, with chivalrous idealism, were jeering at +and chivying the broken remnants of a suffrage meeting. Felix +debated whether he should oppose his body to their bodies, his +tongue to theirs, or whether he should avert his consciousness and +hurry on; but, that instinct which moved him to wear the gray top +hat prevailing, he did neither, and stood instead, looking at them +in silent anger, which quickly provoked endearments--such as: "Take +it off," or "Keep it on," or "What cheer, Toppy!" but nothing more +acute. And he meditated: Culture! Could culture ever make +headway among the blind partisanships, the hand-to-mouth mentality, +the cheap excitements of this town life? The faces of these +youths, the tone of their voices, the very look of their bowler +hats, said: No! You could not culturalize the impermeable texture +of their vulgarity. And they were the coming manhood of the +nation--this inexpressibly distasteful lot of youths! The country +had indeed got too far away from 'the Land.' And this essential +towny commonness was not confined to the classes from which these +youths were drawn. He had even remarked it among his own son's +school and college friends--an impatience of discipline, an +insensibility to everything but excitement and having a good time, +a permanent mental indigestion due to a permanent diet of tit-bits. +What aspiration they possessed seemed devoted to securing for +themselves the plums of official or industrial life. His boy Alan, +even, was infected, in spite of home influences and the atmosphere +of art in which he had been so sedulously soaked. He wished to +enter his Uncle Stanley's plough works, seeing in it a 'soft +thing.' + +But the last of the woman-baiters had passed by now, and, conscious +that he was really behind time, Felix hurried on. . . . + + +In his study--a pleasant room, if rather tidy--John Freeland was +standing before the fire smoking a pipe and looking thoughtfully at +nothing. He was, in fact, thinking, with that continuity +characteristic of a man who at fifty has won for himself a place of +permanent importance in the Home Office. Starting life in the +Royal Engineers, he still preserved something of a military look +about his figure, and grave visage with steady eyes and drooping +moustache (both a shade grayer than those of Felix), and a forehead +bald from justness and knowing where to lay his hand on papers. +His face was thinner, his head narrower, than his brother's, and he +had acquired a way of making those he looked at doubt themselves +and feel the sudden instability of all their facts. He was--as has +been said--thinking. His brother Stanley had wired to him that +morning: "Am motoring up to-day on business; can you get Felix to +come at six o'clock and talk over the position at Tod's?" What +position at Tod's? He had indeed heard something vague--of those +youngsters of Tod's, and some fuss they were making about the +laborers down there. He had not liked it. Too much of a piece +with the general unrest, and these new democratic ideas that were +playing old Harry with the country! For in his opinion the country +was in a bad way, partly owing to Industrialism, with its rotting +effect upon physique; partly to this modern analytic +Intellectualism, with its destructive and anarchic influence on +morals. It was difficult to overestimate the mischief of those two +factors; and in the approaching conference with his brothers, one +of whom was the head of an industrial undertaking, and the other a +writer, whose books, extremely modern, he never read, he was +perhaps vaguely conscious of his own cleaner hands. Hearing a car +come to a halt outside, he went to the window and looked out. Yes, +it was Stanley! . . . + + +Stanley Freeland, who had motored up from Becket--his country +place, close to his plough works in Worcestershire--stood a moment +on the pavement, stretching his long legs and giving directions to +his chauffeur. He had been stopped twice on the road for not- +exceeding the limit as he believed, and was still a little ruffled. +Was it not his invariable principle to be moderate in speed as in +all other things? And his feeling at the moment was stronger even +than usual, that the country was in a bad way, eaten up by +officialism, with its absurd limitations of speed and the liberty +of the subject, and the advanced ideas of these new writers and +intellectuals, always talking about the rights and sufferings of +the poor. There was no progress along either of those roads. He +had it in his heart, as he stood there on the pavement, to say +something pretty definite to John about interference with the +liberty of the subject, and he wouldn't mind giving old Felix a rap +about his precious destructive doctrines, and continual girding at +the upper classes, vested interests, and all the rest of it. If he +had something to put in their place that would be another matter. +Capital and those who controlled it were the backbone of the +country--what there was left of the country, apart from these d--d +officials and aesthetic fellows! And with a contraction of his +straight eyebrows above his straight gray eyes, straight blunt +nose, blunter moustaches, and blunt chin, he kept a tight rein on +his blunt tongue, not choosing to give way even to his own anger. + +Then, perceiving Felix coming--'in a white topper, by Jove!'--he +crossed the pavement to the door; and, tall, square, personable, +rang the bell. + + +CHAPTER II + + +"Well, what's the matter at Tod's?" + +And Felix moved a little forward in his chair, his eyes fixed with +interest on Stanley, who was about to speak. + +"It's that wife of his, of course. It was all very well so long as +she confined herself to writing, and talk, and that Land Society, +or whatever it was she founded, the one that snuffed out the other +day; but now she's getting herself and those two youngsters mixed up +in our local broils, and really I think Tod's got to be spoken to." + +"It's impossible for a husband to interfere with his wife's +principles." So Felix. + +"Principles!" The word came from John. + +"Certainly! Kirsteen's a woman of great character; revolutionary +by temperament. Why should you expect her to act as you would act +yourselves?" + +When Felix had said that, there was a silence. + +Then Stanley muttered: "Poor old Tod!" + +Felix sighed, lost for a moment in his last vision of his youngest +brother. It was four years ago now, a summer evening--Tod standing +between his youngsters Derek and Sheila, in a doorway of his white, +black-timbered, creepered cottage, his sunburnt face and blue eyes +the serenest things one could see in a day's march! + +"Why 'poor'?" he said. "Tod's much happier than we are. You've +only to look at him." + +"Ah!" said Stanley suddenly. "D'you remember him at Father's +funeral?--without his hat, and his head in the clouds. Fine- +lookin' chap, old Tod--pity he's such a child of Nature." + +Felix said quietly: + +"If you'd offered him a partnership, Stanley--it would have been +the making of him." + +"Tod in the plough works? My hat!" + +Felix smiled. At sight of that smile, Stanley grew red, and John +refilled his pipe. It is always the devil to have a brother more +sarcastic than oneself! + +"How old are those two?" John said abruptly. + +"Sheila's twenty, Derek nineteen." + +"I thought the boy was at an agricultural college?" + +"Finished." + +"What's he like?" + +"A black-haired, fiery fellow, not a bit like Tod." + +John muttered: "That's her Celtic blood. Her father, old Colonel +Moray, was just that sort; by George, he was a regular black +Highlander. What's the trouble exactly?" + +It was Stanley who answered: "That sort of agitation business is +all very well until it begins to affect your neighbors; then it's +time it stopped. You know the Mallorings who own all the land +round Tod's. Well, they've fallen foul of the Mallorings over what +they call injustice to some laborers. Questions of morality +involved. I don't know all the details. A man's got notice to +quit over his deceased wife's sister; and some girl or other in +another cottage has kicked over--just ordinary country incidents. +What I want is that Tod should be made to see that his family +mustn't quarrel with his nearest neighbors in this way. We know +the Mallorings well, they're only seven miles from us at Becket. +It doesn't do; sooner or later it plays the devil all round. And +the air's full of agitation about the laborers and 'the Land,' and +all the rest of it--only wants a spark to make real trouble." + +And having finished this oration, Stanley thrust his hands deep +into his pockets, and jingled the money that was there. + +John said abruptly: + +"Felix, you'd better go down." + +Felix was sitting back, his eyes for once withdrawn from his +brothers' faces. + +"Odd," he said, "really odd, that with a perfectly unique person +like Tod for a brother, we only see him once in a blue moon." + +"It's because he IS so d--d unique." + +Felix got up and gravely extended his hand to Stanley. + +"By Jove," he said, "you've spoken truth." And to John he added: +"Well, I WILL go, and let you know the upshot." + +When he had departed, the two elder brothers remained for some +moments silent, then Stanley said: + +"Old Felix is a bit tryin'! With the fuss they make of him in the +papers, his head's swelled!" + +John did not answer. One could not in so many words resent one's +own brother being made a fuss of, and if it had been for something +real, such as discovering the source of the Black River, conquering +Bechuanaland, curing Blue-mange, or being made a Bishop, he would +have been the first and most loyal in his appreciation; but for the +sort of thing Felix made up--Fiction, and critical, acid, +destructive sort of stuff, pretending to show John Freeland things +that he hadn't seen before--as if Felix could!--not at all the +jolly old romance which one could read well enough and enjoy till +it sent you to sleep after a good day's work. No! that Felix +should be made a fuss of for such work as that really almost hurt +him. It was not quite decent, violating deep down one's sense of +form, one's sense of health, one's traditions. Though he would not +have admitted it, he secretly felt, too, that this fuss was +dangerous to his own point of view, which was, of course, to him +the only real one. And he merely said: + +"Will you stay to dinner, Stan?" + + +CHAPTER III + + +If John had those sensations about Felix, so--when he was away from +John--had Felix about himself. He had never quite grown out of the +feeling that to make himself conspicuous in any way was bad form. +In common with his three brothers he had been through the mills of +gentility--those unique grinding machines of education only found +in his native land. Tod, to be sure, had been publicly sacked at +the end of his third term, for climbing on to the headmaster's roof +and filling up two of his chimneys with football pants, from which +he had omitted to remove his name. Felix still remembered the +august scene--the horrid thrill of it, the ominous sound of that: +"Freeland minimus!" the ominous sight of poor little Tod emerging +from his obscurity near the roof of the Speech Room, and descending +all those steps. How very small and rosy he had looked, his bright +hair standing on end, and his little blue eyes staring up very hard +from under a troubled frown. And the august hand holding up those +sooty pants, and the august voice: "These appear to be yours, +Freeland minimus. Were you so good as to put them down my +chinmeys?" And the little piping, "Yes, sir." + +"May I ask why, Freeland minimus?" + +"I don't know, sir." + +"You must have had some reason, Freeland minimus?" + +"It was the end of term, sir." + +"Ah! You must not come back here, Freeland minimus. You are too +dangerous, to yourself, and others. Go to your place." + +And poor little Tod ascending again all those steps, cheeks more +terribly rosy than ever, eyes bluer, from under a still more +troubled frown; little mouth hard set; and breathing so that you +could hear him six forms off. True, the new Head had been goaded +by other outrages, the authors of which had not omitted to remove +their names; but the want of humor, the amazing want of humor! As +if it had not been a sign of first-rate stuff in Tod! And to this +day Felix remembered with delight the little bubbling hiss that he +himself had started, squelched at once, but rippling out again +along the rows like tiny scattered lines of fire when a +conflagration is suppressed. Expulsion had been the salvation of +Tod! Or--his damnation? Which? God would know, but Felix was not +certain. Having himself been fifteen years acquiring 'Mill' +philosophy, and another fifteen years getting rid of it, he had now +begun to think that after all there might be something in it. A +philosophy that took everything, including itself, at face value, +and questioned nothing, was sedative to nerves too highly strung by +the continual examination of the insides of oneself and others, +with a view to their alteration. Tod, of course, having been sent +to Germany after his expulsion, as one naturally would be, and then +put to farming, had never properly acquired 'Mill' manner, and +never sloughed it off; and yet he was as sedative a man as you +could meet. + +Emerging from the Tube station at Hampstead, he moved toward home +under a sky stranger than one might see in a whole year of +evenings. Between the pine-trees on the ridge it was opaque and +colored like pinkish stone, and all around violent purple with +flames of the young green, and white spring blossom lit against it. +Spring had been dull and unimaginative so far, but this evening it +was all fire and gathered torrents; Felix wondered at the waiting +passion of that sky. + +He reached home just as those torrents began to fall. + +The old house, beyond the Spaniard's Road, save for mice and a +faint underlying savor of wood-rot in two rooms, well satisfied the +aesthetic sense. Felix often stood in his hall, study, bedroom, +and other apartments, admiring the rich and simple glow of them-- +admiring the rarity and look of studied negligence about the +stuffs, the flowers, the books, the furniture, the china; and then +quite suddenly the feeling would sweep over him: "By George, do I +really own all this, when my ideal is 'bread and water, and on +feast days a little bit of cheese'?" True, he was not to blame for +the niceness of his things--Flora did it; but still--there they +were, a little hard to swallow for an epicurean. It might, of +course, have been worse, for if Flora had a passion for collecting, +it was a very chaste one, and though what she collected cost no +little money, it always looked as if it had been inherited, and--as +everybody knows--what has been inherited must be put up with, +whether it be a coronet or a cruet-stand. + +To collect old things, and write poetry! It was a career; one +would not have one's wife otherwise. She might, for instance, have +been like Stanley's wife, Clara, whose career was wealth and +station; or John's wife, Anne, whose career had been cut short; or +even Tod's wife, Kirsteen, whose career was revolution. No--a wife +who had two, and only two children, and treated them with +affectionate surprise, who was never out of temper, never in a +hurry, knew the points of a book or play, could cut your hair at a +pinch; whose hand was dry, figure still good, verse tolerable, and-- +above all--who wished for no better fate than Fate had given her-- +was a wife not to be sneezed at. And Felix never had. He had +depicted so many sneezing wives and husbands in his books, and knew +the value of a happy marriage better perhaps than any one in +England. He had laid marriage low a dozen times, wrecked it on all +sorts of rocks, and had the greater veneration for his own, which +had begun early, manifested every symptom of ending late, and in +the meantime walked down the years holding hands fast, and by no +means forgetting to touch lips. + +Hanging up the gray top hat, he went in search of her. He found +her in his dressing-room, surrounded by a number of little bottles, +which she was examining vaguely, and putting one by one into an +'inherited' waste-paper basket. Having watched her for a little +while with a certain pleasure, he said: + +"Yes, my dear?" + +Noticing his presence, and continuing to put bottles into the +basket, she answered: + +"I thought I must--they're what dear Mother's given us." + +There they lay--little bottles filled with white and brown fluids, +white and blue and brown powders; green and brown and yellow +ointments; black lozenges; buff plasters; blue and pink and purple +pills. All beautifully labelled and corked. + +And he said in a rather faltering voice: + +"Bless her! How she does give her things away! Haven't we used +ANY?" + +"Not one. And they have to be cleared away before they're stale, +for fear we might take one by mistake." + +"Poor Mother!" + +"My dear, she's found something newer than them all by now." + +Felix sighed. + +"The nomadic spirit. I have it, too!" + +And a sudden vision came to him of his mother's carved ivory face, +kept free of wrinkles by sheer will-power, its firm chin, slightly +aquiline nose, and measured brows; its eyes that saw everything so +quickly, so fastidiously, its compressed mouth that smiled sweetly, +with a resolute but pathetic acceptation. Of the piece of fine +lace, sometimes black, sometimes white, over her gray hair. Of her +hands, so thin now, always moving a little, as if all the composure +and care not to offend any eye by allowing Time to ravage her face, +were avenging themselves in that constant movement. Of her figure, +that was short but did not seem so, still quick-moving, still +alert, and always dressed in black or gray. A vision of that +exact, fastidious, wandering spirit called Frances Fleeming +Freeland--that spirit strangely compounded of domination and +humility, of acceptation and cynicism; precise and actual to the +point of desert dryness; generous to a point that caused her family +to despair; and always, beyond all things, brave. + +Flora dropped the last little bottle, and sitting on the edge of +the bath let her eyebrows rise. How pleasant was that impersonal +humor which made her superior to other wives! + +"You--nomadic? How?" + +"Mother travels unceasingly from place to place, person to person, +thing to thing. I travel unceasingly from motive to motive, mind +to mind; my native air is also desert air--hence the sterility of +my work." + +Flora rose, but her eyebrows descended. + +"Your work," she said, "is not sterile." + +"That, my dear," said Felix, "is prejudice." And perceiving that +she was going to kiss him, he waited without annoyance. For a +woman of forty-two, with two children and three books of poems--and +not knowing which had taken least out of her--with hazel-gray eyes, +wavy eyebrows darker than they should have been, a glint of red in +her hair; wavy figure and lips; quaint, half-humorous indolence, +quaint, half-humorous warmth--was she not as satisfactory a woman +as a man could possibly have married! + +"I have got to go down and see Tod," he said. "I like that wife of +his; but she has no sense of humor. How much better principles are +in theory than in practice!" + +Flora repeated softly, as if to herself: + +"I'm glad I have none." She was at the window leaning out, and +Felix took his place beside her. The air was full of scent from +wet leaves, alive with the song of birds thanking the sky. +Suddenly he felt her arm round his ribs; either it or they--which, +he could not at the moment tell--seemed extraordinarily soft. . . . + + +Between Felix and his young daughter, Nedda, there existed the only +kind of love, except a mother's, which has much permanence--love +based on mutual admiration. Though why Nedda, with her starry +innocence, should admire him, Felix could never understand, not +realizing that she read his books, and even analyzed them for +herself in the diary which she kept religiously, writing it when +she ought to have been asleep. He had therefore no knowledge of +the way his written thoughts stimulated the ceaseless questioning +that was always going on within her; the thirst to know why this +was and that was not. Why, for instance, her heart ached so some +days and felt light and eager other days? Why, when people wrote +and talked of God, they seemed to know what He was, and she never +did? Why people had to suffer; and the world be black to so many +millions? Why one could not love more than one man at a time? +Why--a thousand things? Felix's books supplied no answers to these +questions, but they were comforting; for her real need as yet was +not for answers, but ever for more questions, as a young bird's +need is for opening its beak without quite knowing what is coming +out or going in. When she and her father walked, or sat, or went +to concerts together, their talk was neither particularly intimate +nor particularly voluble; they made to each other no great +confidences. Yet each was certain that the other was not bored--a +great thing; and they squeezed each other's little fingers a good +deal--very warming. Now with his son Alan, Felix had a continual +sensation of having to keep up to a mark and never succeeding--a +feeling, as in his favorite nightmare, of trying to pass an +examination for which he had neglected to prepare; of having to +preserve, in fact, form proper to the father of Alan Freeland. +With Nedda he had a sense of refreshment; the delight one has on a +spring day, watching a clear stream, a bank of flowers, birds +flying. And Nedda with her father--what feeling had she? To be +with him was like a long stroking with a touch of tickle in it; to +read his books, a long tickle with a nice touch of stroking now and +then when one was not expecting it. + +That night after dinner, when Alan had gone out and Flora into a +dream, she snuggled up alongside her father, got hold of his little +finger, and whispered: + +"Come into the garden, Dad; I'll put on goloshes. It's an awfully +nice moon." + +The moon indeed was palest gold behind the pines, so that its +radiance was a mere shower of pollen, just a brushing of white +moth-down over the reeds of their little dark pond, and the black +blur of the flowering currant bushes. And the young lime-trees, +not yet in full leaf, quivered ecstatically in that moon-witchery, +still letting fall raindrops of the past spring torrent, with soft +hissing sounds. A real sense in the garden, of God holding his +breath in the presence of his own youth swelling, growing, +trembling toward perfection! Somewhere a bird--a thrush, they +thought--mixed in its little mind as to night and day, was queerly +chirruping. And Felix and his daughter went along the dark wet +paths, holding each other's arms, not talking much. For, in him, +very responsive to the moods of Nature, there was a flattered +feeling, with that young arm in his, of Spring having chosen to +confide in him this whispering, rustling hour. And in Nedda was so +much of that night's unutterable youth--no wonder she was silent! +Then, somehow--neither responsible--they stood motionless. How +quiet it was, but for a distant dog or two, and the stilly +shivering-down of the water drops, and the far vibration of the +million-voiced city! How quiet and soft and fresh! Then Nedda +spoke: + +"Dad, I do so want to know everything." + +Not rousing even a smile, with its sublime immodesty, that +aspiration seemed to Felix infinitely touching. What less could +youth want in the very heart of Spring? And, watching her face put +up to the night, her parted lips, and the moon-gleam fingering her +white throat, he answered: + +"It'll all come soon enough, my pretty!" + +To think that she must come to an end like the rest, having found +out almost nothing, having discovered just herself, and the +particle of God that was within her! But he could not, of course, +say this. + +"I want to FEEL. Can't I begin?" + +How many millions of young creatures all the world over were +sending up that white prayer to climb and twine toward the stars, +and--fall to earth again! And nothing to be answered, but: + +"Time enough, Nedda!" + +"But, Dad, there are such heaps of things, such heaps of people, +and reasons, and--and life; and I know nothing. Dreams are the +only times, it seems to me, that one finds out anything." + +"As for that, my child, I am exactly in your case. What's to be +done for us?" + +She slid her hand through his arm again. + +"Don't laugh at me!" + +"Heaven forbid! I meant it. You're finding out much quicker than +I. It's all folk-music to you still; to me Strauss and the rest of +the tired stuff. The variations my mind spins--wouldn't I just +swap them for the tunes your mind is making?" + +"I don't seem making tunes at all. I don't seem to have anything +to make them of. Take me down to see 'the Tods,' Dad!" + +Why not? And yet--! Just as in this spring night Felix felt so +much, so very much, lying out there behind the still and moony +dark, such marvellous holding of breath and waiting sentiency, so +behind this innocent petition, he could not help the feeling of a +lurking fatefulness. That was absurd. And he said: "If you wish +it, by all means. You'll like your Uncle Tod; as to the others, I +can't say, but your aunt is an experience, and experiences are what +you want, it seems." + +Fervently, without speech, Nedda squeezed his arm. + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Stanley Freeland's country house, Becket, was almost a show place. +It stood in its park and pastures two miles from the little town of +Transham and the Morton Plough Works; close to the ancestral home +of the Moretons, his mother's family--that home burned down by +Roundheads in the Civil War. The site--certain vagaries in the +ground--Mrs. Stanley had caused to be walled round, and consecrated +so to speak with a stone medallion on which were engraved the aged +Moreton arms--arrows and crescent moons in proper juxtaposition. +Peacocks, too--that bird 'parlant,' from the old Moreton crest-- +were encouraged to dwell there and utter their cries, as of +passionate souls lost in too comfortable surroundings. + +By one of those freaks of which Nature is so prodigal, Stanley-- +owner of this native Moreton soil--least of all four Freeland +brothers, had the Moreton cast of mind and body. That was why he +made so much more money than the other three put together, and had +been able, with the aid of Clara's undoubted genius for rank and +station, to restore a strain of Moreton blood to its rightful +position among the county families of Worcestershire. Bluff and +without sentiment, he himself set little store by that, smiling up +his sleeve--for he was both kindly and prudent--at his wife who had +been a Tomson. It was not in Stanley to appreciate the peculiar +flavor of the Moretons, that something which in spite of their +naivete and narrowness, had really been rather fine. To him, such +Moretons as were left were 'dry enough sticks, clean out of it.' +They were of a breed that was already gone, the simplest of all +country gentlemen, dating back to the Conquest, without one +solitary conspicuous ancestor, save the one who had been physician +to a king and perished without issue--marrying from generation to +generation exactly their own equals; living simple, pious, +parochial lives; never in trade, never making money, having a +tradition and a practice of gentility more punctilious than the so- +called aristocracy; constitutionally paternal and maternal to their +dependents, constitutionally so convinced that those dependents and +all indeed who were not 'gentry,' were of different clay, that they +were entirely simple and entirely without arrogance, carrying with +them even now a sort of Early atmosphere of archery and home-made +cordials, lavender and love of clergy, together with frequent use +of the word 'nice,' a peculiar regularity of feature, and a +complexion that was rather parchmenty. High Church people and +Tories, naturally, to a man and woman, by sheer inbred absence of +ideas, and sheer inbred conviction that nothing else was nice; but +withal very considerate of others, really plucky in bearing their +own ills; not greedy, and not wasteful. + +Of Becket, as it now was, they would not have approved at all. By +what chance Edmund Moreton (Stanley's mother's grandfather), in the +middle of the eighteenth century, had suddenly diverged from family +feeling and ideals, and taken that 'not quite nice' resolution to +make ploughs and money, would never now be known. The fact +remained, together with the plough works. A man apparently of +curious energy and character, considering his origin, he had +dropped the E from his name, and--though he continued the family +tradition so far as to marry a Fleeming of Worcestershire, to be +paternal to his workmen, to be known as Squire, and to bring his +children up in the older Moreton 'niceness'--he had yet managed to +make his ploughs quite celebrated, to found a little town, and die +still handsome and clean-shaved at the age of sixty-six. Of his +four sons, only two could be found sufficiently without the E to go +on making ploughs. Stanley's grandfather, Stuart Morton, indeed, +had tried hard, but in the end had reverted to the congenital +instinct for being just a Moreton. An extremely amiable man, he +took to wandering with his family, and died in France, leaving one +daughter--Frances, Stanley's mother--and three sons, one of whom, +absorbed in horses, wandered to Australia and was killed by falling +from them; one of whom, a soldier, wandered to India, and the +embraces of a snake; and one of whom wandered into the embraces of +the Holy Roman Church. + +The Morton Plough Works were dry and dwindling when Stanley's +father, seeking an opening for his son, put him and money into +them. From that moment they had never looked back, and now brought +Stanley, the sole proprietor, an income of full fifteen thousand +pounds a year. He wanted it. For Clara, his wife, had that energy +of aspiration which before now has raised women to positions of +importance in the counties which are not their own, and caused, +incidentally, many acres to go out of cultivation. Not one plough +was used on the whole of Becket, not even a Morton plough--these +indeed were unsuitable to English soil and were all sent abroad. +It was the corner-stone of his success that Stanley had completely +seen through the talked-of revival of English agriculture, and +sedulously cultivated the foreign market. This was why the Becket +dining-room could contain without straining itself large quantities +of local magnates and celebrities from London, all deploring the +condition of 'the Land,' and discussing without end the regrettable +position of the agricultural laborer. Except for literary men and +painters, present in small quantities to leaven the lump, Becket +was, in fact, a rallying point for the advanced spirits of Land +Reform--one of those places where they were sure of being well done +at week-ends, and of congenial and even stimulating talk about the +undoubted need for doing something, and the designs which were +being entertained upon 'the Land' by either party. This very heart +of English country that the old Moretons in their paternal way had +so religiously farmed, making out of its lush grass and waving corn +a simple and by no means selfish or ungenerous subsistence, was now +entirely lawns, park, coverts, and private golf course, together +with enough grass to support the kine which yielded that continual +stream of milk necessary to Clara's entertainments and children, +all female, save little Francis, and still of tender years. Of +gardeners, keepers, cow-men, chauffeurs, footmen, stablemen--full +twenty were supported on those fifteen hundred acres that formed +the little Becket demesne. Of agricultural laborers proper--that +vexed individual so much in the air, so reluctant to stay on 'the +Land,' and so difficult to house when he was there, there were +fortunately none, so that it was possible for Stanley, whose wife +meant him to 'put up' for the Division, and his guests, who were +frequently in Parliament, to hold entirely unbiassed and impersonal +views upon the whole question so long as they were at Becket. + +It was beautiful there, too, with the bright open fields hedged +with great elms, and that ever-rich serenity of its grass and +trees. The white house, timbered with dark beams in true +Worcestershire fashion, and added-to from time to time, had +preserved, thanks to a fine architect, an old-fashioned air of +spacious presidency above its gardens and lawns. On the long +artificial lake, with innumerable rushy nooks and water-lilies and +coverture of leaves floating flat and bright in the sun, the half- +tame wild duck and shy water-hens had remote little worlds, and +flew and splashed when all Becket was abed, quite as if the human +spirit, with its monkey-tricks and its little divine flame, had not +yet been born. + +Under the shade of a copper-beech, just where the drive cut through +into its circle before the house, an old lady was sitting that +afternoon on a campstool. She was dressed in gray alpaca, light +and cool, and had on her iron-gray hair a piece of black lace. A +number of Hearth and Home and a little pair of scissors, suspended +by an inexpensive chain from her waist, rested on her knee, for she +had been meaning to cut out for dear Felix a certain recipe for +keeping the head cool; but, as a fact, she sat without doing so, +very still, save that, now and then, she compressed her pale fine +lips, and continually moved her pale fine hands. She was evidently +waiting for something that promised excitement, even pleasure, for +a little rose-leaf flush had quavered up into a face that was +colored like parchment; and her gray eyes under regular and still- +dark brows, very far apart, between which there was no semblance of +a wrinkle, seemed noting little definite things about her, almost +unwillingly, as an Arab's or a Red Indian's eyes will continue to +note things in the present, however their minds may be set on the +future. So sat Frances Fleeming Freeland (nee Morton) waiting for +the arrival of her son Felix and her grandchildren Alan and Nedda. + +She marked presently an old man limping slowly on a stick toward +where the drive debouched, and thought at once: "He oughtn't to be +coming this way. I expect he doesn't know the way round to the +back. Poor man, he's very lame. He looks respectable, too." She +got up and went toward him, remarking that his face with nice gray +moustaches was wonderfully regular, almost like a gentleman's, and +that he touched his dusty hat with quite old-fashioned courtesy. +And smiling--her smile was sweet but critical--she said: "You'll +find the best way is to go back to that little path, and past the +greenhouses. Have you hurt your leg?" + +"My leg's been like that, m'm, fifteen year come Michaelmas." + +"How did it happen?" + +"Ploughin'. The bone was injured; an' now they say the muscle's +dried up in a manner of speakin'." + +"What do you do for it? The very best thing is this." + +From the recesses of a deep pocket, placed where no one else wore +such a thing, she brought out a little pot. + +"You must let me give it you. Put it on when you go to bed, and +rub it well in; you'll find it act splendidly." + +The old man took the little pot with dubious reverence. + +"Yes, m'm," he said; "thank you, m'm." + +"What is your name?" + +"Gaunt." + +"And where do you live?" + +"Over to Joyfields, m'm." + +"Joyfields--another of my sons lives there--Mr. Morton Freeland. +But it's seven miles." + +"I got a lift half-way." + +"And have you business at the house?" The old man was silent; the +downcast, rather cynical look of his lined face deepened. And +Frances Freeland thought: 'He's overtired. They must give him some +tea and an egg. What can he want, coming all this way? He's +evidently not a beggar.' + +The old man who was not a beggar spoke suddenly: + +"I know the Mr. Freeland at Joyfields. He's a good gentleman, +too." + +"Yes, he is. I wonder I don't know you." + +"I'm not much about, owin' to my leg. It's my grand-daughter in +service here, I come to see." + +"Oh, yes! What is her name?" + +"Gaunt her name is." + +"I shouldn't know her by her surname." + +"Alice." + +"Ah! in the kitchen; a nice, pretty girl. I hope you're not in +trouble." + +Again the old man was silent, and again spoke suddenly: + +"That's as you look at it, m'm," he said. "I've got a matter of a +few words to have with her about the family. Her father he +couldn't come, so I come instead." + +"And how are you going to get back?" + +"I'll have to walk, I expect, without I can pick up with a cart." + +Frances Freeland compressed her lips. "With that leg you should +have come by train." + +The old man smiled. + +"I hadn't the fare like," he said. "I only gets five shillin's a +week, from the council, and two o' that I pays over to my son." + +Frances Freeland thrust her hand once more into that deep pocket, +and as she did so she noticed that the old man's left boot was +flapping open, and that there were two buttons off his coat. Her +mind was swiftly calculating: "It is more than seven weeks to +quarter day. Of course I can't afford it, but I must just give him +a sovereign." + +She withdrew her hand from the recesses of her pocket and looked at +the old man's nose. It was finely chiselled, and the same yellow +as his face. "It looks nice, and quite sober," she thought. In +her hand was her purse and a boot-lace. She took out a sovereign. + +"Now, if I give you this," she said, "you must promise me not to +spend any of it in the public-house. And this is for your boot. +And you must go back by train. And get those buttons sewn on your +coat. And tell cook, from me, please, to give you some tea and an +egg." And noticing that he took the sovereign and the boot-lace +very respectfully, and seemed altogether very respectable, and not +at all coarse or beery-looking, she said: + +"Good-by; don't forget to rub what I gave you into your leg every +night and every morning," and went back to her camp-stool. Sitting +down on it with the scissors in her hand, she still did not cut out +that recipe, but remained as before, taking in small, definite +things, and feeling with an inner trembling that dear Felix and +Alan and Nedda would soon be here; and the little flush rose again +in her cheeks, and again her lips and hands moved, expressing and +compressing what was in her heart. And close behind her, a +peacock, straying from the foundations of the old Moreton house, +uttered a cry, and moved slowly, spreading its tail under the low- +hanging boughs of the copper-beeches, as though it knew those dark +burnished leaves were the proper setting for its 'parlant' +magnificence. + + +CHAPTER V + + +The day after the little conference at John's, Felix had indeed +received the following note: + + +"DEAR FELIX: + +"When you go down to see old Tod, why not put up with us at Becket? +Any time will suit, and the car can take you over to Joyfields when +you like. Give the pen a rest. Clara joins in hoping you'll come, +and Mother is still here. No use, I suppose, to ask Flora. + +"Yours ever, + +"STANLEY." + + +During the twenty years of his brother's sojourn there Felix had +been down to Becket perhaps once a year, and latterly alone; for +Flora, having accompanied him the first few times, had taken a firm +stand. + +"My dear," she said, "I feel all body there." + +Felix had rejoined: + +"No bad thing, once in a way." + +But Flora had remained firm. Life was too short! She did not get +on well with Clara. Neither did Felix feel too happy in his +sister-in-law's presence; but the gray top-hat instinct had kept +him going there, for one ought to keep in touch with one's +brothers. + +He replied to Stanley: + + +"DEAR STANLEY: + +"Delighted; if I may bring my two youngsters. We'll arrive to- +morrow at four-fifty. + +"Yours affectionately, + +"FELIX." + + +Travelling with Nedda was always jolly; one could watch her eyes +noting, inquiring, and when occasion served, have one's little +finger hooked in and squeezed. Travelling with Alan was +convenient, the young man having a way with railways which Felix +himself had long despaired of acquiring. Neither of the children +had ever been at Becket, and though Alan was seldom curious, and +Nedda too curious about everything to be specially so about this, +yet Felix experienced in their company the sensations of a new +adventure. + +Arrived at Transham, that little town upon a hill which the Morton +Plough Works had created, they were soon in Stanley's car, whirling +into the sleepy peace of a Worcestershire afternoon. Would this +young bird nestling up against him echo Flora's verdict: 'I feel +all body there!' or would she take to its fatted luxury as a duck +to water? And he said: "By the way, your aunt's 'Bigwigs' set in +on a Saturday. Are you for staying and seeing the lions feed, or +do we cut back?" + +From Alan he got the answer he expected: + +"If there's golf or something, I suppose we can make out all +right." From Nedda: "What sort of Bigwigs are they, Dad?" + +"A sort you've never seen, my dear." + +"Then I should like to stay. Only, about dresses?" + +"What war paint have you?" + +"Only two white evenings. And Mums gave me her Mechlin." + +"'Twill serve." + +To Felix, Nedda in white 'evenings' was starry and all that man +could desire. + +"Only, Dad, do tell me about them, beforehand." + +"My dear, I will. And God be with you. This is where Becket +begins." + +The car had swerved into a long drive between trees not yet full- +grown, but decorously trying to look more than their twenty years. +To the right, about a group of older elms, rooks were in commotion, +for Stanley's three keepers' wives had just baked their annual rook +pies, and the birds were not yet happy again. Those elms had stood +there when the old Moretons walked past them through corn-fields to +church of a Sunday. Away on the left above the lake, the little +walled mound had come in view. Something in Felix always stirred +at sight of it, and, squeezing Nedda's arm, he said: + +"See that silly wall? Behind there Granny's ancients lived. Gone +now--new house--new lake--new trees--new everything." + +But he saw from his little daughter's calm eyes that the sentiment +in him was not in her. + +"I like the lake," she said. "There's Granny--oh, and a peacock!" + +His mother's embrace, with its frail energy, and the pressure of +her soft, dry lips, filled Felix always with remorse. Why could he +not give the simple and direct expression to his feeling that she +gave to hers? He watched those lips transferred to Nedda, heard +her say: "Oh, my darling, how lovely to see you! Do you know this +for midge-bites?" A hand, diving deep into a pocket, returned with +a little silver-coated stick having a bluish end. Felix saw it +rise and hover about Nedda's forehead, and descend with two little +swift dabs. "It takes them away at once." + +"Oh, but Granny, they're not midge-bites; they're only from my +hat!" + +"It doesn't matter, darling; it takes away anything like that." + +And he thought: 'Mother is really wonderful!' + +At the house the car had already disgorged their luggage. Only one +man, but he absolutely the butler, awaited them, and they entered, +at once conscious of Clara's special pot-pourri. Its fragrance +steamed from blue china, in every nook and crevice, a sort of +baptism into luxury. Clara herself, in the outer morning-room, +smelled a little of it. Quick and dark of eye, capable, comely, +perfectly buttoned, one of those women who know exactly how not to +be superior to the general taste of the period. In addition to +that great quality she was endowed with a fine nose, an instinct +for co-ordination not to be excelled, and a genuine love of making +people comfortable; so that it was no wonder that she had risen in +the ranks of hostesses, till her house was celebrated for its ease, +even among those who at their week-ends liked to feel 'all body.' +In regard to that characteristic of Becket, not even Felix in his +ironies had ever stood up to Clara; the matter was too delicate. +Frances Freeland, indeed--not because she had any philosophic +preconceptions on the matter, but because it was 'not nice, dear, +to be wasteful' even if it were only of rose-leaves, or to 'have +too much decoration,' such as Japanese prints in places where they +hum--sometimes told her daughter-in-law frankly what was wrong, +without, however, making the faintest impression upon Clara, for +she was not sensitive, and, as she said to Stanley, it was 'only +Mother.' + +When they had drunk that special Chinese tea, all the rage, but +which no one really liked, in the inner morning, or afternoon room-- +for the drawing-rooms were too large to be comfortable except at +week-ends--they went to see the children, a special blend of +Stanley and Clara, save the little Francis, who did not seem to be +entirely body. Then Clara took them to their rooms. She lingered +kindly in Nedda's, feeling that the girl could not yet feel quite +at home, and looking in the soap-dish lest she might not have the +right verbena, and about the dressing-table to see that she had +pins and scent, and plenty of 'pot-pourri,' and thinking: 'The +child is pretty--a nice girl, not like her mother.' Explaining +carefully how, because of the approaching week-end, she had been +obliged to put her in 'a very simple room' where she would be +compelled to cross the corridor to her bath, she asked her if she +had a quilted dressing-gown, and finding that she had not, left her +saying she would send one--and could she do her frocks up, or +should Sirrett come? + +Abandoned, the girl stood in the middle of the room, so far more +'simple' than she had ever slept in, with its warm fragrance of +rose-leaves and verbena, its Aubusson carpet, white silk-quilted +bed, sofa, cushioned window-seat, dainty curtains, and little +nickel box of biscuits on little spindly table. There she stood +and sniffed, stretched herself, and thought: 'It's jolly--only, it +smells too much!' and she went up to the pictures, one by one. +They seemed to go splendidly with the room, and suddenly she felt +homesick. Ridiculous, of course! Yet, if she had known where her +father's room was, she would have run out to it; but her memory was +too tangled up with stairs and corridors--to find her way down to +the hall again was all she could have done. + +A maid came in now with a blue silk gown very thick and soft. +Could she do anything for Miss Freeland? No, thanks, she could +not; only, did she know where Mr. Freeland's room was? + +"Which Mr. Freeland, miss, the young or the old?" + +"Oh, the old!" Having said which, Nedda felt unhappy; her Dad was +not old! "No, miss; but I'll find out. It'll be in the walnut +wing!" But with a little flutter at the thought of thus setting +people to run about wings, Nedda murmured: "Oh! thanks, no; it +doesn't matter." + +She settled down now on the cushion of the window-seat, to look out +and take it all in, right away to that line of hills gone blue in +the haze of the warm evening. That would be Malvern; and there, +farther to the south, the 'Tods' lived. 'Joyfields!' A pretty +name! And it was lovely country all round; green and peaceful, +with its white, timbered houses and cottages. People must be very +happy, living here--happy and quiet like the stars and the birds; +not like the crowds in London thronging streets and shops and +Hampstead Heath; not like the people in all those disgruntled +suburbs that led out for miles where London ought to have stopped +but had not; not like the thousands and thousands of those poor +creatures in Bethnal Green, where her slum work lay. The natives +here must surely be happy. Only, were there any natives? She had +not seen any. Away to the right below her window were the first +trees of the fruit garden; for many of them Spring was over, but +the apple-trees had just come into blossom, and the low sun shining +through a gap in some far elms was slanting on their creamy pink, +christening them--Nedda thought--with drops of light; and lovely +the blackbirds' singing sounded in the perfect hush! How wonderful +to be a bird, going where you would, and from high up in the air +seeing everything; flying down a sunbeam, drinking a raindrop, +sitting on the very top of a tall tree, running in grass so high +that you were hidden, laying little perfect blue-green eggs, or +pure-gray speckly ones; never changing your dress, yet always +beautiful. Surely the spirit of the world was in the birds and the +clouds, roaming, floating, and in the flowers and trees that never +smelled anything but sweet, never looked anything but lovely, and +were never restless. Why was one restless, wanting things that did +not come--wanting to feel and know, wanting to love, and be loved? +And at that thought which had come to her so unexpectedly--a +thought never before shaped so definitely--Nedda planted her arms +on the window-sill, with sleeves fallen down, and let her hands +meet cup-shaped beneath her chin. Love! To have somebody with +whom she could share everything--some one to whom and for whom she +could give up--some one she could protect and comfort--some one who +would bring her peace. Peace, rest--from what? Ah! that she could +not make clear, even to herself. Love! What would love be like? +Her father loved her, and she loved him. She loved her mother; and +Alan on the whole was jolly to her--it was not that. What was it-- +where was it--when would it come and wake her, and kiss her to +sleep, all in one? Come and fill her as with the warmth and color, +the freshness, light, and shadow of this beautiful May evening, +flood her as with the singing of those birds, and the warm light +sunning the apple blossoms. And she sighed. Then--as with all +young things whose attention after all is but as the hovering of a +butterfly--her speculation was attracted to a thin, high-shouldered +figure limping on a stick, away from the house, down one of the +paths among the apple-trees. He wavered, not knowing, it seemed, +his way. And Nedda thought: 'Poor old man, how lame he is!' She +saw him stoop, screened, as he evidently thought, from sight, and +take something very small from his pocket. He gazed, rubbed it, +put it back; what it was she could not see. Then pressing his hand +down, he smoothed and stretched his leg. His eyes seemed closed. +So a stone man might have stood! Till very slowly he limped on, +passing out of sight. And turning from the window, Nedda began +hurrying into her evening things. + +When she was ready she took a long time to decide whether to wear +her mother's lace or keep it for the Bigwigs. But it was so nice +and creamy that she simply could not take it off, and stood turning +and turning before the glass. To stand before a glass was silly +and old-fashioned; but Nedda could never help it, wanting so badly +to be nicer to look at than she was, because of that something that +some day was coming! + +She was, in fact, pretty, but not merely pretty--there was in her +face something alive and sweet, something clear and swift. She had +still that way of a child raising its eyes very quickly and looking +straight at you with an eager innocence that hides everything by +its very wonder; and when those eyes looked down they seemed +closed--their dark lashes were so long. Her eyebrows were wide +apart, arching with a slight angle, and slanting a little down +toward her nose. Her forehead under its burnt-brown hair was +candid; her firm little chin just dimpled. Altogether, a face +difficult to take one's eyes off. But Nedda was far from vain, and +her face seemed to her too short and broad, her eyes too dark and +indeterminate, neither gray nor brown. The straightness of her +nose was certainly comforting, but it, too, was short. Being +creamy in the throat and browning easily, she would have liked to +be marble-white, with blue dreamy eyes and fair hair, or else like +a Madonna. And was she tall enough? Only five foot five. And her +arms were too thin. The only things that gave her perfect +satisfaction were her legs, which, of course, she could not at the +moment see; they really WERE rather jolly! Then, in a panic, +fearing to be late, she turned and ran out, fluttering into the +maze of stairs and corridors. + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Clara, Mrs. Stanley Freeland, was not a narrow woman either in mind +or body; and years ago, soon indeed after she married Stanley, she +had declared her intention of taking up her sister-in-law, +Kirsteen, in spite of what she had heard were the woman's +extraordinary notions. Those were the days of carriages, pairs, +coachmen, grooms, and, with her usual promptitude, ordering out the +lot, she had set forth. It is safe to say she had never forgotten +that experience. + +Imagine an old, white, timbered cottage with a thatched roof, and +no single line about it quite straight. A cottage crazy with age, +buried up to the thatch in sweetbrier, creepers, honeysuckle, and +perched high above crossroads. A cottage almost unapproachable for +beehives and their bees--an insect for which Clara had an aversion. +Imagine on the rough, pebbled approach to the door of this cottage +(and Clara had on thin shoes) a peculiar cradle with a dark-eyed +baby that was staring placidly at two bees sleeping on a coverlet +made of a rough linen such as Clara had never before seen. Imagine +an absolutely naked little girl of three, sitting in a tub of +sunlight in the very doorway. Clara had turned swiftly and closed +the wicket gate between the pebbled pathway and the mossed steps +that led down to where her coachman and her footman were sitting +very still, as was the habit of those people. She had perceived at +once that she was making no common call. Then, with real courage +she had advanced, and, looking down at the little girl with a +fearful smile, had tickled the door with the handle of her green +parasol. A woman younger than herself, a girl, indeed, appeared in +a low doorway. She had often told Stanley since that she would +never forget her first sight (she had not yet had another) of Tod's +wife. A brown face and black hair, fiery gray eyes, eyes all +light, under black lashes, and "such a strange smile"; bare, brown, +shapely arms and neck in a shirt of the same rough, creamy linen, +and, from under a bright blue skirt, bare, brown, shapely ankles +and feet! A voice so soft and deadly that, as Clara said: "What +with her eyes, it really gave me the shivers. And, my dear," she +had pursued, "white-washed walls, bare brick floors, not a picture, +not a curtain, not even a fire-iron. Clean--oh, horribly! They +must be the most awful cranks. The only thing I must say that was +nice was the smell. Sweetbrier, and honey, coffee, and baked +apples--really delicious. I must try what I can do with it. But +that woman--girl, I suppose she is--stumped me. I'm sure she'd +have cut my head off if I'd attempted to open my mouth on ordinary +topics. The children were rather ducks; but imagine leaving them +about like that amongst the bees. 'Kirsteen!' She looked it. +Never again! And Tod I didn't see at all; I suppose he was mooning +about amongst his creatures." + +It was the memory of this visit, now seventeen years ago, that had +made her smile so indulgently when Stanley came back from the +conference. She had said at once that they must have Felix to +stay, and for her part she would be only too glad to do anything +she could for those poor children of Tod's, even to asking them to +Becket, and trying to civilize them a little. . . . "But as for +that woman, there'll be nothing to be done with her, I can assure +you. And I expect Tod is completely under her thumb." + +To Felix, who took her in to dinner, she spoke feelingly and in a +low voice. She liked Felix, in spite of his wife, and respected +him--he had a name. Lady Malloring--she told him--the Mallorings +owned, of course, everything round Joyfields--had been telling her +that of late Tod's wife had really become quite rabid over the land +question. 'The Tods' were hand in glove with all the cottagers. +She, Clara, had nothing to say against any one who sympathized with +the condition of the agricultural laborer; quite the contrary. +Becket was almost, as Felix knew--though perhaps it wasn't for her +to say so--the centre of that movement; but there were ways of +doing things, and one did so deprecate women like this Kirsteen-- +what an impossibly Celtic name!--putting her finger into any pie +that really was of national importance. Nothing could come of +anything done that sort of way. If Felix had any influence with +Tod it would be a mercy to use it in getting those poor young +creatures away from home, to mix a little with people who took a +sane view of things. She would like very much to get them over to +Becket, but with their notions it was doubtful whether they had +evening clothes! She had, of course, never forgotten that naked +mite in the tub of sunlight, nor the poor baby with its bees and +its rough linen. Felix replied deferentially--he was invariably +polite, and only just ironic enough, in the houses of others--that +he had the very greatest respect for Tod, and that there could be +nothing very wrong with the woman to whom Tod was so devoted. As +for the children, his own young people would get at them and learn +all about what was going on in a way that no fogey like himself +could. In regard to the land question, there were, of course, many +sides to that, and he, for one, would not be at all sorry to +observe yet another. After all, the Tods were in real contact with +the laborers, and that was the great thing. It would be very +interesting. + +Yes, Clara quite saw all that, but--and here she sank her voice so +that there was hardly any left--as Felix was going over there, she +really must put him au courant with the heart of this matter. Lady +Malloring had told her the whole story. It appeared there were two +cases: A family called Gaunt, an old man, and his son, who had two +daughters--one of them, Alice, quite a nice girl, was kitchen-maid +here at Becket, but the other sister--Wilmet--well! she was one of +those girls that, as Felix must know, were always to be found in +every village. She was leading the young men astray, and Lady +Malloring had put her foot down, telling her bailiff to tell the +farmer for whom Gaunt worked that he and his family must go, unless +they sent the girl away somewhere. That was one case. And the +other was of a laborer called Tryst, who wanted to marry his +deceased wife's sister. Of course, whether Mildred Malloring was +not rather too churchy and puritanical--now that a deceased wife's +sister was legal--Clara did not want to say; but she was +undoubtedly within her rights if she thought it for the good of the +village. This man, Tryst, was a good workman, and his farmer had +objected to losing him, but Lady Malloring had, of course, not +given way, and if he persisted he would get put out. All the +cottages about there were Sir Gerald Malloring's, so that in both +cases it would mean leaving the neighborhood. In regard to village +morality, as Felix knew, the line must be drawn somewhere. + +Felix interrupted quietly: + +"I draw it at Lady Malloring." + +"Well, I won't argue that with you. But it really is a scandal +that Tod's wife should incite her young people to stir up the +villagers. Goodness knows where that mayn't lead! Tod's cottage +and land, you see, are freehold, the only freehold thereabouts; and +his being a brother of Stanley's makes it particularly awkward for +the Mallorings." + +"Quite so!" murmured Felix. + +"Yes, but my dear Felix, when it comes to infecting those simple +people with inflated ideas of their rights, it's serious, +especially in the country. I'm told there's really quite a violent +feeling. I hear from Alice Gaunt that the young Tods have been +going about saying that dogs are better off than people treated in +this fashion, which, of course, is all nonsense, and making far too +much of a small matter. Don't you think so?" + +But Felix only smiled his peculiar, sweetish smile, and answered: + +"I'm glad to have come down just now." + +Clara, who did not know that when Felix smiled like that he was +angry, agreed. + +"Yes," she said; "you're an observer. You will see the thing in +right perspective." + +"I shall endeavor to. What does Tod say?" + +"Oh! Tod never seems to say anything. At least, I never hear of +it." + +Felix murmured: + +"Tod is a well in the desert." + +To which deep saying Clara made no reply, not indeed understanding +in the least what it might signify. + +That evening, when Alan, having had his fill of billiards, had left +the smoking-room and gone to bed, Felix remarked to Stanley: + +"I say, what sort of people are these Mallorings?" + +Stanley, who was settling himself for the twenty minutes of +whiskey, potash, and a Review, with which he commonly composed his +mind before retiring, answered negligently: + +"The Mallorings? Oh! about the best type of landowner we've got." + +"What exactly do you mean by that?" + +Stanley took his time to answer, for below his bluff good-nature he +had the tenacious, if somewhat slow, precision of an English man of +business, mingled with a certain mistrust of 'old Felix.' + +"Well," he said at last, "they build good cottages, yellow brick, +d--d ugly, I must say; look after the character of their tenants; +give 'em rebate of rent if there's a bad harvest; encourage stock- +breedin', and machinery--they've got some of my ploughs, but the +people don't like 'em, and, as a matter of fact, they're right-- +they're not made for these small fields; set an example goin' to +church; patronize the Rifle Range; buy up the pubs when they can, +and run 'em themselves; send out jelly, and let people over their +place on bank holidays. Dash it all, I don't know what they don't +do. Why?" + +"Are they liked?" + +"Liked? No, I should hardly think they were liked; respected, and +all that. Malloring's a steady fellow, keen man on housing, and a +gentleman; she's a bit too much perhaps on the pious side. They've +got one of the finest Georgian houses in the country. Altogether +they're what you call 'model.'" + +"But not human." + +Stanley slightly lowered the Review and looked across it at his +brother. It was evident to him that 'old Felix' was in one of his +free-thinking moods. + +"They're domestic," he said, "and fond of their children, and +pleasant neighbors. I don't deny that they've got a tremendous +sense of duty, but we want that in these days." + +"Duty to what?" + +Stanley raised his level eyebrows. It was a stumper. Without +great care he felt that he would be getting over the border into +the uncharted land of speculation and philosophy, wandering on +paths that led him nowhere. + +"If you lived in the country, old man," he said, "you wouldn't ask +that sort of question." + +"You don't imagine," said Felix, "that you or the Mallorings live +in the country? Why, you landlords are every bit as much town +dwellers as I am--thought, habit, dress, faith, souls, all town +stuff. There IS no 'country' in England now for us of the 'upper +classes.' It's gone. I repeat: Duty to what?" + +And, rising, he went over to the window, looking out at the moonlit +lawn, overcome by a sudden aversion from more talk. Of what use +were words from a mind tuned in one key to a mind tuned in another? +And yet, so ingrained was his habit of discussion, that he promptly +went on: + +"The Mallorings, I've not the slightest doubt, believe it their +duty to look after the morals of those who live on their property. +There are three things to be said about that: One--you can't make +people moral by adopting the attitude of the schoolmaster. Two--it +implies that they consider themselves more moral than their +neighbors. Three--it's a theory so convenient to their security +that they would be exceptionally good people if they did not adopt +it; but, from your account, they are not so much exceptionally as +just typically good people. What you call their sense of duty, +Stanley, is really their sense of self-preservation coupled with +their sense of superiority." + +"H'm!" said Stanley; "I don't know that I quite follow you." + +"I always hate an odor of sanctity. I'd prefer them to say +frankly: 'This is my property, and you'll jolly well do what I tell +you, on it.'" + +"But, my dear chap, after all, they really ARE superior." + +"That," said Felix, "I emphatically question. Put your Mallorings +to earn their living on fifteen to eighteen shillings a week, and +where would they be? The Mallorings have certain virtues, no +doubt, natural to their fortunate environment, but of the primitive +virtues of patience, hardihood, perpetual, almost unconscious self- +sacrifice, and cheerfulness in the face of a hard fate, they are no +more the equals of the people they pretend to be superior to than I +am your equal as a man of business." + +"Hang it!" was Stanley's answer, "what a d--d old heretic you are!" + +Felix frowned. "Am I? Be honest! Take the life of a Malloring +and take it at its best; see how it stands comparison in the +ordinary virtues with those of an averagely good specimen of a +farm-laborer. Your Malloring is called with a cup of tea, at, say, +seven o'clock, out of a nice, clean, warm bed; he gets into a bath +that has been got ready for him; into clothes and boots that have +been brushed for him; and goes down to a room where there's a fire +burning already if it's a cold day, writes a few letters, perhaps, +before eating a breakfast of exactly what he likes, nicely prepared +for him, and reading the newspaper that best comforts his soul; +when he has eaten and read, he lights his cigar or his pipe and +attends to his digestion in the most sanitary and comfortable +fashion; then in his study he sits down to steady direction of +other people, either by interview or by writing letters, or what +not. In this way, between directing people and eating what he +likes, he passes the whole day, except that for two or three hours, +sometimes indeed seven or eight hours, he attends to his physique +by riding, motoring, playing a game, or indulging in a sport that +he has chosen for himself. And, at the end of all that, he +probably has another bath that has been made ready for him, puts on +clean clothes that have been put out for him, goes down to a good +dinner that has been cooked for him, smokes, reads, learns, and +inwardly digests, or else plays cards, billiards, and acts host +till he is sleepy, and so to bed, in a clean, warm bed, in a clean, +fresh room. Is that exaggerated?" + +"No; but when you talk of his directing other people, you forget +that he is doing what they couldn't." + +"He may be doing what they couldn't; but ordinary directive ability +is not born in a man; it's acquired by habit and training. Suppose +fortune had reversed them at birth, the Gaunt or Tryst would by now +have it and the Malloring would not. The accident that they were +not reversed at birth has given the Malloring a thousandfold +advantage." + +"It's no joke directing things," muttered Stanley. + +"No work is any joke; but I just put it to you: Simply as work, +without taking in the question of reward, would you dream for a +minute of swapping your work with the work of one of your workmen? +No. Well, neither would a Malloring with one of his Gaunts. So +that, my boy, for work which is intrinsically more interesting and +pleasurable, the Malloring gets a hundred to a thousand times more +money." + +"All this is rank socialism, my dear fellow." + +"No; rank truth. Now, to take the life of a Gaunt. He gets up +summer and winter much earlier out of a bed that he cannot afford +time or money to keep too clean or warm, in a small room that +probably has not a large enough window; into clothes stiff with +work and boots stiff with clay; makes something hot for himself, +very likely brings some of it to his wife and children; goes out, +attending to his digestion crudely and without comfort; works with +his hands and feet from half past six or seven in the morning till +past five at night, except that twice he stops for an hour or so +and eats simple things that he would not altogether have chosen to +eat if he could have had his will. He goes home to a tea that has +been got ready for him, and has a clean-up without assistance, +smokes a pipe of shag, reads a newspaper perhaps two days old, and +goes out again to work for his own good, in his vegetable patch, or +to sit on a wooden bench in an atmosphere of beer and 'baccy.' And +so, dead tired, but not from directing other people, he drowses +himself to early lying again in his doubtful bed. Is that +exaggerated?" + +"I suppose not, but he--" + +"Has his compensations: Clean conscience--freedom from worry-- +fresh air, all the rest of it! I know. Clean conscience granted, +but so has your Malloring, it would seem. Freedom from worry--yes, +except when a pair of boots is wanted, or one of the children is +ill; then he has to make up for lost time with a vengeance. Fresh +air--and wet clothes, with a good chance of premature rheumatism. +Candidly, which of those two lives demands more of the virtues on +which human life is founded--courage and patience, hardihood and +self-sacrifice? And which of two men who have lived those two +lives well has most right to the word 'superior'?" + +Stanley dropped the Review and for fully a minute paced the room +without reply. Then he said: + +"Felix, you're talking flat revolution." + +Felix, who, faintly smiling, had watched him up and down, up and +down the Turkey carpet, answered: + +"Not so. I am by no means a revolutionary person, because with all +the good-will in the world I have been unable to see how upheavals +from the bottom, or violence of any sort, is going to equalize +these lives or do any good. But I detest humbug, and I believe +that so long as you and your Mallorings go on blindly dosing +yourselves with humbug about duty and superiority, so long will you +see things as they are not. And until you see things as they are, +purged of all that sickening cant, you will none of you really move +to make the conditions of life more and ever more just. For, mark +you, Stanley, I, who do not believe in revolution from the bottom, +the more believe that it is up to us in honour to revolutionize +things from the top!" + +"H'm!" said Stanley; "that's all very well; but the more you give +the more they want, till there's no end to it." + +Felix stared round that room, where indeed one was all body. + +"By George," he said, "I've yet to see a beginning. But, anyway, +if you give in a grudging spirit, or the spirit of a schoolmaster, +what can you expect? If you offer out of real good-will, so it is +taken." And suddenly conscious that he had uttered a constructive +phrase, Felix cast down his eyes, and added: + +"I am going to my clean, warm bed. Good night, old man!" + +When his brother had taken up his candlestick and gone, Stanley, +uttering a dubious sound, sat down on the lounge, drank deep out of +his tumbler, and once more took up his Review. + + +CHAPTER VII + + +The next day Stanley's car, fraught with Felix and a note from +Clara, moved swiftly along the grass-bordered roads toward +Joyfields. Lying back on the cushioned seat, the warm air flying +at his face, Felix contemplated with delight his favorite +countryside. Certainly this garden of England was very lovely, its +greenness, trees, and large, pied, lazy cattle; its very emptiness +of human beings even was pleasing. + +Nearing Joyfields he noted the Mallorings' park and their long +Georgian house, carefully fronting south. There, too, was the pond +of what village there was, with the usual ducks on it; and three +well-remembered cottages in a row, neat and trim, of the old, +thatched sort, but evidently restored. Out of the door of one of +them two young people had just emerged, going in the same direction +as the car. Felix passed them and turned to look. Yes, it was +they! He stopped the car. They were walking, with eyes straight +before them, frowning. And Felix thought: 'Nothing of Tod in +either of them; regular Celts!' + +The girl's vivid, open face, crisp, brown, untidy hair, cheeks +brimful of color, thick lips, eyes that looked up and out as a Skye +terrier's eyes look out of its shagginess--indeed, her whole figure +struck Felix as almost frighteningly vital; and she walked as if +she despised the ground she covered. The boy was even more +arresting. What a strange, pale-dark face, with its black, +uncovered hair, its straight black brows; what a proud, swan's- +eyed, thin-lipped, straight-nosed young devil, marching like a very +Highlander; though still rather run-up, from sheer youthfulness! +They had come abreast of the car by now, and, leaning out, he said: + +"You don't remember me, I'm afraid!" The boy shook his head. +Wonderful eyes he had! But the girl put out her hand. + +"Of course, Derek; it's Uncle Felix." + +They both smiled now, the girl friendly, the boy rather drawn back +into himself. And feeling strangely small and ill at ease, Felix +murmured: + +"I'm going to see your father. Can I give you a lift home?" + +The answer came as he expected: + +"No, thanks." Then, as if to tone it down, the girl added: + +"We've got something to do first. You'll find him in the orchard." + +She had a ringing voice, full of warmth. Lifting his hat, Felix +passed on. They WERE a couple! Strange, attractive, almost +frightening. Kirsteen had brought his brother a formidable little +brood. + +Arriving at the cottage, he went up its mossy stones and through +the wicket gate. There was little change, indeed, since the days +of Clara's visit, save that the beehives had been moved farther +out. Nor did any one answer his knock; and mindful of the girl's +words, "You'll find him in the orchard," he made his way out among +the trees. The grass was long and starred with petals. Felix +wandered over it among bees busy with the apple-blossom. At the +very end he came on his brother, cutting down a pear-tree. Tod was +in shirt-sleeves, his brown arms bare almost to the shoulders. How +tremendous the fellow was! What resounding and terrific blows he +was dealing! Down came the tree, and Tod drew his arm across his +brow. This great, burnt, curly-headed fellow was more splendid to +look upon than even Felix had remembered, and so well built that +not a movement of his limbs was heavy. His cheek-bones were very +broad and high; his brows thick and rather darker than his bright +hair, so that his deep-set, very blue eyes seemed to look out of a +thicket; his level white teeth gleamed from under his tawny +moustache, and his brown, unshaven cheeks and jaw seemed covered +with gold powder. Catching sight of Felix, he came forward. + +"Fancy," he said, "old Gladstone spending his leisure cutting down +trees--of all melancholy jobs!" + +Felix did not quite know what to answer, so he put his arm within +his brother's. Tod drew him toward the tree. + +"Sit down!" he said. Then, looking sorrowfully at the pear-tree, +he murmured: + +"Seventy years--and down in seven minutes. Now we shall burn it. +Well, it had to go. This is the third year it's had no blossom." + +His speech was slow, like that of a man accustomed to think aloud. +Felix admired him askance. "I might live next door," he thought, +"for all the notice he's taken of my turning up!" + +"I came over in Stanley's car," he said. "Met your two coming +along--fine couple they are!" + +"Ah!" said Tod. And there was something in the way he said it that +was more than a mere declaration of pride or of affection. Then he +looked at Felix. + +"What have you come for, old man?" + +Felix smiled. Quaint way to put it! + +"For a talk." + +"Ah!" said Tod, and he whistled. + +A largish, well-made dog with a sleek black coat, white underneath, +and a black tail white-tipped, came running up, and stood before +Tod, with its head rather to one side and its yellow-brown eyes +saying: 'I simply must get at what you're thinking, you know.' + +"Go and tell your mistress to come--Mistress!" + +The dog moved his tail, lowered it, and went off. + +"A gypsy gave him to me," said Tod; "best dog that ever lived." + +"Every one thinks that of his own dog, old man." + +"Yes," said Tod; "but this IS." + +"He looks intelligent." + +"He's got a soul," said Tod. "The gypsy said he didn't steal him, +but he did." + +"Do you always know when people aren't speaking the truth, then?" + +"Yes." + +At such a monstrous remark from any other man, Felix would have +smiled; but seeing it was Tod, he only asked: "How?" + +"People who aren't speaking the truth look you in the face and +never move their eyes." + +"Some people do that when they are speaking the truth." + +"Yes; but when they aren't, you can see them struggling to keep +their eyes straight. A dog avoids your eye when he's something to +conceal; a man stares at you. Listen!" + +Felix listened and heard nothing. + +"A wren"; and, screwing up his lips, Tod emitted a sound: "Look!" + +Felix saw on the branch of an apple-tree a tiny brown bird with a +little beak sticking out and a little tail sticking up. And he +thought: 'Tod's hopeless!' + +"That fellow," said Tod softly, "has got his nest there just behind +us." Again he emitted the sound. Felix saw the little bird move +its head with a sort of infinite curiosity, and hop twice on the +branch. + +"I can't get the hen to do that," Tod murmured. + +Felix put his hand on his brother's arm--what an arm! + +"Yes," he said; "but look here, old man--I really want to talk to +you." + +Tod shook his head. "Wait for her," he said. + +Felix waited. Tod was getting awfully eccentric, living this +queer, out-of-the-way life with a cranky woman year after year; +never reading anything, never seeing any one but tramps and animals +and villagers. And yet, sitting there beside his eccentric brother +on that fallen tree, he had an extraordinary sense of rest. It +was, perhaps, but the beauty and sweetness of the day with its +dappling sunlight brightening the apple-blossoms, the wind-flowers, +the wood-sorrel, and in the blue sky above the fields those clouds +so unimaginably white. All the tiny noises of the orchard, too, +struck on his ear with a peculiar meaning, a strange fulness, as if +he had never heard such sounds before. Tod, who was looking at the +sky, said suddenly: + +"Are you hungry?" + +And Felix remembered that they never had any proper meals, but, +when hungry, went to the kitchen, where a wood-fire was always +burning, and either heated up coffee, and porridge that was already +made, with boiled eggs and baked potatoes and apples, or devoured +bread, cheese, jam, honey, cream, tomatoes, butter, nuts, and +fruit, that were always set out there on a wooden table, under a +muslin awning; he remembered, too, that they washed up their own +bowls and spoons and plates, and, having finished, went outside and +drew themselves a draught of water. Queer life, and deuced +uncomfortable--almost Chinese in its reversal of everything that +every one else was doing. + +"No," he said, "I'm not." + +"I am. Here she is." + +Felix felt his heart beating--Clara was not alone in being +frightened of this woman. She was coming through the orchard with +the dog; a remarkable-looking woman--oh, certainly remarkable! She +greeted him without surprise and, sitting down close to Tod, said: +"I'm glad to see you." + +Why did this family somehow make him feel inferior? The way she +sat there and looked at him so calmly! Still more the way she +narrowed her eyes and wrinkled her lips, as if rather malicious +thoughts were rising in her soul! Her hair, as is the way of fine, +soft, almost indigo-colored hair, was already showing threads of +silver; her whole face and figure thinner than he had remembered. +But a striking woman still--with wonderful eyes! Her dress--Felix +had scanned many a crank in his day--was not so alarming as it had +once seemed to Clara; its coarse-woven, deep-blue linen and needle- +worked yoke were pleasing to him, and he could hardly take his gaze +from the kingfisher-blue band or fillet that she wore round that +silver-threaded black hair. + +He began by giving her Clara's note, the wording of which he had +himself dictated: + + +"DEAR KIRSTEEN: + +"Though we have not seen each other for so long, I am sure you will +forgive my writing. It would give us so much pleasure if you and +the two children would come over for a night or two while Felix and +his young folk are staying with us. It is no use, I fear, to ask +Tod; but of course if he would come, too, both Stanley and myself +would be delighted. + +"Yours cordially, + +"CLARA FREELAND." + + +She read it, handed it to Tod, who also read it and handed it to +Felix. Nobody said anything. It was so altogether simple and +friendly a note that Felix felt pleased with it, thinking: 'I +expressed that well!' + +Then Tod said: "Go ahead, old man! You've got something to say +about the youngsters, haven't you?" + +How on earth did he know that? But then Tod HAD a sort of queer +prescience. + +"Well," he brought out with an effort, "don't you think it's a pity +to embroil your young people in village troubles? We've been +hearing from Stanley--" + +Kirsteen interrupted in her calm, staccato voice with just the +faintest lisp: + +"Stanley would not understand." + +She had put her arm through Tod's, but never removed her eyes from +her brother-in-law's face. + +"Possibly," said Felix, "but you must remember that Stanley, John, +and myself represent ordinary--what shall we say--level-headed +opinion." + +"With which we have nothing in common, I'm afraid." + +Felix glanced from her to Tod. The fellow had his head on one side +and seemed listening to something in the distance. And Felix felt +a certain irritation. + +"It's all very well," he said, "but I think you really have got to +look at your children's future from a larger point of view. You +don't surely want them to fly out against things before they've had +a chance to see life for themselves." + +She answered: + +"The children know more of life than most young people. They've +seen it close to, they've seen its realities. They know what the +tyranny of the countryside means." + +"Yes, yes," said Felix, "but youth is youth." + +"They are not too young to know and feel the truth." + +Felix was impressed. How those narrowing eyes shone! What +conviction in that faintly lisping voice! + +'I am a fool for my pains,' he thought, and only said: + +"Well, what about this invitation, anyway?" + +"Yes; it will be just the thing for them at the moment." + +The words had to Felix a somewhat sinister import. He knew well +enough that she did not mean by them what others would have meant. +But he said: "When shall we expect them? Tuesday, I suppose, would +be best for Clara, after her weekend. Is there no chance of you +and Tod?" + +She quaintly wrinkled her lips into not quite a smile, and +answered: + +"Tod shall say. Do you hear, Tod?" + +"In the meadow. It was there yesterday--first time this year." + +Felix slipped his arm through his brother's. + +"Quite so, old man." + +"What?" said Tod. "Ah! let's go in. I'm awfully hungry." . . . + +Sometimes out of a calm sky a few drops fall, the twigs rustle, and +far away is heard the muttering of thunder; the traveller thinks: +'A storm somewhere about.' Then all once more is so quiet and +peaceful that he forgets he ever had that thought, and goes on his +way careless. + +So with Felix returning to Becket in Stanley's car. That woman's +face, those two young heathens--the unconscious Tod! + +There was mischief in the air above that little household. But +once more the smooth gliding of the cushioned car, the soft peace +of the meadows so permanently at grass, the churches, mansions, +cottages embowered among their elms, the slow-flapping flight of +the rooks and crows lulled Felix to quietude, and the faint far +muttering of that thunder died away. + +Nedda was in the drive when he returned, gazing at a nymph set up +there by Clara. It was a good thing, procured from Berlin, well +known for sculpture, and beginning to green over already, as though +it had been there a long time--a pretty creature with shoulders +drooping, eyes modestly cast down, and a sparrow perching on her +head. + +"Well, Dad?" + +"They're coming." + +"When?" + +"On Tuesday--the youngsters, only." + +"You might tell me a little about them." + +But Felix only smiled. His powers of description faltered before +that task; and, proud of those powers, he did not choose to subject +them to failure. + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Not till three o'clock that Saturday did the Bigwigs begin to come. +Lord and Lady Britto first from Erne by car; then Sir Gerald and +Lady Malloring, also by car from Joyfields; an early afternoon +train brought three members of the Lower House, who liked a round +of golf--Colonel Martlett, Mr. Sleesor, and Sir John Fanfar--with +their wives; also Miss Bawtrey, an American who went everywhere; +and Moorsome, the landscape-painter, a short, very heavy man who +went nowhere, and that in almost perfect silence, which he +afterward avenged. By a train almost sure to bring no one else +came Literature in Public Affairs, alone, Henry Wiltram, whom some +believed to have been the very first to have ideas about the land. +He was followed in the last possible train by Cuthcott, the +advanced editor, in his habitual hurry, and Lady Maude Ughtred in +her beauty. Clara was pleased, and said to Stanley, while +dressing, that almost every shade of opinion about the land was +represented this week-end. She was not, she said, afraid of +anything, if she could keep Henry Wiltram and Cuthcott apart. The +House of Commons men would, of course, be all right. Stanley +assented: "They'll be 'fed up' with talk. But how about Britto--he +can sometimes be very nasty, and Cuthcott's been pretty rough on +him, in his rag." + +Clara had remembered that, and she was putting Lady Maude on one +side of Cuthcott, and Moorsome on the other, so that he would be +quite safe at dinner, and afterward--Stanley must look out! + +"What have you done with Nedda?" Stanley asked. + +"Given her to Colonel Martlett, with Sir John Fanfar on the other +side; they both like something fresh." She hoped, however, to +foster a discussion, so that they might really get further this +week-end; the opportunity was too good to throw away. + +"H'm!" Stanley murmured. "Felix said some very queer things the +other night. He, too, might make ructions." + +Oh, no!--Clara persisted--Felix had too much good taste. She +thought that something might be coming out of this occasion, +something as it were national, that would bear fruit. And watching +Stanley buttoning his braces, she grew enthusiastic. For, think +how splendidly everything was represented! Britto, with his view +that the thing had gone too far, and all the little efforts we +might make now were no good, with Canada and those great spaces to +outbid anything we could do; though she could not admit that he was +right, there was a lot in what he said; he had great gifts--and +some day might--who knew? Then there was Sir John--Clara pursued-- +who was almost the father of the new Tory policy: Assist the +farmers to buy their own land. And Colonel Martlett, representing +the older Tory policy of: What the devil would happen to the +landowners if they did? Secretly (Clara felt sure) he would never +go into a lobby to support that. He had said to her: 'Look at my +brother James's property; if we bring this policy in, and the +farmers take advantage, his house might stand there any day without +an acre round it.' Quite true--it might. The same might even +happen to Becket. + +Stanley grunted. + +Exactly!--Clara went on: And that was the beauty of having got the +Mallorings; theirs was such a steady point of view, and she was not +sure that they weren't right, and the whole thing really a question +of model proprietorship. + +"H'm!" Stanley muttered. "Felix will have his knife into that." + +Clara did not think that mattered. The thing was to get +everybody's opinion. Even Mr. Moorsome's would be valuable--if he +weren't so terrifically silent, for he must think a lot, sitting +all day, as he did, painting the land. + +"He's a heavy ass," said Stanley. + +Yes; but Clara did not wish to be narrow. That was why it was so +splendid to have got Mr. Sleesor. If anybody knew the Radical mind +he did, and he could give full force to what one always felt was at +the bottom of it--that the Radicals' real supporters were the urban +classes; so that their policy must not go too far with 'the Land,' +for fear of seeming to neglect the towns. For, after all, in the +end it was out of the pockets of the towns that 'the Land' would +have to be financed, and nobody really could expect the towns to +get anything out of it. Stanley paused in the adjustment of his +tie; his wife was a shrewd woman. + +"You've hit it there," he said. "Wiltram will give it him hot on +that, though." + +Of course, Clara assented. And it was magnificent that they had +got Henry Wiltram, with his idealism and his really heavy corn tax; +not caring what happened to the stunted products of the towns--and +they truly were stunted, for all that the Radicals and the half- +penny press said--till at all costs we could grow our own food. +There was a lot in that. + +"Yes," Stanley muttered, "and if he gets on to it, shan't I have a +jolly time of it in the smoking-room? I know what Cuthcott's like +with his shirt out." + +Clara's eyes brightened; she was very curious herself to see Mr. +Cuthcott with his--that is, to hear him expound the doctrine he was +always writing up, namely, that 'the Land' was gone and, short of +revolution, there was nothing for it but garden cities. She had +heard he was so cutting and ferocious that he really did seem as if +he hated his opponents. She hoped he would get a chance--perhaps +Felix could encourage him. + +"What about the women?" Stanley asked suddenly. "Will they stand a +political powwow? One must think of them a bit." + +Clara had. She was taking a farewell look at herself in the far- +away mirror through the door into her bedroom. It was a mistake-- +she added--to suppose that women were not interested in 'the Land.' +Lady Britto was most intelligent, and Mildred Malloring knew every +cottage on her estate. + +"Pokes her nose into 'em often enough," Stanley muttered. + +Lady Fanfar again, and Mrs. Sleesor, and even Hilda Martlett, were +interested in their husbands, and Miss Bawtrey, of course, +interested in everything. As for Maude Ughtred, all talk would be +the same to her; she was always week-ending. Stanley need not +worry--it would be all right; some real work would get done, some +real advance be made. So saying, she turned her fine shoulders +twice, once this way and once that, and went out. She had never +told even Stanley her ambition that at Becket, under her aegis, +should be laid the foundation-stone of the real scheme, whatever it +might be, that should regenerate 'the Land.' Stanley would only +have laughed; even though it would be bound to make him Lord +Freeland when it came to be known some day. . . . + +To the eyes and ears of Nedda that evening at dinner, all was new +indeed, and all wonderful. It was not that she was unaccustomed to +society or to conversation, for to their house at Hampstead many +people came, uttering many words, but both the people and the words +were so very different. After the first blush, the first +reconnaissance of the two Bigwigs between whom she sat, her eyes +WOULD stray and her ears would only half listen to them. Indeed, +half her ears, she soon found out, were quite enough to deal with +Colonel Martlett and Sir John Fanfar. Across the azaleas she let +her glance come now and again to anchor on her father's face, and +exchanged with him a most enjoyable blink. She tried once or twice +to get through to Alan, but he was always eating; he looked very +like a young Uncle Stanley this evening. + +What was she feeling? Short, quick stabs of self-consciousness as +to how she was looking; a sort of stunned excitement due to sheer +noise and the number of things offered to her to eat and drink; +keen pleasure in the consciousness that Colonel Martlett and Sir +John Fanfar and other men, especially that nice one with the +straggly moustache who looked as if he were going to bite, glanced +at her when they saw she wasn't looking. If only she had been +quite certain that it was not because they thought her too young to +be there! She felt a sort of continual exhilaration, that this was +the great world--the world where important things were said and +done, together with an intense listening expectancy, and a sense +most unexpected and almost frightening, that nothing important was +being said or would be done. But this she knew to be impudent. On +Sunday evenings at home people talked about a future existence, +about Nietzsche, Tolstoy, Chinese pictures, post-impressionism, and +would suddenly grow hot and furious about peace, and Strauss, +justice, marriage, and De Maupassant, and whether people were +losing their souls through materialism, and sometimes one of them +would get up and walk about the room. But to-night the only words +she could catch were the names of two politicians whom nobody +seemed to approve of, except that nice one who was going to bite. +Once very timidly she asked Colonel Martlett whether he liked +Strauss, and was puzzled by his answer: "Rather; those 'Tales of +Hoffmann' are rippin', don't you think? You go to the opera much?" +She could not, of course, know that the thought which instantly +rose within her was doing the governing classes a grave injustice-- +almost all of whom save Colonel Martlett knew that the 'Tales of +Hoffmann' were by one Offenbach. But beyond all things she felt +she would never, never learn to talk as they were all talking--so +quickly, so continuously, so without caring whether everybody or +only the person they were talking to heard what they said. She had +always felt that what you said was only meant for the person you +said it to, but here in the great world she must evidently not say +anything that was not meant for everybody, and she felt terribly +that she could not think of anything of that sort to say. And +suddenly she began to want to be alone. That, however, was surely +wicked and wasteful, when she ought to be learning such a +tremendous lot; and yet, what was there to learn? And listening +just sufficiently to Colonel Martlett, who was telling her how +great a man he thought a certain general, she looked almost +despairingly at the one who was going to bite. He was quite silent +at that moment, gazing at his plate, which was strangely empty. +And Nedda thought: 'He has jolly wrinkles about his eyes, only they +might be heart disease; and I like the color of his face, so nice +and yellow, only that might be liver. But I DO like him--I wish +I'd been sitting next to him; he looks real.' From that thought, +of the reality of a man whose name she did not know, she passed +suddenly into the feeling that nothing else of this about her was +real at all, neither the talk nor the faces, not even the things +she was eating. It was all a queer, buzzing dream. Nor did that +sensation of unreality cease when her aunt began collecting her +gloves, and they trooped forth to the drawing-room. There, seated +between Mrs. Sleesor and Lady Britto, with Lady Malloring opposite, +and Miss Bawtrey leaning over the piano toward them, she pinched +herself to get rid of the feeling that, when all these were out of +sight of each other, they would become silent and have on their +lips a little, bitter smile. Would it be like that up in their +bedrooms, or would it only be on her (Nedda's) own lips that this +little smile would come? It was a question she could not answer; +nor could she very well ask it of any of these ladies. She looked +them over as they sat there talking and felt very lonely. And +suddenly her eyes fell on her grandmother. Frances Freeland was +seated halfway down the long room in a sandalwood chair, somewhat +insulated by a surrounding sea of polished floor. She sat with a +smile on her lips, quite still, save for the continual movement of +her white hands on her black lap. To her gray hair some lace of +Chantilly was pinned with a little diamond brooch, and hung behind +her delicate but rather long ears. And from her shoulders was +depended a silvery garment, of stuff that looked like the mail +shirt of a fairy, reaching the ground on either side. A tacit +agreement had evidently been come to, that she was incapable of +discussing 'the Land' or those other subjects such as the French +murder, the Russian opera, the Chinese pictures, and the doings of +one, L---- , whose fate was just then in the air, so that she sat +alone. + +And Nedda thought: 'How much more of a lady she looks than anybody +here! There's something deep in her to rest on that isn't in the +Bigwigs; perhaps it's because she's of a different generation.' +And, getting up, she went over and sat down beside her on a little +chair. + +Frances Freeland rose at once and said: + +"Now, my darling, you can't be comfortable in that tiny chair. You +must take mine." + +"Oh, no, Granny; please!" + +"Oh, yes; but you must! It's so comfortable, and I've simply been +longing to sit in the chair you're in. Now, darling, to please +me!" + +Seeing that a prolonged struggle would follow if she did not get +up, Nedda rose and changed chairs. + +"Do you like these week-ends, Granny?" + +Frances Freeland seemed to draw her smile more resolutely across +her face. With her perfect articulation, in which there was, +however, no trace of bigwiggery, she answered: + +"I think they're most interesting, darling. It's so nice to see +new people. Of course you don't get to know them, but it's very +amusing to watch, especially the head-dresses!" And sinking her +voice: "Just look at that one with the feather going straight up; +did you ever see such a guy?" and she cackled with a very gentle +archness. Gazing at that almost priceless feather, trying to reach +God, Nedda felt suddenly how completely she was in her +grandmother's little camp; how entirely she disliked bigwiggery. + +Frances Freeland's voice brought her round. + +"Do you know, darling, I've found the most splendid thing for +eyebrows? You just put a little on every night and it keeps them +in perfect order. I must give you my little pot." + +"I don't like grease, Granny." + +"Oh! but this isn't grease, darling. It's a special thing; and you +only put on just the tiniest touch." + +Diving suddenly into the recesses of something, she produced an +exiguous round silver box. Prizing it open, she looked over her +shoulder at the Bigwigs, then placed her little finger on the +contents of the little box, and said very softly: + +"You just take the merest touch, and you put it on like that, and +it keeps them together beautifully. Let me! Nobody'll see!" + +Quite well understanding that this was all part of her +grandmother's passion for putting the best face upon things, and +having no belief in her eyebrows, Nedda bent forward; but in a +sudden flutter of fear lest the Bigwigs might observe the +operation, she drew back, murmuring: "Oh, Granny, darling! Not +just now!" + +At that moment the men came in, and, under cover of the necessary +confusion, she slipped away into the window. + +It was pitch-black outside, with the moon not yet up. The bloomy, +peaceful dark out there! Wistaria and early roses, clustering in, +had but the ghost of color on their blossoms. Nedda took a rose in +her fingers, feeling with delight its soft fragility, its coolness +against her hot palm. Here in her hand was a living thing, here +was a little soul! And out there in the darkness were millions +upon millions of other little souls, of little flame-like or +coiled-up shapes alive and true. + +A voice behind her said: + +"Nothing nicer than darkness, is there?" + +She knew at once it was the one who was going to bite; the voice +was proper for him, having a nice, smothery sound. And looking +round gratefully, she said: + +"Do you like dinner-parties?" + +It was jolly to watch his eyes twinkle and his thin cheeks puff +out. He shook his head and muttered through that straggly +moustache: + +"You're a niece, aren't you? I know your father. He's a big man." + +Hearing those words spoken of her father, Nedda flushed. + +"Yes, he is," she said fervently. + +Her new acquaintance went on: + +"He's got the gift of truth--can laugh at himself as well as +others; that's what makes him precious. These humming-birds here +to-night couldn't raise a smile at their own tomfoolery to save +their silly souls." + +He spoke still in that voice of smothery wrath, and Nedda thought: +'He IS nice!' + +"They've been talking about 'the Land'"--he raised his hands and +ran them through his palish hair--"'the Land!' Heavenly Father! +'The Land!' Why! Look at that fellow!" + +Nedda looked and saw a man, like Richard Coeur de Lion in the +history books, with a straw-colored moustache just going gray. + +"Sir Gerald Malloring--hope he's not a friend of yours! Divine +right of landowners to lead 'the Land' by the nose! And our friend +Britto!" + +Nedda, following his eyes, saw a robust, quick-eyed man with a +suave insolence in his dark, clean-shaved face. + +"Because at heart he's just a supercilious ruffian, too cold- +blooded to feel, he'll demonstrate that it's no use to feel--waste +of valuable time--ha! valuable!--to act in any direction. And +that's a man they believe things of. And poor Henry Wiltram, with +his pathetic: 'Grow our own food--maximum use of the land as food- +producer, and let the rest take care of itself!' As if we weren't +all long past that feeble individualism; as if in these days of +world markets the land didn't stand or fall in this country as a +breeding-ground of health and stamina and nothing else. Well, well!" + +"Aren't they really in earnest, then?" asked Nedda timidly. + +"Miss Freeland, this land question is a perfect tragedy. Bar one +or two, they all want to make the omelette without breaking eggs; +well, by the time they begin to think of breaking them, mark me-- +there'll be no eggs to break. We shall be all park and suburb. +The real men on the land, what few are left, are dumb and helpless; +and these fellows here for one reason or another don't mean +business--they'll talk and tinker and top-dress--that's all. Does +your father take any interest in this? He could write something +very nice." + +"He takes interest in everything," said Nedda. "Please go on, Mr.-- +Mr.--" She was terribly afraid he would suddenly remember that +she was too young and stop his nice, angry talk. + +"Cuthcott. I'm an editor, but I was brought up on a farm, and know +something about it. You see, we English are grumblers, snobs to +the backbone, want to be something better than we are; and +education nowadays is all in the direction of despising what is +quiet and humdrum. We never were a stay-at-home lot, like the +French. That's at the back of this business--they may treat it as +they like, Radicals or Tories, but if they can't get a fundamental +change of opinion into the national mind as to what is a sane and +profitable life; if they can't work a revolution in the spirit of +our education, they'll do no good. There'll be lots of talk and +tinkering, tariffs and tommy-rot, and, underneath, the land-bred +men dying, dying all the time. No, madam, industrialism and vested +interests have got us! Bar the most strenuous national heroism, +there's nothing for it now but the garden city!" + +"Then if we WERE all heroic, 'the Land' could still be saved?" + +Mr. Cuthcott smiled. + +"Of course we might have a European war or something that would +shake everything up. But, short of that, when was a country ever +consciously and homogeneously heroic--except China with its opium? +When did it ever deliberately change the spirit of its education, +the trend of its ideas; when did it ever, of its own free will, lay +its vested interests on the altar; when did it ever say with a +convinced and resolute heart: 'I will be healthy and simple before +anything. I will not let the love of sanity and natural conditions +die out of me!' When, Miss Freeland, when?" + +And, looking so hard at Nedda that he almost winked, he added: + +"You have the advantage of me by thirty years. You'll see what I +shall not--the last of the English peasant. Did you ever read +'Erewhon,' where the people broke up their machines? It will take +almost that sort of national heroism to save what's left of him, +even." + +For answer, Nedda wrinkled her brows horribly. Before her there +had come a vision of the old, lame man, whose name she had found +out was Gaunt, standing on the path under the apple-trees, looking +at that little something he had taken from his pocket. Why she +thought of him thus suddenly she had no idea, and she said quickly: + +"It's awfully interesting. I do so want to hear about 'the Land.' +I only know a little about sweated workers, because I see something +of them." + +"It's all of a piece," said Mr. Cuthcott; "not politics at all, but +religion--touches the point of national self-knowledge and faith, +the point of knowing what we want to become and of resolving to +become it. Your father will tell you that we have no more idea of +that at present than a cat of its own chemical composition. As for +these good people here to-night--I don't want to be disrespectful, +but if they think they're within a hundred miles of the land +question, I'm a--I'm a Jingo--more I can't say." + +And, as if to cool his head, he leaned out of the window. + +"Nothing is nicer than darkness, as I said just now, because you +can only see the way you MUST go instead of a hundred and fifty +ways you MIGHT. In darkness your soul is something like your own; +in daylight, lamplight, moonlight, never." + +Nedda's spirit gave a jump; he seemed almost at last to be going to +talk about the things she wanted, above all, to find out. Her +cheeks went hot, she clenched her hands and said resolutely: + +"Mr. Cuthcott, do you believe in God?" + +Mr. Cuthcott made a queer, deep little noise; it was not a laugh, +however, and it seemed as if he knew she could not bear him to look +at her just then. + +"H'm!" he said. "Every one does that--according to their natures. +Some call God IT, some HIM, some HER, nowadays--that's all. You +might as well ask--do I believe that I'm alive?" + +"Yes," said Nedda, "but which do YOU call God?" + +As she asked that, he gave a wriggle, and it flashed through her: +'He must think me an awful enfant terrible!' His face peered round +at her, queer and pale and puffy, with nice, straight eyes; and she +added hastily: + +"It isn't a fair question, is it? Only you talked about darkness, +and the only way--so I thought--" + +"Quite a fair question. My answer is, of course: 'All three'; but +the point is rather: Does one wish to make even an attempt to +define God to oneself? Frankly, I don't! I'm content to feel that +there is in one some kind of instinct toward perfection that one +will still feel, I hope, when the lights are going out; some kind +of honour forbidding one to let go and give up. That's all I've +got; I really don't know that I want more." + +Nedda clasped her hands. + +"I like that," she said; "only--what is perfection, Mr. Cuthcott?" + +Again he emitted that deep little sound. + +"Ah!" he repeated, "what is perfection? Awkward, that--isn't it?" + +"Is it"--Nedda rushed the words out--"is it always to be sacrificing +yourself, or is it--is it always to be--to be expressing yourself?" + +"To some--one; to some--the other; to some--half one, half the +other." + +"But which is it to me?" + +"Ah! that you've got to find out for yourself. There's a sort of +metronome inside us--wonderful, sell-adjusting little machine; most +delicate bit of mechanism in the world--people call it conscience-- +that records the proper beat of our tempos. I guess that's all we +have to go by." + +Nedda said breathlessly: + +"Yes; and it's frightfully hard, isn't it?" + +"Exactly," Mr. Cuthcott answered. "That's why people devised +religions and other ways of having the thing done second-hand. We +all object to trouble and responsibility if we can possibly avoid +it. Where do you live?" + +"In Hampstead." + +"Your father must be a stand-by, isn't he?" + +"Oh, yes; Dad's splendid; only, you see, I AM a good deal younger +than he. There was just one thing I was going to ask you. Are +these very Bigwigs?" + +Mr. Cuthcott turned to the room and let his screwed-up glance +wander. He looked just then particularly as if he were going to +bite. + +"If you take 'em at their own valuation: Yes. If at the +country's: So-so. If at mine: Ha! I know what you'd like to +ask: Should I be a Bigwig in THEIR estimation? Not I! As you +knock about, Miss Freeland, you'll find out one thing--all +bigwiggery is founded on: Scratch my back, and I'll scratch yours. +Seriously, these are only tenpenny ones; but the mischief is, that +in the matter of 'the Land,' the men who really are in earnest are +precious scarce. Nothing short of a rising such as there was in +1832 would make the land question real, even for the moment. Not +that I want to see one--God forbid! Those poor doomed devils were +treated worse than dogs, and would be again." + +Before Nedda could pour out questions about the rising in 1832, +Stanley's voice said: + +"Cuthcott, I want to introduce you!" + +Her new friend screwed his eyes up tighter and, muttering +something, put out his hand to her. + +"Thank you for our talk. I hope we shall meet again. Any time you +want to know anything--I'll be only too glad. Good night!" + +She felt the squeeze of his hand, warm and dry, but rather soft, as +of a man who uses a pen too much; saw him following her uncle +across the room, with his shoulders a little hunched, as if +preparing to inflict, and ward off, blows. And with the thought: +'He must be jolly when he gives them one!' she turned once more to +the darkness, than which he had said there was nothing nicer. It +smelled of new-mown grass, was full of little shiverings of leaves, +and all colored like the bloom of a black grape. And her heart +felt soothed. + + +CHAPTER IX + + +". . . When I first saw Derek I thought I should never feel +anything but shy and hopeless. In four days, only in four days, +the whole world is different. . . . And yet, if it hadn't been for +that thunder-storm, I shouldn't have got over being shy in time. +He has never loved anybody--nor have I. It can't often be like +that--it makes it solemn. There's a picture somewhere--not a good +one, I know--of a young Highlander being taken away by soldiers +from his sweetheart. Derek is fiery and wild and shy and proud and +dark--like the man in that picture. That last day along the hills-- +along and along--with the wind in our faces, I could have walked +forever; and then Joyfields at the end! Their mother's wonderful; +I'm afraid of her. But Uncle Tod is a perfect dear. I never saw +any one before who noticed so many things that I didn't, and +nothing that I did. I am sure he has in him what Mr. Cuthcott said +we were all losing--the love of simple, natural conditions. And +then, THE moment, when I stood with Derek at the end of the +orchard, to say good-by. The field below covered with those moony- +white flowers, and the cows all dark and sleepy; the holy feeling +down there was wonderful, and in the branches over our heads, too, +and the velvety, starry sky, and the dewiness against one's face, +and the great, broad silence--it was all worshipping something, and +I was worshipping--worshipping happiness. I WAS happy, and I think +HE was. Perhaps I shall never be so happy again. When he kissed +me I didn't think the whole world had so much happiness in it. I +know now that I'm not cold a bit; I used to think I was. I believe +I could go with him anywhere, and do anything he wanted. What +would Dad think? Only the other day I was saying I wanted to know +everything. One only knows through love. It's love that makes the +world all beautiful--makes it like those pictures that seem to be +wrapped in gold, makes it like a dream--no, not like a dream--like +a wonderful tune. I suppose that's glamour--a goldeny, misty, +lovely feeling, as if my soul were wandering about with his--not in +my body at all. I want it to go on and on wandering--oh! I don't +want it back in my body, all hard and inquisitive and aching! I +shall never know anything so lovely as loving him and being loved. +I don't want anything more--nothing! Stay with me, please-- +Happiness! Don't go away and leave me! . . . They frighten me, +though; he frightens me--their idealism; wanting to do great +things, and fight for justice. If only I'd been brought up more +like that--but everything's been so different. It's their mother, +I think, even more than themselves. I seem to have grown up just +looking on at life as at a show; watching it, thinking about it, +trying to understand--not living it at all. I must get over that; +I will. I believe I can tell the very moment I began to love him. +It was in the schoolroom the second evening. Sheila and I were +sitting there just before dinner, and he came, in a rage, looking +splendid. 'That footman put out everything just as if I were a +baby--asked me for suspenders to fasten on my socks; hung the +things on a chair in order, as if I couldn't find out for myself +what to put on first; turned the tongues of my shoes out!--curled +them over!' Then Derek looked at me and said: 'Do they do that for +you?--And poor old Gaunt, who's sixty-six and lame, has three +shillings a week to buy him everything. Just think of that! If we +had the pluck of flies--' And he clenched his fists. But Sheila +got up, looked hard at me, and said: 'That'll do, Derek.' Then he +put his hand on my arm and said: 'It's only Cousin Nedda!' I began +to love him then; and I believe he saw it, because I couldn't take +my eyes away. But it was when Sheila sang 'The Red Sarafan,' after +dinner, that I knew for certain. 'The Red Sarafan'--it's a +wonderful song, all space and yearning, and yet such calm--it's the +song of the soul; and he was looking at me while she sang. How can +he love me? I am nothing--no good for anything! Alan calls him a +'run-up kid, all legs and wings.' Sometimes I hate Alan; he's +conventional and stodgy--the funny thing is that he admires Sheila. +She'll wake him up; she'll stick pins into him. No, I don't want +Alan hurt--I want every one in the world to be happy, happy--as I +am. . . . The next day was the thunder-storm. I never saw +lightning so near--and didn't care a bit. If he were struck I knew +I should be; that made it all right. When you love, you don't +care, if only the something must happen to you both. When it was +over, and we came out from behind the stack and walked home through +the fields, all the beasts looked at us as if we were new and had +never been seen before; and the air was ever so sweet, and that +long, red line of cloud low down in the purple, and the elm-trees +so heavy and almost black. He put his arm round me, and I let +him. . . . It seems an age to wait till they come to stay with us +next week. If only Mother likes them, and I can go and stay at +Joyfields. Will she like them? It's all so different to what it +would be if they were ordinary. But if he were ordinary I +shouldn't love him; it's because there's nobody like him. That +isn't a loverish fancy--you only have to look at him against Alan +or Uncle Stanley or even Dad. Everything he does is so different; +the way he walks, and the way he stands drawn back into himself, +like a stag, and looks out as if he were burning and smouldering +inside; even the way he smiles. Dad asked me what I thought of +him! That was only the second day. I thought he was too proud, +then. And Dad said: 'He ought to be in a Highland regiment; pity-- +great pity!' He is a fighter, of course. I don't like fighting, +but if I'm not ready to, he'll stop loving me, perhaps. I've got +to learn. O Darkness out there, help me! And Stars, help me! O +God, make me brave, and I will believe in you forever! If you are +the spirit that grows in things in spite of everything, until +they're like the flowers, so perfect that we laugh and sing at +their beauty, grow in me, too; make me beautiful and brave; then I +shall be fit for him, alive or dead; and that's all I want. Every +evening I shall stand in spirit with him at the end of that orchard +in the darkness, under the trees above the white flowers and the +sleepy cows, and perhaps I shall feel him kiss me again. . . . I'm +glad I saw that old man Gaunt; it makes what they feel more real to +me. He showed me that poor laborer Tryst, too, the one who mustn't +marry his wife's sister, or have her staying in the house without +marrying her. Why should people interfere with others like that? +It does make your blood boil! Derek and Sheila have been brought +up to be in sympathy with the poor and oppressed. If they had +lived in London they would have been even more furious, I expect. +And it's no use my saying to myself 'I don't know the laborer, I +don't know his hardships,' because he is really just the country +half of what I do know and see, here in London, when I don't hide +my eyes. One talk showed me how desperately they feel; at night, +in Sheila's room, when we had gone up, just we four. Alan began +it; they didn't want to, I could see; but he was criticising what +some of those Bigwigs had said--the 'Varsity makes boys awfully +conceited. It was such a lovely night; we were all in the big, +long window. A little bat kept flying past; and behind the copper- +beech the moon was shining on the lake. Derek sat in the +windowsill, and when he moved he touched me. To be touched by him +gives me a warm shiver all through. I could hear him gritting his +teeth at what Alan said--frightfully sententious, just like a +newspaper: 'We can't go into land reform from feeling, we must go +into it from reason.' Then Derek broke out: 'Walk through this +country as we've walked; see the pigsties the people live in; see +the water they drink; see the tiny patches of ground they have; see +the way their roofs let in the rain; see their peeky children; see +their patience and their hopelessness; see them working day in and +day out, and coming on the parish at the end! See all that, and +then talk about reason! Reason! It's the coward's excuse, and the +rich man's excuse, for doing nothing. It's the excuse of the man +who takes jolly good care not to see for fear that he may come to +feel! Reason never does anything, it's too reasonable. The thing +is to act; then perhaps reason will be jolted into doing +something.' But Sheila touched his arm, and he stopped very +suddenly. She doesn't trust us. I shall always be being pushed +away from him by her. He's just twenty, and I shall be eighteen in +a week; couldn't we marry now at once? Then, whatever happened, I +couldn't be cut off from him. If I could tell Dad, and ask him to +help me! But I can't--it seems desecration to talk about it, even +to Dad. All the way up in the train to-day, coming back home, I +was struggling not to show anything; though it's hateful to keep +things from Dad. Love alters everything; it melts up the whole +world and makes it afresh. Love is the sun of our spirits, and +it's the wind. Ah, and the rain, too! But I won't think of +that! . . . I wonder if he's told Aunt Kirsteen! . . ." + + +CHAPTER X + + +While Nedda sat, long past midnight, writing her heart out in her +little, white, lilac-curtained room of the old house above the +Spaniard's Road, Derek, of whom she wrote, was walking along the +Malvern hills, hurrying upward in the darkness. The stars were his +companions; though he was no poet, having rather the fervid temper +of the born swordsman, that expresses itself in physical ecstasies. +He had come straight out from a stormy midnight talk with Sheila. +What was he doing--had been the burden of her cry--falling in love +just at this moment when they wanted all their wits and all their +time and strength for this struggle with the Mallorings? It was +foolish, it was weak; and with a sweet, soft sort of girl who could +be no use. Hotly he had answered: What business was it of hers? +As if one fell in love when one wished! She didn't know--her blood +didn't run fast enough! Sheila had retorted, "I've more blood in +my big toe than Nedda in all her body! A lot of use you'll be, +with your heart mooning up in London!" And crouched together on +the end of her bed, gazing fixedly up at him through her hair, she +had chanted mockingly: "Here we go gathering wool and stars--wool +and stars--wool and stars!" + +He had not deigned to answer, but had gone out, furious with her, +striding over the dark fields, scrambling his way through the +hedges toward the high loom of the hills. Up on the short grass in +the cooler air, with nothing between him and those swarming stars, +he lost his rage. It never lasted long--hers was more enduring. +With the innate lordliness of a brother he already put it down to +jealousy. Sheila was hurt that he should want any one but her; as +if his love for Nedda would make any difference to their resolution +to get justice for Tryst and the Gaunts, and show those landed +tyrants once for all that they could not ride roughshod. + +Nedda! with her dark eyes, so quick and clear, so loving when they +looked at him! Nedda, soft and innocent, the touch of whose lips +had turned his heart to something strange within him, and wakened +such feelings of chivalry! Nedda! To see whom for half a minute +he felt he would walk a hundred miles. + +This boy's education had been administered solely by his mother +till he was fourteen, and she had brought him up on mathematics, +French, and heroism. His extensive reading of history had been +focussed on the personality of heroes, chiefly knights errant, and +revolutionaries. He had carried the worship of them to the +Agricultural College, where he had spent four years; and a rather +rough time there had not succeeded in knocking romance out of him. +He had found that you could not have such beliefs comfortably +without fighting for them, and though he ended his career with the +reputation of a rebel and a champion of the weak, he had had to +earn it. To this day he still fed himself on stories of rebellions +and fine deeds. The figures of Spartacus, Montrose, Hofer, +Garibaldi, Hampden, and John Nicholson, were more real to him than +the people among whom he lived, though he had learned never to +mention--especially not to the matter-of-fact Sheila--his +encompassing cloud of heroes; but, when he was alone, he pranced a +bit with them, and promised himself that he too would reach the +stars. So you may sometimes see a little, grave boy walking +through a field, unwatched as he believes, suddenly fling his feet +and his head every which way. An active nature, romantic, without +being dreamy and book-loving, is not too prone to the attacks of +love; such a one is likely to survive unscathed to a maturer age. +But Nedda had seduced him, partly by the appeal of her touchingly +manifest love and admiration, and chiefly by her eyes, through +which he seemed to see such a loyal, and loving little soul +looking. She had that indefinable something which lovers know that +they can never throw away. And he had at once made of her, +secretly, the crown of his active romanticism--the lady waiting for +the spoils of his lance. Queer is the heart of a boy--strange its +blending of reality and idealism! + +Climbing at a great pace, he reached Malvern Beacon just as it came +dawn, and stood there on the top, watching. He had not much +aesthetic sense; but he had enough to be impressed by the slow +paling of the stars over space that seemed infinite, so little were +its dreamy confines visible in the May morning haze, where the +quivering crimson flags and spears of sunrise were forging up in a +march upon the sky. That vision of the English land at dawn, wide +and mysterious, hardly tallied with Mr. Cuthcott's view of a future +dedicate to Park and Garden City. While Derek stood there gazing, +the first lark soared up and began its ecstatic praise. Save for +that song, silence possessed all the driven dark, right out to the +Severn and the sea, and the fastnesses of the Welsh hills, and the +Wrekin, away in the north, a black point in the gray. For a moment +dark and light hovered and clung together. Would victory wing back +into night or on into day? Then, as a town is taken, all was over +in one overmastering rush, and light proclaimed. Derek tightened +his belt and took a bee-line down over the slippery grass. He +meant to reach the cottage of the laborer Tryst before that early +bird was away to the fields. He meditated as he went. Bob Tryst +was all right! If they only had a dozen or two like him! A dozen +or two whom they could trust, and who would trust each other and +stand firm to form the nucleus of a strike, which could be timed +for hay harvest. What slaves these laborers still were! If only +they could be relied on, if only they would stand together! +Slavery! It WAS slavery; so long as they could be turned out of +their homes at will in this fashion. His rebellion against the +conditions of their lives, above all against the manifold petty +tyrannies that he knew they underwent, came from use of his eyes +and ears in daily contact with a class among whom he had been more +or less brought up. In sympathy with, and yet not of them, he had +the queer privilege of feeling their slights as if they were his +own, together with feelings of protection, and even of contempt +that they should let themselves be slighted. He was near enough to +understand how they must feel; not near enough to understand why, +feeling as they did, they did not act as he would have acted. In +truth, he knew them no better than he should. + +He found Tryst washing at his pump. In the early morning light the +big laborer's square, stubborn face, with its strange, dog-like +eyes, had a sodden, hungry, lost look. Cutting short ablutions +that certainly were never protracted, he welcomed Derek, and +motioned him to pass into the kitchen. The young man went in, and +perched himself on the window-sill beside a pot of Bridal Wreath. +The cottage was one of the Mallorings', and recently repaired. A +little fire was burning, and a teapot of stewed tea sat there +beside it. Four cups and spoons and some sugar were put out on a +deal table, for Tryst was, in fact, brewing the morning draught of +himself and children, who still lay abed up-stairs. The sight made +Derek shiver and his eyes darken. He knew the full significance of +what he saw. + +"Did you ask him again, Bob?" + +"Yes, I asked 'im." + +"What did he say?" + +"Said as orders was plain. 'So long as you lives there,' he says, +'along of yourself alone, you can't have her come back.'" + +"Did you say the children wanted looking after badly? Did you make +it clear? Did you say Mrs. Tryst wished it, before she--" + +"I said that." + +"What did he say then?" + +"'Sorry for you, m'lad, but them's m'lady's orders, an' I can't go +contrary. I don't wish to go into things,' he says; 'you know +better'n I how far 'tis gone when she was 'ere before; but seein' +as m'lady don't never give in to deceased wife's sister marryin', +if she come back 'tis certain to be the other thing. So, as that +won't do neither, you go elsewhere,' he says." + +Having spoken thus at length, Tryst lifted the teapot and poured +out the dark tea into the three cups. + +"Will 'ee have some, sir?" + +Derek shook his head. + +Taking the cups, Tryst departed up the narrow stairway. And Derek +remained motionless, staring at the Bridal Wreath, till the big man +came down again and, retiring into a far corner, sat sipping at his +own cup. + +"Bob," said the boy suddenly, "do you LIKE being a dog; put to what +company your master wishes?" + +Tryst set his cup down, stood up, and crossed his thick arms--the +swift movement from that stolid creature had in it something +sinister; but he did not speak. + +"Do you like it, Bob?" + +"I'll not say what I feels, Mr. Derek; that's for me. What I +does'll be for others, p'raps." + +And he lifted his strange, lowering eyes to Derek's. For a full +minute the two stared, then Derek said: + +"Look out, then; be ready!" and, getting off the sill, he went out. + +On the bright, slimy surface of the pond three ducks were quietly +revelling in that hour before man and his damned soul, the dog, +rose to put the fear of God into them. In the sunlight, against +the green duckweed, their whiteness was truly marvellous; difficult +to believe that they were not white all through. Passing the three +cottages, in the last of which the Gaunts lived, he came next to +his own home, but did not turn in, and made on toward the church. +It was a very little one, very old, and had for him a curious +fascination, never confessed to man or beast. To his mother, and +Sheila, more intolerant, as became women, that little, lichened, +gray stone building was the very emblem of hypocrisy, of a creed +preached, not practised; to his father it was nothing, for it was +not alive, and any tramp, dog, bird, or fruit-tree meant far more. +But in Derek it roused a peculiar feeling, such as a man might have +gazing at the shores of a native country, out of which he had been +thrown for no fault of his own--a yearning deeply muffled up in +pride and resentment. Not infrequently he would come and sit +brooding on the grassy hillock just above the churchyard. Church- +going, with its pageantry, its tradition, dogma, and demand for +blind devotion, would have suited him very well, if only blind +devotion to his mother had not stood across that threshold; he +could not bring himself to bow to that which viewed his rebellious +mother as lost. And yet the deep fibres of heredity from her +papistic Highland ancestors, and from old pious Moretons, drew him +constantly to this spot at times when no one would be about. It +was his enemy, this little church, the fold of all the instincts +and all the qualities against which he had been brought up to +rebel; the very home of patronage and property and superiority; the +school where his friends the laborers were taught their place! And +yet it had that queer, ironical attraction for him. In some such +sort had his pet hero Montrose rebelled, and then been drawn +despite himself once more to the side of that against which he had +taken arms. + +While he leaned against the rail, gazing at that ancient edifice, +he saw a girl walk into the churchyard at the far end, sit down on +a gravestone, and begin digging a little hole in the grass with the +toe of her boot. She did not seem to see him, and at his ease he +studied her face, one of those broad, bright English country faces +with deep-set rogue eyes and red, thick, soft lips, smiling on +little provocation. In spite of her disgrace, in spite of the fact +that she was sitting on her mother's grave, she did not look +depressed. And Derek thought: 'Wilmet Gaunt is the jolliest of +them all! She isn't a bit a bad girl, as they say; it's only that +she must have fun. If they drive her out of here, she'll still +want fun wherever she is; she'll go to a town and end up like those +girls I saw in Bristol.' And the memory of those night girls, with +their rouged faces and cringing boldness, came back to him with +horror. + +He went across the grass toward her. + +She looked round as he came, and her face livened. + +"Well, Wilmet?" + +"You're an early bird, Mr. Derek." + +"Haven't been to bed." + +"Oh!" + +"Been up Malvern Beacon to see the sun rise." + +"You're tired, I expect!" + +"No." + +"Must be fine up there. You'd see a long ways from there; near to +London I should think. Do you know London, Mr. Derek?" + +"No." + +"They say 'tis a funny place, too." Her rogue eyes gleamed from +under a heavy frown. "It'd not be all 'Do this' an' 'Do that'; an' +'You bad girl' an' 'You little hussy!' in London. They say there's +room for more'n one sort of girl there." + +"All towns are beastly places, Wilmet." + +Again her rogue's eyes gleamed. "I don' know so much about that, +Mr. Derek. I'm going where I won't be chivied about and pointed +at, like what I am here." + +"Your dad's stuck to you; you ought to stick to him." + +"Ah, Dad! He's losin' his place for me, but that don't stop his +tongue at home. 'Tis no use to nag me--nag me. Suppose one of +m'lady's daughters had a bit of fun--they say there's lots as do-- +I've heard tales--there'd be none comin' to chase her out of her +home. 'No, my girl, you can't live here no more, endangerin' the +young men. You go away. Best for you's where they'll teach you to +be'ave. Go on! Out with you! I don't care where you go; but you +just go!' 'Tis as if girls were all pats o' butter--same square, +same pattern on it, same weight, an' all." + +Derek had come closer; he put his hand down and gripped her arm. +Her eloquence dried up before the intentness of his face, and she +just stared up at him. + +"Now, look here, Wilmet; you promise me not to scoot without +letting us know. We'll get you a place to go to. Promise." + +A little sheepishly the rogue-girl answered: + +"I promise; only, I'm goin'." + +Suddenly she dimpled and broke into her broad smile. + +"Mr. Derek, d'you know what they say--they say you're in love. You +was seen in th' orchard. Ah! 'tis all right for you and her! But +if any one kiss and hug ME, I got to go!" + +Derek drew back among the graves, as if he had been struck with a +whip. + +She looked up at him with coaxing sweetness. + +"Don't you mind me, Mr. Derek, and don't you stay here neither. If +they saw you here with me, they'd say: 'Aw--look! Endangerin' +another young man--poor young man!' Good mornin', Mr. Derek!" + +The rogue eyes followed him gravely, then once more began examining +the grass, and the toe of her boot again began kicking a little +hole. But Derek did not look back. + + +CHAPTER XI + + +It is in the nature of men and angels to pursue with death such +birds as are uncommon, such animals as are rare; and Society had no +use for one like Tod, so uncut to its pattern as to be practically +unconscious of its existence. Not that he had deliberately turned +his back on anything; he had merely begun as a very young man to +keep bees. The better to do that he had gone on to the cultivation +of flowers and fruit, together with just enough farming as kept his +household in vegetables, milk, butter, and eggs. Living thus +amongst insects, birds, cows, and the peace of trees, he had become +queer. His was not a very reflective mind, it distilled but slowly +certain large conclusions, and followed intently the minute +happenings of his little world. To him a bee, a bird, a flower, a +tree was well-nigh as interesting as a man; yet men, women, and +especially children took to him, as one takes to a Newfoundland +dog, because, though capable of anger, he seemed incapable of +contempt, and to be endowed with a sort of permanent wonder at +things. Then, too, he was good to look at, which counts for more +than a little in the scales of our affections; indeed, the slight +air of absence in his blue eyes was not chilling, as is that which +portends a wandering of its owner on his own business. People +recognized that it meant some bee or other in that bonnet, or +elsewhere, some sound or scent or sight of life, suddenly +perceived--always of life! He had often been observed gazing with +peculiar gravity at a dead flower, bee, bird, or beetle, and, if +spoken to at such a moment, would say, "Gone!" touching a wing or +petal with his finger. To conceive of what happened after death +did not apparently come within the few large conclusions of his +reflective powers. That quaint grief of his in the presence of the +death of things that were not human had, more than anything, +fostered a habit among the gentry and clergy of the neighborhood of +drawing up the mouth when they spoke of him, and slightly raising +the shoulders. For the cottagers, to be sure, his eccentricity +consisted rather in his being a 'gentleman,' yet neither eating +flesh, drinking wine, nor telling them how they ought to behave +themselves, together with the way he would sit down on anything and +listen to what they had to tell him, without giving them the +impression that he was proud of himself for doing so. In fact, it +was the extraordinary impression he made of listening and answering +without wanting anything either for himself or for them, that they +could not understand. How on earth it came about that he did not +give them advice about their politics, religion, morals, or +monetary states, was to them a never-ending mystery; and though +they were too well bred to shrug their shoulders, there did lurk in +their dim minds the suspicion that 'the good gentleman,' as they +called him, was 'a tiddy-bit off.' He had, of course, done many +practical little things toward helping them and their beasts, but +always, as it seemed, by accident, so that they could never make up +their minds afterward whether he remembered having done them, +which, in fact, he probably did not; and this seemed to them +perhaps the most damning fact of all about his being--well, about +his being--not quite all there. Another worrying habit he had, +too, that of apparently not distinguishing between them and any +tramps or strangers who might happen along and come across him. +This was, in their eyes, undoubtedly a fault; for the village was, +after all, their village, and he, as it were, their property. To +crown all, there was a story, full ten years old now, which had +lost nothing in the telling, of his treatment of a cattle-drover. +To the village it had an eerie look, that windmill-like rage let +loose upon a man who, after all, had only been twisting a bullock's +tail and running a spiked stick into its softer parts, as any +drover might. People said--the postman and a wagoner had seen the +business, raconteurs born, so that the tale had perhaps lost +nothing--that he had positively roared as he came leaping down into +the lane upon the man, a stout and thick-set fellow, taken him up +like a baby, popped him into a furzebush, and held him there. +People said that his own bare arms had been pricked to the very +shoulder from pressing the drover down into that uncompromising +shrub, and the man's howls had pierced the very heavens. The +postman, to this day, would tell how the mere recollection of +seeing it still made him sore all over. Of the words assigned to +Tod on this occasion, the mildest and probably most true were: "By +the Lord God, if you treat a beast like that again, I'll cut your +liver out, you hell-hearted sweep!" + +The incident, which had produced a somewhat marked effect in regard +to the treatment of animals all round that neighborhood, had never +been forgotten, nor in a sense forgiven. In conjunction with the +extraordinary peace and mildness of his general behavior, it had +endowed Tod with mystery; and people, especially simple folk, +cannot bring themselves to feel quite at home with mystery. +Children only--to whom everything is so mysterious that nothing can +be--treated him as he treated them, giving him their hands with +confidence. But children, even his own, as they grew up, began to +have a little of the village feeling toward Tod; his world was not +theirs, and what exactly his world was they could not grasp. +Possibly it was the sense that they partook of his interest and +affection too much on a level with any other kind of living thing +that might happen to be about, which discomfited their +understanding. They held him, however, in a certain reverence. + +That early morning he had already done a good two hours' work in +connection with broad beans, of which he grew, perhaps, the best in +the whole county, and had knocked off for a moment, to examine a +spider's web. This marvellous creation, which the dew had visited +and clustered over, as stars over the firmament, was hung on the +gate of the vegetable garden, and the spider, a large and active +one, was regarding Tod with the misgiving natural to its species. +Intensely still Tod stood, absorbed in contemplation of that bright +and dusty miracle. Then, taking up his hoe again, he went back to +the weeds that threatened his broad beans. Now and again he +stopped to listen, or to look at the sky, as is the way of +husbandmen, thinking of nothing, enjoying the peace of his muscles. + +"Please, sir, father's got into a fit again." + +Two little girls were standing in the lane below. The elder, who +had spoken in that small, anxious voice, had a pale little face +with pointed chin; her hair, the color of over-ripe corn, hung +fluffy on her thin shoulders, her flower-like eyes, with something +motherly in them already, were the same hue as her pale-blue, +almost clean, overall. She had her smaller, chubbier sister by the +hand, and, having delivered her message, stood still, gazing up at +Tod, as one might at God. Tod dropped his hoe. + +"Biddy come with me; Susie go and tell Mrs. Freeland, or Miss +Sheila." + +He took the frail little hand of the elder Tryst and ran. They ran +at the child's pace, the one so very massive, the other such a +whiff of flesh and blood. + +"Did you come at once, Biddy?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Where was he taken?" + +"In the kitchen--just as I was cookin' breakfast." + +"Ah! Is it a bad one?" + +"Yes, sir, awful bad--he's all foamy." + +"What did you do for it?" + +"Susie and me turned him over, and Billy's seein' he don't get his +tongue down his throat--like what you told us, and we ran to you. +Susie was frightened, he hollered so." + +Past the three cottages, whence a woman at a window stared in amaze +to see that queer couple running, past the pond where the ducks, +whiter than ever in the brightening sunlight, dived and circled +carelessly, into the Tryst kitchen. There on the brick floor lay +the distressful man, already struggling back out of epilepsy, while +his little frightened son sat manfully beside him. + +"Towels, and hot water, Biddy!" + +With extraordinary calm rapidity the small creature brought what +might have been two towels, a basin, and the kettle; and in silence +she and Tod steeped his forehead. + +"Eyes look better, Biddy?" + +"He don't look so funny now, sir." + +Picking up that form, almost as big as his own, Tod carried it up +impossibly narrow stairs and laid it on a dishevelled bed. + +"Phew! Open the window, Biddy." + +The small creature opened what there was of window. + +"Now, go down and heat two bricks and wrap them in something, and +bring them up." + +Tryst's boots and socks removed, Tod rubbed the large, warped feet. +While doing this he whistled, and the little boy crept up-stairs +and squatted in the doorway, to watch and listen. The morning air +overcame with its sweetness the natural odor of that small room, +and a bird or two went flirting past. The small creature came back +with the bricks, wrapped in petticoats of her own, and, placing +them against the soles of her father's feet, she stood gazing at +Tod, for all the world like a little mother dog with puppies. + +"You can't go to school to-day, Biddy." + +"Is Susie and Billy to go?" + +"Yes; there's nothing to be frightened of now. He'll be nearly all +right by evening. But some one shall stay with you." + +At this moment Tryst lifted his hand, and the small creature went +and stood beside him, listening to the whispering that emerged from +his thick lips. + +"Father says I'm to thank you, please." + +"Yes. Have you had your breakfasts?" + +The small creature and her smaller brother shook their heads. + +"Go down and get them." + +Whispering and twisting back, they went, and by the side of the bed +Tod sat down. In Tryst's eyes was that same look of dog-like +devotion he had bent on Derek earlier that morning. Tod stared out +of the window and gave the man's big hand a squeeze. Of what did +he think, watching a lime-tree outside, and the sunlight through +its foliage painting bright the room's newly whitewashed wall, +already gray-spotted with damp again; watching the shadows of the +leaves playing in that sunlight? Almost cruel, that lovely shadow +game of outside life so full and joyful, so careless of man and +suffering; too gay almost, too alive! Of what did he think, +watching the chase and dart of shadow on shadow, as of gray +butterflies fluttering swift to the sack of flowers, while beside +him on the bed the big laborer lay? . . . + +When Kirsteen and Sheila came to relieve him of that vigil he went +down-stairs. There in the kitchen Biddy was washing up, and Susie +and Billy putting on their boots for school. They stopped to gaze +at Tod feeling in his pockets, for they knew that things sometimes +happened after that. To-day there came out two carrots, some lumps +of sugar, some cord, a bill, a pruning knife, a bit of wax, a bit +of chalk, three flints, a pouch of tobacco, two pipes, a match-box +with a single match in it, a six-pence, a necktie, a stick of +chocolate, a tomato, a handkerchief, a dead bee, an old razor, a +bit of gauze, some tow, a stick of caustic, a reel of cotton, a +needle, no thimble, two dock leaves, and some sheets of yellowish +paper. He separated from the rest the sixpence, the dead bee, and +what was edible. And in delighted silence the three little Trysts +gazed, till Biddy with the tip of one wet finger touched the bee. + +"Not good to eat, Biddy." + +At those words, one after the other, cautiously, the three little +Trysts smiled. Finding that Tod smiled too, they broadened, and +Billy burst into chuckles. Then, clustering in the doorway, +grasping the edibles and the sixpence, and consulting with each +other, they looked long after his big figure passing down the road. + + +CHAPTER XII + + +Still later, that same morning, Derek and Sheila moved slowly up +the Mallorings' well-swept drive. Their lips were set, as though +they had spoken the last word before battle, and an old cock +pheasant, running into the bushes close by, rose with a whir and +skimmed out toward his covert, scared, perhaps, by something +uncompromising in the footsteps of those two. + +Only when actually under the shelter of the porch, which some folk +thought enhanced the old Greek-temple effect of the Mallorings' +house, Derek broke through that taciturnity: + +"What if they won't?" + +"Wait and see; and don't lose your head, Derek." The man who stood +there when the door opened was tall, grave, wore his hair in +powder, and waited without speech. + +"Will you ask Sir Gerald and Lady Malloring if Miss Freeland and +Mr. Derek Freeland could see them, please; and will you say the +matter is urgent?" + +The man bowed, left them, and soon came back. + +"My lady will see you, miss; Sir Gerald is not in. This way." + +Past the statuary, flowers, and antlers of the hall, they traversed +a long, cool corridor, and through a white door entered a white +room, not very large, and very pretty. Two children got up as they +came in and flapped out past them like young partridges, and Lady +Malloring rose from her writing-table and came forward, holding out +her hand. The two young Freelands took it gravely. For all their +hostility they could not withstand the feeling that she would think +them terrible young prigs if they simply bowed. And they looked +steadily at one with whom they had never before been at quite such +close quarters. Lady Malloring, who had originally been the +Honorable Mildred Killory, a daughter of Viscount Silport, was +tall, slender, and not very striking, with very fair hair going +rather gray; her expression in repose was pleasant, a little +anxious; only by her eyes was the suspicion awakened that she was a +woman of some character. They had that peculiar look of belonging +to two worlds, so often to be met with in English eyes, a look of +self-denying aspiration, tinctured with the suggestion that denial +might not be confined to self. + +In a quite friendly voice she said: + +"Can I do anything for you?" And while she waited for an answer +her glance travelled from face to face of the two young people, +with a certain curiosity. After a silence of several seconds, +Sheila answered: + +"Not for us, thank you; for others, you can." + +Lady Malloring's eyebrows rose a little, as if there seemed to her +something rather unjust in those words--'for others.' + +"Yes?" she said. + +Sheila, whose hands were clenched, and whose face had been fiery +red, grew suddenly almost white. + +"Lady Malloring, will you please let the Gaunts stay in their +cottage and Tryst's wife's sister come to live with the children +and him?" + +Lady Malloring raised one hand; the motion, quite involuntary, +ended at the tiny cross on her breast. She said quietly: + +"I'm afraid you don't understand." + +"Yes," said Sheila, still very pale, "we understand quite well. We +understand that you are acting in what you believe to be the +interests of morality. All the same, won't you? Do!" + +"I'm very sorry, but I can't." + +"May we ask why?" + +Lady Malloring started, and transferred her glance to Derek. + +"I don't know," she said with a smile, "that I am obliged to +account for my actions to you two young people. Besides, you must +know why, quite well." + +Sheila put out her hand. + +"Wilmet Gaunt will go to the bad if you turn them out." + +"I am afraid I think she has gone to the bad already, and I do not +mean her to take others there with her. I am sorry for poor Tryst, +and I wish he could find some nice woman to marry; but what he +proposes is impossible." + +The blood had flared up again in Sheila's cheeks; she was as red as +the comb of a turkey-cock. + +"Why shouldn't he marry his wife's sister? It's legal, now, and +you've no right to stop it." + +Lady Malloring bit her lips; she looked straight and hard at +Sheila. + +"I do not stop it; I have no means of stopping it. Only, he cannot +do it and live in one of our cottages. I don't think we need +discuss this further." + +"I beg your pardon--" + +The words had come from Derek. Lady Malloring paused in her walk +toward the bell. With his peculiar thin-lipped smile the boy went +on: + +"We imagined you would say no; we really came because we thought it +fair to warn you that there may be trouble." + +Lady Malloring smiled. + +"This is a private matter between us and our tenants, and we should +be so glad if you could manage not to interfere." + +Derek bowed, and put his hand within his sister's arm. But Sheila +did not move; she was trembling with anger. + +"Who are you," she suddenly burst out, "to dispose of the poor, +body and soul? Who are you, to dictate their private lives? If +they pay their rent, that should be enough for you." + +Lady Malloring moved swiftly again toward the bell. She paused +with her hand on it, and said: + +"I am sorry for you two; you have been miserably brought up!" + +There was a silence; then Derek said quietly: + +"Thank you; we shall remember that insult to our people. Don't +ring, please; we're going." + +In a silence if anything more profound than that of their approach, +the two young people retired down the drive. They had not yet +learned--most difficult of lessons--how to believe that people +could in their bones differ from them. It had always seemed to +them that if only they had a chance of putting directly what they +thought, the other side must at heart agree, and only go on saying +they didn't out of mere self-interest. They came away, therefore, +from this encounter with the enemy a little dazed by the discovery +that Lady Malloring in her bones believed that she was right. It +confused them, and heated the fires of their anger. + +They had shaken off all private dust before Sheila spoke. + +"They're all like that--can't see or feel--simply certain they're +superior! It makes--it makes me hate them! It's terrible, +ghastly." And while she stammered out those little stabs of +speech, tears of rage rolled down her cheeks. + +Derek put his arm round her waist. + +"All right! No good groaning; let's think seriously what to do." + +There was comfort to the girl in that curiously sudden reversal of +their usual attitudes. + +"Whatever's done," he went on, "has got to be startling. It's no +good pottering and protesting, any more." And between his teeth he +muttered: "'Men of England, wherefore plough?' . . ." + + +In the room where the encounter had taken place Mildred Malloring +was taking her time to recover. From very childhood she had felt +that the essence of her own goodness, the essence of her duty in +life, was the doing of 'good' to others; from very childhood she +had never doubted that she was in a position to do this, and that +those to whom she did good, although they might kick against it as +inconvenient, must admit that it WAS their 'good.' The thought: +'They don't admit that I am superior!' had never even occurred to +her, so completely was she unselfconscious, in her convinced +superiority. It was hard, indeed, to be flung against such +outspoken rudeness. It shook her more than she gave sign of, for +she was not by any means an insensitive woman--shook her almost to +the point of feeling that there was something in the remonstrance +of those dreadful young people. Yet, how could there be, when no +one knew better than she that the laborers on the Malloring estate +were better off than those on nine out of ten estates; better paid +and better housed, and--better looked after in their morals. Was +she to give up that?--when she knew that she WAS better able to +tell what was good for them than they were themselves. After all, +without stripping herself naked of every thought, experience, and +action since her birth, how could she admit that she was not better +able? And slowly, in the white room with the moss-green carpet, +she recovered, till there was only just a touch of soreness left, +at the injustice implicit in their words. Those two had been +'miserably brought up,' had never had a chance of finding their +proper place, of understanding that they were just two callow young +things, for whom Life had some fearful knocks in store. She could +even feel now that she had meant that saying: 'I am sorry for you +two!' She WAS sorry for them, sorry for their want of manners and +their point of view, neither of which they could help, of course, +with a mother like that. For all her gentleness and sensibility, +there was much practical directness about Mildred Malloring; for +her, a page turned was a page turned, an idea absorbed was never +disgorged; she was of religious temperament, ever trimming her +course down the exact channel marked out with buoys by the Port +Authorities, and really incapable of imagining spiritual wants in +others that could not be satisfied by what satisfied herself. And +this pathetic strength she had in common with many of her fellow +creatures in every class. Sitting down at the writing-table from +which she had been disturbed, she leaned her thin, rather long, +gentle, but stubborn face on her hand, thinking. These Gaunts were +a source of irritation in the parish, a kind of open sore. It +would be better if they could be got rid of before quarter day, up +to which she had weakly said they might remain. Far better for +them to go at once, if it could be arranged. As for the poor +fellow Tryst, thinking that by plunging into sin he could improve +his lot and his poor children's, it was really criminal of those +Freelands to encourage him. She had refrained hitherto from +seriously worrying Gerald on such points of village policy--his +hands were so full; but he must now take his part. And she rang +the bell. + +"Tell Sir Gerald I'd like to see him, please, as soon as he gets +back." + +"Sir Gerald has just come in, my lady." + +"Now, then!" + +Gerald Malloring--an excellent fellow, as could be seen from his +face of strictly Norman architecture, with blue stained-glass +windows rather deep set in--had only one defect: he was not a poet. +Not that this would have seemed to him anything but an advantage, +had he been aware of it. His was one of those high-principled +natures who hold that breadth is synonymous with weakness. It may +be said without exaggeration that the few meetings of his life with +those who had a touch of the poet in them had been exquisitely +uncomfortable. Silent, almost taciturn by nature, he was a great +reader of poetry, and seldom went to sleep without having digested +a page or two of Wordsworth, Milton, Tennyson, or Scott. Byron, +save such poems as 'Don Juan' or 'The Waltz,' he could but did not +read, for fear of setting a bad example. Burns, Shelley, and Keats +he did not care for. Browning pained him, except by such things +as: 'How They Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix' and the +'Cavalier Tunes'; while of 'Omar Khayyam' and 'The Hound of Heaven' +he definitely disapproved. For Shakespeare he had no real liking, +though he concealed this, from humility in the face of accepted +opinion. His was a firm mind, sure of itself, but not self- +assertive. His points were so good, and he had so many of them, +that it was only when he met any one touched with poetry that his +limitations became apparent; it was rare, however, and getting more +so every year, for him to have this unpleasant experience. + +When summoned by his wife, he came in with a wrinkle between his +straight brows; he had just finished a morning's work on a drainage +scheme, like the really good fellow that he was. She greeted him +with a little special smile. Nothing could be friendlier than the +relations between these two. Affection and trust, undeviating +undemonstrativeness, identity of feeling as to religion, children, +property; and, in regard to views on the question of sex, a really +strange unanimity, considering that they were man and woman. + +"It's about these Gaunts, Gerald. I feel they must go at once. +They're only creating bad feeling by staying till quarter day. I +have had the young Freelands here." + +"Those young pups!" + +"Can't it be managed?" + +Malloring did not answer hastily. He had that best point of the +good Englishman, a dislike to being moved out of a course of +conduct by anything save the appeal of his own conscience. + +"I don't know," he said, "why we should alter what we thought was +just. Must give him time to look round and get a job elsewhere." + +"I think the general state of feeling demands it. It's not fair to +the villagers to let the Freelands have such a handle for +agitating. Labor's badly wanted everywhere; he can't have any +difficulty in getting a place, if he likes." + +"No. Only, I rather admire the fellow for sticking by his girl, +though he is such a 'land-lawyer.' I think it's a bit harsh to +move him suddenly." + +"So did I, till I saw from those young furies what harm it's doing. +They really do infect the cottagers. You know how discontent +spreads. And Tryst--they're egging him on, too." + +Malloring very thoughtfully filled a pipe. He was not an alarmist; +if anything, he erred on the side of not being alarmed until it was +all over and there was no longer anything to be alarmed at! His +imagination would then sometimes take fire, and he would say that +such and such, or so and so, was dangerous. + +"I'd rather go and have a talk with Freeland," he said. "He's +queer, but he's not at all a bad chap." + +Lady Malloring rose, and took one of his real-leather buttons in +her hand. + +"My dear Gerald, Mr. Freeland doesn't exist." + +"Don't know about that; a man can always come to life, if he likes, +in his own family." + +Lady Malloring was silent. It was true. For all their unanimity +of thought and feeling, for all the latitude she had in domestic +and village affairs, Gerald had a habit of filling his pipe with +her decisions. Quite honestly, she had no objection to their +becoming smoke through HIS lips, though she might wriggle just a +little. To her credit, she did entirely carry out in her life her +professed belief that husbands should be the forefronts of their +wives. For all that, there burst from her lips the words: + +"That Freeland woman! When I think of the mischief she's always +done here, by her example and her irreligion--I can't forgive her. +I don't believe you'll make any impression on Mr. Freeland; he's +entirely under her thumb." + +Smoking slowly, and looking just over the top of his wife's head, +Malioring answered: + +"I'll have a try; and don't you worry!" + +Lady Malloring turned away. Her soreness still wanted salve. + +"Those two young people," she murmured, "said some very unpleasant +things to me. The boy, I believe, might have some good in him, but +the girl is simply terrible." + +"H'm! I think just the reverse, you know." + +"They'll come to awful grief if they're not brought up sharp. They +ought to be sent to the colonies to learn reality." + +Malloring nodded. + +"Come out, Mildred, and see how they're getting on with the new +vinery." And they went out together through the French window. + +The vinery was of their own designing, and of extraordinary +interest. In contemplation of its lofty glass and aluminium-cased +pipes the feeling of soreness left her. It was very pleasant, +standing with Gerald, looking at what they had planned together; +there was a soothing sense of reality about that visit, after the +morning's happening, with its disappointment, its reminder of +immorality and discontent, and of folk ungrateful for what was done +for their good. And, squeezing her husband's arm, she murmured: + +"It's really exactly what we thought it would be, Gerald!" + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +About five o'clock of that same afternoon, Gerald Malloring went to +see Tod. An open-air man himself, who often deplored the long +hours he was compelled to spend in the special atmosphere of the +House of Commons, he rather envied Tod his existence in this +cottage, crazed from age, and clothed with wistaria, rambler roses, +sweetbrier, honeysuckle, and Virginia creeper. Freeland had, in +his opinion, quite a jolly life of it--the poor fellow not being +able, of course, to help having a cranky wife and children like +that. He pondered, as he went along, over a talk at Becket, when +Stanley, still under the influence of Felix's outburst, had uttered +some rather queer sayings. For instance, he had supposed that they +(meaning, apparently, himself and Malloring) WERE rather unable to +put themselves in the position of these Trysts and Gaunts. He +seemed to speak of them as one might speak generically of Hodge, +which had struck Malloring as singular, it not being his habit to +see anything in common between an individual case, especially on +his own estate, and the ethics of a general proposition. The place +for general propositions was undoubtedly the House of Commons, +where they could be supported one way or the other, out of blue +books. He had little use for them in private life, where +innumerable things such as human nature and all that came into +play. He had stared rather hard at his host when Stanley had +followed up that first remark with: "I'm bound to say, I shouldn't +care to have to get up at half past five, and go out without a +bath!" What that had to do with the land problem or the regulation +of village morality Malloring had been unable to perceive. It all +depended on what one was accustomed to; and in any case threw no +light on the question, as to whether or not he was to tolerate on +his estate conduct of which his wife and himself distinctly +disapproved. At the back of national life there was always this +problem of individual conduct, especially sexual conduct--without +regularity in which, the family, as the unit of national life, was +gravely threatened, to put it on the lowest ground. And he did not +see how to bring it home to the villagers that they had got to be +regular, without making examples now and then. + +He had hoped very much to get through his call without coming +across Freeland's wife and children, and was greatly relieved to +find Tod, seated on a window-sill in front of his cottage, smoking, +and gazing apparently at nothing. In taking the other corner of +the window-sill, the thought passed through his mind that Freeland +was really a very fine-looking fellow. Tod was, indeed, about +Malloring's own height of six feet one, with the same fairness and +straight build of figure and feature. But Tod's head was round and +massive, his hair crisp and uncut; Malloring's head long and +narrow, his hair smooth and close-cropped. Tod's eyes, blue and +deep-set, seemed fixed on the horizon, Malloring's, blue and deep- +set, on the nearest thing they could light on. Tod smiled, as it +were, without knowing; Malloring seemed to know what he was smiling +at almost too well. It was comforting, however, that Freeland was +as shy and silent as himself, for this produced a feeling that +there could not be any real difference between their points of +view. Perceiving at last that if he did not speak they would +continue sitting there dumb till it was time for him to go, +Malloring said: + +"Look here, Freeland; about my wife and yours and Tryst and the +Gaunts, and all the rest of it! It's a pity, isn't it? This is a +small place, you know. What's your own feeling?" + +Tod answered: + +"A man has only one life." + +Malloring was a little puzzled. + +"In this world. I don't follow." + +"Live and let live." + +A part of Malloring undoubtedly responded to that curt saying, a +part of him as strongly rebelled against it; and which impulse he +was going to follow was not at first patent. + +"You see, YOU keep apart," he said at last. "You couldn't say that +so easily if you had, like us, to take up the position in which we +find ourselves." + +"Why take it up?" + +Malloring frowned. "How would things go on?" + +"All right," said Tod. + +Malloring got up from the sill. This was 'laisser-faire' with a +vengeance! Such philosophy had always seemed to him to savor +dangerously of anarchism. And yet twenty years' experience as a +neighbor had shown him that Tod was in himself perhaps the most +harmless person in Worcestershire, and held in a curious esteem by +most of the people about. He was puzzled, and sat down again. + +"I've never had a chance to talk things over with you," he said. +"There are a good few people, Freeland, who can't behave +themselves; we're not bees, you know!" + +He stopped, having an uncomfortable suspicion that his hearer was +not listening. + +"First I've heard this year," said Tod. + +For all the rudeness of that interruption, Malloring felt a stir of +interest. He himself liked birds. Unfortunately, he could hear +nothing but the general chorus of their songs. + +"Thought they'd gone," murmured Tod. + +Malloring again got up. "Look here, Freeland," he said, "I wish +you'd give your mind to this. You really ought not to let your +wife and children make trouble in the village." + +Confound the fellow! He was smiling; there was a sort of twinkle +in his smile, too, that Malloring found infectious! + +"No, seriously," he said, "you don't know what harm you mayn't do." + +"Have you ever watched a dog looking at a fire?" asked Tod. + +"Yes, often; why?" + +"He knows better than to touch it." + +"You mean you're helpless? But you oughtn't to be." + +The fellow was smiling again! + +"Then you don't mean to do anything?" + +Tod shook his head. + +Malloring flushed. "Now, look here, Freeland," he said, "forgive +my saying so, but this strikes me as a bit cynical. D'you think I +enjoy trying to keep things straight?" + +Tod looked up. + +"Birds," he said, "animals, insects, vegetable life--they all eat +each other more or less, but they don't fuss about it." + +Malloring turned abruptly and went down the path. Fuss! He never +fussed. Fuss! The word was an insult, addressed to him! If there +was one thing he detested more than another, whether in public or +private life, it was 'fussing.' Did he not belong to the League +for Suppression of Interference with the Liberty of the Subject? +Was he not a member of the party notoriously opposed to fussy +legislation? Had any one ever used the word in connection with +conduct of his, before? If so, he had never heard them. Was it +fussy to try and help the Church to improve the standard of morals +in the village? Was it fussy to make a simple decision and stick +to it? The injustice of the word really hurt him. And the more it +hurt him, the slower and more dignified and upright became his +march toward his drive gate. + +'Wild geese' in the morning sky had been forerunners; very heavy +clouds were sweeping up from the west, and rain beginning to fall. +He passed an old man leaning on the gate of a cottage garden and +said: "Good evening!" + +The old man touched his hat but did not speak. + +"How's your leg, Gaunt?" + +"'Tis much the same, Sir Gerald." + +"Rain coming makes it shoot, I expect." + +"It do." + +Malloring stood still. The impulse was on him to see if, after +all, the Gaunts' affair could not be disposed of without turning +the old fellow and his son out. + +"Look here!" he said; "about this unfortunate business. Why don't +you and your son make up your minds without more ado to let your +granddaughter go out to service? You've been here all your lives; +I don't want to see you go." + +The least touch of color invaded the old man's carved and grayish +face. + +"Askin' your pardon," he said, "my son sticks by his girl, and I +sticks by my son!" + +"Oh! very well; you know your own business, Gaunt. I spoke for +your good." + +A faint smile curled the corners of old Gaunt's mouth downward +beneath his gray moustaches. + +"Thank you kindly," he said. + +Malloring raised a finger to his cap and passed on. Though he felt +a longing to stride his feelings off, he did not increase his pace, +knowing that the old man's eyes were following him. But how pig- +headed they were, seeing nothing but their own point of view! +Well, he could not alter his decision. They would go at the June +quarter--not a day before, nor after. + +Passing Tryst's cottage, he noticed a 'fly' drawn up outside, and +its driver talking to a woman in hat and coat at the cottage +doorway. She avoided his eye. + +'The wife's sister again!' he thought. 'So that fellow's going to +be an ass, too? Hopeless, stubborn lot!' And his mind passed on +to his scheme for draining the bottom fields at Cantley Bromage. +This village trouble was too small to occupy for long the mind of +one who had so many duties. . . . + +Old Gaunt remained at the gate watching till the tall figure passed +out of sight, then limped slowly down the path and entered his +son's cottage. Tom Gaunt, not long in from work, was sitting in +his shirtsleeves, reading the paper--a short, thick-set man with +small eyes, round, ruddy cheeks, and humorous lips indifferently +concealed by a ragged moustache. Even in repose there was about +him something talkative and disputatious. He was clearly the kind +of man whose eyes and wit would sparkle above a pewter pot. A good +workman, he averaged out an income of perhaps eighteen shillings a +week, counting the two shillings' worth of vegetables that he grew. +His erring daughter washed for two old ladies in a bungalow, so +that with old Gaunt's five shillings from the parish, the total +resources of this family of five, including two small boys at +school, was seven and twenty shillings a week. Quite a sum! His +comparative wealth no doubt contributed to the reputation of Tom +Gaunt, well known as local wag and disturber of political meetings. +His method with these gatherings, whether Liberal or Tory, had a +certain masterly simplicity. By interjecting questions that could +not be understood, and commenting on the answers received, he +insured perpetual laughter, with the most salutary effects on the +over-consideration of any political question, together with a +tendency to make his neighbors say: "Ah! Tom Gaunt, he's a proper +caution, he is!" An encomium dear to his ears. What he seriously +thought about anything in this world, no one knew; but some +suspected him of voting Liberal, because he disturbed their +meetings most. His loyalty to his daughter was not credited to +affection. It was like Tom Gaunt to stick his toes in and kick-- +the Quality, for choice. To look at him and old Gaunt, one would +not have thought they could be son and father, a relationship +indeed ever dubious. As for his wife, she had been dead twelve +years. Some said he had joked her out of life, others that she had +gone into consumption. He was a reader--perhaps the only one in +all the village, and could whistle like a blackbird. To work hard, +but without too great method, to drink hard, but with perfect +method, and to talk nineteen to the dozen anywhere except at home-- +was his mode of life. In a word, he was a 'character.' + +Old Gaunt sat down in a wooden rocking-chair, and spoke. + +"Sir Gerald 'e've a-just passed." + +"Sir Gerald 'e can goo to hell. They'll know un there, by 'is +little ears." + +"'E've a-spoke about us stoppin'; so as Mettie goes out to +sarvice." + +"'E've a-spoke about what 'e don't know 'bout, then. Let un do +what they like, they can't put Tom Gaunt about; he can get work +anywhere--Tom Gaunt can, an' don't you forget that, old man." + +The old man, placing his thin brown hands on his knees, was silent. +And thoughts passed through and through him. 'If so be as Tom +goes, there'll be no one as'll take me in for less than three bob a +week. Two bob a week, that's what I'll 'ave to feed me--Two bob a +week--two bob a week! But if so be's I go with Tom, I'll 'ave to +reg'lar sit down under he for me bread and butter.' And he +contemplated his son. + +"Where are you goin', then?" he said. + +Tom Gaunt rustled the greenish paper he was reading, and his +little, hard gray eyes fixed his father. + +"Who said I was going?" + +Old Gaunt, smoothing and smoothing the lined, thin cheeks of the +parchmenty, thin-nosed face that Frances Freeland had thought to be +almost like a gentleman's, answered: "I thart you said you was +goin'." + +"You think too much, then--that's what 'tis. You think too much, +old man." + +With a slight deepening of the sardonic patience in his face, old +Gaunt rose, took a bowl and spoon down from a shelf, and very +slowly proceeded to make himself his evening meal. It consisted of +crusts of bread soaked in hot water and tempered with salt, pepper, +onion, and a touch of butter. And while he waited, crouched over +the kettle, his son smoked his grayish clay and read his greenish +journal; an old clock ticked and a little cat purred without +provocation on the ledge of the tight-closed window. Then the door +opened and the rogue-girl appeared. She shook her shoulders as +though to dismiss the wetting she had got, took off her turn-down, +speckly, straw hat, put on an apron, and rolled up her sleeves. +Her arms were full and firm and red; the whole of her was full and +firm. From her rosy cheeks to her stout ankles she was +superabundant with vitality, the strangest contrast to her shadowy, +thin old grandfather. About the preparation of her father's tea +she moved with a sort of brooding stolidity, out of which would +suddenly gleam a twinkle of rogue-sweetness, as when she stopped to +stroke the little cat or to tickle the back of her grandfather's +lean neck in passing. Having set the tea, she stood by the table +and said slowly: "Tea's ready, father. I'm goin' to London." + +Tom Gaunt put down his pipe and journal, took his seat at the +table, filled his mouth with sausage, and said: "You're goin' where +I tell you." + +"I'm goin' to London." + +Tom Gaunt stayed the morsel in one cheek and fixed her with his +little, wild boar's eye. + +"Ye're goin' to catch the stick," he said. "Look here, my girl, +Tom Gaunt's been put about enough along of you already. Don't you +make no mistake." + +"I'm goin' to London," repeated the rogue-girl stolidly. "You can +get Alice to come over." + +"Oh! Can I? Ye're not goin' till I tell you. Don't you think +it!" + +"I'm goin'. I saw Mr. Derek this mornin'. They'll get me a place +there." + +Tom Gaunt remained with his fork as it were transfixed. The effort +of devising contradiction to the chief supporters of his own +rebellion was for the moment too much for him. He resumed +mastication. + +"You'll go where I want you to go; and don't you think you can tell +me where that is." + +In the silence that ensued the only sound was that of old Gaunt +supping at his crusty-broth. Then the rogue-girl went to the +window and, taking the little cat on her breast, sat looking out +into the rain. Having finished his broth, old Gaunt got up, and, +behind his son's back, he looked at his granddaughter and thought: + +'Goin' to London! 'Twud be best for us all. WE shudn' need to be +movin', then. Goin' to London!' But he felt desolate. + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +When Spring and first love meet in a girl's heart, then the birds +sing. + +The songs that blackbirds and dusty-coated thrushes flung through +Nedda's window when she awoke in Hampstead those May mornings +seemed to have been sung by herself all night. Whether the sun +were flashing on the leaves, or rain-drops sieving through on a +sou'west wind, the same warmth glowed up in her the moment her eyes +opened. Whether the lawn below were a field of bright dew, or dry +and darkish in a shiver of east wind, her eyes never grew dim all +day; and her blood felt as light as ostrich feathers. + +Stormed by an attack of his cacoethes scribendi, after those few +blank days at Becket, Felix saw nothing amiss with his young +daughter. The great observer was not observant of things that +other people observed. Neither he nor Flora, occupied with matters +of more spiritual importance, could tell, offhand, for example, on +which hand a wedding-ring was worn. They had talked enough of +Becket and the Tods to produce the impression on Flora's mind that +one day or another two young people would arrive in her house on a +visit; but she had begun a poem called 'Dionysus at the Well,' and +Felix himself had plunged into a satiric allegory entitled 'The +Last of the Laborers.' Nedda, therefore, walked alone; but at her +side went always an invisible companion. In that long, imaginary +walking-out she gave her thoughts and the whole of her heart, and +to be doing this never surprised her, who, before, had not given +them whole to anything. A bee knows the first summer day and +clings intoxicated to its flowers; so did Nedda know and cling. +She wrote him two letters and he wrote her one. It was not poetry; +indeed, it was almost all concerned with Wilmet Gaunt, asking Nedda +to find a place in London where the girl could go; but it ended +with the words: + + +"Your lover, + +"DEREK." + + +This letter troubled Nedda. She would have taken it at once to +Felix or to Flora if it had not been for the first words, "Dearest +Nedda," and those last three. Except her mother, she instinctively +distrusted women in such a matter as that of Wilmet Gaunt, feeling +they would want to know more than she could tell them, and not be +too tolerant of what they heard. Casting about, at a loss, she +thought suddenly of Mr. Cuthcott. + +At dinner that day she fished round carefully. Felix spoke of him +almost warmly. What Cuthcott could have been doing at Becket, of +all places, he could not imagine--the last sort of man one expected +to see there; a good fellow, rather desperate, perhaps, as men of +his age were apt to get if they had too many women, or no woman, +about them. + +Which, said Nedda, had Mr. Cuthcott? + +Oh! None. How had he struck Nedda? And Felix looked at his +little daughter with a certain humble curiosity. He always felt +that the young instinctively knew so much more than he did. + +"I liked him awfully. He was like a dog." + +"Ah!" said Felix, "he IS like a dog--very honest; he grins and runs +about the city, and might be inclined to bay the moon." + +'I don't mind that,' Nedda thought, 'so long as he's not +"superior."' + +"He's very human," Felix added. + +And having found out that he lived in Gray's Inn, Nedda thought: 'I +will; I'll ask him.' + +To put her project into execution, she wrote this note: + + +"DEAR MR. CUTHCOTT: + +"You were so kind as to tell me you wouldn't mind if I bothered you +about things. I've got a very bothery thing to know what to do +about, and I would be so glad of your advice. It so happens that I +can't ask my father and mother. I hope you won't think me very +horrible, wasting your time. And please say no, if you'd rather. + +"Yours sincerely, + +"NEDDA FREELAND." + + +The answer came: + + +"DEAR MISS FREELAND: + +"Delighted. But if very bothery, better save time and ink, and +have a snack of lunch with me to-morrow at the Elgin restaurant, +close to the British Museum. Quiet and respectable. No flowers by +request. One o'clock. + +"Very truly yours, + +"GILES CUTHCOTT." + + +Putting on 'no flowers' and with a fast-beating heart, Nedda, went +on her first lonely adventure. To say truth she did not know in +the least how ever she was going to ask this almost strange man +about a girl of doubtful character. But she kept saying to +herself: 'I don't care--he has nice eyes.' And her spirit would +rise as she got nearer, because, after all, she was going to find +things out, and to find things out was jolly. The new warmth and +singing in her heart had not destroyed, but rather heightened, her +sense of the extraordinary interest of all things that be. And +very mysterious to her that morning was the kaleidoscope of Oxford +Street and its innumerable girls, and women, each going about her +business, with a life of her own that was not Nedda's. For men she +had little use just now, they had acquired a certain insignificance, +not having gray-black eyes that smoked and flared, nor Harris tweed +suits that smelled delicious. Only once on her journey from Oxford +Circus she felt the sense of curiosity rise in her, in relation to +a man, and this was when she asked a policeman at Tottenham Court +Road, and he put his head down fully a foot to listen to her. So +huge, so broad, so red in the face, so stolid, it seemed wonderful +to her that he paid her any attention! If he were a human being, +could she really be one, too? But that, after all, was no more +odd than everything. Why, for instance, the spring flowers in +that woman's basket had been born; why that high white cloud +floated over; why and what was Nedda Freeland? + +At the entrance of the little restaurant she saw Mr. Cuthcott +waiting. In a brown suit, with his pale but freckled face, and his +gnawed-at, sandy moustache, and his eyes that looked out and +beyond, he was certainly no beauty. But Nedda thought: 'He's even +nicer than I remembered, and I'm sure he knows a lot.' + +At first, to be sitting opposite to him, in front of little plates +containing red substances and small fishes, was so exciting that +she simply listened to his rapid, rather stammering voice +mentioning that the English had no idea of life or cookery, that +God had so made this country by mistake that everything, even the +sun, knew it. What, however, would she drink? Chardonnet? It +wasn't bad here. + +She assented, not liking to confess that she did not know what +Chardonnet might be, and hoping it was some kind of sherbet. She +had never yet drunk wine, and after a glass felt suddenly extremely +strong. + +"Well," said Mr. Cuthcott, and his eyes twinkled, "what's your +botheration? I suppose you want to strike out for yourself. MY +daughters did that without consulting me." + +"Oh! Have you got daughters?" + +"Yes--funny ones; older than you." + +"That's why you understand, then" + +Mr. Cuthcott smiled. "They WERE a liberal education!" + +And Nedda thought: 'Poor Dad, I wonder if I am!' + +"Yes," Mr. Cuthcott murmured, "who would think a gosling would ever +become a goose?" + +"Ah!" said Nedda eagerly, "isn't it wonderful how things grow?" + +She felt his eyes suddenly catch hold of hers. + +"You're in love!" he said. + +It seemed to her a great piece of luck that he had found that out. +It made everything easy at once, and her words came out pell-mell. + +"Yes, and I haven't told my people yet. I don't seem able. He's +given me something to do, and I haven't much experience." + +A funny little wriggle passed over Mr. Cuthcott's face. "Yes, yes; +go on! Tell us about it." + +She took a sip from her glass, and the feeling that he had been +going to laugh passed away. + +"It's about the daughter of a laborer, down there in Worcestershire, +where he lives, not very far from Becket. He's my cousin, Derek, +the son of my other uncle at Joyfields. He and his sister feel +most awfully strongly about the laborers." + +"Ah!" said Mr. Cuthcott, "the laborers! Queer how they're in the +air, all of a sudden." + +"This girl hasn't been very good, and she has to go from the +village, or else her family have. He wants me to find a place for +her in London." + +"I see; and she hasn't been very good?" + +"Not very." She knew that her cheeks were flushing, but her eyes +felt steady, and seeing that his eyes never moved, she did not +mind. She went on: + +"It's Sir Gerald Malloring's estate. Lady Malloring--won't--" + +She heard a snap. Mr. Cuthcott's mouth had closed. + +"Oh!" he said, "say no more!" + +'He CAN bite nicely!' she thought. + +Mr. Cuthcott, who had begun lightly thumping the little table with +his open hand, broke out suddenly: + +"That petty bullying in the country! I know it! My God! Those +prudes, those prisms! They're the ruination of half the girls on +the--" He looked at Nedda and stopped short. "If she can do any +kind of work, I'll find her a place. In fact, she'd better come, +for a start, under my old housekeeper. Let your cousin know; she +can turn up any day. Name? Wilmet Gaunt? Right you are!" He +wrote it on his cuff. + +Nedda rose to her feet, having an inclination to seize his hand, or +stroke his head, or something. She subsided again with a fervid +sigh, and sat exchanging with him a happy smile. At last she said: + +"Mr. Cuthcott, is there any chance of things like that changing?" + +"Changing?" He certainly had grown paler, and was again lightly +thumping the table. "Changing? By gum! It's got to change! This +d--d pluto-aristocratic ideal! The weed's so grown up that it's +choking us. Yes, Miss Freeland, whether from inside or out I don't +know yet, but there's a blazing row coming. Things are going to be +made new before long." + +Under his thumps the little plates had begun to rattle and leap. +And Nedda thought: 'I DO like him.' + +But she said anxiously: + +"You believe there's something to be done, then? Derek is simply +full of it; I want to feel like that, too, and I mean to." + +His face grew twinkly; he put out his hand. And wondering a little +whether he meant her to, Nedda timidly stretched forth her own and +grasped it. + +"I like you," he said. "Love your cousin and don't worry." + +Nedda's eyes slipped into the distance. + +"But I'm afraid for him. If you saw him, you'd know." + +"One's always afraid for the fellows that are worth anything. +There was another young Freeland at your uncle's the other night--" + +"My brother Alan!" + +"Oh! your brother? Well, I wasn't afraid for him, and it seemed a +pity. Have some of this; it's about the only thing they do well +here." + +"Oh, thank you, no. I've had a lovely lunch. Mother and I +generally have about nothing." And clasping her hands she added: + +"This is a secret, isn't it, Mr. Cuthcott?" + +"Dead." + +He laughed and his face melted into a mass of wrinkles. Nedda +laughed also and drank up the rest of her wine. She felt blissful. + +"Yes," said Mr. Cuthcott, "there's nothing like loving. How long +have you been at it?" + +"Only five days, but it's everything." + +Mr. Cuthcott sighed. "That's right. When you can't love, the only +thing is to hate." + +"Oh!" said Nedda. + +Mr. Cuthcott again began banging on the little table. "Look at +them, look at them!" His eyes wandered angrily about the room, +wherein sat some few who had passed though the mills of gentility. +"What do they know of life? Where are their souls and sympathies? +They haven't any. I'd like to see their blood flow, the silly +brutes." + +Nedda looked at them with alarm and curiosity. They seemed to her +somewhat like everybody she knew. She said timidly: "Do you think +OUR blood ought to flow, too?" + +Mr. Cuthcott relapsed into twinkles. "Rather! Mine first!" + +'He IS human!' thought Nedda. And she got up: "I'm afraid I ought +to go now. It's been awfully nice. Thank you so very much. Good- +by!" + +He shook her firm little hand with his frail thin one, and stood +smiling till the restaurant door cut him off from her view. + +The streets seemed so gorgeously full of life now that Nedda's head +swam. She looked at it all with such absorption that she could not +tell one thing from another. It seemed rather long to the +Tottenham Court Road, though she noted carefully the names of all +the streets she passed, and was sure she had not missed it. She +came at last to one called POULTRY. 'Poultry!' she thought; 'I +should have remembered that--Poultry?' And she laughed. It was so +sweet and feathery a laugh that the driver of an old four-wheeler +stopped his horse. He was old and anxious-looking, with a gray +beard and deep folds in his red cheeks. + +"Poultry!" she said. "Please, am I right for the Tottenham Court +Road?" + +The old man answered: "Glory, no, miss; you're goin' East!" + +'East!' thought Nedda; 'I'd better take him.' And she got in. She +sat in the four-wheeler, smiling. And how far this was due to +Chardonnet she did not consider. She was to love and not worry. +It was wonderful! In this mood she was put down, still smiling, at +the Tottenham Court Road Tube, and getting out her purse she +prepared to pay the cabman. The fare would be a shilling, but she +felt like giving him two. He looked so anxious and worn, in spite +of his red face. He took them, looked at her, and said: "Thank +you, miss; I wanted that." + +"Oh!" murmured Nedda, "then please take this, too. It's all I +happen to have, except my Tube fare." + +The old man took it, and water actually ran along his nose. + +"God bless yer!" he said. And taking up his whip, he drove off +quickly. + +Rather choky, but still glowing, Nedda descended to her train. It +was not till she was walking to the Spaniard's Road that a cloud +seemed to come over her sky, and she reached home dejected. + +In the garden of the Freelands' old house was a nook shut away by +berberis and rhododendrons, where some bees were supposed to make +honey, but, knowing its destination, and belonging to a union, made +no more than they were obliged. In this retreat, which contained a +rustic bench, Nedda was accustomed to sit and read; she went there +now. And her eyes began filling with tears. Why must the poor old +fellow who had driven her look so anxious and call on God to bless +her for giving him that little present? Why must people grow old +and helpless, like that Grandfather Gaunt she had seen at Becket? +Why was there all the tyranny that made Derek and Sheila so wild? +And all the grinding poverty that she herself could see when she +went with her mother to their Girls' Club, in Bethnal Green? What +was the use of being young and strong if nothing happened, nothing +was really changed, so that one got old and died seeing still the +same things as before? What was the use even of loving, if love +itself had to yield to death? The trees! How they grew from tiny +seeds to great and beautiful things, and then slowly, slowly dried +and decayed away to dust. What was the good of it all? What +comfort was there in a God so great and universal that he did not +care to keep her and Derek alive and loving forever, and was not +interested enough to see that the poor old cab-driver should not be +haunted day and night with fear of the workhouse for himself and an +old wife, perhaps? Nedda's tears fell fast, and how far THIS was +Chardonnet no one could tell. + +Felix, seeking inspiration from the sky in regard to 'The Last of +the Laborers,' heard a noise like sobbing, and, searching, found +his little daughter sitting there and crying as if her heart would +break. The sight was so unusual and so utterly disturbing that he +stood rooted, quite unable to bring her help. Should he sneak +away? Should he go for Flora? What should he do? Like many men +whose work keeps them centred within themselves, he instinctively +avoided everything likely to pain or trouble him; for this reason, +when anything did penetrate those mechanical defences he became +almost strangely tender. Loath, for example, to believe that any +one was ill, if once convinced of it, he made so good a nurse that +Flora, at any rate, was in the habit of getting well with +suspicious alacrity. Thoroughly moved now, he sat down on the +bench beside Nedda, and said: + +"My darling!" + +She leaned her forehead against his arm and sobbed the more. + +Felix waited, patting her far shoulder gently. + +He had often dealt with such situations in his books, and now that +one had come true was completely at a loss. He could not even +begin to remember what was usually said or done, and he only made +little soothing noises. + +To Nedda this tenderness brought a sudden sharp sense of guilt and +yearning. She began: + +"It's not because of that I'm crying, Dad, but I want you to know +that Derek and I are in love." + +The words: 'You! What! In those few days!' rose, and got as far +as Felix's teeth; he swallowed them and went on patting her +shoulder. Nedda in love! He felt blank and ashy. That special +feeling of owning her more than any one else, which was so warming +and delightful, so really precious--it would be gone! What right +had she to take it from him, thus, without warning! Then he +remembered how odious he had always said the elderly were, to spoke +the wheels of youth, and managed to murmur: + +"Good luck to you, my pretty!" + +He said it, conscious that a father ought to be saying: + +'You're much too young, and he's your cousin!' But what a father +ought to say appeared to him just then both sensible and +ridiculous. Nedda rubbed her cheek against his hand. + +"It won't make any difference, Dad, I promise you!" + +And Felix thought: 'Not to you, only to me!' But he said: + +"Not a scrap, my love! What WERE you crying about?" + +"About the world; it seems so heartless." + +And she told him about the water that had run along the nose of the +old four-wheeler man. + +But while he seemed to listen, Felix thought: 'I wish to God I were +made of leather; then I shouldn't feel as if I'd lost the warmth +inside me. I mustn't let her see. Fathers ARE queer--I always +suspected that. There goes my work for a good week!' Then he +answered: + +"No, my dear, the world is not heartless; it's only arranged +according to certain necessary contraries: No pain, no pleasure; no +dark, no light, and the rest of it. If you think, it couldn't be +arranged differently." + +As he spoke a blackbird came running with a chuckle from underneath +the berberis, looked at them with alarm, and ran back. Nedda +raised her face. + +"Dad, I mean to do something with my life!" + +Felix answered: + +"Yes. That's right." + +But long after Nedda had fallen into dreams that night, he lay +awake, with his left foot enclosed between Floras', trying to +regain that sense of warmth which he knew he must never confess to +having lost. + + +CHAPTER XV + + +Flora took the news rather with the air of a mother-dog that says +to her puppy: "Oh, very well, young thing! Go and stick your teeth +in it and find out for yourself!" Sooner or later this always +happened, and generally sooner nowadays. Besides, she could not +help feeling that she would get more of Felix, to her a matter of +greater importance than she gave sign of. But inwardly the news +had given her a shock almost as sharp as that felt by him. Was she +really the mother of one old enough to love? Was the child that +used to cuddle up to her in the window-seat to be read to, gone +from her; that used to rush in every morning at all inconvenient +moments of her toilet; that used to be found sitting in the dark on +the stairs, like a little sleepy owl, because, for-sooth, it was so +'cosey'? + +Not having seen Derek, she did not as yet share her husband's +anxiety on that score, though his description was dubious: + +"Upstanding young cockerel, swinging his sporran and marching to +pipes--a fine spurn about him! Born to trouble, if I know +anything, trying to sweep the sky with his little broom!" + +"Is he a prig?" + +"No-o. There's simplicity about his scorn, and he seems to have +been brought up on facts, not on literature, like most of these +young monkeys. The cousinship I don't think matters; Kirsteen +brings in too strong an out-strain. He's HER son, not Tod's. But +perhaps," he added, sighing, "it won't last." + +Flora shook her head. "It will last!" she said; "Nedda's deep." + +And if Nedda held, so would Fate; no one would throw Nedda over! +They naturally both felt that. 'Dionysus at the Well,' no less +than 'The Last of the Laborers,' had a light week of it. + +Though in a sense relieved at having parted with her secret, Nedda +yet felt that she had committed desecration. Suppose Derek should +mind her people knowing! + +On the day that he and Sheila were to come, feeling she could not +trust herself to seem even reasonably calm, she started out, +meaning to go to the South Kensington Museum and wander the time +away there; but once out-of-doors the sky seemed what she wanted, +and, turning down the hill on the north side, she sat down under a +gorse bush. Here tramps, coming in to London, passed the night +under the stars; here was a vision, however dim, of nature. And +nature alone could a little soothe her ecstatic nerves. + +How would he greet her? Would he be exactly as he was when they +stood at the edge of Tod's orchard, above the dreamy, darkening +fields, joining hands and lips, moved as they had never been moved +before? + +May blossom was beginning to come out along the hedge of the +private grounds that bordered that bit of Cockney Common, and from +it, warmed by the sun, the scent stole up to her. Familiar, like +so many children of the cultured classes, with the pagan and fairy- +tales of nature, she forgot them all the moment she was really by +herself with earth and sky. In their breadth, their soft and +stirring continuity, they rejected bookish fancy, and woke in her +rapture and yearning, a sort of long delight, a never-appeased +hunger. Crouching, hands round knees, she turned her face to get +the warmth of the sun, and see the white clouds go slowly by, and +catch all the songs that the birds sang. And every now and then +she drew a deep breath. It was true what Dad had said: There was +no real heartlessness in nature. It was warm, beating, breathing. +And if things ate each other, what did it matter? They had lived +and died quickly, helping to make others live. The sacred swing +and circle of it went on forever, full and harmonious under the +lighted sky, under the friendly stars. It was wonderful to be +alive! And all done by love. Love! More, more, more love! And +then death, if it must come! For, after all, to Nedda death was so +far away, so unimaginably dim and distant, that it did not really +count. + +While she sat, letting her fingers, that were growing slowly black, +scrabble the grass and fern, a feeling came on her of a Presence, a +creature with wings above and around, that seemed to have on its +face a long, mysterious smile of which she, Nedda, was herself a +tiny twinkle. She would bring Derek here. They two would sit +together and let the clouds go over them, and she would learn all +that he really thought, and tell him all her longings and fears; +they would be silent, too, loving each other too much to talk. She +made elaborate plans of what they were to do and see, beginning +with the East End and the National Gallery, and ending with sunrise +from Parliament Hill; but she somehow knew that nothing would +happen as she had designed. If only the first moment were not +different from what she hoped! + +She sat there so long that she rose quite stiff, and so hungry that +she could not help going home and stealing into the kitchen. It +was three o'clock, and the old cook, as usual, asleep in an +armchair, with her apron thrown up between her face and the fire. +What would Cookie say if she knew? In that oven she had been +allowed to bake in fancy perfect little doll loaves, while Cookie +baked them in reality. Here she had watched the mysterious making +of pink cream, had burned countless 'goes' of toffy, and cocoanut +ice; and tasted all kinds of loveliness. Dear old Cookie! +Stealing about on tiptoe, seeking what she might devour, she found +four small jam tarts and ate them, while the cook snored softly. +Then, by the table, that looked so like a great loaf-platter, she +stood contemplating cook. Old darling, with her fat, pale, crumply +face! Hung to the dresser, opposite, was a little mahogany +looking-glass tilted forward. Nedda could see herself almost down +to her toes. 'I mean to be prettier than I am!' she thought, +putting her hands on her waist. 'I wonder if I can pull them in a +bit!' Sliding her fingers under her blouse, she began to pull at +certain strings. They would not budge. They were loose, yes, +really too comfortable. She would have to get the next size +smaller! And dropping her chin, she rubbed it on the lace edging +of her chest, where it felt warm and smelled piny. Had Cookie ever +been in love? Her gray hairs were coming, poor old duck! The +windows, where a protection of wire gauze kept out the flies, were +opened wide, and the sun shone in and dimmed the fire. The kitchen +clock ticked like a conscience; a faint perfume of frying-pan and +mint scented the air. And, for the first time since this new +sensation of love had come to her, Nedda felt as if a favorite +book, read through and done with, were dropping from her hands. +The lovely times in that kitchen, in every nook of that old house +and garden, would never come again! Gone! She felt suddenly cast +down to sadness. They HAD been lovely times! To be deserting in +spirit all that had been so good to her--it seemed like a crime! +She slid down off the table and, passing behind the cook, put her +arms round those substantial sides. Without meaning to, out of +sheer emotion, she pressed them somewhat hard, and, as from a +concertina emerges a jerked and drawn-out chord, so from the cook +came a long, quaking sound; her apron fell, her body heaved, and +her drowsy, flat, soft voice, greasy from pondering over dishes, +murmured: + +"Ah, Miss Nedda! it's you, my dear! Bless your pretty 'eart." + +But down Nedda's cheeks, behind her, rolled two tears. + +"Cookie, oh, Cookie!" And she ran out. . . . + +And the first moment? It was like nothing she had dreamed of. +Strange, stiff! One darting look, and then eyes down; one +convulsive squeeze, then such a formal shake of hot, dry hands, and +off he had gone with Felix to his room, and she with Sheila to +hers, bewildered, biting down consternation, trying desperately to +behave 'like a little lady,' as her old nurse would have put it-- +before Sheila, especially, whose hostility she knew by instinct she +had earned. All that evening, furtive watching, formal talk, and +underneath a ferment of doubt and fear and longing. All a mistake! +An awful mistake! Did he love her? Heaven! If he did not, she +could never face any one again. He could not love her! His eyes +were like those of a swan when its neck is drawn up and back in +anger. Terrible--having to show nothing, having to smile at +Sheila, at Dad, and Mother! And when at last she got to her room, +she stood at the window and at first simply leaned her forehead +against the glass and shivered. What had she done? Had she +dreamed it all--dreamed that they had stood together under those +boughs in the darkness, and through their lips exchanged their +hearts? She must have dreamed it! Dreamed that most wonderful, +false dream! And the walk home in the thunder-storm, and his arm +round her, and her letters, and his letter--dreamed it all! And +now she was awake! From her lips came a little moan, and she sank +down huddled, and stayed there ever so long, numb and chilly. +Undress--go to bed? Not for the world. By the time the morning +came she had got to forget that she had dreamed. For very shame +she had got to forget that; no one should see. Her cheeks and ears +and lips were burning, but her body felt icy cold. Then--what time +she did not know at all--she felt she must go out and sit on the +stairs. They had always been her comforters, those wide, shallow, +cosey stairs. Out and down the passage, past all their rooms--his +the last--to the dark stairs, eerie at night, where the scent of +age oozed out of the old house. All doors below, above, were +closed; it was like looking down into a well, to sit with her head +leaning against the banisters. And silent, so silent--just those +faint creakings that come from nowhere, as it might be the +breathing of the house. She put her arms round a cold banister and +hugged it hard. It hurt her, and she embraced it the harder. The +first tears of self-pity came welling up, and without warning a +great sob burst out of her. Alarmed at the sound, she smothered +her mouth with her arm. No good; they came breaking out! A door +opened; all the blood rushed to her heart and away from it, and +with a little dreadful gurgle she was silent. Some one was +listening. How long that terrible listening lasted she had no +idea; then footsteps, and she was conscious that it was standing in +the dark behind her. A foot touched her back. She gave a little +gasp. Derek's voice whispered hoarsely: + +"What? Who are you?" + +And, below her breath, she answered: "Nedda." + +His arms wrenched her away from the banister, his voice in her ear +said: + +"Nedda, darling, Nedda!" + +But despair had sunk too deep; she could only quiver and shake and +try to drive sobbing out of her breath. Then, most queer, not his +words, nor the feel of his arms, comforted her--any one could +pity!--but the smell and the roughness of his Norfolk jacket. So +he, too, had not been in bed; he, too, had been unhappy! And, +burying her face in his sleeve, she murmured: + +"Oh, Derek! Why?" + +"I didn't want them all to see. I can't bear to give it away. +Nedda, come down lower and let's love each other!" + +Softly, stumbling, clinging together, they went down to the last +turn of the wide stairs. How many times had she not sat there, in +white frocks, her hair hanging down as now, twisting the tassels of +little programmes covered with hieroglyphics only intelligible to +herself, talking spasmodically to spasmodic boys with budding +'tails,' while Chinese lanterns let fall their rose and orange +light on them and all the other little couples as exquisitely +devoid of ease. Ah! it was worth those hours of torture to sit +there together now, comforting each other with hands and lips and +whisperings. It was more, as much more than that moment in the +orchard, as sun shining after a Spring storm is more than sun in +placid mid-July. To hear him say: "Nedda, I love you!" to feel it +in his hand clasped on her heart was much more, now that she knew +how difficult it was for him to say or show it, except in the dark +with her alone. Many a long day they might have gone through +together that would not have shown her so much of his real heart as +that hour of whispering and kisses. + +He had known she was unhappy, and yet he couldn't! It had only +made him more dumb! It was awful to be like that! But now that +she knew, she was glad to think that it was buried so deep in him +and kept for her alone. And if he did it again she would just know +that it was only shyness and pride. And he was not a brute and a +beast, as he insisted. But suppose she had chanced not to come +out! Would she ever have lived through the night? And she shivered. + +"Are you cold, darling? Put on my coat." + +It was put on her in spite of all effort to prevent him. Never was +anything so warm, so delicious, wrapping her in something more than +Harris tweed. And the hall clock struck--Two! + +She could just see his face in the glimmer that filtered from the +skylight at the top. And she felt that he was learning her, +learning all that she had to give him, learning the trust that was +shining through her eyes. There was just enough light for them to +realize the old house watching from below and from above--a glint +on the dark floor there, on the dark wall here; a blackness that +seemed to be inhabited by some spirit, so that their hands clutched +and twitched, when the tiny, tiny noises of Time, playing in wood +and stone, clicked out. + +That stare of the old house, with all its knowledge of lives past, +of youth and kisses spent and gone, of hopes spun and faiths +abashed, the old house cynical, stirred in them desire to clutch +each other close and feel the thrill of peering out together into +mystery that must hold for them so much of love and joy and +trouble! And suddenly she put her fingers to his face, passed them +softly, clingingly, over his hair, forehead, eyes, traced the sharp +cheek-bones down to his jaw, round by the hard chin up to his lips, +over the straight bone of his nose, lingering, back, to his eyes +again. + +"Now, if I go blind, I shall know you. Give me one kiss, Derek. +You MUST be tired." + +Buried in the old dark house that kiss lasted long; then, +tiptoeing--she in front--pausing at every creak, holding breath, +they stole up to their rooms. And the clock struck--Three! + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +Felix (nothing if not modern) had succumbed already to the feeling +that youth ruled the roost. Whatever his misgivings, his and +Flora's sense of loss, Nedda must be given a free hand! Derek gave +no outward show of his condition, and but for his little daughter's +happy serenity Felix would have thought as she had thought that +first night. He had a feeling that his nephew rather despised one +so soaked in mildness and reputation as Felix Freeland; and he got +on better with Sheila, not because she was milder, but because she +was devoid of that scornful tang which clung about her brother. +No! Sheila was not mild. Rich-colored, downright of speech, with +her mane of short hair, she was a no less startling companion. The +smile of Felix had never been more whimsically employed than during +that ten-day visit. The evening John Freeland came to dinner was +the highwater mark of his alarmed amusement. Mr. Cuthcott, also +bidden, at Nedda's instigation, seemed to take a mischievous +delight in drawing out those two young people in face of their +official uncle. The pleasure of the dinner to Felix--and it was +not too great--was in watching Nedda's face. She hardly spoke, but +how she listened! Nor did Derek say much, but what he did say had +a queer, sarcastic twinge about it. + +"An unpleasant young man," was John's comment afterward. "How the +deuce did he ever come to be Tod's son? Sheila, of course, is one +of these hot-headed young women that make themselves a nuisance +nowadays, but she's intelligible. By the way, that fellow +Cuthcott's a queer chap!" + +One subject of conversation at dinner had been the morality of +revolutionary violence. And the saying that had really upset John +had been Derek's: "Conflagration first--morality afterward!" He +had looked at his nephew from under brows which a constant need for +rejecting petitions to the Home Office had drawn permanently down +and in toward the nose, and made no answer. + +To Felix these words had a more sinister significance. With his +juster appreciation both of the fiery and the official points of +view, his far greater insight into his nephew than ever John would +have, he saw that they were more than a mere arrow of controversy. +And he made up his mind that night that he would tackle his nephew +and try to find out exactly what was smouldering within that crisp, +black pate. + +Following him into the garden next morning, he said to himself: 'No +irony--that's fatal. Man to man--or boy to boy--whichever it is!' +But, on the garden path, alongside that young spread-eagle, whose +dark, glowering, self-contained face he secretly admired, he merely +began: + +"How do you like your Uncle John?" + +"He doesn't like me, Uncle Felix." + +Somewhat baffled, Felix proceeded: + +"I say, Derek, fortunately or unfortunately, I've some claim now to +a little knowledge of you. You've got to open out a bit to me. +What are you going to do with yourself in life? You can't support +Nedda on revolution." + +Having drawn this bow at a venture, he paused, doubtful of his +wisdom. A glance at Derek's face confirmed his doubt. It was +closer than ever, more defiant. + +"There's a lot of money in revolution, Uncle Felix--other +people's." + +Dash the young brute! There was something in him! He swerved off +to a fresh line. + +"How do you like London?" + +"I don't like it. But, Uncle Felix, don't you wish YOU were seeing +it for the first time? What books you'd write!" + +Felix felt that unconscious thrust go 'home.' Revolt against +staleness and clipped wings, against the terrible security of his +too solid reputation, smote him. + +"What strikes you most about it, then?" he asked. + +"That it ought to be jolly well blown up. Everybody seems to know +that, too--they look it, anyway, and yet they go on as if it +oughtn't." + +"Why ought it to be blown up?" + +"Well, what's the good of anything while London and all these other +big towns are sitting on the country's chest? England must have +been a fine place once, though!" + +"Some of us think it a fine place still." + +"Of course it is, in a way. But anything new and keen gets sat on. +England's like an old tom-cat by the fire: too jolly comfortable +for anything!" + +At this support to his own theory that the country was going to the +dogs, owing to such as John and Stanley, Felix thought: 'Out of the +mouths of babes!' But he merely said: "You're a cheerful young +man!" + +"It's got cramp," Derek muttered; "can't even give women votes. +Fancy my mother without a vote! And going to wait till every +laborer is off the land before it attends to them. It's like the +port you gave us last night, Uncle Felix, wonderful crust!" + +"And what is to be your contribution to its renovation?" + +Derek's face instantly resumed its peculiar defiant smile, and +Felix thought: 'Young beggar! He's as close as wax.' After their +little talk, however, he had more understanding of his nephew. His +defiant self-sufficiency seemed more genuine. . . . + +In spite of his sensations when dining with Felix, John Freeland +(little if not punctilious) decided that it was incumbent on him to +have the 'young Tods' to dinner, especially since Frances Freeland +had come to stay with him the day after the arrival of those two +young people at Hampstead. She had reached Porchester Gardens +faintly flushed from the prospect of seeing darling John, with one +large cane trunk, and a hand-bag of a pattern which the man in the +shop had told her was the best thing out. It had a clasp which had +worked beautifully in the shop, but which, for some reason, on the +journey had caused her both pain and anxiety. Convinced, however, +that she could cure it and open the bag the moment she could get to +that splendid new pair of pincers in her trunk, which a man had +only yesterday told her were the latest, she still felt that she +had a soft thing, and dear John must have one like it if she could +get him one at the Stores to-morrow. + +John, who had come away early from the Home Office, met her in that +dark hall, to which he had paid no attention since his young wife +died, fifteen years ago. Embracing him, with a smile of love +almost timorous from intensity, Frances Freeland looked him up and +down, and, catching what light there was gleaming on his temples, +determined that she had in her bag, as soon as she could get it +open, the very thing for dear John's hair. He had such a nice +moustache, and it was a pity he was getting bald. Brought to her +room, she sat down rather suddenly, feeling, as a fact, very much +like fainting--a condition of affairs to which she had never in the +past and intended never in the future to come, making such a fuss! +Owing to that nice new patent clasp, she had not been able to get +at her smelling-salts, nor the little flask of brandy and the one +hard-boiled egg without which she never travelled; and for want of +a cup of tea her soul was nearly dying within her. Dear John would +never think she had not had anything since breakfast (she travelled +always by a slow train, disliking motion), and she would not for +the world let him know--so near dinner-time, giving a lot of +trouble! She therefore stayed quite quiet, smiling a little, for +fear he might suspect her. Seeing John, however, put her bag down +in the wrong place, she felt stronger. + +"No, darling--not there--in the window." + +And while he was changing the position of the bag, her heart +swelled with joy because his back was so straight, and with the +thought: 'What a pity the dear boy has never married again! It +does so keep a man from getting moony!' With all that writing and +thinking he had to do, such important work, too, it would have been +so good for him, especially at night. She would not have expressed +it thus in words--that would not have been quite nice--but in +thought Frances Freeland was a realist. + +When he was gone, and she could do as she liked, she sat stiller +than ever, knowing by long experience that to indulge oneself in +private only made it more difficult not to indulge oneself in +public. It really was provoking that this nice new clasp should go +wrong just this once, and that the first time it was used! And she +took from her pocket a tiny prayer-book, and, holding it to the +light, read the eighteenth psalm--it was a particularly good one, +that never failed her when she felt low--she used no glasses, and +up to the present had avoided any line between the brows, knowing +it was her duty to remain as nice as she could to look at, so as +not to spoil the pleasure of people round about her. Then saying +to herself firmly, "I do not, I WILL not want any tea--but I shall +be glad of dinner!" she rose and opened her cane trunk. Though she +knew exactly where they were, she was some time finding the +pincers, because there were so many interesting things above them, +each raising a different train of thought. A pair of field- +glasses, the very latest--the man had said--for darling Derek; they +would be so useful to keep his mind from thinking about things that +it was no good thinking about. And for dear Flora (how wonderful +that she could write poetry--poetry!) a really splendid, and +perfectly new, little pill. She herself had already taken two, and +they had suited her to perfection. For darling Felix a new kind of +eau de cologne, made in Worcester, because that was the only scent +he would use. For her pet Nedda, a piece of 'point de Venise' that +she really could not be selfish enough to keep any longer, +especially as she was particularly fond of it. For Alan, a new +kind of tin-opener that the dear boy would like enormously; he was +so nice and practical. For Sheila, such a nice new novel by Mr. +and Mrs. Whirlingham--a bright, wholesome tale, with such a good +description of quite a new country in it--the dear child was so +clever, it would be a change for her. Then, actually resting on +the pincers, she came on her pass-book, recently made up, +containing little or no balance, just enough to get darling John +that bag like hers with the new clasp, which would be so handy for +his papers when he went travelling. And having reached the +pincers, she took them in her hand, and sat down again to be quite +quiet a moment, with her still-dark eyelashes resting on her ivory +cheeks and her lips pressed to a colorless line; for her head swam +from stooping over. In repose, with three flies circling above her +fine gray hair, she might have served a sculptor for a study of the +stoic spirit. Then, going to the bag, her compressed lips +twitching, her gray eyes piercing into its clasp with a kind of +distrustful optimism, she lifted the pincers and tweaked it hard. + +If the atmosphere of that dinner, to which all six from Hampstead +came, was less disturbed than John anticipated, it was due to his +sense of hospitality, and to every one's feeling that controversy +would puzzle and distress Granny. That there were things about +which people differed, Frances Freeland well knew, but that they +should so differ as to make them forget to smile and have good +manners would not have seemed right to her at all. And of this, in +her presence, they were all conscious; so that when they had +reached the asparagus there was hardly anything left that could by +any possibility be talked about. And this--for fear of seeming +awkward--they at once proceeded to discuss, Flora remarking that +London was very full. John agreed. + +Frances Freeland, smiling, said: + +"It's so nice for Derek and Sheila to be seeing it like this for +the first time." + +Sheila said: + +"Why? Isn't it always as full as this?" + +John answered: + +"In August practically empty. They say a hundred thousand people, +at least, go away." + +"Double!" remarked Felix. + +"The figures are variously given. My estimate--" + +"One in sixty. That shows you!" + +At this interruption of Derek's John frowned slightly. "What does +it show you?" he said. + +Derek glanced at his grandmother. + +"Oh, nothing!" + +"Of course it shows you," exclaimed Sheila, "what a heartless great +place it is. All 'the world' goes out of town, and 'London's +empty!' But if you weren't told so you'd never know the +difference." + +Derek muttered: "I think it shows more than that." + +Under the table Flora was touching John's foot warningly; Nedda +attempting to touch Derek's; Felix endeavoring to catch John's eye; +Alan trying to catch Sheila's; John biting his lip and looking +carefully at nothing. Only Frances Freeland was smiling and gazing +lovingly at dear Derek, thinking he would be so handsome when he +had grown a nice black moustache. And she said: + +"Yes, dear. What were you going to say?" + +Derek looked up. + +"Do you really want it, Granny?" + +Nedda murmured across the table: "No, Derek." + +Frances Freeland raised her brows quizzically. She almost looked +arch. + +"But of course I do, darling. I want to hear immensely. It's so +interesting." + +"Derek was going to say, Mother"--every one at once looked at +Felix, who had thus broken in--"that all we West-End people--John +and I and Flora and Stanley, and even you--all we people born in +purple and fine linen, are so accustomed to think we're all that +matters, that when we're out of London there's nobody in it. He +meant to say that this is appalling enough, but that what is still +more appalling is the fact that we really ARE all that matters, and +that if people try to disturb us, we can, and jolly well will, take +care they don't disturb us long. Is that what you meant, Derek?" + +Derek turned a rather startled look on Felix. + +"What he meant to say," went on Felix, "was, that age and habit, +vested interests, culture and security sit so heavy on this +country's chest, that aspiration may wriggle and squirm but will +never get from under. That, for all we pretend to admire +enthusiasm and youth, and the rest of it, we push it out of us just +a little faster than it grows up. Is that what you meant, Derek?" + +"You'll try to, but you won't succeed!" + +"I'm afraid we shall, and with a smile, too, so that you won't see +us doing it." + +"I call that devilish." + +"I call it natural. Look at a man who's growing old; notice how +very gracefully and gradually he does it. Take my hair--your aunt +says she can't tell the difference from month to month. And there +it is, or rather isn't--little by little." + +Frances Freeland, who during Felix's long speech had almost closed +her eyes, opened them, and looked piercingly at the top of his +head. + +"Darling," she said, "I've got the very thing for it. You must +take some with you when you go tonight. John is going to try it." + +Checked in the flow of his philosophy, Felix blinked like an owl +surprised. + +"Mother," he said, "YOU only have the gift of keeping young." + +"Oh! my dear, I'm getting dreadfully old. I have the greatest +difficulty in keeping awake sometimes when people are talking. But +I mean to fight against it. It's so dreadfully rude, and ugly, +too; I catch myself sometimes with my mouth open." + +Flora said quietly: "Granny, I have the very best thing for that-- +quite new!" + +A sweet but rather rueful smile passed over Frances Freeland's +face. "Now," she said, "you're chaffing me," and her eyes looked +loving. + +It is doubtful if John understood the drift of Felix's exordium, it +is doubtful if he had quite listened--he having so much to not +listen to at the Home Office that the practice was growing on him. +A vested interest to John was a vested interest, culture was +culture, and security was certainly security--none of them were +symbols of age. Further, the social question--at least so far as +it had to do with outbreaks of youth and enthusiasm--was too +familiar to him to have any general significance whatever. What +with women, labor people, and the rest of it, he had no time for +philosophy--a dubious process at the best. A man who had to get +through so many daily hours of real work did not dissipate his +energy in speculation. But, though he had not listened to Felix's +remarks, they had ruffled him. There is no philosophy quite so +irritating as that of a brother! True, no doubt, that the country +was in a bad way, but as to vested interests and security, that was +all nonsense! The guilty causes were free thought and industrialism. + +Having seen them all off to Hampstead, he gave his mother her good- +night kiss. He was proud of her, a wonderful woman, who always put +a good face on everything! Even her funny way of always having +some new thing or other to do you good--even that was all part of +her wanting to make the best of things. She never lost her 'form'! + +John worshipped that kind of stoicism which would die with its head +up rather than live with its tail down. Perhaps the moment of +which he was most proud in all his life was that, when, at the +finish of his school mile, he overheard a vulgar bandsman say: "I +like that young ----'s running; he breathes through his ---- nose." +At that moment, if he had stooped to breathe through his mouth, he +must have won; as it was he had lost in great distress and perfect +form. + +When, then, he had kissed Frances Freeland, and watched her ascend +the stairs, breathless because she WOULD breathe through her nose +to the very last step, he turned into his study, lighted his pipe, +and sat down to a couple of hours of a report upon the forces of +constabulary available in the various counties, in the event of any +further agricultural rioting, such as had recently taken place on a +mild scale in one or two districts where there was still Danish +blood. He worked at the numbers steadily, with just that +engineer's touch of mechanical invention which had caused him to be +so greatly valued in a department where the evolution of twelve +policemen out of ten was constantly desired. His mastery of +figures was highly prized, for, while it had not any of that +flamboyance which has come from America and the game of poker, it +possessed a kind of English optimism, only dangerous when, as +rarely happened, it was put to the test. He worked two full pipes +long, and looked at the clock. Twelve! No good knocking off just +yet! He had no liking for bed this many a long year, having, from +loyalty to memory and a drier sense of what became one in the Home +Department, preserved his form against temptations of the flesh. +Yet, somehow, to-night he felt no spring, no inspiration, in his +handling of county constabulary. A kind of English stolidity about +them baffled him--ten of them remained ten. And leaning that +forehead, whose height so troubled Frances Freeland, on his neat +hand, he fell to brooding. Those young people with everything +before them! Did he envy them? Or was he glad of his own age? +Fifty! Fifty already; a fogey! An official fogey! For all the +world like an umbrella, that every day some one put into a stand +and left there till it was time to take it out again. Neatly +rolled, too, with an elastic and button! And this fancy, which had +never come to him before, surprised him. One day he, too, would +wear out, slit all up his seams, and they would leave him at home, +or give him away to the butler. + +He went to the window. A scent of--of May, or something! And +nothing in sight save houses just like his own! He looked up at +the strip of sky privileged to hang just there. He had got a bit +rusty with his stars. There, however, certainly was Venus. And he +thought of how he had stood by the ship's rail on that honeymoon +trip of his twenty years ago, giving his young wife her first +lesson in counting the stars. And something very deep down, very +mossed and crusted over in John's heart, beat and stirred, and hurt +him. Nedda--he had caught her looking at that young fellow just as +Anne had once looked at him, John Freeland, now an official fogey, +an umbrella in a stand. There was a policeman! How ridiculous the +fellow looked, putting one foot before the other, flirting his +lantern and trying the area gates! This confounded scent of +hawthorn--could it be hawthorn?--got here into the heart of London! +The look in that girl's eyes! What was he about, to let them make +him feel as though he could give his soul for a face looking up +into his own, for a breast touching his, and the scent of a woman's +hair. Hang it! He would smoke a cigarette and go to bed! He +turned out the light and began to mount the stairs; they creaked +abominably--the felt must be wearing out. A woman about the place +would have kept them quiet. Reaching the landing of the second +floor, he paused a moment from habit, to look down into the dark +hall. A voice, thin, sweet, almost young, said: + +"Is that you, darling?" John's heart stood still. What--was that? +Then he perceived that the door of the room that had been his +wife's was open, and remembered that his mother was in there. + +"What! Aren't you asleep, Mother?" + +Frances Freeland's voice answered cheerfully: "Oh, no, dear; I'm +never asleep before two. Come in." + +John entered. Propped very high on her pillows, in perfect +regularity, his mother lay. Her carved face was surmounted by a +piece of fine lace, her thin, white fingers on the turnover of the +sheet moved in continual interlocking, her lips smiled. + +"There's something you must have," she said. "I left my door open +on purpose. Give me that little bottle, darling." + +John took from a small table by the bed a still smaller bottle. +Frances Freeland opened it, and out came three tiny white globules. + +"Now," she said, "pop them in! You've no idea how they'll send you +to sleep! They're the most splendid things; perfectly harmless. +Just let them rest on the tongue and swallow!" + +John let them rest--they were sweetish--and swallowed. + +"How is it, then," he said, "that you never go to sleep before +two?" + +Frances Freeland corked the little bottle, as if enclosing within +it that awkward question. + +"They don't happen to act with me, darling; but that's nothing. +It's the very thing for any one who has to sit up so late," and her +eyes searched his face. Yes--they seemed to say--I know you +pretend to have work; but if you only had a dear little wife! + +"I shall leave you this bottle when I go. Kiss me." + +John bent down, and received one of those kisses of hers that had +such sudden vitality in the middle of them, as if her lips were +trying to get inside his cheek. From the door he looked back. She +was smiling, composed again to her stoic wakefulness. + +"Shall I shut the door, Mother?" + +"Please, darling." + +With a little lump in his throat John closed the door. + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +The London which Derek had said should be blown up was at its +maximum of life those May days. Even on this outer rampart of +Hampstead, people, engines, horses, all had a touch of the spring +fever; indeed, especially on this rampart of Hampstead was there +increase of the effort to believe that nature was not dead and +embalmed in books. The poets, painters, talkers who lived up there +were at each other all the time in their great game of make- +believe. How could it be otherwise, when there was veritably +blossom on the trees and the chimneys were ceasing to smoke? How +otherwise, when the sun actually shone on the ponds? But the four +young people (for Alan joined in--hypnotized by Sheila) did not +stay in Hampstead. Chiefly on top of tram and 'bus they roamed the +wilderness. Bethnal Green and Leytonstone, Kensington and Lambeth, +St. James's and Soho, Whitechapel, Shoreditch, West Ham, and +Piccadilly, they traversed the whole ant-heap at its most ebullient +moment. They knew their Whitman and their Dostoievsky sufficiently +to be aware that they ought to love and delight in everything--in +the gentleman walking down Piccadilly with a flower in his +buttonhole, and in the lady sewing that buttonhole in Bethnal +Green; in the orator bawling himself hoarse close to the Marble +Arch, the coster loading his barrow in Covent Garden; and in Uncle +John Freeland rejecting petitions in Whitehall. All these things, +of course, together with the long lines of little gray houses in +Camden Town, long lines of carts with bobtail horses rattling over +Blackfriars' Bridge, long smells drifting behind taxicabs--all +these things were as delightful and as stimulating to the soul as +the clouds that trailed the heavens, the fronds of the lilac, and +Leonardo's Cartoon in the Diploma Gallery. All were equal +manifestations of that energy in flower known as 'Life.' They knew +that everything they saw and felt and smelled OUGHT equally to make +them long to catch creatures to their hearts and cry: Hosanna! And +Nedda and Alan, bred in Hampstead, even knew that to admit that +these things did not all move them in the same way would be +regarded as a sign of anaemia. Nevertheless--most queerly--these +four young people confessed to each other all sorts of sensations +besides that 'Hosanna' one. They even confessed to rage and pity +and disgust one moment, and to joy and dreams the next, and they +differed greatly as to what excited which. It was truly odd! The +only thing on which they did seem to agree was that they were +having 'a thundering good time.' A sort of sense of "Blow +everything!" was in their wings, and this was due not to the fact +that they were thinking of and loving and admiring the little gray +streets and the gentleman in Piccadilly--as, no doubt, in +accordance with modern culture, they should have been--but to the +fact that they were loving and admiring themselves, and that +entirely without the trouble of thinking about it at all. The +practice, too, of dividing into couples was distinctly precious to +them, for, though they never failed to start out together, they +never failed to come home two by two. In this way did they put to +confusion Whitman and Dostoievsky, and all the other thinkers in +Hampstead. In the daytime they all, save Alan, felt that London +ought to be blown up; but at night it undermined their philosophies +so that they sat silent on the tops of their respective 'buses, +with arms twined in each other's. For then a something seemed to +have floated up from that mass of houses and machines, of men and +trees, and to be hovering above them, violet-colored, caught +between the stars and the lights, a spirit of such overpowering +beauty that it drenched even Alan in a kind of awe. After all, the +huge creature that sat with such a giant's weight on the country's +chest, the monster that had spoiled so many fields and robbed so +many lives of peace and health, could fly at night upon blue and +gold and purple wings, murmur a passionate lullaby, and fall into +deep sleep! + +One such night they went to the gallery at the opera, to supper at +an oyster-shop, under Alan's pilotage, and then set out to walk +back to Hampstead, timing themselves to catch the dawn. They had +not gone twenty steps up Southampton Row before Alan and Sheila +were forty steps in front. A fellow-feeling had made Derek and +Nedda stand to watch an old man who walked, tortuous, extremely +happy, bidding them all come. And when they moved on, it was very +slowly, just keeping sight of the others across the lumbered +dimness of Covent Garden, where tarpaulin-covered carts and barrows +seemed to slumber under the blink of lamps and watchmen's lanterns. +Across Long Acre they came into a street where there was not a soul +save the two others, a long way ahead. Walking with his arm +tightly laced with hers, touching her all down one side, Derek felt +that it would be glorious to be attacked by night-birds in this +dark, lonely street, to have a splendid fight and drive them off, +showing himself to Nedda for a man, and her protector. But nothing +save one black cat came near, and that ran for its life. He bent +round and looked under the blue veil-thing that wrapped Nedda's +head. Her face seemed mysteriously lovely, and her eyes, lifted so +quickly, mysteriously true. She said: + +"Derek, I feel like a hill with the sun on it!" + +"I feel like that yellow cloud with the wind in it." + +"I feel like an apple-tree coming into blossom." + +"I feel like a giant." + +"I feel like a song." + +"I feel I could sing you." + +"On a river, floating along." + +"A wide one, with great plains on each side, and beasts coming down +to drink, and either the sun or a yellow moon shining, and some one +singing, too, far off." + +"The Red Sarafan." + +"Let's run!" + +From that yellow cloud sailing in moonlight a spurt of rain had +driven into their faces, and they ran as fast as their blood was +flowing, and the raindrops coming down, jumping half the width of +the little dark streets, clutching each other's arms. And peering +round into her face, so sweet and breathless, into her eyes, so +dark and dancing, he felt he could run all night if he had her +there to run beside him through the dark. Into another street they +dashed, and again another, till she stopped, panting. + +"Where are we now?" + +Neither knew. A policeman put them right for Portland Place. Half +past one! And it would be dawn soon after three! They walked +soberly again now into the outer circle of Regent's Park; talked +soberly, too, discussing sublunary matters, and every now and then, +their arms, round each other, gave little convulsive squeezes. The +rain had stopped and the moon shone clear; by its light the trees +and flowers were clothed in colors whose blood had spilled away; +the town's murmur was dying, the house lights dead already. They +came out of the park into a road where the latest taxis were +rattling past; a face, a bare neck, silk hat, or shirt-front +gleamed in the window-squares, and now and then a laugh came +floating through. They stopped to watch them from under the low- +hanging branches of an acacia-tree, and Derek, gazing at her face, +still wet with rain, so young and round and soft, thought: 'And she +loves me!' Suddenly she clutched him round the neck, and their +lips met. + +They talked not at all for a long time after that kiss, walking +slowly up the long, empty road, while the whitish clouds sailed +across the dark river of the sky and the moon slowly sank. This +was the most delicious part of all that long walk home, for the +kiss had made them feel as though they had no bodies, but were just +two spirits walking side by side. This is its curious effect +sometimes in first love between the very young. . . . + + +Having sent Flora to bed, Felix was sitting up among his books. +There was no need to do this, for the young folk had latch-keys, +but, having begun the vigil, he went on with it, a volume about +Eastern philosophies on his knee, a bowl of narcissus blooms, +giving forth unexpected whiffs of odor, beside him. And he sank +into a long reverie. + +Could it be said--as was said in this Eastern book--that man's life +was really but a dream; could that be said with any more truth than +it had once been said, that he rose again in his body, to perpetual +life? Could anything be said with truth, save that we knew +nothing? And was that not really what had always been said by man-- +that we knew nothing, but were just blown over and about the world +like soughs of wind, in obedience to some immortal, unknowable +coherence! But had that want of knowledge ever retarded what was +known as the upward growth of man? Had it ever stopped man from +working, fighting, loving, dying like a hero if need were? Had +faith ever been anything but embroidery to an instinctive heroism, +so strong that it needed no such trappings? Had faith ever been +anything but anodyne, or gratification of the aesthetic sense? Or +had it really body and substance of its own? Was it something +absolute and solid, that he--Felix Freeland--had missed? Or again, +was it, perhaps, but the natural concomitant of youth, a naive +effervescence with which thought and brooding had to part? And, +turning the page of his book, he noticed that he could no longer +see to read, the lamp had grown too dim, and showed but a +decorative glow in the bright moonlight flooding through the study +window. He got up and put another log on the fire, for these last +nights of May were chilly. + +Nearly three! Where were these young people? Had he been asleep, +and they come in? Sure enough, in the hall Alan's hat and Sheila's +cloak--the dark-red one he had admired when she went forth--were +lying on a chair. But of the other two--nothing! He crept up- +stairs. Their doors were open. They certainly took their time-- +these young lovers. And the same sore feeling which had attacked +Felix when Nedda first told him of her love came on him badly in +that small of the night when his vitality was lowest. All the +hours she had spent clambering about him, or quietly resting on his +knee with her head tucked in just where his arm and shoulder met, +listening while he read or told her stories, and now and again +turning those clear eyes of hers wide open to his face, to see if +he meant it; the wilful little tugs of her hand when they two went +exploring the customs of birds, or bees, or flowers; all her +'Daddy, I love yous!' and her rushes to the front door, and long +hugs when he came back from a travel; all those later crookings of +her little finger in his, and the times he had sat when she did not +know it, watching her, and thinking: 'That little creature, with +all that's before her, is my very own daughter to take care of, and +share joy and sorrow with. . . .' Each one of all these seemed to +come now and tweak at him, as the songs of blackbirds tweak the +heart of one who lies, unable to get out into the Spring. His lamp +had burned itself quite out; the moon was fallen below the clump of +pines, and away to the north-east something stirred in the stain +and texture of the sky. Felix opened the window. What peace out +there! The chill, scentless peace of night, waiting for dawn's +renewal of warmth and youth. Through that bay window facing north +he could see on one side the town, still wan with the light of its +lamps, on the other the country, whose dark bloom was graying fast. +Suddenly a tiny bird twittered, and Felix saw his two truants +coming slowly from the gate across the grass, his arm round her +shoulders, hers round his waist. With their backs turned to him, +they passed the corner of the house, across where the garden sloped +away. There they stood above the wide country, their bodies +outlined against a sky fast growing light, evidently waiting for +the sun to rise. Silent they stood, while the birds, one by one, +twittered out their first calls. And suddenly Felix saw the boy +fling his hand up into the air. The Sun! Far away on the gray +horizon was a flare of red! + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +The anxieties of the Lady Mallorings of this life concerning the +moral welfare of their humbler neighbors are inclined to march in +front of events. The behavior in Tryst's cottage was more correct +than it would have been in nine out of ten middle or upper class +demesnes under similar conditions. Between the big laborer and +'that woman,' who, since the epileptic fit, had again come into +residence, there had passed nothing whatever that might not have +been witnessed by Biddy and her two nurslings. For love is an +emotion singularly dumb and undemonstrative in those who live the +life of the fields; passion a feeling severely beneath the thumb of +a propriety born of the age-long absence of excitants, +opportunities, and the aesthetic sense; and those two waited, +almost as a matter of course, for the marriage which was forbidden +them in this parish. The most they did was to sit and look at one +another. + +On the day of which Felix had seen the dawn at Hampstead, Sir +Gerald's agent tapped on the door of Tryst's cottage, and was +answered by Biddy, just in from school for the midday meal. + +"Your father home, my dear?" + +"No, sir; Auntie's in." + +"Ask your auntie to come and speak to me." + +The mother-child vanished up the narrow stairs, and the agent +sighed. A strong-built, leathery-skinned man in a brown suit and +leggings, with a bristly little moustache and yellow whites to his +eyes, he did not, as he had said to his wife that morning, 'like +the job a little bit.' And while he stood there waiting, Susie and +Billy emerged from the kitchen and came to stare at him. The agent +returned that stare till a voice behind him said: "Yes, sir?" + +'That woman' was certainly no great shakes to look at: a fresh, +decent, faithful sort of body! And he said gruffly: "Mornin', +miss. Sorry to say my orders are to make a clearance here. I +suppose Tryst didn't think we should act on it, but I'm afraid I've +got to put his things out, you know. Now, where are you all going; +that's the point?" + +"I shall go home, I suppose; but Tryst and the children--we don't +know." + +The agent tapped his leggings with a riding-cane. "So you've been +expecting it!" he said with relief. "That's right." And, staring +down at the mother-child, he added: "Well, what d'you say, my dear; +you look full of sense, you do!" + +Biddy answered: "I'll go and tell Mr. Freeland, sir." + +"Ah! You're a bright maid. He'll know where to put you for the +time bein'. Have you had your dinner?" + +"No, sir; it's just ready." + +"Better have it--better have it first. No hurry. What've you got +in the pot that smells so good?" + +"Bubble and squeak, sir." + +"Bubble and squeak! Ah!" And with those words the agent withdrew +to where, in a farm wagon drawn up by the side of the road, three +men were solemnly pulling at their pipes. He moved away from them +a little, for, as he expressed it to his wife afterward: "Look bad, +you know, look bad--anybody seeing me! Those three little children-- +that's where it is! If our friends at the Hall had to do these jobs +for themselves, there wouldn't be any to do!" + +Presently, from his discreet distance, he saw the mother-child +going down the road toward Tod's, in her blue 'pinny' and corn- +colored hair. Nice little thing! Pretty little thing, too! Pity, +great pity! And he went back to the cottage. On his way a thought +struck him so that he well-nigh shivered. Suppose the little thing +brought back that Mrs. Freeland, the lady who always went about in +blue, without a hat! Phew! Mr. Freeland--he was another sort; a +bit off, certainly--harmless, quite harmless! But that lady! And +he entered the cottage. The woman was washing up; seemed a +sensible body. When the two kids cleared off to school he could go +to work and get it over; the sooner the better, before people came +hanging round. A job of this kind sometimes made nasty blood! His +yellowish eyes took in the nature of the task before him. Funny +jam-up they did get about them, to be sure! Every blessed little +thing they'd ever bought, and more, too! Have to take precious +good care nothing got smashed, or the law would be on the other +leg! And he said to the woman: + +"Now, miss, can I begin?" + +"I can't stop you, sir." + +'No,' he thought, 'you can't stop me, and I blamed well wish you +could!' But he said: "Got an old wagon out here. Thought I'd save +him damage by weather or anything; we'll put everything in that, +and run it up into the empty barn at Marrow and leave it. And +there they'll be for him when he wants 'em." + +The woman answered: "You're very kind, I'm sure." + +Perceiving that she meant no irony, the agent produced a sound from +somewhere deep and went out to summon his men. + +With the best intentions, however, it is not possible, even in +villages so scattered that they cannot be said to exist, to do +anything without every one's knowing; and the work of 'putting out' +the household goods of the Tryst family, and placing them within +the wagon, was not an hour in progress before the road in front of +the cottage contained its knot of watchers. Old Gaunt first, +alone--for the rogue-girl had gone to Mr. Cuthcott's and Tom Gaunt +was at work. The old man had seen evictions in his time, and +looked on silently, with a faint, sardonic grin. Four children, so +small that not even school had any use for them as yet, soon +gathered round his legs, followed by mothers coming to retrieve +them, and there was no longer silence. Then came two laborers, on +their way to a job, a stone-breaker, and two more women. It was +through this little throng that the mother-child and Kirsteen +passed into the fast-being-gutted cottage. + +The agent was standing by Tryst's bed, keeping up a stream of +comment to two of his men, who were taking that aged bed to pieces. +It was his habit to feel less when he talked more; but no one could +have fallen into a more perfect taciturnity than he when he saw +Kirsteen coming up those narrow stairs. In so small a space as +this room, where his head nearly touched the ceiling, was it fair +to be confronted by that lady--he put it to his wife that same +evening--"Was it fair?" He had seen a mother wild duck look like +that when you took away its young--snaky fierce about the neck, and +its dark eye! He had seen a mare, going to bite, look not half so +vicious! "There she stood, and--let me have it?--not a bit! Too +much the lady for that, you know!--Just looked at me, and said very +quiet: 'Ah! Mr. Simmons, and are you really doing this?' and put +her hand on that little girl of his. 'Orders are orders, ma'am!' +What could I say? 'Ah!' she said, 'yes, orders are orders, but +they needn't be obeyed.' 'As to that, ma'am,' I said--mind you, +she's a lady; you can't help feeling that 'I'm a working man, the +same as Tryst here; got to earn my living.' 'So have slave- +drivers, Mr. Simmons.' 'Every profession,' I said, 'has got its +dirty jobs, ma'am. And that's a fact.' 'And will have,' she said, +'so long as professional men consent to do the dirty work of their +employers.' 'And where should I be, I should like to know,' I +said, 'if I went on that lay? I've got to take the rough with the +smooth.' 'Well,' she said, 'Mr. Freeland and I will take Tryst and +the little ones in at present.' Good-hearted people, do a lot for +the laborers, in their way. All the same, she's a bit of a vixen. +Picture of a woman, too, standin' there; shows blood, mind you! +Once said, all over--no nagging. She took the little girl off with +her. And pretty small I felt, knowing I'd got to finish that job, +and the folk outside gettin' nastier all the time--not sayin' much, +of course, but lookin' a lot!" The agent paused in his recital and +gazed fixedly at a bluebottle crawling up the windowpane. +Stretching out his thumb and finger, he nipped it suddenly and +threw it in the grate. "Blest if that fellow himself didn't turn +up just as I was finishing. I was sorry for the man, you know. +There was his home turned out-o'-doors. Big man, too! 'You +blanky-blank!' he says; 'if I'd been here you shouldn't ha' done +this!' Thought he was goin' to hit me. 'Come, Tryst!' I said, +'it's not my doing, you know!' 'Ah!' he said, 'I know that; and +it'll be blanky well the worse for THEM!' Rough tongue; no class +of man at all, he is! 'Yes,' he said, 'let 'em look out; I'll be +even with 'em yet!' 'None o' that!' I told him; 'you know which +side the law's buttered. I'm making it easy for you, too, keeping +your things in the wagon, ready to shift any time!' He gave me a +look--he's got very queer eyes, swimmin', sad sort of eyes, like a +man in liquor--and he said: 'I've been here twenty years,' he said. +'My wife died here.' And all of a sudden he went as dumb as a +fish. Never let his eyes off us, though, while we finished up the +last of it; made me feel funny, seein' him glowering like that all +the time. He'll savage something over this, you mark my words!" +Again the agent paused, and remained as though transfixed, holding +that face of his, whose yellow had run into the whites of the eyes, +as still as wood. "He's got some feeling for the place, I +suppose," he said suddenly; "or maybe they've put it into him about +his rights; there's plenty of 'em like that. Well, anyhow, nobody +likes his private affairs turned inside out for every one to gape +at. I wouldn't myself." And with that deeply felt remark the +agent put out his leathery-yellow thumb and finger and nipped a +second bluebottle. . . . + +While the agent was thus recounting to his wife the day's doings, +the evicted Tryst sat on the end of his bed in a ground-floor room +of Tod's cottage. He had taken off his heavy boots, and his feet, +in their thick, soiled socks, were thrust into a pair of Tod's +carpet slippers. He sat without moving, precisely as if some one +had struck him a blow in the centre of the forehead, and over and +over again he turned the heavy thought: 'They've turned me out o' +there--I done nothing, and they turned me out o' there! Blast +them--they turned me out o' there!' . . . + +In the orchard Tod sat with a grave and puzzled face, surrounded by +the three little Trysts. And at the wicket gate Kirsteen, awaiting +the arrival of Derek and Sheila--summoned home by telegram--stood +in the evening glow, her blue-clad figure still as that of any +worshipper at the muezzin-call. + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +"A fire, causing the destruction of several ricks and an empty +cowshed, occurred in the early morning of Thursday on the home farm +of Sir Gerald Malloring's estate in Worcestershire. Grave +suspicions of arson are entertained, but up to the present no +arrest has been made. The authorities are in doubt whether the +occurrence has any relation with recent similar outbreaks in the +eastern counties." + + +So Stanley read at breakfast, in his favorite paper; and the little +leader thereon: + + +"The outbreak of fire on Sir Gerald Malloring's Worcestershire +property may or may not have any significance as a symptom of +agrarian unrest. We shall watch the upshot with some anxiety. +Certain it is that unless the authorities are prepared to deal +sharply with arson, or other cases of deliberate damage to the +property of landlords, we may bid good-by to any hope of +ameliorating the lot of the laborer" + + +--and so on. + +If Stanley had risen and paced the room there would have been a +good deal to be said for him; for, though he did not know as much +as Felix of the nature and sentiments of Tod's children, he knew +enough to make any but an Englishman uneasy. The fact that he went +on eating ham, and said to Clara, "Half a cup!" was proof positive +of that mysterious quality called phlegm which had long enabled his +country to enjoy the peace of a weedy duck-pond. + +Stanley, a man of some intelligence--witness his grasp of the +secret of successful plough-making (none for the home market!)--had +often considered this important proposition of phlegm. People said +England was becoming degenerate and hysterical, growing soft, and +nervous, and towny, and all the rest of it. In his view there was +a good deal of bosh about that! "Look," he would say, "at the +weight that chauffeurs put on! Look at the House of Commons, and +the size of the upper classes!" If there were growing up little +shrill types of working men and Socialists, and new women, and +half-penny papers, and a rather larger crop of professors and long- +haired chaps--all the better for the rest of the country! The +flesh all these skimpy ones had lost, solid people had put on. The +country might be suffering a bit from officialism, and the tendency +of modern thought, but the breed was not changing. John Bull was +there all right under his moustache. Take it off and clap on +little side-whiskers, and you had as many Bulls as you liked, any +day. There would be no social upheaval so long as the climate was +what it was! And with this simple formula, and a kind of very +deep-down throaty chuckle, he would pass to a subject of more +immediate importance. There was something, indeed, rather masterly +in his grasp of the fact that rain might be trusted to put out any +fire--give it time. And he kept a special vessel in a special +corner which recorded for him faithfully the number of inches that +fell; and now and again he wrote to his paper to say that there +were more inches in his vessel than there had been "for thirty +years." His conviction that the country was in a bad way was +nothing but a skin affection, causing him local irritation rather +than affecting the deeper organs of his substantial body. + +He did not readily confide in Clara concerning his own family, +having in a marked degree the truly domestic quality of thinking it +superior to his wife's. She had been a Tomson, not one of THE +Tomsons, and it was quite a question whether he or she were trying +to forget that fact the faster. But he did say to her as he was +getting into the car: + +"It's just possible I might go round by Tod's on my way home. I +want a run." + +She answered: "Be careful what you say to that woman. I don't want +her here by any chance. The young ones were quite bad enough." + +And when he had put in his day at the works he did turn the nose of +his car toward Tod's. Travelling along grass-bordered roads, the +beauty of this England struck his not too sensitive spirit and made +him almost gasp. It was that moment of the year when the +countryside seems to faint from its own loveliness, from the +intoxication of its scents and sounds. Creamy-white may, splashed +here and there with crimson, flooded the hedges in breaking waves +of flower-foam; the fields were all buttercup glory; every tree had +its cuckoo, calling; every bush its blackbird or thrush in full +even-song. Swallows were flying rather low, and the sky, whose +moods they watch, had the slumberous, surcharged beauty of a long, +fine day, with showers not far away. Some orchards were still in +blossom, and the great wild bees, hunting over flowers and grasses +warm to their touch, kept the air deeply murmurous. Movement, +light, color, song, scent, the warm air, and the fluttering leaves +were confused, till one had almost become the other. + +And Stanley thought, for he was not rhapsodic 'Wonderful pretty +country! The way everything's looked after--you never see it +abroad!' + +But the car, a creature with little patience for natural beauty, +had brought him to the crossroads and stood, panting slightly, +under the cliff-bank whereon grew Tod's cottage, so loaded now with +lilac, wistaria, and roses that from the road nothing but a peak or +two of the thatched roof could be seen. + +Stanley was distinctly nervous. It was not a weakness his face and +figure were very capable of showing, but he felt that dryness of +mouth and quivering of chest which precede adventures of the soul. +Advancing up the steps and pebbled path, which Clara had trodden +once, just nineteen years ago, and he himself but three times as +yet in all, he cleared his throat and said to himself: 'Easy, old +man! What is it, after all? She won't bite!' And in the very +doorway he came upon her. + +What there was about this woman to produce in a man of common sense +such peculiar sensations, he no more knew after seeing her than +before. Felix, on returning from his visit, had said, "She's like +a Song of the Hebrides sung in the middle of a programme of English +ballads." The remark, as any literary man's might, had conveyed +nothing to Stanley, and that in a far-fetched way. Still, when she +said: "Will you come in?" he felt heavier and thicker than he had +ever remembered feeling; as a glass of stout might feel coming +across a glass of claret. It was, perhaps, the gaze of her eyes, +whose color he could not determine, under eyebrows that waved in +the middle and twitched faintly, or a dress that was blue, with the +queerest effect of another color at the back of it, or perhaps the +feeling of a torrent flowing there under a coat of ice, that might +give way in little holes, so that your leg went in but not the +whole of you. Something, anyway, made him feel both small and +heavy--that awkward combination for a man accustomed to associate +himself with cheerful but solid dignity. In seating himself by +request at a table, in what seemed to be a sort of kitchen, he +experienced a singular sensation in the legs, and heard her say, as +it might be to the air: + +"Biddy, dear, take Susie and Billy out." + +And thereupon a little girl with a sad and motherly face came +crawling out from underneath the table, and dropped him a little +courtesy. Then another still smaller girl came out, and a very +small boy, staring with all his eyes. + +All these things were against Stanley, and he felt that if he did +not make it quite clear that he was there he would soon not know +where he was. + +"I came," he said, "to talk about this business up at Malloring's." +And, encouraged by having begun, he added: "Whose kids were those?" + +A level voice with a faint lisp answered him: + +"They belong to a man called Tryst; he was turned out of his +cottage on Wednesday because his dead wife's sister was staying +with him, so we've taken them in. Did you notice the look on the +face of the eldest?" + +Stanley nodded. In truth, he had noticed something, though what he +could not have said. + +"At nine years old she has to do the housework and be a mother to +the other two, besides going to school. This is all because Lady +Malloring has conscientious scruples about marriage with a deceased +wife's sister." + +'Certainly'--thought Stanley--'that does sound a bit thick!' And +he asked: + +"Is the woman here, too?" + +"No, she's gone home for the present." + +He felt relief. + +"I suppose Malloring's point is," he said, "whether or not you're +to do what you like with your own property. For instance, if you +had let this cottage to some one you thought was harming the +neighborhood, wouldn't you terminate his tenancy?" + +She answered, still in that level voice: + +"Her action is cowardly, narrow, and tyrannical, and no amount of +sophistry will make me think differently." + +Stanley felt precisely as if one of his feet had gone through the +ice into water so cold that it seemed burning hot! Sophistry! In +a plain man like himself! He had always connected the word with +Felix. He looked at her, realizing suddenly that the association +of his brother's family with the outrage on Malloring's estate was +probably even nearer than he had feared. + +"Look here, Kirsteen!" he said, uttering the unlikely name with +resolution, for, after all, she was his sister-in-law: "Did this +fellow set fire to Malloring's ricks?" + +He was aware of a queer flash, a quiver, a something all over her +face, which passed at once back to its intent gravity. + +"We have no reason to suppose so. But tyranny produces revenge, as +you know." + +Stanley shrugged his shoulders. "It's not my business to go into +the rights and wrongs of what's been done. But, as a man of the +world and a relative, I do ask you to look after your youngsters +and see they don't get into a mess. They're an inflammable young +couple--young blood, you know!" + +Having made this speech, Stanley looked down, with a feeling that +it would give her more chance. + +"You are very kind," he heard her saying in that quiet, faintly +lisping voice; "but there are certain principles involved." + +And, suddenly, his curious fear of this woman took shape. +Principles! He had unconsciously been waiting for that word, than +which none was more like a red rag to him. + +"What principles can possibly be involved in going against the law?" + +"And where the law is unjust?" + +Stanley was startled, but he said: "Remember that your principles, +as you call them, may hurt other people besides yourself; Tod and +your children most of all. How is the law unjust, may I ask?" + +She had been sitting at the table opposite, but she got up now and +went to the hearth. For a woman of forty-two--as he supposed she +would be--she was extraordinarily lithe, and her eyes, fixed on him +from under those twitching, wavy brows, had a curious glow in their +darkness. The few silver threads in the mass of her over-fine +black hair seemed to give it extra vitality. The whole of her had +a sort of intensity that made him profoundly uncomfortable. And he +thought suddenly: 'Poor old Tod! Fancy having to go to bed with +that woman!' + +Without raising her voice, she began answering his question. + +"These poor people have no means of setting law in motion, no means +of choosing where and how they will live, no means of doing +anything except just what they are told; the Mallorings have the +means to set the law in motion, to choose where and how to live, +and to dictate to others. That is why the law is unjust. With +every independent pound a year, this equal law of yours--varies!" + +"Phew!" said Stanley. "That's a proposition!" + +"I give you a simple case. If I had chosen not to marry Tod but to +live with him in free love, we could have done it without +inconvenience. We have some independent income; we could have +afforded to disregard what people thought or did. We could have +bought (as we did buy) our piece of land and our cottage, out of +which we could not have been turned. Since we don't care for +society, it would have made absolutely no difference to our present +position. But Tryst, who does not even want to defy the law--what +happens to him? What happens to hundreds of laborers all over the +country who venture to differ in politics, religion, or morals from +those who own them?" + +'By George!' thought Stanley, 'it's true, in a way; I never looked +at it quite like that.' But the feeling that he had come to +persuade her to be reasonable, and the deeply rooted Englishry of +him, conspired to make him say: + +"That's all very well; but, you see, it's only a necessary incident +of property-holding. You can't interfere with plain rights." + +"You mean--an evil inherent in property-holding?" + +"If you like; I don't split words. The lesser of two evils. +What's your remedy? You don't want to abolish property; you've +confessed that property gives YOU your independence!" + +Again that curious quiver and flash! + +"Yes; but if people haven't decency enough to see for themselves +how the law favors their independence, they must be shown that it +doesn't pay to do to others as they would hate to be done by." + +"And you wouldn't try reasoning?" + +"They are not amenable to reason." + +Stanley took up his hat. + +"Well, I think some of us are. I see your point; but, you know, +violence never did any good; it isn't--isn't English." + +She did not answer. And, nonplussed thereby, he added lamely: "I +should have liked to have seen Tod and your youngsters. Remember +me to them. Clara sent her regards"; and, looking round the room +in a rather lost way, he held out his hand. + +He had an impression of something warm and dry put into it, with +even a little pressure. + +Back in the car, he said to his chauffeur, "Go home the other way, +Batter, past the church." + +The vision of that kitchen, with its brick floor, its black oak +beams, bright copper pans, the flowers on the window-sill, the +great, open hearth, and the figure of that woman in her blue dress +standing before it, with her foot poised on a log, clung to his +mind's eye with curious fidelity. And those three kids, popping +out like that--proof that the whole thing was not a rather bad +dream! 'Queer business!' he thought; 'bad business! That woman's +uncommonly all there, though. Lot in what she said, too. Where +the deuce should we all be if there were many like her!' And +suddenly he noticed, in a field to the right, a number of men +coming along the hedge toward the road--evidently laborers. What +were they doing? He stopped the car. There were fifteen or twenty +of them, and back in the field he could see a girl's red blouse, +where a little group of four still lingered. 'By George!' he +thought, 'those must be the young Tods going it!' And, curious to +see what it might mean, Stanley fixed his attention on the gate +through which the men were bound to come. First emerged a fellow +in corduroys tied below the knee, with long brown moustaches +decorating a face that, for all its haggardness, had a jovial look. +Next came a sturdy little red-faced, bow-legged man in shirt- +sleeves rolled up, walking alongside a big, dark fellow with a cap +pushed up on his head, who had evidently just made a joke. Then +came two old men, one of whom was limping, and three striplings. +Another big man came along next, in a little clearance, as it were, +between main groups. He walked heavily, and looked up lowering at +the car. The fellow's eyes were queer, and threatening, and sad-- +giving Stanley a feeling of discomfort. Then came a short, square +man with an impudent, loquacious face and a bit of swagger in his +walk. He, too, looked up at Stanley and made some remark which +caused two thin-faced fellows with him to grin sheepishly. A spare +old man, limping heavily, with a yellow face and drooping gray +moustaches, walked next, alongside a warped, bent fellow, with +yellowish hair all over his face, whose expression struck Stanley +as half-idiotic. Then two more striplings of seventeen or so, +whittling at bits of sticks; an active, clean-shorn chap with +drawn-in cheeks; and, last of all, a small man by himself, without +a cap on a round head covered with thin, light hair, moving at a +'dot-here, dot-there' walk, as though he had beasts to drive. + +Stanley noted that all--save the big man with the threatening, sad +eyes, the old, yellow-faced man with a limp, and the little man who +came out last, lost in his imaginary beasts--looked at the car +furtively as they went their ways. And Stanley thought: 'English +peasant! Poor devil! Who is he? What is he? Who'd miss him if +he did die out? What's the use of all this fuss about him? He's +done for! Glad I've nothing to do with him at Becket, anyway! +"Back to the land!" "Independent peasantry!" Not much! Shan't +say that to Clara, though; knock the bottom out of her week-ends!' +And to his chauffeur he muttered: + +"Get on, Batter!" + +So, through the peace of that country, all laid down in grass, +through the dignity and loveliness of trees and meadows, this May +evening, with the birds singing under a sky surcharged with warmth +and color, he sped home to dinner. + + +CHAPTER XX + + +But next morning, turning on his back as it came dawn, Stanley +thought, with the curious intensity which in those small hours so +soon becomes fear: 'By Jove! I don't trust that woman a yard! I +shall wire for Felix!' And the longer he lay on his back, the more +the conviction bored a hole in him. There was a kind of fever in +the air nowadays, that women seemed to catch, as children caught +the measles. What did it all mean? England used to be a place to +live in. One would have thought an old country like this would +have got through its infantile diseases! Hysteria! No one gave in +to that. Still, one must look out! Arson was about the limit! +And Stanley had a vision, suddenly, of his plough-works in flames. +Why not? The ploughs were not for the English market. Who knew +whether these laboring fellows mightn't take that as a grievance, +if trouble began to spread? This somewhat far-fetched notion, +having started to burrow, threw up a really horrid mole-hill on +Stanley. And it was only the habit, in the human mind, of saying +suddenly to fears: Stop! I'm tired of you! that sent him to sleep +about half past four. + +He did not, however, neglect to wire to Felix: + + +"If at all possible, come down again at once; awkward business at +Joyfields." + + +Nor, on the charitable pretext of employing two old fellows past +ordinary work, did he omit to treble his night-watchman. . . + +On Wednesday, the day of which he had seen the dawn rise, Felix had +already been startled, on returning from his constitutional, to +discover his niece and nephew in the act of departure. All the +explanation vouchsafed had been: "Awfully sorry, Uncle Felix; +Mother's wired for us." Save for the general uneasiness which +attended on all actions of that woman, Felix would have felt +relieved at their going. They had disturbed his life, slipped +between him and Nedda! So much so that he did not even expect her +to come and tell him why they had gone, nor feel inclined to ask +her. So little breaks the fine coherence of really tender ties! +The deeper the quality of affection, the more it 'starts and +puffs,' and from sheer sensitive feeling, each for the other, +spares attempt to get back into touch! + +His paper--though he did not apply to it the word 'favorite,' +having that proper literary feeling toward all newspapers, that +they took him in rather than he them--gave him on Friday morning +precisely the same news, of the rick-burning, as it gave to Stanley +at breakfast and to John on his way to the Home Office. To John, +less in the know, it merely brought a knitting of the brow and a +vague attempt to recollect the numbers of the Worcestershire +constabulary. To Felix it brought a feeling of sickness. Men +whose work in life demands that they shall daily whip their nerves, +run, as a rule, a little in advance of everything. And goodness +knows what he did not see at that moment. He said no word to +Nedda, but debated with himself and Flora what, if anything, was to +be done. Flora, whose sense of humor seldom deserted her, held the +more comfortable theory that there was nothing to be done as yet. +Soon enough to cry when milk was spilled! He did not agree, but, +unable to suggest a better course, followed her advice. On +Saturday, however, receiving Stanley's wire, he had much difficulty +in not saying to her, "I told you so!" The question that agitated +him now was whether or not to take Nedda with him. Flora said: +"Yes. The child will be the best restraining influence, if there +is really trouble brewing!" Some feeling fought against this in +Felix, but, suspecting it to be mere jealousy, he decided to take +her. And, to the girl's rather puzzled delight, they arrived at +Becket that day in time for dinner. It was not too reassuring to +find John there, too. Stanley had also wired to him. The matter +must indeed be serious! + +The usual week-end was in progress. Clara had made one of her +greatest efforts. A Bulgarian had providentially written a book in +which he showed, beyond doubt, that persons fed on brown bread, +potatoes, and margarine, gave the most satisfactory results of all. +It was a discovery of the first value as a topic for her dinner- +table--seeming to solve the whole vexed problem of the laborers +almost at one stroke. If they could only be got to feed themselves +on this perfect programme, what a saving of the situation! On +those three edibles, the Bulgarian said--and he had been well +translated--a family of five could be maintained at full efficiency +for a shilling per day. Why! that would leave nearly eight +shillings a week, in many cases more, for rent, firing, insurance, +the man's tobacco, and the children's boots. There would be no +more of that terrible pinching by the mothers, to feed the husband +and children properly, of which one heard so much; no more +lamentable deterioration in our stock! Brown bread, potatoes, +margarine--quite a great deal could be provided for seven +shillings! And what was more delicious than a well-baked potato +with margarine of good quality? The carbohydrates--or was it +hybocardrates--ah, yes! the kybohardrates--would be present in +really sufficient quantity! Little else was talked of all through +dinner at her end of the table. Above the flowers which Frances +Freeland always insisted on arranging--and very charmingly--when +she was there--over bare shoulders and white shirt-fronts, those +words bombed and rebombed. Brown bread, potatoes, margarine, +carbohydrates, calorific! They mingled with the creaming sizzle of +champagne, with the soft murmur of well-bred deglutition. White +bosoms heaved and eyebrows rose at them. And now and again some +Bigwig versed in science murmured the word 'Fats.' An agricultural +population fed to the point of efficiency without disturbance of +the existing state of things! Eureka! If only into the bargain +they could be induced to bake their own brown bread and cook their +potatoes well! Faces flushed, eyes brightened, and teeth shone. +It was the best, the most stimulating, dinner ever swallowed in +that room. Nor was it until each male guest had eaten, drunk, and +talked himself into torpor suitable to the company of his wife, +that the three brothers could sit in the smoking-room together, +undisturbed. + +When Stanley had described his interview with 'that woman,' his +glimpse of the red blouse, and the laborers' meeting, there was a +silence before John said: + +"It might be as well if Tod would send his two youngsters abroad +for a bit." + +Felix shook his head. + +"I don't think he would, and I don't think they'd go. But we might +try to get those two to see that anything the poor devils of +laborers do is bound to recoil on themselves, fourfold. I +suppose," he added, with sudden malice, "a laborers' rising would +have no chance?" + +Neither John nor Stanley winced. + +"Rising? Why should they rise?" + +"They did in '32." + +"In '32!" repeated John. "Agriculture had its importance then. +Now it has none. Besides, they've no cohesion, no power, like the +miners or railway men. Rising? No chance, no earthly! Weight of +metal's dead against it." + +Felix smiled. + +"Money and guns! Guns and money! Confess with me, brethren, that +we're glad of metal." + +John stared and Stanley drank off his whiskey and potash. Felix +really was a bit 'too thick' sometimes. Then Stanley said: + +"Wonder what Tod thinks of it all. Will you go over, Felix, and +advise that our young friends be more considerate to these poor +beggars?" + +Felix nodded. And with 'Good night, old man' all round, and no +shaking of the hands, the three brothers dispersed. + +But behind Felix, as he opened his bedroom door, a voice whispered: + +"Dad!" And there, in the doorway of the adjoining room, was Nedda +in her dressing-gown. + +"Do come in for a minute. I've been waiting up. You ARE late." + +Felix followed her into her room. The pleasure he would once have +had in this midnight conspiracy was superseded now, and he stood +blinking at her gravely. In that blue gown, with her dark hair +falling on its lace collar and her face so round and childish, she +seemed more than ever to have defrauded him. Hooking her arm in +his, she drew him to the window; and Felix thought: 'She just wants +to talk to me about Derek. Dog in the manger that I am! Here goes +to be decent!' So he said: + +"Well, my dear?" + +Nedda pressed his hand with a little coaxing squeeze. + +"Daddy, darling, I do love you!" + +And, though Felix knew that she had grasped what he was feeling, a +sort of warmth spread in him. She had begun counting his fingers +with one of her own, sitting close beside him. The warmth in Felix +deepened, but he thought: 'She must want a good deal out of me!' +Then she began: + +"Why did we come down again? I know there's something wrong! It's +hard not to know, when you're anxious." And she sighed. That +little sigh affected Felix. + +"I'd always rather know the truth, Dad. Aunt Clara said something +about a fire at the Mallorings'." + +Felix stole a look at her. Yes! There was a lot in this child of +his! Depth, warmth, and strength to hold to things. No use to +treat her as a child! And he answered: + +"My dear, there's really nothing beyond what you know--our young +man and Sheila are hotheads, and things over there are working up a +bit. We must try and smooth them down." + +"Dad, ought I to back him whatever he does?" + +What a question! The more so that one cannot answer superficially +the questions of those whom one loves. + +"Ah!" he said at last. "I don't know yet. Some things it's not +your duty to do; that's certain. It can't be right to do things +simply because he does them--THAT'S not real--however fond one is." + +"No; I feel that. Only, it's so hard to know what I do really +think--there's always such a lot trying to make one feel that only +what's nice and cosey is right!" + +And Felix thought: 'I've been brought up to believe that only +Russian girls care for truth. It seems I was wrong. The saints +forbid I should be a stumbling-block to my own daughter searching +for it! And yet--where's it all leading? Is this the same child +that told me only the other night she wanted to know everything? +She's a woman now! So much for love!' And he said: + +"Let's go forward quietly, without expecting too much of ourselves." + +"Yes, Dad; only I distrust myself so." + +"No one ever got near the truth who didn't." + +"Can we go over to Joyfields to-morrow? I don't think I could bear +a whole day of Bigwigs and eating, with this hanging--" + +"Poor Bigwigs! All right! We'll go. And now, bed; and think of +nothing!" + +Her whisper tickled his ear: + +"You are a darling to me, Dad!" + +He went out comforted. + +And for some time after she had forgotten everything he leaned out +of his window, smoking cigarettes, and trying to see the body and +soul of night. How quiet she was--night, with her mystery, bereft +of moon, in whose darkness seemed to vibrate still the song of the +cuckoos that had been calling so all day! And whisperings of +leaves communed with Felix. + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +What Tod thought of all this was, perhaps, as much of an enigma to +Tod as to his three brothers, and never more so than on that Sunday +morning when two police constables appeared at his door with a +warrant for the arrest of Tryst. After regarding them fixedly for +full thirty seconds, he said, "Wait!" and left them in the doorway. + +Kirsteen was washing breakfast things which had a leadless glaze, +and Tryst's three children, extremely tidy, stood motionless at the +edge of the little scullery, watching. + +When she had joined him in the kitchen Tod shut the door. + +"Two policemen," he said, "want Tryst. Are they to have him?" + +In the life together of these two there had, from the very start, +been a queer understanding as to who should decide what. It had +become by now so much a matter of instinct that combative +consultations, which bulk so large in married lives, had no place +in theirs. A frowning tremor passed over her face. + +"I suppose they must. Derek is out. Leave it to me, Tod, and take +the tinies into the orchard." + +Tod took the three little Trysts to the very spot where Derek and +Nedda had gazed over the darkening fields in exchanging that first +kiss, and, sitting on the stump of the apple-tree he had cut down, +he presented each of them with an apple. While they ate, he +stared. And his dog stared at him. How far there worked in Tod +the feelings of an ordinary man watching three small children whose +only parent the law was just taking into its charge it would be +rash to say, but his eyes were extremely blue and there was a frown +between them. + +"Well, Biddy?" he said at last. + +Biddy did not reply; the habit of being a mother had imposed on +her, together with the gravity of her little, pale, oval face, a +peculiar talent for silence. But the round-cheeked Susie said: + +"Billy can eat cores." + +After this statement, silence was broken only by munching, till Tod +remarked: + +"What makes things?" + +The children, having the instinct that he had not asked them, but +himself, came closer. He had in his hand a little beetle. + +"This beetle lives in rotten wood; nice chap, isn't he?" + +"We kill beetles; we're afraid of them." So Susie. + +They were now round Tod so close that Billy was standing on one of +his large feet, Susie leaning her elbows on one of his broad knees, +and Biddy's slender little body pressed against his huge arm. + +"No," said Tod; "beetles are nice chaps." + +"The birds eats them," remarked Billy. + +"This beetle," said Tod, "eats wood. It eats through trees and the +trees get rotten." + +Biddy spoke: + +"Then they don't give no more apples." Tod put the beetle down and +Billy got off his foot to tread on it. When he had done his best +the beetle emerged and vanished in the grass. Tod, who had offered +no remonstrance, stretched out his hand and replaced Billy on his +foot. + +"What about my treading on you, Billy?" he said. + +"Why?" + +"I'm big and you're little." + +On Billy's square face came a puzzled defiance. If he had not been +early taught his station he would evidently have found some +poignant retort. An intoxicated humblebee broke the silence by +buzzing into Biddy's fluffed-out, corn-gold hair. Tod took it off +with his hand. + +"Lovely chap, isn't he?" + +The children, who had recoiled, drew close again, while the drunken +bee crawled feebly in the cage of Tod's large hand. + +"Bees sting," said Biddy; "I fell on a bee and it stang me!" + +"You stang it first," said Tod. "This chap wouldn't sting--not for +worlds. Stroke it!" + +Biddy put out her little, pale finger but stayed it a couple of +inches from the bee. + +"Go on," said Tod. + +Opening her mouth a little, Biddy went on and touched the bee. + +"It's soft," she said. "Why don't it buzz?" + +"I want to stroke it, too," said Susie. And Billy stamped a little +on Tod's foot. + +"No," said Tod; "only Biddy." + +There was perfect silence till the dog, rising, approached its +nose, black with a splash of pinky whiteness on the end of the +bridge, as if to love the bee. + +"No," said Tod. The dog looked at him, and his yellow-brown eyes +were dark with anxiety. + +"It'll sting the dog's nose," said Biddy, and Susie and Billy came +yet closer. + +It was at this moment, when the heads of the dog, the bee, Tod, +Biddy, Susie, and Billy might have been contained within a noose +three feet in diameter, that Felix dismounted from Stanley's car +and, coming from the cottage, caught sight of that little idyll +under the dappled sunlight, green, and blossom. It was something +from the core of life, out of the heartbeat of things--like a rare +picture or song, the revelation of the childlike wonder and +delight, to which all other things are but the supernumerary +casings--a little pool of simplicity into which fever and yearning +sank and were for a moment drowned. And quite possibly he would +have gone away without disturbing them if the dog had not growled +and wagged his tail. + +But when the children had been sent down into the field he +experienced the usual difficulty in commencing a talk with Tod. +How far was his big brother within reach of mere unphilosophic +statements; how far was he going to attend to facts? + +"We came back yesterday," he began; "Nedda and I. You know all +about Derek and Nedda, I suppose?" + +Tod nodded. + +"What do you think of it?" + +"He's a good chap." + +"Yes," murmured Felix, "but a firebrand. This business at +Malloring's--what's it going to lead to, Tod? We must look out, +old man. Couldn't you send Derek and Sheila abroad for a bit?" + +"Wouldn't go." + +"But, after all, they're dependent on you." + +"Don't say that to them; I should never see them again." + +Felix, who felt the instinctive wisdom of that remark, answered +helplessly: + +"What's to be done, then?" + +"Sit tight." And Tod's hand came down on Felix's shoulder. + +"But suppose they get into real trouble? Stanley and John don't +like it; and there's Mother." And Felix added, with sudden heat, +"Besides, I can't stand Nedda being made anxious like this." + +Tod removed his hand. Felix would have given a good deal to have +been able to see into the brain behind the frowning stare of those +blue eyes. + +"Can't help by worrying. What must be, will. Look at the birds!" + +The remark from any other man would have irritated Felix +profoundly; coming from Tod, it seemed the unconscious expression +of a really felt philosophy. And, after all, was he not right? +What was this life they all lived but a ceaseless worrying over +what was to come? Was not all man's unhappiness caused by nervous +anticipations of the future? Was not that the disease, and the +misfortune, of the age; perhaps of all the countless ages man had +lived through? + +With an effort he recalled his thoughts from that far flight. What +if Tod had rediscovered the secret of the happiness that belonged +to birds and lilies of the field--such overpowering interest in the +moment that the future did not exist? Why not? Were not the only +minutes when he himself was really happy those when he lost himself +in work, or love? And why were they so few? For want of pressure +to the square moment. Yes! All unhappiness was fear and lack of +vitality to live the present fully. That was why love and fighting +were such poignant ecstasies--they lived their present to the full. +And so it would be almost comic to say to those young people: Go +away; do nothing in this matter in which your interest and your +feelings are concerned! Don't have a present, because you've got +to have a future! And he said: + +"I'd give a good deal for your power of losing yourself in the +moment, old boy!" + +"That's all right," said Tod. He was examining the bark of a tree, +which had nothing the matter with it, so far as Felix could see; +while his dog, who had followed them, carefully examined Tod. Both +were obviously lost in the moment. And with a feeling of defeat +Felix led the way back to the cottage. + +In the brick-floored kitchen Derek was striding up and down; while +around him, in an equilateral triangle, stood the three women, +Sheila at the window, Kirsteen by the open hearth, Nedda against +the wall opposite. Derek exclaimed at once: + +"Why did you let them, Father? Why didn't you refuse to give him +up?" + +Felix looked at his brother. In the doorway, where his curly head +nearly touched the wood, Tod's face was puzzled, rueful. He did +not answer. + +"Any one could have said he wasn't here. We could have smuggled +him away. Now the brutes have got him! I don't know that, though--" +And he made suddenly for the door. + +Tod did not budge. "No," he said. + +Derek turned; his mother was at the other door; at the window, the +two girls. + +The comedy of this scene, if there be comedy in the face of grief, +was for the moment lost on Felix. + +'It's come,' he thought. 'What now?' + +Derek had flung himself down at the table and was burying his head +in his hands. Sheila went up to him. + +"Don't be a fool, Derek." + +However right and natural that remark, it seemed inadequate. + +And Felix looked at Nedda. The blue motor scarf she had worn had +slipped off her dark head; her face was white; her eyes, fixed +immovably on Derek, seemed waiting for him to recognize that she +was there. The boy broke out again: + +"It was treachery! We took him in; and now we've given him up. +They wouldn't have touched US if we'd got him away. Not they!" + +Felix literally heard the breathing of Tod on one side of him and +of Kirsteen on the other. He crossed over and stood opposite his +nephew. + +"Look here, Derek," he said; "your mother was quite right. You +might have put this off for a day or two; but it was bound to come. +You don't know the reach of the law. Come, my dear fellow! It's +no good making a fuss, that's childish--the thing is to see that +the man gets every chance." + +Derek looked up. Probably he had not yet realized that his uncle +was in the room; and Felix was astonished at his really haggard +face; as if the incident had bitten and twisted some vital in his +body. + +"He trusted us." + +Felix saw Kirsteen quiver and flinch, and understood why they had +none of them felt quite able to turn their backs on that display of +passion. Something deep and unreasoning was on the boy's side; +something that would not fit with common sense and the habits of +civilized society; something from an Arab's tent or a Highland +glen. Then Tod came up behind and put his hands on his son's +shoulders. + +"Come!" he said; "milk's spilt." + +"All right!" said Derek gruffly, and he went to the door. + +Felix made Nedda a sign and she slipped out after him. + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +Nedda, her blue head-gear trailing, followed along at the boy's +side while he passed through the orchard and two fields; and when +he threw himself down under an ash-tree she, too, subsided, waiting +for him to notice her. + +"I am here," she said at last. + +At that ironic little speech Derek sat up. + +"It'll kill him," he said. + +"But--to burn things, Derek! To light horrible cruel flames, and +burn things, even if they aren't alive!" + +Derek said through his teeth: + +"It's I who did it! If I'd never talked to him he'd have been like +the others. They were taking him in a cart, like a calf." + +Nedda got possession of his hand and held it tight. + +That was a bitter and frightening hour under the faintly rustling +ash-tree, while the wind sprinkled over her flakes of the may +blossom, just past its prime. Love seemed now so little a thing, +seemed to have lost warmth and power, seemed like a suppliant +outside a door. Why did trouble come like this the moment one felt +deeply? + +The church bell was tolling; they could see the little congregation +pass across the churchyard into that weekly dream they knew too +well. And presently the drone emerged, mingling with the voices +outside, of sighing trees and trickling water, of the rub of wings, +birds' songs, and the callings of beasts everywhere beneath the sky. + +In spite of suffering because love was not the first emotion in his +heart, the girl could only feel he was right not to be loving her; +that she ought to be glad of what was eating up all else within +him. It was ungenerous, unworthy, to want to be loved at such a +moment. Yet she could not help it! This was her first experience +of the eternal tug between self and the loved one pulled in the +hearts of lovers. Would she ever come to feel happy when he was +just doing what he thought was right? And she drew a little away +from him; then perceived that unwittingly she had done the right +thing, for he at once tried to take her hand again. And this was +her first lesson, too, in the nature of man. If she did not give +her hand, he wanted it! But she was not one of those who calculate +in love; so she gave him her hand at once. That went to his heart; +and he put his arm round her, till he could feel the emotion under +those stays that would not be drawn any closer. In this nest +beneath the ash-tree they sat till they heard the organ wheeze and +the furious sound of the last hymn, and saw the brisk coming-forth +with its air of, 'Thank God! And now, to eat!' till at last there +was no stir again about the little church--no stir at all save that +of nature's ceaseless thanksgiving. . . . + +Tod, his brown face still rueful, had followed those two out into +the air, and Sheila had gone quickly after him. Thus left alone +with his sister-in-law, Felix said gravely: + +"If you don't want the boy to get into real trouble, do all you can +to show him that the last way in the world to help these poor +fellows is to let them fall foul of the law. It's madness to light +flames you can't put out. What happened this morning? Did the man +resist?" + +Her face still showed how bitter had been her mortification, and he +was astonished that she kept her voice so level and emotionless. + +"No. He went with them quite quietly. The back door was open; he +could have walked out. I did not advise him to. I'm glad no one +saw his face except myself. You see," she added, "he's devoted to +Derek, and Derek knows it; that's why he feels it so, and will feel +it more and more. The boy has a great sense of honour, Felix." + +Under that tranquillity Felix caught the pain and yearning in her +voice. Yes! This woman really felt and saw. She was not one of +those who make disturbance with their brains and powers of +criticism; rebellion leaped out from the heat in her heart. But he +said: + +"Is it right to fan this flame? Do you think any good end is being +served?" Waiting for her answer, he found himself gazing at the +ghost of dark down on her upper lip, wondering that he had never +noticed it before. + +Very low, as if to herself, she said: + +"I would kill myself to-day if I didn't believe that tyranny and +injustice must end." + +"In our time?" + +"Perhaps not." + +"Are you content to go on working for an Utopia that you will never +see?" + +"While our laborers are treated and housed more like dogs than +human beings, while the best life under the sun--because life on +the soil might be the best life--is despised and starved, and made +the plaything of people's tongues, neither I nor mine are going to +rest." + +The admiration she inspired in Felix at that moment was mingled +with a kind of pity. He said impressively: + +"Do you know the forces you are up against? Have you looked into +the unfathomable heart of this trouble? Understood the tug of the +towns, the call of money to money; grasped the destructive +restlessness of modern life; the abysmal selfishness of people when +you threaten their interests; the age-long apathy of those you want +to help? Have you grasped all these?" + +"And more!" + +Felix held out his hand. "Then," he said, "you are truly brave!" + +She shook her head. + +"It got bitten into me very young. I was brought up in the +Highlands among the crofters in their worst days. In some ways the +people here are not so badly off, but they're still slaves." + +"Except that they can go to Canada if they want, and save old +England." + +She flushed. "I hate irony." + +Felix looked at her with ever-increasing interest; she certainly +was of the kind that could be relied on to make trouble. + +"Ah!" he murmured. "Don't forget that when we can no longer smile +we can only swell and burst. It IS some consolation to reflect +that by the time we've determined to do something really effectual +for the ploughmen of England there'll be no ploughmen left!" + +"I cannot smile at that." + +And, studying her face, Felix thought, 'You're right there! You'll +get no help from humor.' . . . + +Early that afternoon, with Nedda between them, Felix and his nephew +were speeding toward Transham. + +The little town--a hamlet when Edmund Moreton dropped the E from +his name and put up the works which Stanley had so much enlarged-- +had monopolized by now the hill on which it stood. Living entirely +on its ploughs, it yet had but little of the true look of a British +factory town, having been for the most part built since ideas came +into fashion. With its red roofs and chimneys, it was only +moderately ugly, and here and there an old white, timbered house +still testified to the fact that it had once been country. On this +fine Sunday afternoon the population were in the streets, and +presented all that long narrow-headedness, that twist and +distortion of feature, that perfect absence of beauty in face, +figure, and dress, which is the glory of the Briton who has been +for three generations in a town. 'And my great-grandfather'-- +thought Felix--'did all this! God rest his soul!' + +At a rather new church on the very top they halted, and went in to +inspect the Morton memorials. There they were, in dedicated +corners. 'Edmund and his wife Catherine'--'Charles Edmund and his +wife Florence'--'Maurice Edmund and his wife Dorothy.' Clara had +set her foot down against 'Stanley and his wife Clara' being in the +fourth; her soul was above ploughs, and she, of course, intended to +be buried at Becket, as Clara, dowager Lady Freeland, for her +efforts in regard to the land. Felix, who had a tendency to note +how things affected other people, watched Derek's inspection of +these memorials and marked that they excited in him no tendency to +ribaldry. The boy, indeed, could hardly be expected to see in them +what Felix saw--an epitome of the great, perhaps fatal, change that +had befallen his native country; a record of the beginning of that +far-back fever, whose course ran ever faster, which had emptied +country into town and slowly, surely, changed the whole spirit of +life. When Edmund Moreton, about 1780, took the infection +disseminated by the development of machinery, and left the farming +of his acres to make money, that thing was done which they were all +now talking about trying to undo, with their cries of: "Back to the +land! Back to peace and sanity in the shade of the elms! Back to +the simple and patriarchal state of feeling which old documents +disclose. Back to a time before these little squashed heads and +bodies and features jutted every which way; before there were long +squashed streets of gray houses; long squashed chimneys emitting +smoke-blight; long squashed rows of graves; and long squashed +columns of the daily papers. Back to well-fed countrymen who could +not read, with Common rights, and a kindly feeling for old +'Moretons,' who had a kindly feeling for them!" Back to all that? +A dream! Sirs! A dream! There was nothing for it now, but-- +progress! Progress! On with the dance! Let engines rip, and the +little, squash-headed fellows with them! Commerce, literature, +religion, science, politics, all taking a hand; what a glorious +chance had money, ugliness, and ill will! Such were the +reflections of Felix before the brass tablet: + + + "IN LOVING MEMORY OF + EDMUND MORTON + AND + HIS DEVOTED WIFE + CATHERINE. + + AT REST IN THE LORD. A.D., 1816." + + +From the church they went about their proper business, to interview +a Mr. Pogram, of the firm of Pogram & Collet, solicitors, in whose +hands the interests of many citizens of Transham and the country +round were almost securely deposited. He occupied, curiously +enough, the house where Edmund Morton himself had lived, conducting +his works on the one hand and the squirearchy of the parish on the +other. Incorporated now into the line of a long, loose street, it +still stood rather apart from its neighbors, behind some large +shrubs and trees of the holmoak variety. + +Mr. Pogram, who was finishing his Sunday after-lunch cigar, was a +short, clean-shaved man with strong cheeks and those rather lustful +gray-blue eyes which accompany a sturdy figure. He rose when they +were introduced, and, uncrossing his fat little thighs, asked what +he could do for them. + +Felix propounded the story of the arrest, so far as might be, in +words of one syllable, avoiding the sentimental aspect of the +question, and finding it hard to be on the side of disorder, as any +modern writer might. There was something, however, about Mr. +Pogram that reassured him. The small fellow looked a fighter-- +looked as if he would sympathize with Tryst's want of a woman about +him. The tusky but soft-hearted little brute kept nodding his +round, sparsely covered head while he listened, exuding a smell of +lavender-water, cigars, and gutta-percha. When Felix ceased he +said, rather dryly: + +"Sir Gerald Malloring? Yes. Sir Gerald's country agents, I rather +think, are Messrs. Porter of Worcester. Quite so." + +And a conviction that Mr. Pogram thought they should have been +Messrs. Pogram & Collet of Transham confirmed in Felix the feeling +that they had come to the right man. + +"I gather," Mr. Pogram said, and he looked at Nedda with a glance +from which he obviously tried to remove all earthly desires, "that +you, sir, and your nephew wish to go and see the man. Mrs. Pogram +will be delighted to show Miss Freeland our garden. Your great- +grandfather, sir, on the mother's side, lived in this house. +Delighted to meet you; often heard of your books; Mrs. Pogram has +read one--let me see--'The Bannister,' was it?" + +"'The Balustrade,'" Felix answered gently. + +Mr. Pogram rang the bell. "Quite so," he said. "Assizes are just +over so that he can't come up for trial till August or September; +pity--great pity! Bail in cases of arson--for a laborer, very +doubtful! Ask your mistress to come, please." + +There entered a faded rose of a woman on whom Mr. Pogram in his +time had evidently made a great impression. A vista of two or +three little Pograms behind her was hastily removed by the maid. +And they all went into the garden. + +"Through here," said Mr. Pogram, coming to a side door in the +garden wall, "we can make a short cut to the police station. As we +go along I shall ask you one or two blunt questions." And he +thrust out his under lip: + +"For instance, what's your interest in this matter?" + +Before Felix could answer, Derek had broken in: + +"My uncle has come out of kindness. It's my affair, sir. The man +has been tyrannously treated." + +Mr. Pogram cocked his eye. "Yes, yes; no doubt, no doubt! He's +not confessed, I understand?" + +"No; but--" + +Mr. Pogram laid a finger on his lips. + +"Never say die; that's what we're here for. So," he went on, +"you're a rebel; Socialist, perhaps. Dear me! Well, we're all of +us something, nowadays--I'm a humanitarian myself. Often say to +Mrs. Pogram--humanity's the thing in this age--and so it is! Well, +now, what line shall we take?" And he rubbed his hands. "Shall we +have a try at once to upset what evidence they've got? We should +want a strong alibi. Our friends here will commit if they can-- +nobody likes arson. I understand he was sleeping in your cottage. +His room, now? Was it on the ground floor?" + +"Yes; but--" + +Mr. Pogram frowned, as who should say: Ah! Be careful! "He had +better reserve his defence and give us time to turn round," he said +rather shortly. + +They had arrived at the police station and after a little parley +were ushered into the presence of Tryst. + +The big laborer was sitting on the stool in his cell, leaning back +against the wall, his hands loose and open at his sides. His gaze +passed at once from Felix and Mr. Pogram, who were in advance, to +Derek; and the dumb soul seemed suddenly to look through, as one +may see all there is of spirit in a dog reach out to its master. +This was the first time Felix had seen him who had caused already +so much anxiety, and that broad, almost brutal face, with the +yearning fidelity in its tragic eyes, made a powerful impression on +him. It was the sort of face one did not forget and might be glad +of not remembering in dreams. What had put this yearning spirit +into so gross a frame, destroying its solid coherence? Why could +not Tryst have been left by nature just a beer-loving serf, devoid +of grief for his dead wife, devoid of longing for the nearest he +could get to her again, devoid of susceptibility to this young +man's influence? And the thought of all that was before the mute +creature, sitting there in heavy, hopeless patience, stung Felix's +heart so that he could hardly bear to look him in the face. + +Derek had taken the man's thick, brown hand; Felix could see with +what effort the boy was biting back his feelings. + +"This is Mr. Pogram, Bob. A solicitor who'll do all he can for +you." + +Felix looked at Mr. Pogram. The little man was standing with arms +akimbo; his face the queerest mixture of shrewdness and compassion, +and he was giving off an almost needlessly strong scent of gutta- +percha. + +"Yes, my man," he said, "you and I are going to have a talk when +these gentlemen have done with you," and, turning on his heel, he +began to touch up the points of his little pink nails with a +penknife, in front of the constable who stood outside the cell +door, with his professional air of giving a man a chance. + +Invaded by a feeling, apt to come to him in Zoos, that he was +watching a creature who had no chance to escape being watched, +Felix also turned; but, though his eyes saw not, his ears could not +help hearing. + +"Forgive me, Bob! It's I who got you into this!" + +"No, sir; naught to forgive. I'll soon be back, and then they'll +see!" + +By the reddening of Mr. Pogram's ears Felix formed the opinion that +the little man, also, could hear. + +"Tell her not to fret, Mr. Derek. I'd like a shirt, in case I've +got to stop. The children needn' know where I be; though I an't +ashamed." + +"It may be a longer job than you think, Bob." + +In the silence that followed Felix could not help turning. The +laborer's eyes were moving quickly round his cell, as if for the +first time he realized that he was shut up; suddenly he brought +those big hands of his together and clasped them between his knees, +and again his gaze ran round the cell. Felix heard the clearing of +a throat close by, and, more than ever conscious of the scent of +gutta-percha, grasped its connection with compassion in the heart +of Mr. Pogram. He caught Derek's muttered, "Don't ever think we're +forgetting you, Bob," and something that sounded like, "And don't +ever say you did it." Then, passing Felix and the little lawyer, +the boy went out. His head was held high, but tears were running +down his cheeks. Felix followed. + +A bank of clouds, gray-white, was rising just above the red-tiled +roofs, but the sun still shone brightly. And the thought of the +big laborer sitting there knocked and knocked at Felix's heart +mournfully, miserably. He had a warmer feeling for his young +nephew than he had ever had. Mr. Pogram rejoined them soon, and +they walked on together, + +"Well?" said Felix. + +Mr. Pogram answered in a somewhat grumpy voice: + +"Not guilty, and reserve defence. You have influence, young man! +Dumb as a waiter. Poor devil!" And not another word did he say +till they had re-entered his garden. + +Here the ladies, surrounded by many little Pograms, were having +tea. And seated next the little lawyer, whose eyes were fixed on +Nedda, Felix was able to appreciate that in happier mood he exhaled +almost exclusively the scent of lavender-water and cigars. + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +On their way back to Becket, after the visit to Tryst, Felix and +Nedda dropped Derek half-way on the road to Joyfields. They found +that the Becket household already knew of the arrest. Woven into a +dirge on the subject of 'the Land,' the last town doings, and +adventures on golf courses, it formed the genial topic of the +dinner-table; for the Bulgarian with his carbohydrates was already +a wonder of the past. The Bigwigs of this week-end were quite a +different lot from those of three weeks ago, and comparatively +homogeneous, having only three different plans for settling the +land question, none of which, fortunately, involved any more real +disturbance of the existing state of things than the potato, brown- +bread plan, for all were based on the belief held by the +respectable press, and constructive portions of the community, that +omelette can be made without breaking eggs. On one thing alone, +the whole house party was agreed--the importance of the question. +Indeed, a sincere conviction on this point was like the card one +produces before one is admitted to certain functions. No one came +to Becket without it; or, if he did, he begged, borrowed, or stole +it the moment he smelled Clara's special pot-pourri in the hall; +and, though he sometimes threw it out of the railway-carriage +window in returning to town, there was nothing remarkable about +that. The conversational debauch of the first night's dinner--and, +alas! there were only two even at Becket during a week-end--had +undoubtedly revealed the feeling, which had set in of late, that +there was nothing really wrong with the condition of the +agricultural laborer, the only trouble being that the unreasonable +fellow did not stay on the land. It was believed that Henry +Wiltram, in conjunction with Colonel Martlett, was on the point of +promoting a policy for imposing penalties on those who attempted to +leave it without good reason, such reason to be left to the +discretion of impartial district boards, composed each of one +laborer, one farmer, and one landowner, decision going by favor of +majority. And though opinion was rather freely expressed that, +since the voting would always be two to one against, this might +trench on the liberty of the subject, many thought that the +interests of the country were so much above this consideration that +something of the sort would be found, after all, to be the best +arrangement. The cruder early notions of resettling the land by +fostering peasant proprietorship, with habitable houses and +security of tenure, were already under a cloud, since it was more +than suspected that they would interfere unduly with the game laws +and other soundly vested interests. Mere penalization of those who +(or whose fathers before them) had at great pains planted so much +covert, enclosed so much common, and laid so much country down in +grass was hardly a policy for statesmen. A section of the guests, +and that perhaps strongest because most silent, distinctly favored +this new departure of Henry Wiltram's. Coupled with his swinging +corn tax, it was indubitably a stout platform. + +A second section of the guests spoke openly in favor of Lord +Settleham's policy of good-will. The whole thing, they thought, +must be voluntary, and they did not see any reason why, if it were +left to the kindness and good intentions of the landowner, there +should be any land question at all. Boards would be formed in +every county on which such model landowners as Sir Gerald +Malloring, or Lord Settleham himself, would sit, to apply the +principles of goodwill. Against this policy the only criticism was +levelled by Felix. He could have agreed, he said, if he had not +noticed that Lord Settleham, and nearly all landowners, were +thoroughly satisfied with their existing good-will and averse to +any changes in their education that might foster an increase of it. +If--he asked--landowners were so full of good-will, and so +satisfied that they could not be improved in that matter, why had +they not already done what was now proposed, and settled the land +question? He himself believed that the land question, like any +other, was only capable of settlement through improvement in the +spirit of all concerned, but he found it a little difficult to +credit Lord Settleham and the rest of the landowners with sincerity +in the matter so long as they were unconscious of any need for +their own improvement. According to him, they wanted it both ways, +and, so far as he could see, they meant to have it! + +His use of the word sincere, in connection with Lord Settleham, was +at once pounced on. He could not know Lord Settleham--one of the +most sincere of men. Felix freely admitted that he did not, and +hastened to explain that he did not question the--er--parliamentary +sincerity of Lord Settleham and his followers. He only ventured to +doubt whether they realized the hold that human nature had on them. +His experience, he said, of the houses where they had been bred, +and the seminaries where they had been trained, had convinced him +that there was still a conspiracy on foot to blind Lord Settleham +and those others concerning all this; and, since they were +themselves part of the conspiracy, there was very little danger of +their unmasking it. At this juncture Felix was felt to have +exceeded the limit of fair criticism, and only that toleration +toward literary men of a certain reputation, in country houses, as +persons brought there to say clever and irresponsible things, +prevented people from taking him seriously. + +The third section of the guests, unquestionably more static than +the others, confined themselves to pointing out that, though the +land question was undoubtedly serious, nothing whatever would +result from placing any further impositions upon landowners. For, +after all, what was land? Simply capital invested in a certain +way, and very poorly at that. And what was capital? Simply a +means of causing wages to be paid. And whether they were paid to +men who looked after birds and dogs, loaded your guns, beat your +coverts, or drove you to the shoot, or paid to men who ploughed and +fertilized the land, what did it matter? To dictate to a man to +whom he was to pay wages was, in the last degree, un-English. +Everybody knew the fate which had come, or was coming, upon +capital. It was being driven out of the country by leaps and +bounds--though, to be sure, it still perversely persisted in +yielding every year a larger revenue by way of income tax. And it +would be dastardly to take advantage of land just because it was +the only sort of capital which could not fly the country in times +of need. Stanley himself, though--as became a host--he spoke +little and argued not at all, was distinctly of this faction; and +Clara sometimes felt uneasy lest her efforts to focus at Becket all +interest in the land question should not quite succeed in +outweighing the passivity of her husband's attitude. But, knowing +that it is bad policy to raise the whip too soon, she trusted to +her genius to bring him 'with one run at the finish,' as they say, +and was content to wait. + +There was universal sympathy with the Mallorings. If a model +landlord like Malloring had trouble with his people, who--who +should be immune? Arson! It was the last word! Felix, who +secretly shared Nedda's horror of the insensate cruelty of flames, +listened, nevertheless, to the jubilation that they had caught the +fellow, with profound disturbance. For the memory of the big +laborer seated against the wall, his eyes haunting round his cell, +quarrelled fiercely with his natural abhorrence of any kind of +violence, and his equally natural dislike of what brought anxiety +into his own life--and the life, almost as precious, of his little +daughter. Scarcely a word of the evening's conversation but gave +him in high degree the feeling: How glib all this is, how far from +reality! How fatted up with shell after shell of comfort and +security! What do these people know, what do they realize, of the +pressure and beat of raw life that lies behind--what do even I, who +have seen this prisoner, know? For us it's as simple as killing a +rat that eats our corn, or a flea that sucks our blood. Arson! +Destructive brute--lock him up! And something in Felix said: For +order, for security, this may be necessary. But something also +said: Our smug attitude is odious! + +He watched his little daughter closely, and several times marked +the color rush up in her face, and once could have sworn he saw +tears in her eyes. If the temper of this talk were trying to him, +hardened at a hundred dinner-tables, what must it be to a young and +ardent creature! And he was relieved to find, on getting to the +drawing-room, that she had slipped behind the piano and was +chatting quietly with her Uncle John. . . . + +As to whether this or that man liked her, Nedda perhaps was not +more ignorant than other women; and she had noted a certain warmth +and twinkle in Uncle John's eyes the other evening, a certain +rather jolly tendency to look at her when he should have been +looking at the person to whom he was talking; so that she felt +toward him a trustful kindliness not altogether unmingled with a +sense that he was in that Office which controls the destinies of +those who 'get into trouble.' The motives even of statesmen, they +say, are mixed; how much more so, then, of girls in love! Tucked +away behind a Steinway, which instinct told her was not for use, +she looked up under her lashes at her uncle's still military figure +and said softly: + +"It was awfully good of you to come, too, Uncle John." + +And John, gazing down at that round, dark head, and those slim, +pretty, white shoulders, answered: + +"Not at all--very glad to get a breath of fresh air." + +And he stealthily tightened his white waistcoat--a rite neglected +of late; the garment seemed to him at the moment unnecessarily +loose. + +"You have so much experience, Uncle. Do you think violent +rebellion is ever justifiable?" + +"I do not." + +Nedda sighed. "I'm glad you think that," she murmured, "because I +don't think it is, either. I do so want you to like Derek, Uncle +John, because--it's a secret from nearly every one--he and I are +engaged." + +John jerked his head up a little, as though he had received a +slight blow. The news was not palatable. He kept his form, +however, and answered: + +"Oh! Really! Ah!" + +Nedda said still more softly: "Please don't judge him by the other +night; he wasn't very nice then, I know." + +John cleared his throat. + +Instinct warned her that he agreed, and she said rather sadly: + +"You see, we're both awfully young. It must be splendid to have +experience." + +Over John's face, with its double line between the brows, its +double line in the thin cheeks, its single firm line of mouth +beneath a gray moustache, there passed a little grimace. + +"As to being young," he said, "that'll change for the--er--better +only too fast." + +What was it in this girl that reminded him of that one with whom he +had lived but two years, and mourned fifteen? Was it her youth? +Was it that quick way of lifting her eyes, and looking at him with +such clear directness? Or the way her hair grew? Or what? + +"Do you like the people here, Uncle John?" + +The question caught John, as it were, between wind and water. +Indeed, all her queries seemed to be trying to incite him to those +wide efforts of mind which bring into use the philosophic nerve; +and it was long since he had generalized afresh about either things +or people, having fallen for many years past into the habit of +reaching his opinions down out of some pigeonhole or other. To +generalize was a youthful practice that one took off as one takes +certain garments off babies when they come to years of discretion. +But since he seemed to be in for it, he answered rather shortly: +"Not at all." + +Nedda sighed again. + +"Nor do I. They make me ashamed of myself." + +John, whose dislike of the Bigwigs was that of the dogged worker of +this life for the dogged talkers, wrinkled his brows: + +"How's that?" + +"They make me feel as if I were part of something heavy sitting on +something else, and all the time talking about how to make things +lighter for the thing it's sitting on." + +A vague recollection of somebody--some writer, a dangerous one-- +having said something of this sort flitted through John. + +"Do YOU think England is done for, Uncle--I mean about 'the Land'?" + +In spite of his conviction that 'the country was in a bad way,' +John was deeply, intimately shocked by that simple little question. +Done for! Never! Whatever might be happening underneath, there +must be no confession of that. No! the country would keep its +form. The country would breathe through its nose, even if it did +lose the race. It must never know, or let others know, even if it +were beaten. And he said: + +"What on earth put that into your head?" + +"Only that it seems funny, if we're getting richer and richer, and +yet all the time farther and farther away from the life that every +one agrees is the best for health and happiness. Father put it +into my head, making me look at the little, towny people in +Transham this afternoon. I know I mean to begin at once to learn +about farm work." + +"You?" This pretty young thing with the dark head and the pale, +slim shoulders! Farm work! Women were certainly getting queer. +In his department he had almost daily evidence of that! + +"I should have thought art was more in your line!" + +Nedda looked up at him; and he was touched by that look, so +straight and young. + +"It's this. I don't believe Derek will be able to stay in England. +When you feel very strongly about things it must be awfully +difficult to." + +In bewilderment John answered: + +"Why! I should have said this was the country of all others for +movements, and social work, and--and--cranks--" he paused. + +"Yes; but those are all for curing the skin, and I suppose we're +really dying of heart disease, aren't we? Derek feels that, +anyway, and, you see, he's not a bit wise, not even patient--so I +expect he'll have to go. I mean to be ready, anyway." + +And Nedda got up. "Only, if he does something rash, don't let them +hurt him, Uncle John, if you can help it." + +John felt her soft fingers squeezing his almost desperately, as if +her emotions had for the moment got out of hand. And he was moved, +though he knew that the squeeze expressed feeling for his nephew, +not for himself. When she slid away out of the big room all +friendliness seemed to go out with her, and very soon after he +himself slipped away to the smoking-room. There he was alone, and, +lighting a cigar, because he still had on his long-tailed coat +which did not go with that pipe he would so much have preferred, he +stepped out of the French window into the warm, dark night. He +walked slowly in his evening pumps up a thin path between +columbines and peonies, late tulips, forget-me-nots, and pansies +peering up in the dark with queer, monkey faces. He had a love for +flowers, rather starved for a long time past, and, strangely, liked +to see them, not in the set and orderly masses that should +seemingly have gone with his character, but in wilder beds, where +one never knew what flower was coming next. Once or twice he +stopped and bent down, ascertaining which kind it was, living its +little life down there, then passed on in that mood of stammering +thought which besets men of middle age who walk at night--a mood +caught between memory of aspirations spun and over, and vision of +aspirations that refuse to take shape. Why should they, any more-- +what was the use? And turning down another path he came on +something rather taller than himself, that glowed in the darkness +as though a great moon, or some white round body, had floated to +within a few feet of the earth. Approaching, he saw it for what it +was--a little magnolia-tree in the full of its white blossoms. +Those clustering flower-stars, printed before him on the dark coat +of the night, produced in John more feeling than should have been +caused by a mere magnolia-tree; and he smoked somewhat furiously. +Beauty, seeking whom it should upset, seemed, like a girl, to +stretch out arms and say: "I am here!" And with a pang at heart, +and a long ash on his cigar, between lips that quivered oddly, John +turned on his heel and retraced his footsteps to the smoking-room. +It was still deserted. Taking up a Review, he opened it at an +article on 'the Land,' and, fixing his eyes on the first page, did +not read it, but thought: 'That child! What folly! Engaged! H'm! +To that young--! Why, they're babes! And what is it about her +that reminds me--reminds me--What is it? Lucky devil, Felix--to +have her for daughter! Engaged! The little thing's got her +troubles before her. Wish I had! By George, yes--wish I had!' +And with careful fingers he brushed off the ash that had fallen on +his lapel. . . . + +The little thing who had her troubles before her, sitting in her +bedroom window, had watched his white front and the glowing point +of his cigar passing down there in the dark, and, though she did +not know that they belonged to him, had thought: 'There's some one +nice, anyway, who likes being out instead of in that stuffy +drawing-room, playing bridge, and talking, talking.' Then she felt +ashamed of her uncharitableness. After all, it was wrong to think +of them like that. They did it for rest after all their hard work; +and she--she did not work at all! If only Aunt Kirsteen would let +her stay at Joyfields, and teach her all that Sheila knew! And +lighting her candles, she opened her diary to write. + +"Life," she wrote, "is like looking at the night. One never knows +what's coming, only suspects, as in the darkness you suspect which +trees are what, and try to see whether you are coming to the edge +of anything. . . . A moth has just flown into my candle before I +could stop it! Has it gone quite out of the world? If so, why +should it be different for us? The same great Something makes all +life and death, all light and dark, all love and hate--then why one +fate for one living thing, and the opposite for another? But +suppose there IS nothing after death--would it make me say: 'I'd +rather not live'? It would only make me delight more in life of +every kind. Only human beings brood and are discontented, and +trouble about future life. While Derek and I were sitting in that +field this morning, a bumblebee flew to the bank and tucked its +head into the grass and went to sleep, just tired out with flying +and working at its flowers; it simply snoozed its head down and +went off. We ought to live every minute to the utmost, and when +we're tired out, tuck in our heads and sleep. . . . If only Derek +is not brooding over that poor man! Poor man--all alone in the +dark, with months of misery before him! Poor soul! Oh! I am sorry +for all the unhappiness of people! I can't bear to think of it. I +simply can't." And dropping her pen, Nedda went again to her +window and leaned out. So sweet the air smelled that it made her +ache with delight to breathe it in. Each leaf that lived out +there, each flower, each blade of grass, were sworn to conspiracy +of perfume. And she thought: 'They MUST all love each other; it +all goes together so beautifully!' Then, mingled with the incense +of the night, she caught the savor of woodsmoke. It seemed to make +the whole scent even more delicious, but she thought, bewildered: +'Smoke! Cruel fire--burning the wood that once grew leaves like +those. Oh! it IS so mixed!' It was a thought others have had +before her. + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +To see for himself how it fared with the big laborer at the hands +of Preliminary Justice, Felix went into Transham with Stanley the +following morning. John having departed early for town, the +brothers had not further exchanged sentiments on the subject of +what Stanley called 'the kick-up at Joyfields.' And just as night +will sometimes disperse the brooding moods of nature, so it had +brought to all three the feeling: 'Haven't we made too much of +this? Haven't we been a little extravagant, and aren't we rather +bored with the whole subject?' Arson was arson; a man in prison +more or less was a man in prison more or less! This was especially +Stanley's view, and he took the opportunity to say to Felix: "Look +here, old man, the thing is, of course, to see it in proportion." + +It was with this intention, therefore, that Felix entered the +building where the justice of that neighborhood was customarily +dispensed. It was a species of small hall, somewhat resembling a +chapel, with distempered walls, a platform, and benches for the +public, rather well filled that morning--testimony to the stir the +little affair had made. Felix, familiar with the appearance of +London police courts, noted the efforts that had been made to +create resemblance to those models of administration. The justices +of the peace, hastily convoked and four in number, sat on the +platform, with a semicircular backing of high gray screens and a +green baize barrier in front of them, so that their legs and feet +were quite invisible. In this way had been preserved the really +essential feature of all human justice--at whose feet it is well +known one must not look! Their faces, on the contrary, were +entirely exposed to view, and presented that pleasing variety of +type and unanimity of expression peculiar to men keeping an open +mind. Below them, with his face toward the public, was placed a +gray-bearded man at a table also covered with green baize, that +emblem of authority. And to the side, at right angles, raised into +the air, sat a little terrier of a man, with gingery, wired hair, +obviously the more articulate soul of these proceedings. As Felix +sat down to worship, he noticed Mr. Pogram at the green baize +table, and received from the little man a nod and the faintest +whiff of lavender and gutta-percha. The next moment he caught +sight of Derek and Sheila, screwed sideways against one of the +distempered walls, looking, with their frowning faces, for all the +world like two young devils just turned out of hell. They did not +greet him, and Felix set to work to study the visages of Justice. +They impressed him, on the whole, more favorably than he had +expected. The one to his extreme left, with a gray-whiskered face, +was like a large and sleepy cat of mature age, who moved not, +except to write a word now and then on the paper before him, or to +hand back a document. Next to him, a man of middle age with bald +forehead and dark, intelligent eyes seemed conscious now and again +of the body of the court, and Felix thought: 'You have not been a +magistrate long.' The chairman, who sat next, with the moustache +of a heavy dragoon and gray hair parted in the middle, seemed, on +the other hand, oblivious of the public, never once looking at +them, and speaking so that they could not hear him, and Felix +thought: 'You have been a magistrate too long.' Between him and +the terrier man, the last of the four wrote diligently, below a +clean, red face with clipped white moustache and little peaked +beard. And Felix thought: 'Retired naval!' Then he saw that they +were bringing in Tryst. The big laborer advanced between two +constables, his broad, unshaven face held high, and his lowering +eyes, through which his strange and tragical soul seemed looking, +turned this way and that. Felix, who, no more than any one else, +could keep his gaze off the trapped creature, felt again all the +sensations of the previous afternoon. + +"Guilty? or, Not guilty?" As if repeating something learned by +heart, Tryst answered: "Not guilty, sir." And his big hands, at +his sides, kept clenching and unclenching. The witnesses, four in +number, began now to give their testimony. A sergeant of police +recounted how he had been first summoned to the scene of burning, +and afterward arrested Tryst; Sir Gerald's agent described the +eviction and threats uttered by the evicted man; two persons, a +stone-breaker and a tramp, narrated that they had seen him going in +the direction of the rick and barn at five o'clock, and coming away +therefrom at five-fifteen. Punctuated by the barking of the +terrier clerk, all this took time, during which there passed +through Felix many thoughts. Here was a man who had done a wicked, +because an antisocial, act; the sort of act no sane person could +defend; an act so barbarous, stupid, and unnatural that the very +beasts of the field would turn noses away from it! How was it, +then, that he himself could not feel incensed? Was it that in +habitually delving into the motives of men's actions he had lost +the power of dissociating what a man did from what he was; had come +to see him, with his thoughts, deeds, and omissions, as a coherent +growth? And he looked at Tryst. The big laborer was staring with +all his soul at Derek. And, suddenly, he saw his nephew stand up-- +tilt his dark head back against the wall--and open his mouth to +speak. In sheer alarm Felix touched Mr. Pogram on the arm. The +little square man had already turned; he looked at that moment +extremely like a frog. + +"Gentlemen, I wish to say--" + +"Who are you? Sit down!" It was the chairman, speaking for the +first time in a voice that could be heard. + +"I wish to say that he is not responsible. I--" + +"Silence! Silence, sir! Sit down!" + +Felix saw his nephew waver, and Sheila pulling at his sleeve; then, +to his infinite relief, the boy sat down. His sallow face was red; +his thin lips compressed to a white line. And slowly under the +eyes of the whole court he grew deadly pale. + +Distracted by fear that the boy might make another scene, Felix +followed the proceedings vaguely. They were over soon enough: +Tryst committed, defence reserved, bail refused--all as Mr. Pogram +had predicted. + +Derek and Sheila had vanished, and in the street outside, idle at +this hour of a working-day, were only the cars of the four +magistrates; two or three little knots of those who had been in +court, talking of the case; and in the very centre of the street, +an old, dark-whiskered man, lame, and leaning on a stick. + +"Very nearly being awkward," said the voice of Mr. Pogram in his +ear. "I say, do you think--no hand himself, surely no real hand +himself?" + +Felix shook his head violently. If the thought had once or twice +occurred to him, he repudiated it with all his force when shaped by +another's mouth--and such a mouth, so wide and rubbery! + +"No, no! Strange boy! Extravagant sense of honour--too sensitive, +that's all!" + +"Quite so," murmured Mr. Pogram soothingly. "These young people! +We live in a queer age, Mr. Freeland. All sorts of ideas about, +nowadays. Young men like that--better in the army--safe in the +army. No ideas there!" + +"What happens now?" said Felix. + +"Wait!" said Mr. Pogram. "Nothing else for it--wait. Three +months--twiddle his thumbs. Bad system! Rotten!" + +"And suppose in the end he's proved innocent?" + +Mr. Pogram shook his little round head, whose ears were very red. + +"Ah!" he said: "Often say to my wife: 'Wish I weren't a +humanitarian!' Heart of india-rubber--excellent thing--the +greatest blessing. Well, good-morning! Anything you want to say +at any time, let me know!" And exhaling an overpowering whiff of +gutta-percha, he grasped Felix's hand and passed into a house on +the door of which was printed in brazen letters: "Edward Pogram, +James Collet. Solicitors. Agents." + +On leaving the little humanitarian, Felix drifted back toward the +court. The cars were gone, the groups dispersed; alone, leaning on +his stick, the old, dark-whiskered man stood like a jackdaw with a +broken wing. Yearning, at that moment, for human intercourse, +Felix went up to him. + +"Fine day," he said. + +"Yes, sir, 'tis fine enough." And they stood silent, side by side. +The gulf fixed by class and habit between soul and human soul +yawned before Felix as it had never before. Stirred and troubled, +he longed to open his heart to this old, ragged, dark-eyed, +whiskered creature with the game leg, who looked as if he had +passed through all the thorns and thickets of hard and primitive +existence; he longed that the old fellow should lay bare to him his +heart. And for the life of him he could not think of any mortal +words which might bridge the unreal gulf between them. At last he +said: + +"You a native here?" + +"No, sir. From over Malvern way. Livin' here with my darter, +owin' to my leg. Her 'usband works in this here factory." + +"And I'm from London," Felix said. + +"Thart you were. Fine place, London, they say!" + +Felix shook his head. "Not so fine as this Worcestershire of +yours." + +The old man turned his quick, dark gaze. "Aye!" he said, +"people'll be a bit nervy-like in towns, nowadays. The country be +a good place for a healthy man, too; I don't want no better place +than the country--never could abide bein' shut in." + +"There aren't so very many like you, judging by the towns." + +The old man smiled--that smile was the reverse of a bitter tonic +coated with sweet stuff to make it palatable. + +"'Tes the want of a life takes 'em," he said. "There's not a many +like me. There's not so many as can't do without the smell of the +earth. With these 'ere newspapers--'tesn't taught nowadays. The +boys and gells they goes to school, and 'tes all in favor of the +towns there. I can't work no more; I'm 's good as gone meself; but +I feel sometimes I'll 'ave to go back. I don't like the streets, +an' I guess 'tes worse in London." + +"Ah! Perhaps," Felix said, "there are more of us like you than you +think." + +Again the old man turned his dark, quick glance. + +"Well, an' I widden say no to that, neither. I've seen 'em +terrible homesick. 'Tes certain sure there's lots would never go, +ef 'twasn't so mortial hard on the land. 'Tisn't a bare livin', +after that. An' they're put upon, right and left they're put upon. +'Tes only a man here and there that 'as something in 'im too +strong. I widden never 'ave stayed in the country ef 'twasn't that +I couldn't stand the town life. 'Tes like some breeds o' cattle-- +you take an' put 'em out o' their own country, an' you 'ave to take +an' put 'em back again. Only some breeds, though. Others they +don' mind where they go. Well, I've seen the country pass in my +time, as you might say; where you used to see three men you only +see one now." + +"Are they ever going back onto the land?" + +"They tark about it. I read my newspaper reg'lar. In some places +I see they're makin' unions. That an't no good." + +"Why?" + +The old man smiled again. + +"Why! Think of it! The land's different to anythin' else--that's +why! Different work, different hours, four men's work to-day and +one's to-morrow. Work land wi' unions, same as they've got in this +'ere factory, wi' their eight hours an' their do this an' don' do +that? No! You've got no weather in factories, an' such-like. On +the land 'tes a matter o' weather. On the land a man must be ready +for anythin' at any time; you can't work it no other way. 'Tes +along o' God's comin' into it; an' no use pullin' this way an' +that. Union says to me: You mustn't work after hours. Hoh! I've +'ad to set up all night wi' ship an' cattle hundreds o' times, an' +no extra for it. 'Tes not that way they'll do any good to keep +people on the land. Oh, no!" + +"How, then?" + +"Well, you'll want new laws, o' course, to prevent farmers an' +landowners takin' their advantage; you want laws to build new +cottages; but mainly 'tes a case of hands together; can't be no +other--the land's so ticklish. If 'tesn't hands together, 'tes +nothing. I 'ad a master once that was never content so long's we +wasn't content. That farm was better worked than any in the +parish." + +"Yes, but the difficulty is to get masters that can see the other +side; a man doesn't care much to look at home." + +The old man's dark eyes twinkled. + +'No; an' when 'e does, 'tes generally to say: 'Lord, an't I right, +an' an't they wrong, just?' That's powerful customary!" + +"It is," said Felix; "God bless us all!" + +"Ah! You may well say that, sir; an' we want it, too. A bit more +wages wouldn't come amiss, neither. An' a bit more freedom; 'tes a +man's liberty 'e prizes as well as money." + +"Did you hear about this arson case?" + +The old man cast a glance this way and that before he answered in a +lower voice: + +"They say 'e was put out of his cottage. I've seen men put out for +votin' Liberal; I've seen 'em put out for free-thinkin'; all sorts +o' things I seen em put out for. 'Tes that makes the bad blood. A +man wants to call 'is soul 'is own, when all's said an' done. An' +'e can't, not in th' old country, unless 'e's got the dibs." + +"And yet you never thought of emigrating?" + +"Thart of it--ah! thart of it hundreds o' times; but some'ow cudden +never bring mysel' to the scratch o' not seein' th' Beacon any +more. I can just see it from 'ere, you know. But there's not so +many like me, an' gettin' fewer every day." + +"Yes," murmured Felix, "that I believe." + +"'Tes a 'and-made piece o' goods--the land! You has to be fond of +it, same as of your missis and yer chillen. These poor pitiful +fellows that's workin' in this factory, makin' these here Colonial +ploughs--union's all right for them--'tes all mechanical; but a man +on the land, 'e's got to put the land first, whether 'tes his own +or some one else's, or he'll never do no good; might as well go for +a postman, any day. I'm keepin' of you, though, with my tattle!" + +In truth, Felix had looked at the old man, for the accursed +question had begun to worry him: Ought he or not to give the lame +old fellow something? Would it hurt his feelings? Why could he +not say simply: 'Friend, I'm better off than you; help me not to +feel so unfairly favored'? Perhaps he might risk it. And, diving +into his trousers pockets, he watched the old man's eyes. If they +followed his hand, he would risk it. But they did not. +Withdrawing his hand, he said: + +"Have a cigar?" + +The old fellow's dark face twinkled. + +"I don' know," he said, "as I ever smoked one; but I can have a +darned old try!" + +"Take the lot," said Felix, and shuffled into the other's pocket +the contents of his cigar-case. "If you get through one, you'll +want the rest. They're pretty good." + +"Ah!" said the old man. "Shuldn' wonder, neither." + +"Good-by. I hope your leg will soon be better." + +"Thank 'ee, sir. Good-by, thank 'ee!" + +Looking back from the turning, Felix saw him still standing there +in the middle of the empty street. + +Having undertaken to meet his mother, who was returning this +afternoon to Becket, he had still two hours to put away, and +passing Mr. Pogram's house, he turned into a path across a clover- +field and sat down on a stile. He had many thoughts, sitting at +the foot of this little town--which his great-grandfather had +brought about. And chiefly he thought of the old man he had been +talking to, sent there, as it seemed to him, by Providence, to +afford a prototype for his 'The Last of the Laborers.' Wonderful +that the old fellow should talk of loving 'the Land,' whereon he +must have toiled for sixty years or so, at a number of shillings +per week, that would certainly not buy the cigars he had shovelled +into that ragged pocket. Wonderful! And yet, a marvellous sweet +thing, when all was said--this land! Changing its sheen and +texture, the feel of its air, its very scent, from day to day. +This land with myriad offspring of flowers and flying folk; the +majestic and untiring march of seasons: Spring and its wistful +ecstasy of saplings, and its yearning, wild, wind-loosened heart; +gleam and song, blossom and cloud, and the swift white rain; each +upturned leaf so little and so glad to flutter; each wood and field +so full of peeping things! Summer! Ah! Summer, when on the +solemn old trees the long days shone and lingered, and the glory of +the meadows and the murmur of life and the scent of flowers +bewildered tranquillity, till surcharge of warmth and beauty +brooded into dark passion, and broke! And Autumn, in mellow haze +down on the fields and woods; smears of gold already on the +beeches, smears of crimson on the rowans, the apple-trees still +burdened, and a flax-blue sky well-nigh merging with the misty air; +the cattle browsing in the lingering golden stillness; not a breath +to fan the blue smoke of the weed-fires--and in the fields no one +moving--who would disturb such mellow peace? And Winter! The long +spaces, the long dark; and yet--and yet, what delicate loveliness +of twig tracery; what blur of rose and brown and purple caught in +the bare boughs and in the early sunset sky! What sharp dark +flights of birds in the gray-white firmament! Who cared what +season held in its arms this land that had bred them all! + +Not wonderful that into the veins of those who nursed it, tending, +watching its perpetual fertility, should be distilled a love so +deep and subtle that they could not bear to leave it, to abandon +its hills, and greenness, and bird-songs, and all the impress of +their forefathers throughout the ages. + +Like so many of his fellows--cultured moderns, alien to the larger +forms of patriotism, that rich liquor brewed of maps and figures, +commercial profit, and high-cockalorum, which served so perfectly +to swell smaller heads--Felix had a love of his native land +resembling love for a woman, a kind of sensuous chivalry, a passion +based on her charm, on her tranquillity, on the power she had to +draw him into her embrace, to make him feel that he had come from +her, from her alone, and into her alone was going back. And this +green parcel of his native land, from which the half of his blood +came, and that the dearest half, had a potency over his spirit that +he might well be ashamed of in days when the true Briton was a +town-bred creature with a foot of fancy in all four corners of the +globe. There was ever to him a special flavor about the elm-girt +fields, the flowery coppices, of this country of the old Moretons, +a special fascination in its full, white-clouded skies, its grass- +edged roads, its pied and creamy cattle, and the blue-green loom of +the Malvern hills. If God walked anywhere for him, it was surely +here. Sentiment! Without sentiment, without that love, each for +his own corner, 'the Land' was lost indeed! Not if all Becket blew +trumpets till kingdom came, would 'the Land' be reformed, if they +lost sight of that! To fortify men in love for their motherland, +to see that insecurity, grinding poverty, interference, petty +tyranny, could no longer undermine that love--this was to be, +surely must be, done! Monotony? Was that cry true? What work now +performed by humble men was less monotonous than work on the land? +What work was even a tenth part so varied? Never quite the same +from day to day: Now weeding, now hay, now roots, now hedging; now +corn, with sowing, reaping, threshing, stacking, thatching; the +care of beasts, and their companionship; sheep-dipping, shearing, +wood-gathering, apple-picking, cider-making; fashioning and tarring +gates; whitewashing walls; carting; trenching--never, never two +days quite the same! Monotony! The poor devils in factories, in +shops, in mines; poor devils driving 'busses, punching tickets, +cleaning roads; baking; cooking; sewing; typing! Stokers; machine- +tenders; brick-layers; dockers; clerks! Ah! that great company +from towns might well cry out: Monotony! True, they got their +holidays; true, they had more social life--a point that might well +be raised at Becket: Holidays and social life for men on the soil! +But--and suddenly Felix thought of the long, long holiday that was +before the laborer Tryst. 'Twiddle his thumbs'--in the words of +the little humanitarian--twiddle his thumbs in a space twelve feet +by seven! No sky to see, no grass to smell, no beast to bear him +company; no anything--for, what resources in himself had this poor +creature? No anything, but to sit with tragic eyes fixed on the +wall before him for eighty days and eighty nights, before they +tried him. And then--not till then--would his punishment for that +moment's blind revenge for grievous wrong begin! What on this +earth of God's was more disproportioned, and wickedly extravagant, +more crassly stupid, than the arrangements of his most perfect +creature, man? What a devil was man, who could yet rise to such +sublime heights of love and heroism! What a ferocious brute, the +most ferocious and cold-blooded brute that lived! Of all creatures +most to be stampeded by fear into a callous torturer! 'Fear'-- +thought Felix--'fear! Not momentary panic, such as makes our +brother animals do foolish things; conscious, calculating fear, +paralyzing the reason of our minds and the generosity of our +hearts. A detestable thing Tryst has done, a hateful act; but his +punishment will be twentyfold as hateful!' + +And, unable to sit and think of it, Felix rose and walked on +through the fields. . . . + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +He was duly at Transham station in time for the London train, and, +after a minute consecrated to looking in the wrong direction, he +saw his mother already on the platform with her bag, an air- +cushion, and a beautifully neat roll. + +'Travelling third!' he thought. 'Why will she do these things?' + +Slightly flushed, she kissed Felix with an air of abstraction. + +"How good of you to meet me, darling!" + +Felix pointed in silence to the crowded carriage from which she had +emerged. Frances Freeland looked a little rueful. "It would have +been delightful," she said. "There was a dear baby there and, of +course, I couldn't have the window down, so it WAS rather hot." + +Felix, who could just see the dear baby, said dryly: + +"So that's how you go about, is it? Have you had any lunch?" + +Frances Freeland put her hand under his arm. "Now, don't fuss, +darling! Here's sixpence for the porter. There's only one trunk-- +it's got a violet label. Do you know them? They're so useful. +You see them at once. I must get you some." + +"Let me take those things. You won't want this cushion. I'll let +the air out." + +"I'm afraid you won't be able, dear. It's quite the best screw +I've ever come across--a splendid thing; I can't get it undone." + +"Ah!" said Felix. "And now we may as well go out to the car!" + +He was conscious of a slight stoppage in his mother's footsteps and +rather a convulsive squeeze of her hand on his arm. Looking at her +face, he discovered it occupied with a process whose secret he +could not penetrate, a kind of disarray of her features, rapidly +and severely checked, and capped with a resolute smile. They had +already reached the station exit, where Stanley's car was snorting. +Frances Freeland looked at it, then, mounting rather hastily, sat, +compressing her lips. + +When they were off, Felix said: + +"Would you like to stop at the church and have a look at the +brasses to your grandfather and the rest of them?" + +His mother, who had slipped her hand under his arm again, answered: + +"No, dear; I've seen them. The church is not at all beautiful. I +like the old church at Becket so much better; it is such a pity +your great-grandfather was not buried there." + +She had never quite got over the lack of 'niceness' about those +ploughs. + +Going, as was the habit of Stanley's car, at considerable speed, +Felix was not at first certain whether the peculiar little squeezes +his arm was getting were due to the bounds of the creature under +them or to some cause more closely connected with his mother, and +it was not till they shaved a cart at the turning of the Becket +drive that it suddenly dawned on him that she was in terror. He +discovered it in looking round just as she drew her smile over a +spasm of her face and throat. And, leaning out of the car, he +said: + +"Drive very slowly, Batter; I want to look at the trees." + +A little sigh rewarded him. Since SHE had said nothing, He said +nothing, and Clara's words in the hall seemed to him singularly +tactless: + +"Oh! I meant to have reminded you, Felix, to send the car back and +take a fly. I thought you knew that Mother's terrified of motors." +And at his mother's answer: + +"Oh! no; I quite enjoyed it, dear," he thought: 'Bless her heart! +She IS a stoic!' + +Whether or no to tell her of the 'kick-up at Joyfields' exercised +his mind. The question was intricate, for she had not yet been +informed that Nedda and Derek were engaged, and Felix did not feel +at liberty to forestall the young people. That was their business. +On the other hand, she would certainly glean from Clara a garbled +understanding of the recent events at Joyfields, if she were not +first told of them by himself. And he decided to tell her, with +the natural trepidation of one who, living among principles and +theories, never quite knew what those, for whom each fact is +unrelated to anything else under the moon, were going to think. +Frances Freeland, he knew well, kept facts and theories especially +unrelated, or, rather, modified her facts to suit her theories, +instead of, like Felix, her theories to suit her facts. For +example, her instinctive admiration for Church and State, her +instinctive theory that they rested on gentility and people who +were nice, was never for a moment shaken when she saw a half- +starved baby of the slums. Her heart would impel her to pity and +feed the poor little baby if she could, but to correlate the +creature with millions of other such babies, and those millions +with the Church and State, would not occur to her. And if Felix +made an attempt to correlate them for her she would look at him and +think: 'Dear boy! How good he is! I do wish he wouldn't let that +line come in his forehead; it does so spoil it!' And she would +say: "Yes, darling, I know, it's very sad; only I'm NOT clever." +And, if a Liberal government chanced to be in power, would add: "Of +course, I do think this Government is dreadful. I MUST show you a +sermon of the dear Bishop of Walham. I cut it out of the 'Daily +Mystery.' He puts things so well--he always has such nice ideas." + +And Felix, getting up, would walk a little and sit down again too +suddenly. Then, as if entreating him to look over her want of +'cleverness,' she would put out a hand that, for all its whiteness, +had never been idle and smooth his forehead. It had sometimes +touched him horribly to see with what despair she made attempts to +follow him in his correlating efforts, and with what relief she +heard him cease enough to let her say: "Yes, dear; only, I must +show you this new kind of expanding cork. It's simply splendid. +It bottles up everything!" And after staring at her just a moment +he would acquit her of irony. Very often after these occasions he +had thought, and sometimes said: "Mother, you're the best +Conservative I ever met." She would glance at him then, with a +special loving doubtfulness, at a loss as to whether or no he had +designed to compliment her. + +When he had given her half an hour to rest he made his way to the +blue corridor, where a certain room was always kept for her, who +never occupied it long enough at a time to get tired of it. She +was lying on a sofa in a loose gray cashmere gown. The windows +were open, and the light breeze just moved in the folds of the +chintz curtains and stirred perfume from a bowl of pinks--her +favorite flowers. There was no bed in this bedroom, which in all +respects differed from any other in Clara's house, as though the +spirit of another age and temper had marched in and dispossessed +the owner. Felix had a sensation that one was by no means all body +here. On the contrary. There was not a trace of the body +anywhere; as if some one had decided that the body was not quite +nice. No bed, no wash-stand, no chest of drawers, no wardrobe, no +mirror, not even a jar of Clara's special pot-pourri. And Felix +said: + +"This can't be your bedroom, Mother?" + +Frances Freeland answered, with a touch of deprecating quizzicality: + +"Oh yes, darling. I must show you my arrangements." And she rose. +"This," she said, "you see, goes under there, and that under here; +and that again goes under this. Then they all go under that, and +then I pull this. It's lovely." + +"But why?" said Felix. + +"Oh! but don't you see? It's so nice; nobody can tell. And it +doesn't give any trouble." + +"And when you go to bed?" + +"Oh! I just pop my clothes into this and open that. And there I +am. It's simply splendid." + +"I see," said Felix. "Do you think I might sit down, or shall I go +through?" + +Frances Freeland loved him with her eyes, and said: + +"Naughty boy!" + +And Felix sat down on what appeared to be a window-seat. + +"Well," he said, with slight uneasiness, for she was hovering, "I +think you're wonderful." + +Frances Freeland put away an impeachment that she evidently felt to +be too soft. + +"Oh! but it's all so simple, darling." And Felix saw that she had +something in her hand, and mind. + +"This is my little electric brush. It'll do wonders with your +hair. While you sit there, I'll just try it." + +A clicking and a whirring had begun to occur close to his ear, and +something darted like a gadfly at his scalp. + +"I came to tell you something serious, Mother." + +"Yes, darling; it'll be simply lovely to hear it; and you mustn't +mind this, because it really is a first-rate thing--quite new." + +Now, how is it, thought Felix, that any one who loves the new as +she does, when it's made of matter, will not even look at it when +it's made of mind? And, while the little machine buzzed about his +head, he proceeded to detail to her the facts of the state of +things that existed at Joyfields. + +When he had finished, she said: + +"Now, darling, bend down a little." + +Felix bent down. And the little machine began severely tweaking +the hairs on the nape of his neck. He sat up again rather suddenly. + +Frances Freeland was contemplating the little machine. + +"How very provoking! It's never done that before!" + +"Quite so!" Felix murmured. "But about Joyfields?" + +"Oh, my dear, it IS such a pity they don't get on with those +Mallorings! I do think it sad they weren't brought up to go to +church." + +Felix stared, not knowing whether to be glad or sorry that his +recital had not roused within her the faintest suspicion of +disaster. How he envied her that single-minded power of not seeing +further than was absolutely needful! And suddenly he thought: 'She +really is wonderful! With her love of church, how it must hurt her +that we none of us go, not even John! And yet she never says a +word. There really is width about her; a power of accepting the +inevitable. Never was woman more determined to make the best of a +bad job. It's a great quality!' And he heard her say: + +"Now, darling, if I give you this, you must promise me to use it +every morning. You'll find you'll soon have a splendid crop of +little young hairs." + +"I know," he said gloomily; "but they won't come to anything. Age +has got my head, Mother, just as it's got 'the Land's.'" + +"Oh, nonsense! You must go on with it, that's all!" + +Felix turned so that he could look at her. She was moving round +the room now, meticulously adjusting the framed photographs of her +family that were the only decoration of the walls. How formal, +chiselled, and delicate her face, yet how almost fanatically +decisive! How frail and light her figure, yet how indomitably +active! And the memory assailed him of how, four years ago, she +had defeated double pneumonia without having a doctor, simply by +lying on her back. 'She leaves trouble,' he thought, 'until it's +under her nose, then simply tells it that it isn't there. There's +something very English about that.' + +She was chasing a bluebottle now with a little fan made of wire, +and, coming close to Felix, said: + +"Have you seen these, darling? You've only to hit the fly and it +kills him at once." + +"But do you ever hit the fly?" + +"Oh, yes!" And she waved the fan at the bluebottle, which avoided +it without seeming difficulty. + +"I can't bear hurting them, but I DON'T like flies. There!" + +The bluebottle flew out of the window behind Felix and in at the +one that was not behind him. He rose. + +"You ought to rest before tea, Mother." + +He felt her searching him with her eyes, as if trying desperately +to find something she might bestow upon or do for him. + +"Would you like this wire--" + +With a feeling that he was defrauding love, he turned and fled. +She would never rest while he was there! And yet there was that in +her face which made him feel a brute to go. + +Passing out of the house, sunk in its Monday hush, no vestige of a +Bigwig left, Felix came to that new-walled mound where the old +house of the Moretons had been burned 'by soldiers from Tewkesbury +and Gloucester,' as said the old chronicles dear to the heart of +Clara. And on the wall he sat him down. Above, in the uncut +grass, he could see the burning blue of a peacock's breast, where +the heraldic bird stood digesting grain in the repose of perfect +breeding, and below him gardeners were busy with the gooseberries. +'Gardeners and the gooseberries of the great!' he thought. 'Such +is the future of our Land.' And he watched them. How methodically +they went to work! How patient and well-done-for they looked! +After all, was it not the ideal future? Gardeners, gooseberries, +and the great! Each of the three content in that station of life +into which--! What more could a country want? Gardeners, +gooseberries, and the great! The phrase had a certain hypnotic +value. Why trouble? Why fuss? Gardeners, gooseberries, and the +great! A perfect land! A land dedicate to the week-end! +Gardeners, goose--! And suddenly he saw that he was not alone. +Half hidden by the angle of the wall, on a stone of the +foundations, carefully preserved and nearly embedded in the nettles +which Clara had allowed to grow because they added age to the +appearance, was sitting a Bigwig. One of the Settleham faction, he +had impressed Felix alike by his reticence, the steady sincerity of +his gray eyes, a countenance that, beneath a simple and delicate +urbanity, had still in it something of the best type of schoolboy. +'How comes he to have stayed?' he mused. 'I thought they always +fed and scattered!' And having received an answer to his +salutation, he moved across and said: + +"I imagined you'd gone." + +"I've been having a look round. It's very jolly here. My +affections are in the North, but I suppose this is pretty well the +heart of England." + +"Near 'the big song,'" Felix answered. "There'll never be anything +more English than Shakespeare, when all's said and done." And he +took a steady, sidelong squint at his companion. 'This is another +of the types I've been looking for,' he reflected. The peculiar +'don't-quite-touch-me' accent of the aristocrat--and of those who +would be--had almost left this particular one, as though he +secretly aspired to rise superior and only employed it in the +nervousness of his first greetings. 'Yes,' thought Felix, 'he's +just about the very best we can do among those who sit upon 'the +Land.' I would wager there's not a better landlord nor a better +fellow in all his class, than this one. He's chalks away superior +to Malloring, if I know anything of faces--would never have turned +poor Tryst out. If this exception were the rule! And yet--! Does +he, can he, go quite far enough to meet the case? If not--what +hope of regeneration from above? Would he give up his shooting? +Could he give up feeling he's a leader? Would he give up his town +house and collecting whatever it is he collects? Could he let +himself sink down and merge till he was just unseen leaven of good- +fellowship and good-will, working in the common bread?' And +squinting at that sincere, clean, charming, almost fine face, he +answered himself unwillingly: 'He could not!' And suddenly he knew +that he was face to face with the tremendous question which soon or +late confronts all thinkers. Sitting beside him--was the highest +product of the present system! With its charm, humanity, courage, +chivalry up to a point, its culture, and its cleanliness, this +decidedly rare flower at the end of a tall stalk, with dark and +tortuous roots and rank foliage, was in a sense the sole +justification of power wielded from above. And was it good enough? +Was it quite good enough? Like so many other thinkers, Felix +hesitated to reply. If only merit and the goods of this world +could be finally divorced! If the reward of virtue were just men's +love and an unconscious self-respect! If only 'to have nothing' +were the highest honour! And yet, to do away with this beside him +and put in its place--What? No kiss-me-quick change had a chance +of producing anything better. To scrap the long growth of man and +start afresh was but to say: 'Since in the past the best that man +has done has not been good enough, I have a perfect faith in him +for the future!' No! That was a creed for archangels and other +extremists. Safer to work on what we had! And he began: + +"Next door to this estate I'm told there's ten thousand acres +almost entirely grass and covert, owned by Lord Baltimore, who +lives in Norfolk, London, Cannes, and anywhere else that the whim +takes him. He comes down here twice a year to shoot. The case is +extremely common. Surely it spells paralysis. If land is to be +owned at all in such great lumps, owners ought at least to live on +the lumps, and to pass very high examinations as practical farmers. +They ought to be the life and soul, the radiating sun, of their +little universes; or else they ought to be cleared out. How expect +keen farming to start from such an example? It really looks to me +as if the game laws would have to go." And he redoubled his +scrutiny of the Bigwig's face. A little furrow in its brow had +deepened visibly, but nodding, he said: + +"The absentee landlord is a curse, of course. I'm afraid I'm a bit +of a one myself. And I'm bound to say--though I'm keen on +shooting--if the game laws were abolished, it might do a lot." + +"YOU wouldn't move in that direction, I suppose?" + +The Bigwig smiled--charming, rather whimsical, that smile. + +"Honestly, I'm not up to it. The spirit, you know, but the flesh--! +My line is housing and wages, of course." + +'There it is,' thought Felix. 'Up to a point, they'll move--not up +to THE point. It's all fiddling. One won't give up his shooting; +another won't give up his power; a third won't give up her week- +ends; a fourth won't give up his freedom. Our interest in the +thing is all lackadaisical, a kind of bun-fight of pet notions. +There's no real steam.' And abruptly changing the subject, he +talked of pictures to the pleasant Bigwig in the sleepy afternoon. +Of how this man could paint, and that man couldn't. And in the +uncut grass the peacock slowly moved, displaying his breast of +burning blue; and below, the gardeners worked among the gooseberries. + + +CHAPTER XXVI + + +Nedda, borrowing the bicycle of Clara's maid, Sirrett, had been +over to Joyfields, and only learned on her return of her +grandmother's arrival. In her bath before dinner there came to her +one of those strategic thoughts that even such as are no longer +quite children will sometimes conceive. She hurried desperately +into her clothes, and, ready full twenty minutes before the gong +was due to sound, made her way to her grandmother's room. Frances +Freeland had just pulled THIS, and, to her astonishment, THAT had +not gone in properly. She was looking at it somewhat severely, +when she heard Nedda's knock. Drawing a screen temporarily over +the imperfection, she said: "Come in!" + +The dear child looked charming in her white evening dress with one +red flower in her hair; and while she kissed her, she noted that +the neck of her dress was just a little too open to be quite nice, +and at once thought: 'I've got the very thing for that.' + +Going to a drawer that no one could have suspected of being there, +she took from it a little diamond star. Getting delicate but firm +hold of the Mechlin at the top of the frock, she popped it in, so +that the neck was covered at least an inch higher, and said: + +"Now, ducky, you're to keep that as a little present. You've no +idea how perfectly it suits you just like this." And having +satisfied for the moment her sense of niceness and that continual +itch to part with everything she had, she surveyed her +granddaughter, lighted up by that red flower, and said: + +"How sweet you look!" + +Nedda, looking down past cheeks colored by pleasure at the new +little star on a neck rather browned by her day in the sun, +murmured: + +"Oh, Granny! it's much too lovely! You mustn't give it to me!" + +These were moments that Frances Freeland loved best in life; and, +with the untruthfulness in which she only indulged when she gave +things away, or otherwise benefited her neighbors with or without +their will, she added: "It's quite wasted; I never wear it myself." +And, seeing Nedda's smile, for the girl recollected perfectly +having admired it during dinner at Uncle John's, and at Becket +itself, she said decisively, "So that's that!" and settled her down +on the sofa. But just as she was thinking, 'I have the very thing +for the dear child's sunburn,' Nedda said: "Granny, dear, I've been +meaning to tell you--Derek and I are engaged." + +For the moment Frances Freeland could do nothing but tremulously +interlace her fingers. + +"Oh, but, darling," she said very gravely, "have you thought?" + +"I think of nothing else, Granny." + +"But has he thought?" + +Nedda nodded. + +Frances Freeland sat staring straight before her. Nedda and Derek, +Derek and Nedda! The news was almost unintelligible; those two +were still for her barely more than little creatures to be tucked +up at night. Engaged! Marriage! Between those who were both as +near to her, almost, as her own children had been! The effort was +for the moment quite too much for her, and a sort of pain disturbed +her heart. Then the crowning principle of her existence came a +little to her aid. No use in making a fuss; must put the best face +on it, whether it were going to come to anything or not! And she +said: + +"Well, darling, I don't know, I'm sure. I dare say it's very +lovely for you. But do you think you've seen enough of him?" + +Nedda gave her a swift look, then dropped her lashes, so that her +eyes seemed closed. Snuggling up, she said: + +"No, Granny, I do wish I could see more; if only I could go and +stay with them a little!" + +And as she planted that dart of suggestion, the gong sounded. + +In Frances Freeland, lying awake till two, as was her habit, the +suggestion grew. To this growth not only her custom of putting the +best face on things, but her incurable desire to make others happy, +and an instinctive sympathy with love-affairs, all contributed; +moreover, Felix had said something about Derek's having been +concerned in something rash. If darling Nedda were there it would +occupy his mind and help to make him careful. Never dilatory in +forming resolutions, she decided to take the girl over with her on +the morrow. Kirsteen had a dear little spare room, and Nedda +should take her bag. It would be a nice surprise for them all. +Accordingly, next morning, not wanting to give any trouble, she +sent Thomas down to the Red Lion, where they had a comfortable fly, +with a very steady, respectable driver, and ordered it to come at +half past two. Then, without saying anything to Clara, she told +Nedda to be ready to pop in her bag, trusting to her powers of +explaining everything to everybody without letting anybody know +anything. Little difficulties of this sort never bunkered her; she +was essentially a woman of action. And on the drive to Joyfields +she stilled the girl's quavering with: + +"It's all right, darling; it'll be very nice for them." + +She was perhaps the only person in the world who was not just a +little bit afraid of Kirsteen. Indeed, she was constitutionally +unable to be afraid of anything, except motor-cars, and, of course, +earwigs, and even them one must put up with. Her critical sense +told her that this woman in blue was just like anybody else, +besides her father had been the colonel of a Highland regiment, +which was quite nice, and one must put the best face on her. + +In this way, pointing out the beauty of each feature of the +scenery, and not permitting herself or Nedda to think about the +bag, they drove until they came to Joyfields. + +Kirsteen alone was in, and, having sent Nedda into the orchard to +look for her uncle, Frances Freeland came at once to the point. It +was so important, she thought, that darling Nedda should see more +of dear Derek. They were very young, and if she could stay for a +few weeks, they would both know their minds so much better. She +had made her bring her bag, because she knew dear Kirsteen would +agree with her; and it would be so nice for them all. Felix had +told her about that poor man who had done this dreadful thing, and +she thought that if Nedda were here it would be a distraction. She +was a very good child, and quite useful in the house. And while +she was speaking she watched Kirsteen, and thought: 'She is very +handsome, and altogether ladylike; only it is such a pity she wears +that blue thing in her hair--it makes her so conspicuous.' And +rather unexpectedly she said: + +"Do you know, dear, I believe I know the very thing to keep your +hair from getting loose. It's such lovely hair. And this is quite +a new thing, and doesn't show at all; invented by a very nice +hairdresser in Worcester. It's simplicity itself. Do let me show +you!" Quickly going over, she removed the kingfisher-blue fillet, +and making certain passes with her fingers through the hair, +murmured: + +"It's so beautifully fine; it seems such a pity not to show it all, +dear. Now look at yourself!" And from the recesses of her pocket +she produced a little mirror. "I'm sure Tod will simply love it +like that. It'll be such a nice change for him." + +Kirsteen, with just a faint wrinkling of her lips and eyebrows, +waited till she had finished. Then she said: + +"Yes, Mother, dear, I'm sure he will," and replaced the fillet. A +patient, half-sad, half-quizzical smile visited Frances Freeland's +lips, as who should say: 'Yes, I know you think that I'm a fuss- +box, but it really is a pity that you wear it so, darling!' + +At sight of that smile, Kirsteen got up and kissed her gravely on +the forehead. + +When Nedda came back from a fruitless search for Tod, her bag was +already in the little spare bedroom and Frances Freeland gone. The +girl had never yet been alone with her aunt, for whom she had a +fervent admiration not unmixed with awe. She idealized her, of +course, thinking of her as one might think of a picture or statue, +a symbolic figure, standing for liberty and justice and the redress +of wrong. Her never-varying garb of blue assisted the girl's +fancy, for blue was always the color of ideals and aspiration--was +not blue sky the nearest one could get to heaven--were not blue +violets the flowers of spring? Then, too, Kirsteen was a woman +with whom it would be quite impossible to gossip or small-talk; +with her one could but simply and directly say what one felt, and +only that over things which really mattered. And this seemed to +Nedda so splendid that it sufficed in itself to prevent the girl +from saying anything whatever. She longed to, all the same, +feeling that to be closer to her aunt meant to be closer to Derek. +Yet, with all, she knew that her own nature was very different; +this, perhaps, egged her on, and made her aunt seem all the more +exciting. She waited breathless till Kirsteen said: + +"Yes, you and Derek must know each other better. The worst kind of +prison in the world is a mistaken marriage." + +Nedda nodded fervently. "It must be. But I think one knows, Aunt +Kirsteen!" + +She felt as if she were being searched right down to the soul +before the answer came: + +"Perhaps. I knew myself. I have seen others who did--a few. I +think you might." + +Nedda flushed from sheer joy. "I could never go on if I didn't +love. I feel I couldn't, even if I'd started." + +With another long look through narrowing eyes, Kirsteen answered: + +"Yes. You would want truth. But after marriage truth is an +unhappy thing, Nedda, if you have made a mistake." + +"It must be dreadful. Awful." + +"So don't make a mistake, my dear--and don't let him." + +Nedda answered solemnly: + +"I won't--oh, I won't!" + +Kirsteen had turned away to the window, and Nedda heard her say +quietly to herself: + +"'Liberty's a glorious feast!'" + +Trembling all over with the desire to express what was in her, +Nedda stammered: + +"I would never keep anything that wanted to be free--never, never! +I would never try to make any one do what they didn't want to!" + +She saw her aunt smile, and wondered whether she had said anything +exceptionally foolish. But it was not foolish--surely not--to say +what one really felt. + +"Some day, Nedda, all the world will say that with you. Until then +we'll fight those who won't say it. Have you got everything in +your room you want? Let's come and see." + +To pass from Becket to Joyfields was really a singular experience. +At Becket you were certainly supposed to do exactly what you liked, +but the tyranny of meals, baths, scents, and other accompaniments +of the 'all-body' regime soon annihilated every impulse to do +anything but just obey it. At Joyfields, bodily existence was a +kind of perpetual skirmish, a sort of grudged accompaniment to a +state of soul. You might be alone in the house at any meal-time. +You might or might not have water in your jug. And as to baths, +you had to go out to a little white-washed shed at the back, with a +brick floor, where you pumped on yourself, prepared to shout out, +"Halloo! I'm here!" in case any one else came wanting to do the +same. The conditions were in fact almost perfect for seeing more +of one another. Nobody asked where you were going, with whom +going, or how going. You might be away by day or night without +exciting curiosity or comment. And yet you were conscious of a +certain something always there, holding the house together; some +principle of life, or perhaps--just a woman in blue. There, too, +was that strangest of all phenomena in an English home--no game +ever played, outdoors or in. + +The next fortnight, while the grass was ripening, was a wonderful +time for Nedda, given up to her single passion--of seeing more of +him who so completely occupied her heart. She was at peace now +with Sheila, whose virility forbade that she should dispute pride +of place with this soft and truthful guest, so evidently immersed +in rapture. Besides, Nedda had that quality of getting on well +with her own sex, found in those women who, though tenacious, are +not possessive; who, though humble, are secretly very self- +respecting; who, though they do not say much about it, put all +their eggs in one basket; above all, who disengage, no matter what +their age, a candid but subtle charm. + +But that fortnight was even more wonderful for Derek, caught +between two passions--both so fervid. For though the passion of +his revolt against the Mallorings did not pull against his passion +for Nedda, they both tugged at him. And this had one curious +psychological effect. It made his love for Nedda more actual, less +of an idealization. Now that she was close to him, under the same +roof, he felt the full allurement of her innocent warmth; he would +have been cold-blooded indeed if he had not taken fire, and, his +pride always checking the expression of his feelings, they glowed +ever hotter underneath. + +Yet, over those sunshiny days there hung a shadow, as of something +kept back, not shared between them; a kind of waiting menace. +Nedda learned of Kirsteen and Sheila all the useful things she +could; the evenings she passed with Derek, those long evenings of +late May and early June, this year so warm and golden. They walked +generally in the direction of the hills. A favorite spot was a +wood of larches whose green shoots had not yet quite ceased to +smell of lemons. Tall, slender things those trees, whose stems and +dried lower branch-growth were gray, almost sooty, up to the +feathery green of the tops, that swayed and creaked faintly in a +wind, with a soughing of their branches like the sound of the sea. +From the shelter of those Highland trees, rather strange in such a +countryside, they two could peer forth at the last sunlight gold- +powdering the fringed branches, at the sunset flush dyeing the sky +above the Beacon; watch light slowly folding gray wings above the +hay-fields and the elms; mark the squirrels scurry along, and the +pigeons' evening flight. A stream ran there at the edge, and +beech-trees grew beside it. In the tawny-dappled sand bed of that +clear water, and the gray-green dappled trunks of those beeches +with their great, sinuous, long-muscled roots, was that something +which man can never tame or garden out of the land: the strength of +unconquerable fertility--the remote deep life in Nature's heart. +Men and women had their spans of existence; those trees seemed as +if there forever! From generation to generation lovers might come +and, looking on this strength and beauty, feel in their veins the +sap of the world. Here the laborer and his master, hearing the +wind in the branches and the water murmuring down, might for a +brief minute grasp the land's unchangeable wild majesty. And on +the far side of that little stream was a field of moon-colored +flowers that had for Nedda a strange fascination. Once the boy +jumped across and brought her back a handkerchief full. They were +of two kinds: close to the water's edge the marsh orchis, and +farther back, a small marguerite. Out of this they made a crown of +the alternate flowers, and a girdle for her waist. That was an +evening of rare beauty, and warm enough already for an early chafer +to go blooming in the dusk. An evening when they wandered with +their arms round each other a long time, silent, stopping to listen +to an owl; stopping to point out each star coming so shyly up in +the gray-violet of the sky. And that was the evening when they had +a strange little quarrel, sudden as a white squall on a blue sea, +or the tiff of two birds shooting up in a swift spiral of attack +and then--all over. Would he come to-morrow to see her milking? +He could not. Why? He could not; he would be out. Ah! he never +told her where he went; he never let her come with him among the +laborers like Sheila. + +"I can't; I'm pledged not." + +"Then you don't trust me!" + +"Of course I trust you; but a promise is a promise. You oughtn't +to ask me, Nedda." + +"No; but I would never have promised to keep anything from you." + +"You don't understand." + +"Oh! yes, I do. Love doesn't mean the same to you that it does to me." + +"How do you know what it means to me?" + +"I couldn't have a secret from you." + +"Then you don't count honour." + +"Honour only binds oneself!" + +"What d'you mean by that?" + +"I include you--you don't include me in yourself, that's all." + +"I think you're very unjust. I was obliged to promise; it doesn't +only concern myself." + +Then silent, motionless, a yard apart, they looked fiercely at each +other, their hearts stiff and sore, and in their brains no glimmer +of perception of anything but tragedy. What more tragic than to +have come out of an elysium of warm arms round each other, to this +sudden hostility! And the owl went on hooting, and the larches +smelled sweet! And all around was the same soft dusk wherein the +flowers in her hair and round her waist gleamed white! But for +Nedda the world had suddenly collapsed. Tears rushed into her eyes; +she shook her head and turned away, hiding them passionately. . . . +A full minute passed, each straining to make no sound and catch +the faintest sound from the other, till in her breathing there was +a little clutch. His fingers came stealing round, touched her +cheeks, and were wetted. His arms suddenly squeezed all breath +out of her; his lips fastened on hers. She answered those lips +with her own desperately, bending her head back, shutting her wet +eyes. And the owl hooted, and the white flowers fell into the dusk +off her hair and waist. + +After that, they walked once more enlaced, avoiding with what +perfect care any allusion to the sudden tragedy, giving themselves +up to the bewildering ecstasy that had started throbbing in their +blood with that kiss, longing only not to spoil it. And through +the sheltering larch wood their figures moved from edge to edge, +like two little souls in paradise, unwilling to come forth. + +After that evening love had a poignancy it had not quite had +before; at once deeper, sweeter, tinged for both of them with the +rich darkness of passion, and with discovery that love does not +mean a perfect merger of one within another. For both felt +themselves in the right over that little quarrel. The boy that he +could not, must not, resign what was not his to resign; feeling +dimly, without being quite able to shape the thought even to +himself, that a man has a life of action into which a woman cannot +always enter, with which she cannot always be identified. The girl +feeling that she did not want any life into which he did not enter, +so that it was hard that he should want to exclude her from +anything. For all that, she did not try again to move him to let +her into the secret of his plans of revolt and revenge, and +disdained completely to find them out from Sheila or her aunt. + +And the grass went on ripening. Many and various as the breeds of +men, or the trees of a forest, were the stalks that made up that +greenish jungle with the waving, fawn-colored surface; of rye-grass +and brome-grass, of timothy, plantain, and yarrow; of bent-grass +and quake-grass, foxtail, and the green-hearted trefoil; of +dandelion, dock, musk-thistle, and sweet-scented vernal. + +On the 10th of June Tod began cutting his three fields; the whole +family, with Nedda and the three Tryst children, working like +slaves. Old Gaunt, who looked to the harvests to clothe him for +the year, came to do his share of raking, and any other who could +find some evening hours to spare. The whole was cut and carried in +three days of glorious weather. + +The lovers were too tired the last evening of hay harvest to go +rambling, and sat in the orchard watching the moon slide up through +the coppice behind the church. They sat on Tod's log, deliciously +weary, in the scent of the new-mown hay, while moths flitted gray +among the blue darkness of the leaves, and the whitened trunks of +the apple-trees gleamed ghostly. It was very warm; a night of +whispering air, opening all hearts. And Derek said: + +"You'll know to-morrow, Nedda." + +A flutter of fear overtook her. What would she know? + + +CHAPTER XXVII + + +On the 13th of June Sir Gerald Malloring, returning home to dinner +from the House of Commons, found on his hall table, enclosed in a +letter from his agent, the following paper: + + +"We, the undersigned laborers on Sir Gerald Malloring's estate, beg +respectfully to inform him that we consider it unjust that any +laborer should be evicted from his cottage for any reason connected +with private life, or social or political convictions. And we +respectfully demand that, before a laborer receives notice to quit +for any such reason, the case shall be submitted to all his fellow +laborers on the estate; and that in the future he shall only +receive such notice if a majority of his fellow laborers record +their votes in favor of the notice being given. In the event of +this demand being refused, we regretfully decline to take any hand +in getting in the hay on Sir Gerald Malloring's estate." + + +Then followed ninety-three signatures, or signs of the cross with +names printed after them. + +The agent's letter which enclosed this document mentioned that the +hay was already ripe for cutting; that everything had been done to +induce the men to withdraw the demand, without success, and that +the farmers were very much upset. The thing had been sprung on +them, the agent having no notion that anything of the sort was on +foot. It had been very secretly, very cleverly, managed; and, in +the agent's opinion, was due to Mr. Freeland's family. He awaited +Sir Gerald's instructions. Working double tides, with luck and +good weather, the farmers and their families might perhaps save +half of the hay. + +Malloring read this letter twice, and the enclosure three times, +and crammed them deep down into his pocket. + +It was pre-eminently one of those moments which bring out the +qualities of Norman blood. And the first thing he did was to look +at the barometer. It was going slowly down. After a month of +first-class weather it would not do that without some sinister +intention. An old glass, he believed in it implicitly. He tapped, +and it sank further. He stood there frowning. Should he consult +his wife? General friendliness said: Yes! A Norman instinct of +chivalry, and perhaps the deeper Norman instinct, that, when it +came to the point, women were too violent, said, No! He went up- +stairs three at a time, and came down two. And all through dinner +he sat thinking it over, and talking as if nothing had happened; so +that he hardly spoke. Three-quarters of the hay at stake, if it +rained soon! A big loss to the farmers, a further reduction in +rents already far too low. Should he grin and bear it, and by +doing nothing show these fellows that he could afford to despise +their cowardly device? For it WAS cowardly to let his grass get +ripe and play it this low trick! But if he left things unfought +this time, they would try it on again with the corn--not that there +was much of that on the estate of a man who only believed in corn +as a policy. + +Should he make the farmers sack the lot and get in other labor? +But where? Agricultural laborers were made, not born. And it took +a deuce of a lot of making, at that! Should he suspend wages till +they withdrew their demand? That might do--but he would still lose +the hay. The hay! After all, anybody, pretty well, could make +hay; it was the least skilled of all farm work, so long as the +farmers were there to drive the machines and direct. Why not act +vigorously? And his jaws set so suddenly on a piece of salmon that +he bit his tongue. The action served to harden a growing purpose. +So do small events influence great! Suspend those fellows' wages, +get down strike-breakers, save the hay! And if there were a row-- +well, let there be a row! The constabulary would have to act. It +was characteristic of his really Norman spirit that the notion of +agreeing to the demand, or even considering whether it were just, +never once came into his mind. He was one of those, comprising +nowadays nearly all his class, together with their press, who +habitually referred to his country as a democratic power, a +champion of democracy--but did not at present suspect the meaning +of the word; nor, to say truth, was it likely they ever would. +Nothing, however, made him more miserable than indecision. And so, +now that he was on the point of deciding, and the decision promised +vigorous consequences, he felt almost elated. Closing his jaws +once more too firmly, this time on lamb, he bit his tongue again. +It was impossible to confess what he had done, for two of his +children were there, expected to eat with that well-bred detachment +which precludes such happenings; and he rose from dinner with his +mind made up. Instead of going back to the House of Commons, he +went straight to a strike-breaking agency. No grass should grow +under the feet of his decision! Thence he sought the one post- +office still open, despatched a long telegram to his agent, another +to the chief constable of Worcestershire; and, feeling he had done +all he could for the moment, returned to the 'House,' where they +were debating the rural housing question. He sat there, paying +only moderate attention to a subject on which he was acknowledged +an authority. To-morrow, in all probability, the papers would have +got hold of the affair! How he loathed people poking their noses +into his concerns! And suddenly he was assailed, very deep down, +by a feeling with which in his firmness he had not reckoned--a sort +of remorse that he was going to let a lot of loafing blackguards +down onto his land, to toss about his grass, and swill their +beastly beer above it. And all the real love he had for his fields +and coverts, all the fastidiousness of an English gentleman, and, +to do him justice, the qualms of a conscience telling him that he +owed better things than this to those born on his estate, assaulted +him in force. He sat back in his seat, driving his long legs hard +against the pew in front. His thick, wavy, still brown hair was +beautifully parted above the square brow that frowned over deep-set +eyes and a perfectly straight nose. Now and again he bit into a +side of his straw-colored moustache, or raised a hand and twisted +the other side. Without doubt one of the handsomest and perhaps +the most Norman-looking man in the whole 'House.' There was a +feeling among those round him that he was thinking deeply. And so +he was. But he had decided, and he was not a man who went back on +his decisions. + +Morning brought even worse sensations. Those ruffians that he had +ordered down--the farmers would never consent to put them up! They +would have to camp. Camp on his land! It was then that for two +seconds the thought flashed through him: Ought I to have considered +whether I could agree to that demand? Gone in another flash. If +there was one thing a man could not tolerate, it was dictation! +Out of the question! But perhaps he had been a little hasty about +strike-breakers. Was there not still time to save the situation +from that, if he caught the first train? The personal touch was +everything. If he put it to the men on the spot, with these +strike-breakers up his sleeve, surely they must listen! After all, +they were his own people. And suddenly he was overcome with +amazement that they should have taken such a step. What had got +into them? Spiritless enough, as a rule, in all conscience; the +sort of fellows who hadn't steam even to join the miniature rifle- +range that he had given them! And visions of them, as he was +accustomed to pass them in the lanes, slouching along with their +straw bags, their hoes, and their shamefaced greetings, passed +before him. Yes! It was all that fellow Freeland's family! The +men had been put up to it--put up to it! The very wording of their +demand showed that! Very bitterly he thought of the unneighborly +conduct of that woman and her cubs. It was impossible to keep it +from his wife! And so he told her. Rather to his surprise, she +had no scruples about the strike-breakers. Of course, the hay must +be saved! And the laborers be taught a lesson! All the +unpleasantness he and she had gone through over Tryst and that +Gaunt girl must not go for nothing! It must never be said or +thought that the Freeland woman and her children had scored over +them! If the lesson were once driven home, they would have no +further trouble. + +He admired her firmness, though with a certain impatience. Women +never quite looked ahead; never quite realized all the consequences +of anything. And he thought: 'By George! I'd no idea she was so +hard! But, then, she always felt more strongly about Tryst and +that Gaunt girl than I did.' + +In the hall the glass was still going down. He caught the 9.15, +wiring to his agent to meet him at the station, and to the +impresario of the strike-breakers to hold up their departure until +he telegraphed. The three-mile drive up from the station, fully +half of which was through his own land, put him in possession of +all the agent had to tell: Nasty spirit abroad--men dumb as fishes-- +the farmers, puzzled and angry, had begun cutting as best they +could. Not a man had budged. He had seen young Mr. and Miss +Freeland going about. The thing had been worked very cleverly. He +had suspected nothing--utterly unlike the laborers as he knew them. +They had no real grievance, either! Yes, they were going on with +all their other work--milking, horses, and that; it was only the +hay they wouldn't touch. Their demand was certainly a very funny +one--very funny--had never heard of anything like it. Amounted +almost to security of tenure. The Tryst affair no doubt had done +it! Malloring cut him short: + +"Till they've withdrawn this demand, Simmons, I can't discuss that +or anything." + +The agent coughed behind his hand. + +Naturally! Only perhaps there might be a way of wording it that +would satisfy them. Never do to really let them have such +decisions in their hands, of course! + +They were just passing Tod's. The cottage wore its usual air of +embowered peace. And for the life of him Malloring could not +restrain a gesture of annoyance. + +On reaching home he sent gardeners and grooms in all directions +with word that he would be glad to meet the men at four o'clock at +the home farm. Much thought, and interviews with several of the +farmers, who all but one--a shaky fellow at best--were for giving +the laborers a sharp lesson, occupied the interval. Though he had +refused to admit the notion that the men could be chicaned, as his +agent had implied, he certainly did wonder a little whether a +certain measure of security might not in some way be guaranteed, +which would still leave him and the farmers a free hand. But the +more he meditated on the whole episode, the more he perceived how +intimately it interfered with the fundamental policy of all good +landowners--of knowing what was good for their people better than +those people knew themselves. + +As four o'clock approached, he walked down to the home farm. The +sky was lightly overcast, and a rather chill, draughty, rustling +wind had risen. Resolved to handle the men with the personal +touch, he had discouraged his agent and the farmers from coming to +the conference, and passed the gate with the braced-up feeling of +one who goes to an encounter. In that very spick-and-span farmyard +ducks were swimming leisurely on the greenish pond, white pigeons +strutting and preening on the eaves of the barn, and his keen eye +noted that some tiles were out of order up there. Four o'clock! +Ah, here was a fellow coming! And instinctively he crisped his +hands that were buried in his pockets, and ran over to himself his +opening words. Then, with a sensation of disgust, he saw that the +advancing laborer was that incorrigible 'land lawyer' Gaunt. The +short, square man with the ruffled head and the little bright-gray +eyes saluted, uttered an "Afternoon, Sir Gerald!" in his teasing +voice, and stood still. His face wore the jeering twinkle that had +disconcerted so many political meetings. Two lean fellows, rather +alike, with lined faces and bitten, drooped moustaches, were the +next to come through the yard gate. They halted behind Gaunt, +touching their forelocks, shuffling a little, and looking sidelong +at each other. And Malloring waited. Five past four! Ten past! +Then he said: + +"D'you mind telling the others that I'm here?" + +Gaunt answered: + +"If so be as you was waitin' for the meetin', I fancy as 'ow you've +got it, Sir Gerald!" + +A wave of anger surged up in Malloring, dyeing his face brick-red. +So! He had come all that way with the best intentions--to be +treated like this; to meet this 'land lawyer,' who, he could see, +was only here to sharpen his tongue, and those two scarecrow- +looking chaps, who had come to testify, no doubt, to his +discomfiture. And he said sharply: + +"So that's the best you can do to meet me, is it?" + +Gaunt answered imperturbably: + +"I think it is, Sir Gerald." + +"Then you've mistaken your man." + +"I don't think so, Sir Gerald." + +Without another look Malloring passed the three by, and walked back +to the house. In the hall was the agent, whose face clearly showed +that he had foreseen this defeat. Malloring did not wait for him +to speak. + +"Make arrangements. The strike-breakers will be down by noon to- +morrow. I shall go through with it now, Simmons, if I have to +clear the whole lot out. You'd better go in and see that they're +ready to send police if there's any nonsense. I'll be down again +in a day or two." And, without waiting for reply, he passed into +his study. There, while the car was being got ready, he stood in +the window, very sore; thinking of what he had meant to do; +thinking of his good intentions; thinking of what was coming to the +country, when a man could not even get his laborers to come and +hear what he had to say. And a sense of injustice, of anger, of +bewilderment, harrowed his very soul. + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + + +For the first two days of this new 'kick-up,' that 'fellow +Freeland's' family undoubtedly tasted the sweets of successful +mutiny. The fellow himself alone shook his head. He, like Nedda, +had known nothing, and there was to him something unnatural and +rather awful in this conduct toward dumb crops. + +From the moment he heard of it he hardly spoke, and a perpetual +little frown creased a brow usually so serene. In the early +morning of the day after Malloring went back to town, he crossed +the road to a field where the farmer, aided by his family and one +of Malloring's gardeners, was already carrying the hay; and, taking +up a pitchfork, without a word to anybody, he joined in the work. +The action was deeper revelation of his feeling than any +expostulation, and the young people watched it rather aghast. + +"It's nothing," Derek said at last; "Father never has understood, +and never will, that you can't get things without fighting. He +cares more for trees and bees and birds than he does for human +beings." + +"That doesn't explain why he goes over to the enemy, when it's only +a lot of grass." + +Kirsteen answered: + +"He hasn't gone over to the enemy, Sheila. You don't understand +your father; to neglect the land is sacrilege to him. It feeds us-- +he would say--we live on it; we've no business to forget that but +for the land we should all be dead." + +"That's beautiful," said Nedda quickly; "and true." + +Sheila answered angrily: + +"It may be true in France with their bread and wine. People don't +live off the land here; they hardly eat anything they grow +themselves. How can we feel like that when we're all brought up on +mongrel food? Besides, it's simply sentimental, when there are +real wrongs to fight about." + +"Your father is not sentimental, Sheila. It's too deep with him +for that, and too unconscious. He simply feels so unhappy about +the waste of that hay that he can't keep his hands off it." + +Derek broke in: "Mother's right. And it doesn't matter, except +that we've got to see that the men don't follow his example. +They've a funny feeling about him." + +Kirsteen shook her head. + +"You needn't be afraid. He's always been too strange to them!" + +"Well, I'm going to stiffen their backs. Coming Sheila?" And they +went. + +Left, as she seemed always to be in these days of open mutiny, +Nedda said sadly: + +"What is coming, Aunt Kirsteen?" + +Her aunt was standing in the porch, looking straight before her; a +trail of clematis had drooped over her fine black hair down on to +the blue of her linen dress. She answered, without turning: + +"Have you ever seen, on jubilee nights, bonfire to bonfire, from +hill to hill, to the end of the land? This is the first lighted." + +Nedda felt something clutch her heart. What was that figure in +blue? Priestess? Prophetess? And for a moment the girl felt +herself swept into the vision those dark glowing eyes were seeing; +some violent, exalted, inexorable, flaming vision. Then something +within her revolted, as though one had tried to hypnotize her into +seeing what was not true; as though she had been forced for the +moment to look, not at what was really there, but at what those +eyes saw projected from the soul behind them. And she said quietly: + +"I don't believe, Aunt Kirsteen. I don't really believe. I think +it must go out." + +Kirsteen turned. + +"You are like your father," she said--"a doubter." + +Nedda shook her head. + +"I can't persuade myself to see what isn't there. I never can, +Aunt Kirsteen." + +Without reply, save a quiver of her brows, Kirsteen went back into +the house. And Nedda stayed on the pebbled path before the +cottage, unhappy, searching her own soul. Did she fail to see +because she was afraid to see, because she was too dull to see; or +because, as she had said, there was really nothing there--no flames +to leap from hill to hill, no lift, no tearing in the sky that hung +over the land? And she thought: 'London--all those big towns, +their smoke, the things they make, the things we want them to make, +that we shall always want them to make. Aren't they there? For +every laborer who's a slave Dad says there are five town workers +who are just as much slaves! And all those Bigwigs with their +great houses, and their talk, and their interest in keeping things +where they are! Aren't they there? I don't--I can't believe +anything much can happen, or be changed. Oh! I shall never see +visions, and dream dreams!' And from her heart she sighed. + +In the meantime Derek and Sheila were going their round on +bicycles, to stiffen the backs of the laborers. They had hunted +lately, always in a couple, desiring no complications, having +decided that it was less likely to provoke definite assault and +opposition from the farmers. To their mother was assigned all +correspondence; to themselves the verbal exhortations, the personal +touch. It was past noon, and they were already returning, when +they came on the char-a-bancs containing the head of the strike- +breaking column. The two vehicles were drawn up opposite the gate +leading to Marrow Farm, and the agent was detaching the four men +destined to that locality, with their camping-gear. By the open +gate the farmer stood eying his new material askance. Dejected +enough creatures they looked--poor devils picked up at ten pound +the dozen, who, by the mingled apathy and sheepish amusement on +their faces, might never have seen a pitchfork, or smelled a field +of clover, in their lives. + +The two young Freelands rode slowly past; the boy's face scornfully +drawn back into itself; the girl's flaming scarlet. + +"Don't take notice," Derek said; "we'll soon stop that." + +And they had gone another mile before he added: + +"We've got to make our round again; that's all." + +The words of Mr. Pogram, 'You have influence, young man,' were +just. There was about Derek the sort of quality that belongs to +the good regimental officer; men followed and asked themselves why +the devil they had, afterward. And if it be said that no worse +leader than a fiery young fool can be desired for any movement, it +may also be said that without youth and fire and folly there is +usually no movement at all. + +Late in the afternoon they returned home, dead beat. That evening +the farmers and their wives milked the cows, tended the horses, did +everything that must be done, not without curses. And next morning +the men, with Gaunt and a big, dark fellow, called Tulley, for +spokesmen, again proffered their demand. The agent took counsel +with Malloring by wire. His answer, "Concede nothing," was +communicated to the men in the afternoon, and received by Gaunt +with the remark: "I thart we should be hearin' that. Please to +thank Sir Gerald. The men concedes their gratitood." . . . + +That night it began to rain. Nedda, waking, could hear the heavy +drops pattering on the sweetbrier and clematis thatching her open +window. The scent of rain-cooled leaves came in drifts, and it +seemed a shame to sleep. She got up; put on her dressing-gown, and +went to thrust her nose into that bath of dripping sweetness. Dark +as the clouds had made the night, there was still the faint light +of a moon somewhere behind. The leaves of the fruit-trees joined +in the long, gentle hissing, and now and again rustled and sighed +sharply; a cock somewhere, as by accident, let off a single crow. +There were no stars. All was dark and soft as velvet. And Nedda +thought: 'The world is dressed in living creatures! Trees, +flowers, grass, insects, ourselves--woven together--the world is +dressed in life! I understand Uncle Tod's feeling! If only it +would rain till they have to send these strike-breakers back +because there's no hay worth fighting about!' Suddenly her heart +beat fast. The wicket gate had clicked. There was something +darker than the darkness coming along the path! Scared, but with +all protective instinct roused, she leaned out, straining to see. +A faint grating sound from underneath came up to her. A window +being opened! And she flew to her door. She neither barred it, +however, nor cried out, for in that second it had flashed across +her: 'Suppose it's he! Gone out to do something desperate, as +Tryst did!' If it were, he would come up-stairs and pass her door, +going to his room. She opened it an inch, holding her breath. At +first, nothing! Was it fancy? Or was some one noiselessly rifling +the room down-stairs? But surely no one would steal of Uncle Tod, +who, everybody knew, had nothing valuable. Then came a sound as of +bootless feet pressing the stairs stealthily! And the thought +darted through her, 'If it isn't he, what shall I do?' And then-- +'What shall I do--if it IS!' + +Desperately she opened the door, clasping her hands on the place +whence her heart had slipped down to her bare feet. But she knew +it was he before she heard him whisper: "Nedda!" and, clutching him +by the sleeve, she drew him in and closed the door. He was wet +through, dripping; so wet that the mere brushing against him made +her skin feel moist through its thin coverings. + +"Where have you been? What have you been doing? Oh, Derek!" + +There was just light enough to see his face, his teeth, the whites +of his eyes. + +"Cutting their tent-ropes in the rain. Hooroosh!" + +It was such a relief that she just let out a little gasping "Oh!" +and leaned her forehead against his coat. Then she felt his wet +arms round her, his wet body pressed to hers, and in a second he +was dancing with her a sort of silent, ecstatic war dance. +Suddenly he stopped, went down on his knees, pressing his face to +her waist, and whispering: "What a brute, what a brute! Making her +wet! Poor little Nedda!" + +Nedda bent over him; her hair covered his wet head, her hands +trembled on his shoulders. Her heart felt as if it would melt +right out of her; she longed so to warm and dry him with herself. +And, in turn, his wet arms clutched her close, his wet hands could +not keep still on her. Then he drew back, and whispering: "Oh, +Nedda! Nedda!" fled out like a dark ghost. Oblivious that she was +damp from head to foot, Nedda stood swaying, her eyes closed and +her lips just open; then, putting out her arms, she drew them +suddenly in and clasped herself. . . . + +When she came down to breakfast the next morning, he had gone out +already, and Uncle Tod, too; her aunt was writing at the bureau. +Sheila greeted her gruffly, and almost at once went out. Nedda +swallowed coffee, ate her egg, and bread and honey, with a heavy +heart. A newspaper lay open on the table; she read it idly till +these words caught her eye: + + +"The revolt which has paralyzed the hay harvest on Sir Gerald +Malloring's Worcestershire estate and led to the introduction of +strike-breakers, shows no sign of abatement. A very wanton spirit +of mischief seems to be abroad in this neighborhood. No reason can +be ascertained for the arson committed a short time back, nor for +this further outbreak of discontent. The economic condition of the +laborers on this estate is admittedly rather above than below the +average." + + +And at once she thought: '"Mischief!" What a shame!' Were people, +then, to know nothing of the real cause of the revolt--nothing of +the Tryst eviction, the threatened eviction of the Gaunts? Were +they not to know that it was on principle, and to protest against +that sort of petty tyranny to the laborers all over the country, +that this rebellion had been started? For liberty! only simple +liberty not to be treated as though they had no minds or souls of +their own--weren't the public to know that? If they were allowed +to think that it was all wanton mischief--that Derek was just a +mischief-maker--it would be dreadful! Some one must write and make +this known? Her father? But Dad might think it too personal--his +own relations! Mr. Cuthcott! Into whose household Wilmet Gaunt +had gone. Ah! Mr. Cuthcott who had told her that he was always at +her service! Why not? And the thought that she might really do +something at last to help made her tingle all over. If she +borrowed Sheila's bicycle she could catch the nine-o'clock train to +London, see him herself, make him do something, perhaps even bring +him back with her! She examined her purse. Yes, she had money. +She would say nothing, here, because, of course, he might refuse! +At the back of her mind was the idea that, if a real newspaper took +the part of the laborers, Derek's position would no longer be so +dangerous; he would be, as it were, legally recognized, and that, +in itself, would make him more careful and responsible. Whence she +got this belief in the legalizing power of the press it is +difficult to say, unless that, reading newspapers but seldom, she +still took them at their own valuation, and thought that when they +said: "We shall do this," or "We must do that," they really were +speaking for the country, and that forty-five millions of people +were deliberately going to do something, whereas, in truth, as was +known to those older than Nedda, they were speaking, and not too +conclusively at that, for single anonymous gentlemen in a hurry who +were not going to do anything. She knew that the press had power, +great power--for she was always hearing that--and it had not +occurred to her as yet to examine the composition of that power so +as to discover that, while the press certainly had a certain +monopoly of expression, and that same 'spirit of body' which makes +police constables swear by one another, it yet contained within its +ring fence the sane and advisable futility of a perfectly balanced +contradiction; so that its only functions, practically speaking, +were the dissemination of news, seven-tenths of which would have +been happier in obscurity; and--'irritation of the Dutch!' Not, of +course, that the press realized this; nor was it probable that any +one would tell it, for it had power--great power. + +She caught her train--glowing outwardly from the speed of her ride, +and inwardly from the heat of adventure and the thought that at +last she was being of some use. + +The only other occupants of her third-class compartment were a +friendly looking man, who might have been a sailor or other +wanderer on leave, and his thin, dried-up, black-clothed cottage +woman of an old mother. They sat opposite each other. The son +looked at his mother with beaming eyes, and she remarked: "An' I +says to him, says I, I says, 'What?' I says; so 'e says to me, he +says, 'Yes,' he says; 'that's what I say,' he says." And Nedda +thought: 'What an old dear! And the son looks nice too; I do like +simple people.' + +They got out at the first stop and she journeyed on alone. Taking +a taxicab from Paddington, she drove toward Gray's Inn. But now +that she was getting close she felt very nervous. How expect a +busy man like Mr. Cuthcott to spare time to come down all that way? +It would be something, though, if she could get him even to +understand what was really happening, and why; so that he could +contradict that man in the other paper. It must be wonderful to be +writing, daily, what thousands and thousands of people read! Yes! +It must be a very sacred-feeling life! To be able to say things in +that particularly authoritative way which must take such a lot of +people in--that is, make such a lot of people think in the same +way! It must give a man a terrible sense of responsibility, make +him feel that he simply must be noble, even if he naturally wasn't. +Yes! it must be a wonderful profession, and only fit for the +highest! In addition to Mr. Cuthcott, she knew as yet but three +young journalists, and those all weekly. + +At her timid ring the door was opened by a broad-cheeked girl, +enticingly compact in apron and black frock, whose bright color, +thick lips, and rogue eyes came of anything but London. It flashed +across Nedda that this must be the girl for whose sake she had +faced Mr. Cuthcott at the luncheon-table! And she said: "Are you +Wilmet Gaunt?" + +The girl smiled till her eyes almost disappeared, and answered: +"Yes, miss." + +"I'm Nedda Freeland, Miss Sheila's cousin. I've just come from +Joyfields. How are you getting on?" + +"Fine, thank you, miss. Plenty of life here." + +Nedda thought: 'That's what Derek said of her. Bursting with life! +And so she is.' And she gazed doubtfully at the girl, whose prim +black dress and apron seemed scarcely able to contain her. + +"Is Mr. Cuthcott in?" + +"No, miss; he'll be down at the paper. Two hundred and five +Floodgate Street." + +'Oh!' thought Nedda with dismay; 'I shall never venture there!' +And glancing once more at the girl, whose rogue slits of eyes, deep +sunk between check-bones and brow, seemed to be quizzing her and +saying: 'You and Mr. Derek--oh! I know!' she went sadly away. And +first she thought she would go home to Hampstead, then that she +would go back to the station, then: 'After all, why shouldn't I go +and try? They can't eat me. I will!' + +She reached her destination at the luncheon-hour, so that the +offices of the great evening journal were somewhat deserted. +Producing her card, she was passed from hand to hand till she +rested in a small bleak apartment where a young woman was typing +fast. She longed to ask her how she liked it, but did not dare. +The whole atmosphere seemed to her charged with a strenuous +solemnity, as though everything said, 'We have power--great power.' +And she waited, sitting by the window which faced the street. On +the buildings opposite she could read the name of another great +evening journal. Why, it was the one which had contained the +paragraph she had read at breakfast! She had bought a copy of it +at the station. Its temperament, she knew, was precisely opposed +to that of Mr. Cuthcott's paper. Over in that building, no doubt +there would be the same strenuously loaded atmosphere, so that if +they opened the windows on both sides little puffs of power would +meet in mid-air, above the heads of the passers-by, as might the +broadsides of old three-deckers, above the green, green sea. + +And for the first time an inkling of the great comic equipoise in +Floodgate Street and human affairs stole on Nedda's consciousness. +They puffed and puffed, and only made smoke in the middle! That +must be why Dad always called them: 'Those fellows!' She had +scarcely, however, finished beginning to think these thoughts when +a handbell sounded sharply in some adjoining room, and the young +woman nearly fell into her typewriter. Readjusting her balance, +she rose, and, going to the door, passed out in haste. Through the +open doorway Nedda could see a large and pleasant room, whose walls +seemed covered with prints of men standing in attitudes such that +she was almost sure they were statesmen; and, at a table in the +centre, the back of Mr. Cuthcott in a twiddly chair, surrounded by +sheets of paper reposing on the floor, shining like autumn leaves +on a pool of water. She heard his voice, smothery, hurried, but +still pleasant, say: "Take these, Miss Mayne, take these! Begin on +them, begin! Confound it! What's the time?" And the young +woman's voice: "Half past one, Mr. Cuthcott!" And a noise from Mr. +Cuthcott's throat that sounded like an adjuration to the Deity not +to pass over something. Then the young woman dipped and began +gathering those leaves of paper, and over her comely back Nedda had +a clear view of Mr. Cuthcott hunching one brown shoulder as though +warding something off, and of one of his thin hands ploughing up +and throwing back his brown hair on one side, and heard the sound +of his furiously scratching pen. And her heart pattered; it was so +clear that he was 'giving them one' and had no time for her. And +involuntarily she looked at the windows beyond him to see if there +were any puffs of power issuing therefrom. But they were closed. +She saw the young woman rise and come back toward her, putting the +sheets of paper in order; and, as the door was closing, from the +twiddly chair a noise that seemed to couple God with the +condemnation of silly souls. When the young woman was once more at +the typewriter she rose and said: "Have you given him my card yet?" + +The young woman looked at her surprised, as if she had broken some +rule of etiquette, and answered: "No." + +"Then don't, please. I can see that he's too busy. I won't wait." + +The young woman abstractedly placed a sheet of paper in her typewriter. + +"Very well," she said. "Good morning!" + +And before Nedda reached the door she heard the click-click of the +machine, reducing Mr. Cuthcott to legibility. + +'I was stupid to come,' she thought. 'He must be terribly +overworked. Poor man! He does say lovely things!' And, +crestfallen, she went along the passages, and once more out into +Floodgate Street. She walked along it frowning, till a man who was +selling newspapers said as she passed: "Mind ye don't smile, lydy!" + +Seeing that he was selling Mr. Cuthcott's paper, she felt for a +coin to buy one, and, while searching, scrutinized the newsvender's +figure, almost entirely hidden by the words: + + + GREAT HOUSING SCHEME + + HOPE FOR THE MILLION! + + +on a buff-colored board; while above it, his face, that had not +quite blood enough to be scorbutic, was wrapped in the expression +of those philosophers to whom a hope would be fatal. He was, in +fact, just what he looked--a street stoic. And a dim perception of +the great social truth: "The smell of half a loaf is not better +than no bread!" flickered in Nedda's brain as she passed on. Was +that what Derek was doing with the laborers--giving them half the +smell of a liberty that was not there? And a sudden craving for +her father came over her. He--he only, was any good, because he, +only, loved her enough to feel how distracted and unhappy she was +feeling, how afraid of what was coming. So, making for a Tube +station, she took train to Hampstead. . . . + +It was past two, and Felix, on the point of his constitutional. He +had left Becket the day after Nedda's rather startling removal to +Joyfields, and since then had done his level best to put the whole +Tryst affair, with all its somewhat sinister relevance to her life +and his own, out of his mind as something beyond control. He had +but imperfectly succeeded. + +Flora, herself not too present-minded, had in these days occasion +to speak to him about the absent-minded way in which he fulfilled +even the most domestic duties, and Alan was always saying to him, +"Buck up, Dad!" With Nedda's absorption into the little Joyfields +whirlpool, the sun shone but dimly for Felix. And a somewhat +febrile attention to 'The Last of the Laborers' had not brought it +up to his expectations. He fluttered under his buff waistcoat when +he saw her coming in at the gate. She must want something of him! +For to this pitch of resignation, as to his little daughter's love +for him, had he come! And if she wanted something of him, things +would be going wrong again down there! Nor did the warmth of her +embrace, and her: "Oh! Dad, it IS nice to see you!" remove that +instinctive conviction; though delicacy, born of love, forbade him +to ask her what she wanted. Talking of the sky and other matters, +thinking how pretty she was looking, he waited for the new, +inevitable proof that youth was first, and a mere father only +second fiddle now. A note from Stanley had already informed him of +the strike. The news had been something of a relief. Strikes, at +all events, were respectable and legitimate means of protest, and +to hear that one was in progress had not forced him out of his +laborious attempt to believe the whole affair only a mole-hill. He +had not, however, heard of the strike-breakers, nor had he seen any +newspaper mention of the matter; and when she had shown him the +paragraph; recounted her visit to Mr. Cuthcott, and how she had +wanted to take him back with her to see for himself--he waited a +moment, then said almost timidly: "Should I be of any use, my +dear?" She flushed and squeezed his hand in silence; and he knew +he would. + +When he had packed a handbag and left a note for Flora, he rejoined +her in the hall. + +It was past seven when they reached their destination, and, taking +the station 'fly,' drove slowly up to Joyfields, under a showery +sky. + + +CHAPTER XXIX + + +When Felix and Nedda reached Tod's cottage, the three little +Trysts, whose activity could never be quite called play, were all +the living creatures about the house. + +"Where is Mrs. Freeland, Biddy?" + +"We don't know; a man came, and she went." + +"And Miss Sheila?" + +"She went out in the mornin'. And Mr. Freeland's gone." + +Susie added: "The dog's gone, too." + +"Then help me to get some tea." + +"Yes." + +With the assistance of the mother-child, and the hindrance of Susie +and Billy, Nedda made and laid tea, with an anxious heart. The +absence of her aunt, who so seldom went outside the cottage, +fields, and orchard, disturbed her; and, while Felix refreshed +himself, she fluttered several times on varying pretexts to the +wicket gate. + +At her third visit, from the direction of the church, she saw +figures coming on the road--dark figures carrying something, +followed by others walking alongside. What sun there had been had +quite given in to heavy clouds; the light was dull, the elm-trees +dark; and not till they were within two hundred yards could Nedda +make out that these were figures of policemen. Then, alongside +that which they were carrying, she saw her aunt's blue dress. WHAT +were they carrying like that? She dashed down the steps, and +stopped. No! If it were HE they would bring him in! She rushed +back again, distracted. She could see now a form stretched on a +hurdle. It WAS he! + +"Dad! Quick!" + +Felix came, startled at that cry, to find his little daughter on +the path wringing her hands and flying back to the wicket gate. +They were close now. She saw them begin to mount the steps, those +behind raising their arms so that the hurdle should be level. +Derek lay on his back, with head and forehead swathed in wet blue +linen, torn from his mother's skirt; and the rest of his face very +white. He lay quite still, his clothes covered with mud. +Terrified, Nedda plucked at Kirsteen's sleeve. + +"What is it?" + +"Concussion!" The stillness of that blue-clothed figure, so calm +beside her, gave her strength to say quietly: + +"Put him in my room, Aunt Kirsteen; there's more air there!" And +she flew up-stairs, flinging wide her door, making the bed ready, +snatching her night things from the pillow; pouring out cold water, +sprinkling the air with eau de cologne. Then she stood still. +Perhaps, they would not bring him there? Yes, they were coming up. +They brought him in, and laid him on the bed. She heard one say: +"Doctor'll be here directly, ma'am. Let him lie quiet." Then she +and his mother were alone beside him. + +"Undo his boots," said Kirsteen. + +Nedda's fingers trembled, and she hated them for fumbling so, while +she drew off those muddy boots. Then her aunt said softly: "Hold +him up, dear, while I get his things off." + +And, with a strange rapture that she was allowed to hold him thus, +she supported him against her breast till he was freed and lying +back inert. Then, and only then, she whispered: + +"How long before he--?" + +Kirsteen shook her head; and, slipping her arm round the girl, +murmured: "Courage, Nedda!" + +The girl felt fear and love rush up desperately to overwhelm her. +She choked them back, and said quite quietly: "I will. I promise. +Only let me help nurse him!" + +Kirsteen nodded. And they sat down to wait. + +That quarter of an hour was the longest of her life. To see him +thus, living, yet not living, with the spirit driven from him by a +cruel blow, perhaps never to come back! Curious, how things still +got themselves noticed when all her faculties were centred in +gazing at his face. She knew that it was raining again; heard the +swish and drip, and smelled the cool wet perfume through the scent +of the eau de cologne that she had spilled. She noted her aunt's +arm, as it hovered, wetting the bandage; the veins and rounded +whiteness from under the loose blue sleeve slipped up to the elbow. +One of his feet lay close to her at the bed's edge; she stole her +hand beneath the sheet. That foot felt very cold, and she grasped +it tight. If only she could pass life into him through her hot +hand. She heard the ticking of her little travelling-clock, and +was conscious of flies wheeling close up beneath the white ceiling, +of how one by one they darted at each other, making swift zigzags +in the air. And something in her she had not yet known came +welling up, softening her eyes, her face, even the very pose of her +young body--the hidden passion of a motherliness, that yearned so +to 'kiss the place,' to make him well, to nurse and tend, restore +and comfort him. And with all her might she watched the movements +of those rounded arms under the blue sleeves--how firm and exact +they were, how soft and quiet and swift, bathing the dark head! +Then from beneath the bandage she caught sight suddenly of his +eyes. And her heart turned sick. Oh, they were not quite closed! +As if he hadn't life enough to close them! She bit into her lip to +stop a cry. It was so terrible to see them without light. Why did +not that doctor come? Over and over and over again within her the +prayer turned: Let him live! Oh, let him live! + +The blackbirds out in the orchard were tuning up for evening. It +seemed almost dreadful they should be able to sing like that. All +the world was going on just the same! If he died, the world would +have no more light for her than there was now in his poor eyes--and +yet it would go on the same! How was that possible? It was not +possible, because she would die too! She saw her aunt turn her +head like a startled animal; some one was coming up the stairs! It +was the doctor, wiping his wet face--a young man in gaiters. How +young--dreadfully young! No; there was a little gray at the sides +of his hair! What would he say? And Nedda sat with hands tight +clenched in her lap, motionless as a young crouching sphinx. An +interminable testing, and questioning, and answer! Never smoked-- +never drank--never been ill! The blow--ah, here! Just here! +Concussion--yes! Then long staring into the eyes, the eyelids +lifted between thumb and finger. And at last (how could he talk so +loud! Yet it was a comfort too--he would not talk like that if +Derek were going to die!)--Hair cut shorter--ice--watch him like a +lynx! This and that, if he came to. Nothing else to be done. And +then those blessed words: + +"But don't worry too much. I think it'll be all right." She could +not help a little sigh escaping her clenched teeth. + +The doctor was looking at her. His eyes were nice. + +"Sister?" + +"Cousin." + +"Ah! Well, I'll get back now, and send you out some ice, at once." + +More talk outside the door. Nedda, alone with her lover, crouched +forward on her knees, and put her lips to his. They were not so +cold as his foot, and the first real hope and comfort came to her. +Watch him like a lynx--wouldn't she? But how had it all happened? +And where was Sheila? and Uncle Tod? + +Her aunt had come back and was stroking her shoulder. There had +been fighting in the barn at Marrow Farm. They had arrested +Sheila. Derek had jumped down to rescue her and struck his head +against a grindstone. Her uncle had gone with Sheila. They would +watch, turn and turn about. Nedda must go now and eat something, +and get ready to take the watch from eight to midnight. + +Following her resolve to make no fuss, the girl went out. The +police had gone. The mother-child was putting her little folk to +bed; and in the kitchen Felix was arranging the wherewithal to eat. +He made her sit down and kept handing things; watching like a cat +to see that she put them in her mouth, in the way from which only +Flora had suffered hitherto; he seemed so anxious and unhappy, and +so awfully sweet, that Nedda forced herself to swallow what she +thought would never go down a dry and choky throat. He kept coming +up and touching her shoulder or forehead. Once he said: + +"It's all right, you know, my pet; concussion often takes two +days." + +Two days with his eyes like that! The consolation was not so vivid +as Felix might have wished; but she quite understood that he was +doing his best to give it. She suddenly remembered that he had no +room to sleep in. He must use Derek's. No! That, it appeared, +was to be for her when she came off duty. Felix was going to have +an all-night sitting in the kitchen. He had been looking forward +to an all-night sitting for many years, and now he had got his +chance. It was a magnificent opportunity--"without your mother, my +dear, to insist on my sleeping." And staring at his smile, Nedda +thought: 'He's like Granny--he comes out under difficulties. If +only I did!' + +The ice arrived by motor-cycle just before her watch began. It was +some comfort to have that definite thing to see to. How timorous +and humble are thoughts in a sick-room, above all when the sick are +stretched behind the muffle of unconsciousness, withdrawn from the +watcher by half-death! And yet, for him or her who loves, there is +at least the sense of being alone with the loved one, of doing all +that can be done; and in some strange way of twining hearts with +the exiled spirit. To Nedda, sitting at his feet, and hardly ever +turning eyes away from his still face, it sometimes seemed that the +flown spirit was there beside her. And she saw into his soul in +those hours of watching, as one looking into a stream sees the +leopard-like dapple of its sand and dark-strewn floor, just reached +by sunlight. She saw all his pride, courage, and impatience, his +reserve, and strange unwilling tenderness, as she had never seen +them. And a queer dreadful feeling moved her that in some previous +existence she had looked at that face dead on a field of battle, +frowning up at the stars. That was absurd--there were no previous +existences! Or was it prevision of what would come some day? + +When, at half past nine, the light began to fail, she lighted two +candles in tall, thin, iron candlesticks beside her. They burned +without flicker, those spires of yellow flame, slowly conquering +the dying twilight, till in their soft radiance the room was full +of warm dusky shadows, the night outside ever a deeper black. Two +or three times his mother came, looked at him, asked her if she +should stay, and, receiving a little silent shake of the head, went +away again. At eleven o'clock, when once more she changed the ice- +cap, his eyes had still no lustre, and for a moment her courage +failed her utterly. It seemed to her that he could never win back, +that death possessed the room already, possessed those candle- +flames, the ticking of the clock, the dark, dripping night, +possessed her heart. Could he be gone before she had been his! +Gone! Where? She sank down on her knees, covering her eyes. What +good to watch, if he were never coming back! A long time--it +seemed hours--passed thus, with the feeling growing deeper in her +that no good would come while she was watching. And behind the +barrier of her hands she tried desperately to rally courage. If +things were--they were! One must look them in the face! She took +her hands away. His eyes! Was it light in them? Was it? They +were seeing--surely they saw. And his lips made the tiniest +movement. In that turmoil of exultation she never knew how she +managed to continue kneeling there, with her hands on his. But all +her soul shone down to him out of her eyes, and drew and drew at +his spirit struggling back from the depths of him. For many +minutes that struggle lasted; then he smiled. It was the feeblest +smile that ever was on lips, but it made the tears pour down +Nedda's cheeks and trickle off on to his hands. Then, with a +stoicism that she could not believe in, so hopelessly unreal it +seemed, so utterly the negation of the tumult within her, she +settled back again at his feet to watch and not excite him. And +still his lips smiled that faint smile, and his opened eyes grew +dark and darker with meaning. + +So at midnight Kirsteen found them. + + +CHAPTER XXX + + +In the early hours of his all-night sitting Felix had first only +memories, and then Kirsteen for companion. + +"I worry most about Tod," she said. "He had that look in his face +when he went off from Marrow Farm. He might do something terrible +if they ill-treat Sheila. If only she has sense enough to see and +not provoke them." + +"Surely she will," Felix murmured. + +"Yes, if she realizes. But she won't, I'm afraid. Even I have +only known him look like that three times. Tod is so gentle-- +passion stores itself in him; and when it comes, it's awful. If he +sees cruelty, he goes almost mad. Once he would have killed a man +if I hadn't got between them. He doesn't know what he's doing at +such moments. I wish--I wish he were back. It's hard one can't +pierce through, and see him." + +Gazing at her eyes so dark and intent, Felix thought: 'If YOU can't +pierce through--none can.' + +He learned the story of the disaster. + +Early that morning Derek had assembled twenty of the strongest +laborers, and taken them a round of the farms to force the strike- +breakers to desist. There had been several fights, in all of which +the strike-breakers had been beaten. Derek himself had fought +three times. In the afternoon the police had come, and the +laborers had rushed with Derek and Sheila, who had joined them, +into a barn at Marrow Farm, barred it, and thrown mangolds at the +police, when they tried to force an entrance. One by one the +laborers had slipped away by a rope out of a ventilation-hole high +up at the back, and they had just got Sheila down when the police +appeared on that side, too. Derek, who had stayed to the last, +covering their escape with mangolds, had jumped down twenty feet +when he saw them taking Sheila, and, pitching forward, hit his head +against a grindstone. Then, just as they were marching Sheila and +two of the laborers away, Tod had arrived and had fallen in +alongside the policemen--he and the dog. It was then she had seen +that look on his face. + +Felix, who had never beheld his big brother in Berserk mood, could +offer no consolation; nor had he the heart to adorn the tale, and +inflict on this poor woman his reflection: 'This, you see, is what +comes of the ferment you have fostered. This is the reward of +violence!' He longed, rather, to comfort her; she seemed so lonely +and, in spite of all her stoicism, so distraught and sad. His +heart went out, too, to Tod. How would he himself have felt, +walking by the side of policemen whose arms were twisted in +Nedda's! But so mixed are the minds of men that at this very +moment there was born within him the germ of a real revolt against +the entry of his little daughter into this family of hotheads. It +was more now than mere soreness and jealousy; it was fear of a +danger hitherto but sniffed at, but now only too sharply savored. + +When she left him to go up-stairs, Felix stayed consulting the dark +night. As ever, in hours of ebbed vitality, the shapes of fear and +doubt grew clearer and more positive; they loomed huge out there +among the apple-trees, where the drip-drip of the rain made music. +But his thoughts were still nebulous, not amounting to resolve. It +was no moment for resolves--with the boy lying up there between the +tides of chance; and goodness knew what happening to Tod and +Sheila. The air grew sharper; he withdrew to the hearth, where a +wood fire still burned, gray ash, red glow, scent oozing from it. +And while he crouched there, blowing it with bellows, he heard soft +footsteps, and saw Nedda standing behind him transformed. + +But in the midst of all his glad sympathy Felix could not help +thinking: 'Better for you, perhaps, if he had never returned from +darkness!' + +She came and crouched down by him. + +"Let me sit with you, Dad. It smells so good." + +"Very well; but you must sleep." + +"I don't believe I'll ever want to sleep again." + +And at the glow in her Felix glowed too. What is so infectious as +delight? They sat a long time talking, as they had not talked +since the first fatal visit to Becket. Of how love, and mountains, +works of art, and doing things for others were the only sources of +happiness; except scents, and lying on one's back looking through +tree-tops at the sky; and tea, and sunlight, flowers, and hard +exercise; oh, and the sea! Of how, when things went hard, one +prayed--but what did one pray to? Was it not to something in +oneself? It was of no use to pray to the great mysterious Force +that made one thing a cabbage, and the other a king; for That could +obviously not be weak-minded enough to attend. And gradually +little pauses began to creep into their talk; then a big pause, and +Nedda, who would never want to sleep again, was fast asleep. + +Felix watched those long, dark lashes resting on her cheeks; the +slow, soft rise of her breast; the touching look of trust and +goodness in that young face abandoned to oblivion after these hours +of stress; watched the little tired shadows under the eyes, the +tremors of the just-parted lips. And, getting up, stealthy as a +cat, he found a light rug, and ever more stealthily laid it over +her. She stirred at that, smiled up at him, and instantly went off +again. And he thought: 'Poor little sweetheart, she WAS tired!' +And a passionate desire to guard her from trials and troubles came +on him. + +At four o'clock Kirsteen slipped in again, and whispered: "She made +me promise to come for her. How pretty she looks, sleeping!" + +"Yes," Felix answered; "pretty and good!" + +Nedda raised her head, stared up at her aunt, and a delighted smile +spread over her face. "Is it time again? How lovely!" Then, +before either could speak or stop her, she was gone. + +"She is more in love," Kirsteen murmured, "than I ever saw a girl +of her age." + +"She is more in love," Felix answered, "than is good to see." + +"She is not truer than Derek is." + +"That may be, but she will suffer from him." + +"Women who love must always suffer." + +Her cheeks were sunken, shadowy; she looked very tired. When she +had gone to get some sleep, Felix restored the fire and put on a +kettle, meaning to make himself some coffee. Morning had broken, +clear and sparkling after the long rain, and full of scent and +song. What glory equalled this early morning radiance, the dewy +wonder of everything! What hour of the day was such a web of youth +and beauty as this, when all the stars from all the skies had +fallen into the grass! A cold nose was thrust into his hand, and +he saw beside him Tod's dog. The animal was wet, and lightly moved +his white-tipped tail; while his dark-yellow eyes inquired of Felix +what he was going to give a dog to eat. Then Felix saw his brother +coming in. Tod's face was wild and absent as a man with all his +thoughts turned on something painful in the distance. His ruffled +hair had lost its brightness; his eyes looked as if driven back +into his head; he was splashed with mud, and wet from head to foot. +He walked up to the hearth without a word. + +"Well, old man?" said Felix anxiously. + +Tod looked at him, but did not answer. + +"Come," said Felix; "tell us!" + +"Locked up," said Tod in a voice unlike his own. "I didn't knock +them down." + +"Heavens! I should hope not." + +"I ought to have." + +Felix put his hand within his brother's arm. + +"They twisted her arms; one of them pushed her from behind. I +can't understand it. How was it I didn't? I can't understand." + +"I can," said Felix. "They were the Law. If they had been mere +men you'd have done it, fast enough." + +"I can't understand," Tod repeated. "I've been walking ever since." + +Felix stroked his shoulder. + +"Go up-stairs, old man. Kirsteen's anxious." + +Tod sat down and took his boots off. + +"I can't understand," he said once more. Then, without another +word, or even a look at Felix, he went out and up the stairs. + +And Felix thought: 'Poor Kirsteen! Ah, well--they're all about as +queer, one as the other! How to get Nedda out of it?' + +And, with that question gnawing at him, he went out into the +orchard. The grass was drenching wet, so he descended to the road. +Two wood-pigeons were crooning to each other, truest of all sounds +of summer; there was no wind, and the flies had begun humming. In +the air, cleared of dust, the scent of hay was everywhere. What +about those poor devils of laborers, now? They would get the sack +for this! and he was suddenly beset with a feeling of disgust. +This world where men, and women too, held what they had, took what +they could; this world of seeing only one thing at a time; this +world of force, and cunning, of struggle, and primitive appetites; +of such good things, too, such patience, endurance, heroism--and +yet at heart so unutterably savage! + +He was very tired; but it was too wet to sit down, so he walked on. +Now and again he passed a laborer going to work; but very few in +all those miles, and they quite silent. 'Did they ever really +whistle?' Felix thought. 'Were they ever jolly ploughmen? Or was +that always a fiction? Surely, if they can't give tongue this +morning, they never can!' He crossed a stile and took a slanting +path through a little wood. The scent of leaves and sap, the +dapple of sunlight--all the bright early glow and beauty struck him +with such force that he could have cried out in the sharpness of +sensation. At that hour when man was still abed and the land lived +its own life, how full and sweet and wild that life seemed, how in +love with itself! Truly all the trouble in the world came from the +manifold disharmonies of the self-conscious animal called Man! + +Then, coming out on the road again, he saw that he must be within a +mile or two of Becket; and finding himself suddenly very hungry, +determined to go there and get some breakfast. + + +CHAPTER XXXI + + +Duly shaved with one of Stanley's razors, bathed, and breakfasted, +Felix was on the point of getting into the car to return to +Joyfields when he received a message from his mother: Would he +please go up and see her before he went? + +He found her looking anxious and endeavoring to conceal it. + +Having kissed him, she drew him to her sofa and said: "Now, +darling, come and sit down here, and tell me all about this +DREADFUL business." And taking up an odorator she blew over him a +little cloud of scent. "It's quite a new perfume; isn't it +delicious?" + +Felix, who dreaded scent, concealed his feelings, sat down, and +told her. And while he told her he was conscious of how +pathetically her fastidiousness was quivering under those gruesome +details--fighting with policemen, fighting with common men, prison-- +FOR A LADY; conscious too of her still more pathetic effort to put +a good face on it. When he had finished she remained so perfectly +still, with lips so hard compressed, that he said: + +"It's no good worrying, Mother." + +Frances Freeland rose, pulled something hard, and a cupboard +appeared. She opened it, and took out a travelling-bag. + +"I must go back with you at once," she said. + +"I don't think it's in the least necessary, and you'll only knock +yourself up." + +"Oh, nonsense, darling! I must." + +Knowing that further dissuasion would harden her determination, +Felix said: "I'm going in the car." + +"That doesn't matter. I shall be ready in ten minutes. Oh! and do +you know this? It's splendid for taking lines out under the eyes!" +She was holding out a little round box with the lid off. "Just wet +your finger with it, and dab it gently on." + +Touched by this evidence of her deep desire that he should put as +good a face on it as herself, Felix dabbed himself under the eyes. + +"That's right. Now, wait for me, dear; I shan't be a minute. I've +only to get my things. They'll all go splendidly in this little bag." + +In a quarter of an hour they had started. During that journey +Frances Freeland betrayed no sign of tremor. She was going into +action, and, therefore, had no patience with her nerves. + +"Are you proposing to stay, Mother?" Felix hazarded; "because I +don't think there's a room for you." + +"Oh! that's nothing, darling. I sleep beautifully in a chair. It +suits me better than lying down." Felix cast up his eyes, and made +no answer. + +On arriving, they found that the doctor had been there, expressed +his satisfaction, and enjoined perfect quiet. Tod was on the point +of starting back to Transham, where Sheila and the two laborers +would be brought up before the magistrates. Felix and Kirsteen +took hurried counsel. Now that Mother, whose nursing was beyond +reproach, had come, it would be better if they went with Tod. All +three started forthwith in the car. + +Left alone, Frances Freeland took her bag--a noticeably old one, +without any patent clasp whatever, so that she could open it--went +noiselessly upstairs, tapped on Derek's door, and went in. A faint +but cheerful voice remarked: "Halloo, Granny!" + +Frances Freeland went up to the bed, smiled down on him ineffably, +laid a finger on his lips, and said, in the stillest voice: "You +mustn't talk, darling!" Then she sat down in the window with her +bag beside her. Half a tear had run down her nose, and she had no +intention that it should be seen. She therefore opened her bag, +and, having taken out a little bottle, beckoned Nedda. + +"Now, darling," she whispered, "you must just take one of these. +It's nothing new; they're what my mother used to give me at your +age. And for one hour you must go out and get some fresh air, and +then you can come back." + +"Must I, Granny?" + +"Yes; you must keep up your strength. Kiss me." + +Nedda kissed a cheek that seemed extraordinarily smooth and soft, +received a kiss in the middle of her own, and, having stayed a +second by the bed, looking down with all her might, went out. + +Frances Freeland, in the window, wasted no thoughts, but began to +run over in her mind the exact operations necessary to defeat this +illness of darling Derek's. Her fingers continually locked and +interlocked themselves with fresh determinations; her eyes, fixed +on imaginary foods, methods of washing, and ways of keeping him +quiet, had an almost fanatical intensity. Like a good general she +marshalled her means of attack and fixed them in perfect order. +Now and then she gazed into her bag, making quite sure that she had +everything, and nothing that was new-fangled or liable to go wrong. +For into action she never brought any of those patent novelties +that delighted her soul in times of peace. For example, when she +herself had pneumonia and no doctor, for two months, it was well +known that she had lain on her back, free from every kind of +remedy, employing only courage, nature, and beef tea, or some such +simple sustenance. + +Having now made her mental dispositions, she got up without sound +and slipped off a petticoat that she suspected of having rustled a +little when she came in; folding and popping it where it could not +be suspected any more, she removed her shoes and put on very old +velvet slippers. She walked in these toward the bed, listening to +find out whether she could hear herself, without success. Then, +standing where she could see when his eyes opened, she began to +take stock. That pillow wasn't very comfortable! A little table +was wanted on both sides, instead of on one. There was no +odorator, and she did not see one of those arrangements! All these +things would have to be remedied. + +Absorbed in this reconnoitring, she failed to observe that darling +Derek was looking at her through eyelashes that were always so nice +and black. He said suddenly, in that faint and cheerful voice: + +"All right, Granny; I'm going to get up to-morrow." + +Frances Freeland, whose principle it was that people should always +be encouraged to believe themselves better than they were, +answered. "Yes, darling, of course; you'll be up in no time. +It'll be delightful to see you in a chair to-morrow. But you +mustn't talk." + +Derek sighed, closed his eyes, and went off into a faint. + +It was in moments such as these that Frances Freeland was herself. +Her face flushed a little and grew terribly determined. Conscious +that she was absolutely alone in the house, she ran to her bag, +took out her sal volatile, applied it vigorously to his nose, and +poured a little between his lips. She did other things to him, and +not until she had brought him round, and the best of it was already +made, did she even say to herself: 'It's no use fussing; I must +make the best of it.' + +Then, having discovered that he felt quite comfortable--as he said-- +she sat down in a chair to fan him and tremble vigorously. She +would not have allowed that movement of her limbs if it had in any +way interfered with the fanning. But since, on the contrary, it +seemed to be of assistance, she certainly felt it a relief; for, +whatever age her spirit might be, her body was seventy-three. + +And while she fanned she thought of Derek as a little, black- +haired, blazing-gray-eyed slip of a sallow boy, all little thin +legs and arms moving funnily like a foal's. He had been such a +dear, gentlemanlike little chap. It was dreadful he should be +forgetting himself so, and getting into such trouble. And her +thoughts passed back beyond him to her own four little sons, among +whom she had been so careful not to have a favorite, but to love +them all equally. And she thought of how their holland suits wore +out, especially in the elastic, and got green behind, almost before +they were put on; and of how she used to cut their hairs, spending +at least three-quarters of an hour on each, because she had never +been quick at it, while they sat so good--except Stanley, and +darling Tod, who WOULD move just as she had got into the comb +particularly nice bits of his hair, always so crisp and difficult! +And of how she had cut off Felix's long golden curls when he was +four, and would have cried over it, if crying hadn't always been +silly! And of how beautifully they had all had their measles +together, so that she had been up with them day and night for about +a fortnight. And of how it was a terrible risk with Derek and +darling Nedda, not at all a wise match, she was afraid. And yet, +if they really were attached, of course one must put the best face +on it! And how lovely it would be to see another little baby some +day; and what a charming little mother Nedda would make--if only +the dear child would do her hair just a little differently! And +she perceived that Derek was asleep--and one of her own legs, from +the knee down. She would certainly have bad pins and needles if +she did not get up; but, since she would not wake him for the +world, she must do something else to cure it. And she hit upon +this plan. She had only to say, 'Nonsense, you haven't anything of +the sort!' and it was sure to go away. She said this to her leg, +but, being a realist, she only made it feel like a pin-cushion. +She knew, however, that she had only to persevere, because it would +never do to give in. She persevered, and her leg felt as if red- +hot needles were being stuck in it. Then, for the life of her, she +could not help saying a little psalm. The sensation went away and +left her leg quite dead. She would have no strength in it at all +when she got up. But that would be easily cured, when she could +get to her bag, with three globules of nux vomica--and darling +Derek must not be waked up for anything! She waited thus till +Nedda came back, and then said, "Sssh!" + +He woke at once, so that providentially she was able to get up, +and, having stood with her weight on one leg for five minutes, so +as to be quite sure she did not fall, she crossed back to the +window, took her nux vomica, and sat down with her tablets to note +down the little affairs she would require, while Nedda took her +place beside the bed, to fan him. Having made her list, she went +to Nedda and whispered that she was going down to see about one or +two little things, and while she whispered she arranged the dear +child's hair. If only she would keep it just like that, it would +be so much more becoming! And she went down-stairs. + +Accustomed to the resources of Stanley's establishment, or at least +to those of John's and Felix's, and of the hotels she stayed at, +she felt for a moment just a little nonplussed at discovering at +her disposal nothing but three dear little children playing with a +dog, and one bicycle. For a few seconds she looked at the latter +hard. If only it had been a tricycle! Then, feeling certain that +she could not make it into one, she knew that she must make the +best of it, especially as, in any case, she could not have used it, +for it would never do to leave darling Nedda alone in the house. +She decided therefore to look in every room to see if she could +find the things she wanted. The dog, who had been attracted by +her, left the children and came too, and the children, attracted by +the dog, followed; so they all five went into a room on the ground +floor. It was partitioned into two by a screen; in one portion was +a rough camp bedstead, and in the other two dear little child's +beds, that must once have been Derek's and Sheila's, and one still +smaller, made out of a large packing-case. The eldest of the +little children said: + +"That's where Billy sleeps, Susie sleeps here, and I sleeps there; +and our father sleeped in here before he went to prison." Frances +Freeland experienced a shock. To prison! The idea of letting +these little things know such a thing as that! The best face had +so clearly not been put on it that she decided to put it herself. + +"Oh, not to prison, dear! Only into a house in the town for a +little while." + +It seemed to her quite dreadful that they should know the truth--it +was simply necessary to put it out of their heads. That dear +little girl looked so old already, such a little mother! And, as +they stood about her, she gazed piercingly at their heads. They +were quite clean. + +The second dear little thing said: + +"We like bein' here; we hope Father won't be comin' back from +prison for a long time, so as we can go on stayin' here. Mr. +Freeland gives us apples." + +The failure of her attempt to put a nicer idea into their heads +disconcerted Frances Freeland for a moment only. She said: + +"Who told you he was in prison?" + +Biddy answered slowly: "Nobody didn't tell us; we picked it up." + +"Oh, but you should never pick things up! That's not at all nice. +You don't know what harm they may do you." + +Billy replied: "We picked up a dead cat yesterday. It didn't +scratch a bit, it didn't." + +And Biddy added: "Please, what is prison like?" + +Pity seized on Frances Freeland for these little derelicts, whose +heads and pinafores and faces were so clean. She pursed her lips +very tight and said: + +"Hold out your hands, all of you." + +Three small hands were held out, and three small pairs of gray-blue +eyes looked up at her. From the recesses of her pocket she drew +forth her purse, took from it three shillings, and placed one in +the very centre of each palm. The three small hands closed; two +small grave bodies dipped in little courtesies; the third remained +stock-still, but a grin spread gradually on its face from ear to ear. + +"What do you say?" said Frances Freeland. + +"Thank you." + +"Thank you--what?" + +"Thank you, ma'am." + +"That's right. Now run away and play a nice game in the orchard." + +The three turned immediately and went. A sound of whispering rose +busily outside. Frances Freeland, glancing through the window, saw +them unlatching the wicket gate. Sudden alarm seized her. She put +out her head and called. Biddy came back. + +"You mustn't spend them all at once." + +Biddy shook her head. + +"No. Once we had a shillin', and we were sick. We're goin' to +spend three pennies out of one shillin' every day, till they're +gone." + +"And aren't you going to put any by for a rainy day?" + +"No." + +Frances Freeland did not know what to answer. Dear little things! + +The dear little things vanished. + +In Tod's and Kirsteen's room she found a little table and a pillow, +and something that might do, and having devised a contrivance by +which this went into that and that into this and nothing whatever +showed, she conveyed the whole very quietly up near dear Derek's +room, and told darling Nedda to go down-stairs and look for +something that she knew she would not find, for she could not think +at the moment of any better excuse. When the child had gone, she +popped this here, and popped that there. And there she was! And +she felt better. It was no use whatever to make a fuss about that +aspect of nursing which was not quite nice. One just put the best +face upon it, quietly did what was necessary, and pretended that it +was not there. Kirsteen had not seen to things quite as she should +have. But then dear Kirsteen was so clever. + +Her attitude, indeed, to that blue bird, who had alighted now +twenty-one years ago in the Freeland nest, had always, after the +first few shocks, been duly stoical. For, however her +fastidiousness might jib at neglect of the forms of things, she was +the last woman not to appreciate really sterling qualities. Though +it was a pity dear Kirsteen did expose her neck and arms so that +they had got quite brown, a pity that she never went to church and +had brought up the dear children not to go, and to have ideas that +were not quite right about 'the Land,' still she was emphatically a +lady, and devoted to dear Tod, and very good. And her features +were so regular, and she had such a good color, and was so slim and +straight in the back, that she was always a pleasure to look at. +And if she was not quite so practical as she might have been, that +was not everything; and she would never get stout, as there was +every danger of Clara doing. So that from the first she had always +put a good face on her. Derek's voice interrupted her thoughts: + +"I'm awfully thirsty, Granny." + +"Yes, darling. Don't move your head; and just let me pop in some +of this delicious lemonade with a spoon." + +Nedda, returning, found her supporting his head with one hand, +while with the other she kept popping in the spoon, her soul +smiling at him lovingly through her lips and eyes. + + +CHAPTER XXXII + + +Felix went back to London the afternoon of Frances Freeland's +installation, taking Sheila with him. She had been 'bound over to +keep the peace'--a task which she would obviously be the better +able to accomplish at a distance. And, though to take charge of +her would be rather like holding a burning match till there was no +match left, he felt bound to volunteer. + +He left Nedda with many misgivings; but had not the heart to wrench +her away. + +The recovery of a young man who means to get up to-morrow is not so +rapid when his head, rather than his body, is the seat of trouble. +Derek's temperament was against him. He got up several times in +spirit, to find that his body had remained in bed. And this did +not accelerate his progress. It had been impossible to dispossess +Frances Freeland from command of the sick-room; and, since she was +admittedly from experience and power of paying no attention to her +own wants, the fittest person for the position, there she remained, +taking turn and turn about with Nedda, and growing a little whiter, +a little thinner, more resolute in face, and more loving in her +eyes, from day to day. That tragedy of the old--the being laid +aside from life before the spirit is ready to resign, the feeling +that no one wants you, that all those you have borne and brought up +have long passed out on to roads where you cannot follow, that even +the thought-life of the world streams by so fast that you lie up in +a backwater, feebly, blindly groping for the full of the water, and +always pushed gently, hopelessly back; that sense that you are +still young and warm, and yet so furbelowed with old thoughts and +fashions that none can see how young and warm you are, none see how +you long to rub hearts with the active, how you yearn for something +real to do that can help life on, and how no one will give it you! +All this--this tragedy--was for the time defeated. She was, in +triumph, doing something real for those she loved and longed to do +things for. She had Sheila's room. + +For a week at least Derek asked no questions, made no allusion to +the mutiny, not even to the cause of his own disablement. It had +been impossible to tell whether the concussion had driven coherent +recollection from his mind, or whether he was refraining from an +instinct of self-preservation, barring such thoughts as too +exciting. Nedda dreaded every day lest he should begin. She knew +that the questions would fall on her, since no answer could +possibly be expected from Granny except: "It's all right, darling, +everything's going on perfectly--only you mustn't talk!" + +It began the last day of June, the very first day that he got up. + +"They didn't save the hay, did they?" + +Was he fit to hear the truth? Would he forgive her if she did not +tell it? If she lied about this, could she go on lying to his +other questions? When he discovered, later, would not the effect +undo the good of lies now? She decided to lie; but, when she +opened her lips, simply could not, with his eyes on her; and said +faintly: "Yes, they did." + +His face contracted. She slipped down at once and knelt beside his +chair. He said between his teeth: + +"Go on; tell me. Did it all collapse?" + +She could only stroke his hands and bow her head. + +"I see. What's happened to them?" + +Without looking up, she murmured: + +"Some have been dismissed; the others are working again all right." + +"All right!" + +She looked up then so pitifully that he did not ask her anything +more. But the news put him back a week. And she was in despair. +The day he got up again he began afresh: + +"When are the assizes?" + +"The 7th of August." + +"Has anybody been to see Bob Tryst?" + +"Yes; Aunt Kirsteen has been twice." + +Having been thus answered, he was quiet for a long time. She had +slipped again out of her chair to kneel beside him; it seemed the +only place from which she could find courage for her answers. He +put his hand, that had lost its brown, on her hair. At that she +plucked up spirit to ask: + +"Would you like me to go and see him?" + +He nodded. + +"Then, I will--to-morrow." + +"Don't ever tell me what isn't true, Nedda! People do; that's why +I didn't ask before." + +She answered fervently: + +"I won't! Oh, I won't!" + +She dreaded this visit to the prison. Even to think of those +places gave her nightmare. Sheila's description of her night in a +cell had made her shiver with horror. But there was a spirit in +Nedda that went through with things; and she started early the next +day, refusing Kirsteen's proffered company. + +The look of that battlemented building, whose walls were pierced +with emblems of the Christian faith, turned her heartsick, and she +stood for several minutes outside the dark-green door before she +could summon courage to ring the bell. + +A stout man in blue, with a fringe of gray hair under his peaked +cap, and some keys dangling from a belt, opened, and said: + +"Yes, miss?" + +Being called 'miss' gave her a little spirit, and she produced the +card she had been warming in her hand. + +"I have come to see a man called Robert Tryst, waiting for trial at +the assizes." + +The stout man looked at the card back and front, as is the way of +those in doubt, closed the door behind her, and said: + +"Just a minute, miss." + +The shutting of the door behind her sent a little shiver down +Nedda's spine; but the temperature of her soul was rising, and she +looked round. Beyond the heavy arch, beneath which she stood, was +a courtyard where she could see two men, also in blue, with peaked +caps. Then, to her left, she became conscious of a shaven-headed +noiseless being in drab-gray clothes, on hands and knees, scrubbing +the end of a corridor. Her tremor at the stealthy ugliness of this +crouching figure yielded at once to a spasm of pity. The man gave +her a look, furtive, yet so charged with intense penetrating +curiosity that it seemed to let her suddenly into innumerable +secrets. She felt as if the whole life of people shut away in +silence and solitude were disclosed to her in the swift, +unutterably alive look of this noiseless kneeling creature, riving +out of her something to feed his soul and body on. That look +seemed to lick its lips. It made her angry, made her miserable, +with a feeling of pity she could hardly bear. Tears, too startled +to flow, darkened her eyes. Poor man! How he must hate her, who +was free, and all fresh from the open world and the sun, and people +to love and talk to! The 'poor man' scrubbed on steadily, his ears +standing out from his shaven head; then, dragging his knee-mat +skew-ways, he took the chance to look at her again. Perhaps +because his dress and cap and stubble of hair and even the color of +his face were so drab-gray, those little dark eyes seemed to her +the most terribly living things she had ever seen. She felt that +they had taken her in from top to toe, clothed and unclothed, taken +in the resentment she had felt and the pity she was feeling; they +seemed at once to appeal, to attack, and to possess her ravenously, +as though all the starved instincts in a whole prisoned world had +rushed up and for a second stood outside their bars. Then came the +clank of keys, the eyes left her as swiftly as they had seized her, +and he became again just that stealthy, noiseless creature +scrubbing a stone floor. And, shivering, Nedda thought: + +'I can't bear myself here--me with everything in the world I want-- +and these with nothing!' + +But the stout janitor was standing by her again, together with +another man in blue, who said: + +"Now, miss; this way, please!" + +And down that corridor they went. Though she did not turn, she +knew well that those eyes were following, still riving something +from her; and she heaved a sigh of real relief when she was round a +corner. Through barred windows that had no glass she could see +another court, where men in the same drab-gray clothes printed with +arrows were walking one behind the other, making a sort of moving +human hieroglyphic in the centre of the concrete floor. Two +warders with swords stood just outside its edge. Some of those +walking had their heads up, their chests expanded, some slouched +along with heads almost resting on their chests; but most had their +eyes fixed on the back of the neck of the man in front; and there +was no sound save the tramp of feet. + +Nedda put her hand to her throat. The warder beside her said in a +chatty voice: + +"That's where the 'ards takes their exercise, miss. You want to +see a man called Tryst, waitin' trial, I think. We've had a woman +here to see him, and a lady in blue, once or twice." + +"My aunt." + +"Ah! just so. Laborer, I think--case of arson. Funny thing; never +yet found a farm-laborer that took to prison well." + +Nedda shivered. The words sounded ominous. Then a little flame +lit itself within her. + +"Does anybody ever 'take to' prison?" + +The warder uttered a sound between a grunt and chuckle. + +"There's some has a better time here than they have out, any day. +No doubt about it--they're well fed here." + +Her aunt's words came suddenly into Nedda's mind: 'Liberty's a +glorious feast!' But she did not speak them. + +"Yes," the warder proceeded, "some o' them we get look as if they +didn't have a square meal outside from one year's end to the other. +If you'll just wait a minute, miss, I'll fetch the man down to you." + +In a bare room with distempered walls, and bars to a window out of +which she could see nothing but a high brick wall, Nedda waited. +So rapid is the adjustment of the human mind, so quick the blunting +of human sensation, that she had already not quite the passion of +pitiful feeling which had stormed her standing under that archway. +A kind of numbness gripped her nerves. There were wooden forms in +this room, and a blackboard, on which two rows of figures had been +set one beneath the other, but not yet added up. + +The silence at first was almost deathly. Then it was broken by a +sound as of a heavy door banged, and the shuffling tramp of +marching men--louder, louder, softer--a word of command--still +softer, and it died away. Dead silence again! Nedda pressed her +hands to her breast. Twice she added up those figures on the +blackboard; each time the number was the same. Ah, there was a +fly--two flies! How nice they looked, moving, moving, chasing each +other in the air. Did flies get into the cells? Perhaps not even +a fly came there--nothing more living than walls and wood! Nothing +living except what was inside oneself! How dreadful! Not even a +clock ticking, not even a bird's song! Silent, unliving, worse +than in this room! Something pressed against her leg. She started +violently and looked down. A little cat! Oh, what a blessed +thing! A little sandy, ugly cat! It must have crept in through +the door. She was not locked in, then, anyway! Thus far had +nerves carried her already! Scrattling the little cat's furry +pate, she pulled herself together. She would not tremble and be +nervous. It was disloyal to Derek and to her purpose, which was to +bring comfort to poor Tryst. Then the door was pushed open, and +the warder said: + +"A quarter of an hour, miss. I'll be just outside." + +She saw a big man with unshaven cheeks come in, and stretched out +her hand. + +"I am Mr. Derek's cousin, going to be married to him. He's been +ill, but he's getting well again now. We knew you'd like to hear." +And she thought: 'Oh! What a tragic face! I can't bear to look at +his eyes!' + +He took her hand, said, "Thank you, miss," and stood as still as ever. + +"Please come and sit down, and we can talk." + +Tryst moved to a form and took his seat thereon, with his hands +between his knees, as if playing with an imaginary cap. He was +dressed in an ordinary suit of laborer's best clothes, and his +stiff, dust-colored hair was not cut particularly short. The +cheeks of his square-cut face had fallen in, the eyes had sunk +back, and the prominence thus given to his cheek and jawbones and +thick mouth gave his face a savage look--only his dog-like, +terribly yearning eyes made Nedda feel so sorry that she simply +could not feel afraid. + +"The children are such dears, Mr. Tryst. Billy seems to grow every +day. They're no trouble at all, and quite happy. Biddy's +wonderful with them." + +"She's a good maid." The thick lips shaped the words as though +they had almost lost power of speech. + +"Do they let you see the newspapers we send? Have you got +everything you want?" + +For a minute he did not seem to be going to answer; then, moving +his head from side to side, he said: + +"Nothin' I want, but just get out of here." + +Nedda murmured helplessly: + +"It's only a month now to the assizes. Does Mr. Pogram come to see +you?" + +"Yes, he comes. He can't do nothin'!" + +"Oh, don't despair! Even if they don't acquit you, it'll soon be +over. Don't despair!" And she stole her hand out and timidly +touched his arm. She felt her heart turning over and over, he +looked so sad. + +He said in that stumbling, thick voice: + +"Thank you kindly. I must get out. I won't stand long of it--not +much longer. I'm not used to it--always been accustomed to the +air, an' bein' about, that's where 'tis. But don't you tell him, +miss. You say I'm goin' along all right. Don't you tell him what +I said. 'Tis no use him frettin' over me. 'Twon' do me no good." + +And Nedda murmured: + +"No, no; I won't tell him." + +Then suddenly came the words she had dreaded: + +"D'you think they'll let me go, miss?" + +"Oh, yes, I think so--I hope so!" But she could not meet his eyes, +and hearing him grit his boot on the floor knew he had not believed +her. + +He said slowly: + +"I never meant to do it when I went out that mornin'. It came on +me sudden, lookin' at the straw." + +Nedda gave a little gasp. Could that man outside hear? + +Tryst went on: "If they don't let me go, I won' stand it. 'Tis too +much for a man. I can't sleep, I can't eat, nor nothin'. I won' +stand it. It don' take long to die, if you put your mind to it." + +Feeling quite sick with pity, Nedda got up and stood beside him; +and, moved by an uncontrollable impulse, she lifted one of his +great hands and clasped it in both her own. "Oh, try and be brave +and look forward! You're going to be ever so happy some day." + +He gave her a strange long stare. + +"Yes, I'll be happy some day. Don' you never fret about me." + +And Nedda saw that the warder was standing in the doorway. + +"Sorry, miss, time's up." + +Without a word Tryst rose and went out. + +Nedda was alone again with the little sandy cat. Standing under +the high-barred window she wiped her cheeks, that were all wet. +Why, why must people suffer so? Suffer so slowly, so horribly? +What were men made of that they could go on day after day, year +after year, watching others suffer? + +When the warder came back to take her out, she did not trust +herself to speak, or even to look at him. She walked with hands +tight clenched, and eyes fixed on the ground. Outside the prison +door she drew a long, long breath. And suddenly her eyes caught +the inscription on the corner of a lane leading down alongside the +prison wall--"Love's Walk"! + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + + +Peremptorily ordered by the doctor to the sea, but with +instructions to avoid for the present all excitement, sunlight, and +color, Derek and his grandmother repaired to a spot well known to +be gray, and Nedda went home to Hampstead. This was the last week +in July. A fortnight spent in the perfect vacuity of an English +watering-place restored the boy wonderfully. No one could be +better trusted than Frances Freeland to preserve him from looking +on the dark side of anything, more specially when that thing was +already not quite nice. Their conversation was therefore free from +allusion to the laborers, the strike, or Bob Tryst. And Derek +thought the more. The approaching trial was hardly ever out of his +mind. Bathing, he would think of it; sitting on the gray jetty +looking over the gray sea, he would think of it. Up the gray +cobbled streets and away on the headlands, he would think of it. +And, so as not to have to think of it, he would try to walk himself +to a standstill. Unfortunately the head will continue working when +the legs are at rest. And when he sat opposite to her at meal- +times, Frances Freeland would gaze piercingly at his forehead and +muse: 'The dear boy looks much better, but he's getting a little +line between his brows--it IS such a pity!' It worried her, too, +that the face he was putting on their little holiday together was +not quite as full as she could have wished--though the last thing +in the world she could tolerate were really fat cheeks, those signs +of all that her stoicism abhorred, those truly unforgivable marks +of the loss of 'form.' He struck her as dreadfully silent, too, +and she would rack her brains for subjects that would interest him, +often saying to herself: 'If only I were clever!' It was natural +he should think of dear Nedda, but surely it was not that which +gave him the little line. He must be brooding about those other +things. He ought not to be melancholy like this and let anything +prevent the sea from doing him good. The habit--hard-learned by +the old, and especially the old of her particular sex--of not +wishing for the moon, or at all events of not letting others know +that you are wishing for it, had long enabled Frances Freeland to +talk cheerfully on the most indifferent subjects whether or no her +heart were aching. One's heart often did ache, of course, but it +simply didn't do to let it interfere, making things uncomfortable +for others. And once she said to him: "You know, darling, I think +it would be so nice for you to take a little interest in politics. +They're very absorbing when you once get into them. I find my +paper most enthralling. And it really has very good principles." + +"If politics did anything for those who most need things done, +Granny--but I can't see that they do." + +She thought a little, then, making firm her lips, said: + +"I don't think that's quite just, darling, there are a great many +politicians who are very much looked up to--all the bishops, for +instance, and others whom nobody could suspect of self-seeking." + +"I didn't mean that politicians were self-seeking, Granny; I meant +that they're comfortable people, and the things that interest them +are those that interest comfortable people. What have they done +for the laborers, for instance?" + +"Oh, but, darling! they're going to do a great deal. In my paper +they're continually saying that." + +"Do you believe it?" + +"I'm sure they wouldn't say so if they weren't. There's quite a +new plan, and it sounds most sensible. And so I don't think, +darling, that if I were you I should make myself unhappy about all +that kind of thing. They must know best. They're all so much +older than you. And you're getting quite a little line between +your eyes." + +Derek smiled. + +"All right, Granny; I shall have a big one soon." + + Frances Freeland smiled, too, but shook her head. + +"Yes; and that's why I really think you ought to take interest in +politics." + +"I'd rather take interest in you, Granny. You're very jolly to +look at." + +Frances Freeland raised her brows. + +"I? My dear, I'm a perfect fright nowadays." + +Thus pushing away what her stoicism and perpetual aspiration to an +impossibly good face would not suffer her to admit, she added: + +"Where would you like to drive this afternoon?" + +For they took drives in a small victoria, Frances Freeland holding +her sunshade to protect him from the sun whenever it made the +mistake of being out. + +On August the fourth he insisted that he was well and must go back +home. And, though to bring her attendance on him to an end was a +grief, she humbly admitted that he must be wanting younger company, +and, after one wistful attempt, made no further bones. The +following day they travelled. + +On getting home he found that the police had been to see little +Biddy Tryst, who was to be called as a witness. Tod would take her +over on the morning of the trial. Derek did not wait for this, but +on the day before the assizes repacked his bag and went off to the +Royal Charles Hostel at Worcester. He slept not at all that night, +and next morning was early at the court, for Tryst's case would be +the first. Anxiously he sat watching all the queer and formal +happenings that mark the initiation of the higher justice--the +assemblage of the gentlemen in wigs; the sifting, shifting, +settling of clerks, and ushers, solicitors, and the public; the +busy indifference, the cheerful professionalism of it all. He saw +little Mr. Pogram come in, more square and rubbery than ever, and +engage in conclave with one of the bewigged. The smiles, shrugs, +even the sharp expressions on that barrister's face; the way he +stood, twisting round, one hand wrapped in his gown, one foot on +the bench behind; it was all as if he had done it hundreds of times +before and cared not the snap of one of his thin, yellow fingers. +Then there was a sudden hush; the judge came in, bowed, and took +his seat. And that, too, seemed so professional. Haunted by the +thought of him to whom this was almost life and death, the boy was +incapable of seeing how natural it was that they should not all +feel as he did. + +The case was called and Tryst brought in. Derek had once more to +undergo the torture of those tragic eyes fixed on him. Round that +heavy figure, that mournful, half-brutal, and half-yearning face, +the pleadings, the questions, the answers buzzed, bringing out +facts with damning clearness, yet leaving the real story of that +early morning as hidden as if the court and all were but gibbering +figures of air. The real story of Tryst, heavy and distraught, +rising and turning out from habit into the early haze on the +fields, where his daily work had lain, of Tryst brooding, with the +slow, the wrathful incoherence that centuries of silence in those +lonely fields had passed into the blood of his forebears and +himself. Brooding, in the dangerous disproportion that enforced +continence brings to certain natures, loading the brain with +violence till the storm bursts and there leap out the lurid, dark +insanities of crime. Brooding, while in the air flies chased each +other, insects crawled together in the grass, and the first +principle of nature worked everywhere its sane fulfilment. They +might talk and take evidence as they would, be shrewd and sharp +with all the petty sharpness of the Law; but the secret springs +would still lie undisclosed, too natural and true to bear the light +of day. The probings and eloquence of justice would never paint +the picture of that moment of maniacal relief, when, with jaw +hanging loose, eyes bulging in exultation of revenge, he had struck +those matches with his hairy hands and let them flare in the straw, +till the little red flames ran and licked, rustled and licked, and +there was nothing to do but watch them lick and burn. Nor of that +sudden wildness of dumb fear that rushed into the heart of the +crouching creature, changing the madness of his face to palsy. Nor +of the recoil from the burning stack; those moments empty with +terror. Nor of how terror, through habit of inarticulate, +emotionless existence, gave place again to brute stolidity. And +so, heavily back across the dewy fields, under the larks' songs, +the cooings of pigeons, the hum of wings, and all the unconscious +rhythm of ageless Nature. No! The probings of Justice could never +reach the whole truth. And even Justice quailed at its own +probings when the mother-child was passed up from Tod's side into +the witness-box and the big laborer was seen to look at her and she +at him. She seemed to have grown taller; her pensive little face +and beautifully fluffed-out corn-brown hair had an eerie beauty, +perched up there in the arid witness-box, as of some small figure +from the brush of Botticelli. + +"Your name, my dear?" + +"Biddy Tryst." + +"How old?" + +"Ten next month, please." + +"Do you remember going to live at Mr. Freeland's cottage?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"And do you remember the first night?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Where did you sleep, Biddy?" + +"Please, sir, we slept in a big room with a screen. Billy and +Susie and me; and father behind the screen." + +"And where was the room?" + +"Down-stairs, sir." + +"Now, Biddy, what time did you wake up the first morning?" + +"When Father got up." + +"Was that early or late?" + +"Very early." + +"Would you know the time?" + +"No, sir." + +"But it was very early; how did you know that?" + +"It was a long time before we had any breakfast." + +"And what time did you have breakfast?" + +"Half past six by the kitchen clock." + +"Was it light when you woke up?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"When Father got up, did he dress or did he go to bed again?" + +"He hadn't never undressed, sir." + +"Then did he stay with you or did he go out?" + +"Out, sir." + +"And how long was it before he came back?" + +"When I was puttin' on Billy's boots." + +"What had you done in between?" + +"Helped Susie and dressed Billy." + +"And how long does that take you generally?" + +"Half an hour, sir." + +"I see. What did Father look like when he came in, Biddy?" + +The mother-child paused. For the first time it seemed to dawn on +her that there was something dangerous in these questions. She +twisted her small hands before her and gazed at her father. + +The judge said gently: + +"Well, my child?" + +"Like he does now, sir." + +"Thank you, Biddy." + +That was all; the mother-child was suffered to step down and take +her place again by Tod. And in the silence rose the short and +rubbery report of little Mr. Pogram blowing his nose. No evidence +given that morning was so conclusive, actual, terrible as that +unconscious: "Like he does now, sir." That was why even Justice +quailed a little at its own probings. + +From this moment the boy knew that Tryst's fate was sealed. What +did all those words matter, those professional patterings one way +and the other; the professional jeers: 'My friend has told you +this' and 'My friend will tell you that.' The professional +steering of the impartial judge, seated there above them all; the +cold, calculated rhapsodies about the heinousness of arson; the +cold and calculated attack on the characters of the stone-breaker +witness and the tramp witness; the cold and calculated patter of +the appeal not to condemn a father on the evidence of his little +child; the cold and calculated outburst on the right of every man +to be assumed innocent except on overwhelming evidence such as did +not here exist. The cold and calculated balancing of pro and con; +and those minutes of cold calculation veiled from the eyes of the +court. Even the verdict: 'Guilty'; even the judgment: 'Three +years' penal servitude.' All nothing, all superfluity to the boy +supporting the tragic gaze of Tryst's eyes and making up his mind +to a desperate resort. + +"Three years' penal servitude!" The big laborer paid no more +attention to those words than to any others spoken during that +hour's settlement of his fate. True, he received them standing, as +is the custom, fronting the image of Justice, from whose lips they +came. But by no single gesture did he let any one see the dumb +depths of his soul. If life had taught him nothing else, it had +taught him never to express himself. Mute as any bullock led into +the slaughtering-house, with something of a bullock's dulled and +helpless fear in his eyes, he passed down and away between his +jailers. And at once the professional noises rose, and the +professional rhapsodists, hunching their gowns, swept that little +lot of papers into their pink tape, and, turning to their +neighbors, smiled, and talked, and jerked their eyebrows. + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + + +The nest on the Spaniard's Road had not been able to contain Sheila +long. There are certain natures, such as that of Felix, to whom +the claims and exercise of authority are abhorrent, who refuse to +exercise it themselves and rage when they see it exercised over +others, but who somehow never come into actual conflict with it. +There are other natures, such as Sheila's, who do not mind in the +least exercising authority themselves, but who oppose it vigorously +when they feel it coming near themselves or some others. Of such +is the kingdom of militancy. Her experience with the police had +sunk deep into her soul. They had not, as a fact, treated her at +all badly, which did not prevent her feeling as if they had +outraged in her the dignity of woman. She arrived, therefore, in +Hampstead seeing red even where red was not. And since, +undoubtedly, much real red was to be seen, there was little other +color in the world or in her cheeks those days. Long disagreements +with Alan, to whom she was still a magnet but whose Stanley-like +nature stood firm against the blandishments of her revolting +tongue, drove her more and more toward a decision the seeds of +which had, perhaps, been planted during her former stay among the +breezy airs of Hampstead. + +Felix, coming one day into his wife's study--for the house knew not +the word drawing-room--found Flora, with eyebrows lifted up and +smiling lips, listening to Sheila proclaiming the doctrine that it +was impossible not to live 'on one's own.' Nothing else--Felix +learned--was compatible with dignity, or even with peace of mind. +She had, therefore, taken a back room high up in a back street, in +which she was going to live perfectly well on ten shillings a week; +and, having thirty-two pounds saved up, she would be all right for +a year, after which she would be able to earn her living. The +principle she purposed to keep before her eyes was that of +committing herself to nothing which would seriously interfere with +her work in life. Somehow, it was impossible to look at this girl, +with her glowing cheeks and her glowing eyes, and her hair frizzy +from ardor, and to distrust her utterances. Yes! She would +arrive, if not where she wanted, at all events somewhere; which, +after all, was the great thing. And in fact she did arrive the +very next day in the back room high up in the back street, and +neither Tod's cottage nor the house on the Spaniard's Road saw more +than flying gleams of her, thenceforth. + +Another by-product, this, of that little starting episode, the +notice given to Tryst! Strange how in life one little incident, +one little piece of living stress, can attract and gather round it +the feelings, thoughts, actions of people whose lives run far and +wide away therefrom. But episodes are thus potent only when +charged with a significance that comes from the clash of the +deepest instincts. + +During the six weeks which had elapsed between his return home from +Joyfields and the assizes, Felix had much leisure to reflect that +if Lady Malloring had not caused Tryst to be warned that he could +not marry his deceased wife's sister and continue to stay on the +estate--the lives of Felix himself, his daughter, mother, brother, +brother's wife, their son and daughter, and in less degree of his +other brothers, would have been free of a preoccupation little +short of ludicrous in proportion to the face value of the cause. +But he had leisure, too, to reflect that in reality the issue +involved in that tiny episode concerned human existence to its +depths--for, what was it but the simple, all-important question of +human freedom? The simple, all-important issue of how far men and +women should try to rule the lives of others instead of trying only +to rule their own, and how far those others should allow their +lives to be so ruled? This it was which gave that episode its +power of attracting and affecting the thoughts, feelings, actions +of so many people otherwise remote. And though Felix was paternal +enough to say to himself nearly all the time, 'I can't let Nedda +get further into this mess!' he was philosopher enough to tell +himself, in the unfatherly balance of his hours, that the mess was +caused by the fight best of all worth fighting--of democracy +against autocracy, of a man's right to do as he likes with his life +if he harms not others; of 'the Land' against the fetterers of 'the +Land.' And he was artist enough to see how from that little +starting episode the whole business had sprung--given, of course, +the entrance of the wilful force called love. But a father, +especially when he has been thoroughly alarmed, gives the artist +and philosopher in him short shrift. + +Nedda came home soon after Sheila went, and to the eyes of Felix +she came back too old and thoughtful altogether. How different a +girl from the Nedda who had so wanted 'to know everything' that +first night of May! What was she brooding over, what planning, in +that dark, round, pretty head? At what resolve were those clear +eyes so swiftly raised to look? What was going on within, when her +breast heaved so, without seeming cause, and the color rushed up in +her cheeks at a word, as though she had been so far away that the +effort of recall was alone enough to set all her veins throbbing. +And yet Felix could devise no means of attack on her infatuation. +For a man cannot cultivate the habit of never interfering and then +suddenly throw it over; least of all when the person to be +interfered with is his pet and only daughter. + +Flora, not of course in the swim of those happenings at Joyflelds, +could not be got to take the matter very seriously. In fact-- +beyond what concerned Felix himself and poetry--the matter that she +did take seriously had yet to be discovered. Hers was one of those +semi-detached natures particularly found in Hampstead. When +exhorted to help tackle the question, she could only suggest that +Felix should take them all abroad when he had finished 'The Last of +the Laborers.' A tour, for instance, in Norway and Sweden, where +none of them had ever been, and perhaps down through Finland into +Russia. + +Feeling like one who squirts on a burning haystack with a garden +syringe, Felix propounded this scheme to his little daughter. She +received it with a start, a silence, a sort of quivering all over, +as of an animal who scents danger. She wanted to know when, and +being told--'not before the middle of August', relapsed into her +preoccupation as if nothing had been said. Felix noted on the hall +table one afternoon a letter in her handwriting, addressed to a +Worcester newspaper, and remarked thereafter that she began to +receive this journal daily, obviously with a view to reports of the +coming assizes. Once he tried to break through into her +confidence. It was August Bank Holiday, and they had gone out on +to the heath together to see the people wonderfully assembled. +Coming back across the burnt-up grass, strewn with paper bags, +banana peel, and the cores of apples, he hooked his hand into her +arm. + +"What is to be done with a child that goes about all day thinking +and thinking and not telling anybody what she is thinking?" + +She smiled round at him and answered: + +"I know, Dad. She IS a pig, isn't she?" + +This comparison with an animal of proverbial stubbornness was not +encouraging. Then his hand was squeezed to her side and he heard +her murmur: + +"I wonder if all daughters are such beasts!" + +He understood well that she had meant: 'There is only one thing I +want--one thing I mean to have--one thing in the world for me now!' + +And he said soberly: + +"We can't expect anything else." + +"Oh, Daddy!" she answered, but nothing more. + +Only four days later she came to his study with a letter, and a +face so flushed and troubled that he dropped his pen and got up in +alarm. + +"Read this, Dad! It's impossible! It's not true! It's terrible! +Oh! What am I to do?" + +The letter ran thus, in a straight, boyish handwriting: + + +"ROYAL CHARLES HOSTEL, + +"WORCESTER, Aug. 7th. + +"MY NEDDA, + +"I have just seen Bob tried. They have given him three years' +penal. It was awful to sit there and watch him. He can never +stand it. It was awful to watch him looking at ME. It's no good. +I'm going to give myself up. I must do it. I've got everything +ready; they'll have to believe me and squash his sentence. You +see, but for me it would never have been done. It's a matter of +honour. I can't let him suffer any more. This isn't impulse. +I've been meaning to do it for some time, if they found him guilty. +So in a way, it's an immense relief. I'd like to have seen you +first, but it would only distress you, and I might not have been +able to go through with it after. Nedda, darling, if you still +love me when I get out, we'll go to New Zealand, away from this +country where they bully poor creatures like Bob. Be brave! I'll +write to-morrow, if they let me. + +"Your + +"Derek." + + +The first sensation in Felix on reading this effusion was poignant +recollection of the little lawyer's look after Derek had made the +scene at Tryst's committal and of his words: 'Nothing in it, is +there?' His second thought: 'Is this the cutting of the knot that +I've been looking for?' His third, which swept all else away: 'My +poor little darling! What business has that boy to hurt her again +like this!' + +He heard her say: + +"Tryst told me himself he did it, Dad! He told me when I went to +see him in the prison. Honour doesn't demand what isn't true! Oh, +Dad, help me!" + +Felix was slow in getting free from the cross currents of +reflection. "He wrote this last night," he said dismally. "He may +have done it already. We must go and see John." + +Nedda clasped her hands. "Ah! Yes!" + +And Felix had not the heart to add what he was thinking: 'Not that +I see what good he can do!' But, though sober reason told him +this, it was astonishingly comforting to be going to some one who +could be relied on to see the facts of the situation without any of +that 'flimflam' with which imagination is accustomed to surround +them. "And we'll send Derek a wire for what it's worth." + +They went at once to the post-office, Felix composing this message +on the way: 'Utterly mistaken chivalry you have no right await our +arrival Felix Freeland.' He handed it to her to read, and passed +it under the brass railing to the clerk, not without the feeling of +shame due from one who uses the word chivalry in a post-office. + +On the way to the Tube station he held her arm tightly, but whether +to impart courage or receive it he could not have said, so strung- +up in spirit did he feel her. With few words exchanged they +reached Whitehall. Marking their card 'Urgent,' they were received +within ten minutes. + +John was standing in a high, white room, smelling a little of +papers and tobacco, and garnished solely by five green chairs, a +table, and a bureau with an immense number of pigeonholes, whereat +he had obviously been seated. Quick to observe what concerned his +little daughter, Felix noted how her greeting trembled up at her +uncle and how a sort of warmth thawed for the moment the regularity +of his brother's face. When they had taken two of the five green +chairs and John was back at his bureau, Felix handed over the +letter. John read it and looked at Nedda. Then taking a pipe out +of his pocket, which he had evidently filled before they came in, +he lighted it and re-read the letter. Then, looking very straight +at Nedda, he said: + +"Nothing in it? Honour bright, my dear!" + +"No, Uncle John, nothing. Only that he fancies his talk about +injustice put it into Tryst's head." + +John nodded; the girl's face was evidence enough for him. + +"Any proof?" + +"Tryst himself told me in the prison that he did it. He said it +came on him suddenly, when he saw the straw." + +A pause followed before John said: + +"Good! You and I and your father will go down and see the police." + +Nedda lifted her hands and said breathlessly: + +"But, Uncle! Dad! Have I the right? He says--honour. Won't it +be betraying him?" + +Felix could not answer, but with relief he heard John say: + +"It's not honorable to cheat the law." + +"No; but he trusted me or he wouldn't have written." + +John answered slowly: + +"I think your duty's plain, my dear. The question for the police +will be whether or not to take notice of this false confession. +For us to keep the knowledge that it's false from them, under the +circumstances, is clearly not right. Besides being, to my mind, +foolish." + +For Felix to watch this mortal conflict going on in the soul of his +daughter--that soul which used to seem, perhaps even now seemed, +part of himself; to know that she so desperately wanted help for +her decision, and to be unable to give it, unable even to trust +himself to be honest--this was hard for Felix. There she sat, +staring before her; and only her tight-clasped hands, the little +movements of her lips and throat, showed the struggle going on in +her. + +"I couldn't, without seeing him; I MUST see him first, Uncle!" + +John got up and went over to the window; he, too, had been affected +by her face. + +"You realize," he said, "that you risk everything by that. If he's +given himself up, and they've believed him, he's not the sort to +let it fall through. You cut off your chance if he won't let you +tell. Better for your father and me to see him first, anyway." +And Felix heard a mutter that sounded like: 'Confound him!' + +Nedda rose. "Can we go at once, then, Uncle?" + +With a solemnity that touched Felix, John put a hand on each side +of her face, raised it, and kissed her on the forehead. + +"All right!" he said. "Let's be off!" + +A silent trio sought Paddington in a taxi-cab, digesting this +desperate climax of an affair that sprang from origins so small. + +In Felix, contemplating his daughter's face, there was profound +compassion, but also that family dismay, that perturbation of self- +esteem, which public scandal forces on kinsmen, even the most +philosophic. He felt exasperation against Derek, against Kirsteen, +almost even against Tod, for having acquiesced passively in the +revolutionary bringing-up which had brought on such a disaster. +War against injustice; sympathy with suffering; chivalry! Yes! +But not quite to the point whence they recoiled on his daughter, +his family, himself! The situation was impossible! He was fast +resolving that, whether or no they saved Derek from this quixotry, +the boy should not have Nedda. And already his eyes found +difficulty in meeting hers. + +They secured a compartment to themselves and, having settled down +in corners, began mechanically unfolding evening journals. For +after all, whatever happens, one must read the papers! Without +that, life would indeed be insupportable! Felix had bought Mr. +Cuthcott's, but, though he turned and turned the sheets, they +seemed to have no sense till these words caught his eyes: +"Convict's tragic death! Yesterday afternoon at Worcester, while +being conveyed from the assize court back to prison, a man named +Tryst, sentenced to three years' penal servitude for arson, +suddenly attacked the warders in charge of him and escaped. He ran +down the street, hotly pursued, and, darting out into the traffic, +threw himself under a motor-car going at some speed. The car +struck him on the head, and the unfortunate man was killed on the +spot. No reason whatever can be assigned for this desperate act. +He is known, however, to have suffered from epilepsy, and it is +thought an attack may have been coming on him at the time." + +When Felix had read these words he remained absolutely still, +holding that buff-colored paper before his face, trying to decide +what he must do now. What was the significance--exactly the +significance of this? Now that Tryst was dead, Derek's quixotic +action had no meaning. But had he already 'confessed'? It seemed +from this account that the suicide was directly after the trial; +even before the boy's letter to Nedda had been written. He must +surely have heard of it since and given up his mad idea! He leaned +over, touched John on the knee, and handed him the paper. John +read the paragraph, handed it back; and the two brothers stared +fixedly at each other. Then Felix made the faintest movement of +his head toward his daughter, and John nodded. Crossing to Nedda, +Felix hooked his arm in hers and said: + +"Just look at this, my child." + +Nedda read, started to her feet, sank back, and cried out: + +"Poor, poor man! Oh, Dad! Poor man!" + +Felix felt ashamed. Though Tryst's death meant so much relief to +her, she felt first this rush of compassion; he himself, to whom it +meant so much less relief, had felt only that relief. + +"He said he couldn't stand it; he told me that. But I never +thought--Oh! Poor man!" And, burying her face against his arm, +she gave way. + +Petrified, and conscious that John at the far end of the carriage +was breathing rather hard, Felix could only stroke her arm till at +last she whispered: + +"There's nobody now for Derek to save. Oh, if you'd seen that poor +man in prison, Dad!" + +And the only words of comfort Felix could find were: + +"My child, there are thousands and thousands of poor prisoners and +captives!" + +In a truce to agitation they spent the rest of that three hours' +journey, while the train rattled and rumbled through the quiet, +happy-looking land. + + +CHAPTER XXXV + + +It was tea-time when they reached Worcester, and at once went up to +the Royal Charles Hostel. A pretty young woman in the office there +informed them that the young gentleman had paid his bill and gone +out about ten o'clock; but had left his luggage. She had not seen +him come in. His room was up that little staircase at the end of +the passage. There was another entrance that he might have come in +at. The 'Boots' would take them. + +Past the hall stuffed with furniture and decorated with the stags' +heads and battle-prints common to English county-town hotels, they +followed the 'Boots' up five red-carpeted steps, down a dingy green +corridor, to a door at the very end. There was no answer to their +knock. The dark little room, with striped walls, and more battle- +prints, looked out on a side street and smelled dusty. On a shiny +leather sofa an old valise, strapped-up ready for departure, was +reposing with Felix's telegram, unopened, deposited thereon. +Writing on his card, "Have come down with Nedda. F. F.," and +laying it on the telegram, in case Derek should come in by the side +entrance, Felix and Nedda rejoined John in the hall. + +To wait in anxiety is perhaps the hardest thing in life; tea, +tobacco, and hot baths perhaps the only anodynes. These, except +the baths, they took. Without knowing what had happened, neither +John nor Felix liked to make inquiry at the police station, nor did +they care to try and glean knowledge from the hotel people by +questions that might lead to gossip. They could but kick their +heels till it became reasonably certain that Derek was not coming +back. The enforced waiting increased Felix's exasperation. +Everything Derek did seemed designed to cause Nedda pain. To watch +her sitting there, trying resolutely to mask her anxiety, became +intolerable. At last he got up and said to John: + +"I think we'd better go round there," and, John nodding, he added: +"Wait here, my child. One of us'll come back at once and tell you +anything we hear." + +She gave them a grateful look and the two brothers went out. They +had not gone twenty yards when they met Derek striding along, pale, +wild, unhappy-looking. When Felix touched him on the arm, he +started and stared blankly at his uncle. + +"We've seen about Tryst," Felix said: "You've not done anything?" + +Derek shook his head. + +"Good! John, tell Nedda that, and stay with her a bit. I want to +talk to Derek. We'll go in the other way." He put his hand under +the boy's arm and turned him down into the side street. When they +reached the gloomy little bedroom Felix pointed to the telegram. + +"From me. I suppose the news of his death stopped you?" + +"Yes." Derek opened the telegram, dropped it, and sat down beside +his valise on the shiny sofa. He looked positively haggard. + +Taking his stand against the chest of drawers, Felix said quietly: + +"I'm going to have it out with you, Derek. Do you understand what +all this means to Nedda? Do you realize how utterly unhappy you're +making her? I don't suppose you're happy yourself--" + +The boy's whole figure writhed. + +"Happy! When you've killed some one you don't think much of +happiness--your own or any one's!" + +Startled in his turn, Felix said sharply: + +"Don't talk like that. It's monomania." + +Derek laughed. "Bob Tryst's dead--through me! I can't get out of +that." + +Gazing at the boy's tortured face, Felix grasped the gruesome fact +that this idea amounted to obsession. + +"Derek," he said, "you've dwelt on this till you see it out of all +proportion. If we took to ourselves the remote consequences of all +our words we should none of us survive a week. You're overdone. +You'll see it differently to-morrow." + +Derek got up to pace the room. + +"I swear I would have saved him. I tried to do it when they +committed him at Transham." He looked wildly at Felix. "Didn't I? +You were there; you heard!" + +"Yes, yes; I heard." + +"They wouldn't let me then. I thought they mightn't find him +guilty here--so I let it go on. And now he's dead. You don't know +how I feel!" + +His throat was working, and Felix said with real compassion: + +"My dear boy! Your sense of honour is too extravagant altogether. +A grown man like poor Tryst knew perfectly what he was doing." + +"No. He was like a dog--he did what he thought was expected of +him. I never meant him to burn those ricks." + +"Exactly! No one can blame you for a few wild words. He might +have been the boy and you the man by the way you take it! Come!" + +Derek sat down again on the shiny sofa and buried his head in his +hands. + +"I can't get away from him. He's been with me all day. I see him +all the time." + +That the boy was really haunted was only too apparent. How to +attack this mania? If one could make him feel something else! And +Felix said: + +"Look here, Derek! Before you've any right to Nedda you've got to +find ballast. That's a matter of honour, if you like." + +Derek flung up his head as if to escape a blow. Seeing that he had +riveted him, Felix pressed on, with some sternness: + +"A man can't serve two passions. You must give up this championing +the weak and lighting flames you can't control. See what it leads +to! You've got to grow and become a man. Until then I don't trust +my daughter to you." + +The boy's lips quivered; a flush darkened his face, ebbed, and left +him paler than ever. + +Felix felt as if he had hit that face. Still, anything was better +than to leave him under this gruesome obsession! Then, to his +consternation, Derek stood up and said: + +"If I go and see his body at the prison, perhaps he'll leave me +alone a little!" + +Catching at that, as he would have caught at anything, Felix said: + +"Good! Yes! Go and see the poor fellow; we'll come, too." + +And he went out to find Nedda. + +By the time they reached the street Derek had already started, and +they could see him going along in front. Felix racked his brains +to decide whether he ought to prepare her for the state the boy was +in. Twice he screwed himself up to take the plunge, but her face-- +puzzled, as though wondering at her lover's neglect of her--stopped +him. Better say nothing! + +Just as they reached the prison she put her hand on his arm: + +"Look, Dad!" + +And Felix read on the corner of the prison lane those words: +'Love's Walk'! + +Derek was waiting at the door. After some difficulty they were +admitted and taken down the corridor where the prisoner on his +knees had stared up at Nedda, past the courtyard where those others +had been pacing out their living hieroglyphic, up steps to the +hospital. Here, in a white-washed room on a narrow bed, the body +of the big laborer lay, wrapped in a sheet. + +"We bury him Friday, poor chap! Fine big man, too!" And at the +warder's words a shudder passed through Felix. The frozen +tranquillity of that body! + +As the carved beauty of great buildings, so is the graven beauty of +death, the unimaginable wonder of the abandoned thing lying so +quiet, marvelling at its resemblance to what once lived! How +strange this thing, still stamped by all that it had felt, wanted, +loved, and hated, by all its dumb, hard, commonplace existence! +This thing with the calm, pathetic look of one who asks of his own +fled spirit: Why have you abandoned me? + +Death! What more wonderful than a dead body--that still perfect +work of life, for which life has no longer use! What more +mysterious than this sight of what still is, yet is not! + +Below the linen swathing the injured temples, those eyes were +closed through which such yearning had looked forth. From that +face, where the hair had grown faster than if it had been alive, +death's majesty had planed away the aspect of brutality, removed +the yearning, covering all with wistful acquiescence. Was his +departed soul coherent? Where was it? Did it hover in this room, +visible still to the boy? Did it stand there beside what was left +of Tryst the laborer, that humblest of all creatures who dared to +make revolt--serf, descendant of serfs, who, since the beginning, +had hewn wood, drawn water, and done the will of others? Or was it +winged, and calling in space to the souls of the oppressed? + +This body would go back to the earth that it had tended, the wild +grass would grow over it, the seasons spend wind and rain forever +above it. But that which had held this together--the inarticulate, +lowly spirit, hardly asking itself why things should be, faithful +as a dog to those who were kind to it, obeying the dumb instinct of +a violence that in his betters would be called 'high spirit,' +where--Felix wondered--where was it? + +And what were they thinking--Nedda and that haunted boy--so +motionless? Nothing showed on their faces, nothing but a sort of +living concentration, as if they were trying desperately to pierce +through and see whatever it was that held this thing before them in +such awful stillness. Their first glimpse of death; their first +perception of that terrible remoteness of the dead! No wonder they +seemed to be conjured out of the power of thought and feeling! + +Nedda was first to turn away. Walking back by her side, Felix was +surprised by her composure. The reality of death had not been to +her half so harrowing as the news of it. She said softly: + +"I'm glad to have seen him like that; now I shall think of him--at +peace; not as he was that other time." + +Derek rejoined them, and they went in silence back to the hotel. +But at the door she said: + +"Come with me to the cathedral, Derek; I can't go in yet!" + +To Felix's dismay the boy nodded, and they turned to go. Should he +stop them? Should he go with them? What should a father do? And, +with a heavy sigh, he did nothing but retire into the hotel. + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + + +It was calm, with a dark-blue sky, and a golden moon, and the +lighted street full of people out for airing. The great cathedral, +cutting the heavens with its massive towers, was shut. No means of +getting in; and while they stood there looking up the thought came +into Nedda's mind: Where would they bury poor Tryst who had killed +himself? Would they refuse to bury that unhappy one in a +churchyard? Surely, the more unhappy and desperate he was, the +kinder they ought to be to him! + +They turned away down into a little lane where an old, white, +timbered cottage presided ghostly at the corner. Some church +magnate had his garden back there; and it was quiet, along the +waving line of a high wall, behind which grew sycamores spreading +close-bunched branches, whose shadows, in the light of the corner +lamps, lay thick along the ground this glamourous August night. A +chafer buzzed by, a small black cat played with its tail on some +steps in a recess. Nobody passed. + +The girl's heart was beating fast. Derek's face was so strange and +strained. And he had not yet said one word to her. All sorts of +fears and fancies beset her till she was trembling all over. + +"What is it?" she said at last. "You haven't--you haven't stopped +loving me, Derek?" + +"No one could stop loving you." + +"What is it, then? Are you thinking of poor Tryst?" + +With a catch in his throat and a sort of choked laugh he answered: + +"Yes." + +"But it's all over. He's at peace." + +"Peace!" Then, in a queer, dead voice, he added: "I'm sorry, +Nedda. It's beastly for you. But I can't help it." + +What couldn't he help? Why did he keep her suffering like this-- +not telling her? What was this something that seemed so terribly +between them? She walked on silently at his side, conscious of the +rustling of the sycamores, of the moonlit angle of the church +magnate's house, of the silence in the lane, and the gliding of +their own shadows along the wall. What was this in his face, his +thoughts, that she could not reach! And she cried out: + +"Tell me! Oh, tell me, Derek! I can go through anything with +you!" + +"I can't get rid of him, that's all. I thought he'd go when I'd +seen him there. But it's no good!" + +Terror got hold of her then. She peered at his face--very white +and haggard. There seemed no blood in it. They were going down- +hill now, along the blank wall of a factory; there was the river in +front, with the moonlight on it and boats drawn up along the bank. +From a chimney a scroll of black smoke was flung out across the +sky, and a lighted bridge glowed above the water. They turned away +from that, passing below the dark pile of the cathedral. Here +couples still lingered on benches along the river-bank, happy in +the warm night, under the August moon! And on and on they walked +in that strange, miserable silence, past all those benches and +couples, out on the river-path by the fields, where the scent of +hay-stacks, and the freshness from the early stubbles and the +grasses webbed with dew, overpowered the faint reek of the river +mud. And still on and on in the moonlight that haunted through the +willows. At their footsteps the water-rats scuttled down into the +water with tiny splashes; a dog barked somewhere a long way off; a +train whistled; a frog croaked. From the stubbles and second crops +of sun-baked clover puffs of warm air kept stealing up into the +chillier air beneath the willows. Such moonlit nights never seem +to sleep. And there was a kind of triumph in the night's smile, as +though it knew that it ruled the river and the fields, ruled with +its gleams the silent trees that had given up all rustling. +Suddenly Derek said: + +"He's walking with us! Look! Over there!" + +And for a second there did seem to Nedda a dim, gray shape moving +square and dogged, parallel with them at the stubble edges. +Gasping out: + +"Oh, no; don't frighten me! I can't bear it tonight!" She hid her +face against his shoulder like a child. He put his arm round her +and she pressed her face deep into his coat. This ghost of Bob +Tryst holding him away from her! This enemy! This uncanny +presence! She pressed closer, closer, and put her face up to his. +It was wonderfully lonely, silent, whispering, with the moongleams +slipping through the willow boughs into the shadow where they +stood. And from his arms warmth stole through her! Closer and +closer she pressed, not quite knowing what she did, not quite +knowing anything but that she wanted him never to let her go; +wanted his lips on hers, so that she might feel his spirit pass, +away from what was haunting it, into hers, never to escape. But +his lips did not come to hers. They stayed drawn back, trembling, +hungry-looking, just above her lips. And she whispered: + +"Kiss me!" + +She felt him shudder in her arms, saw his eyes darken, his lips +quiver and quiver, as if he wanted them to, but they would not. +What was it? Oh, what was it? Wasn't he going to kiss her--not to +kiss her? And while in that unnatural pause they stood, their +heads bent back among the moongleams and those willow shadows, +there passed through Nedda such strange trouble as she had never +known. Not kiss her! Not kiss her! Why didn't he? When in her +blood and in the night all round, in the feel of his arms, the +sight of his hungry lips, was something unknown, wonderful, +terrifying, sweet! And she wailed out: + +"I want you--I don't care--I want you!" She felt him sway, reel, +and clutch her as if he were going to fall, and all other feeling +vanished in the instinct of the nurse she had already been to him. +He was ill again! Yes, he was ill! And she said: + +"Derek--don't! It's all right. Let's walk on quietly!" + +She got his arm tightly in hers and drew him along toward home. By +the jerking of that arm, the taut look on his face, she could feel +that he did not know from step to step whether he could stay +upright. But she herself was steady and calm enough, bent on +keeping emotion away, and somehow getting him back along the river- +path, abandoned now to the moon and the bright, still spaces of the +night and the slow-moving, whitened water. Why had she not felt +from the first that he was overwrought and only fit for bed? + +Thus, very slowly, they made their way up by the factory again into +the lane by the church magnate's garden, under the branches of the +sycamores, past the same white-faced old house at the corner, to +the high street where some few people were still abroad. + +At the front door of the hotel stood Felix, looking at his watch, +disconsolate as an old hen. To her great relief he went in quickly +when he saw them coming. She could not bear the thought of talk +and explanation. The one thing was to get Derek to bed. All the +time he had gone along with that taut face; and now, when he sat +down on the shiny sofa in the little bedroom, he shivered so +violently that his teeth chattered. She rang for a hot bottle and +brandy and hot water. When he had drunk he certainly shivered +less, professed himself all right, and would not let her stay. She +dared not ask, but it did seem as if the physical collapse had +driven away, for the time at all events, that ghostly visitor, and, +touching his forehead with her lips--very motherly--so that he +looked up and smiled at her--she said in a matter-of-fact voice: + +"I'll come back after a bit and tuck you up," and went out. + +Felix was waiting in the hall, at a little table on which stood a +bowl of bread and milk. He took the cover off it for her without a +word. And while she supped he kept glancing at her, trying to make +up his mind to words. But her face was sealed. And all he said was: + +"Your uncle's gone to Becket for the night. I've got you a room +next mine, and a tooth-brush, and some sort of comb. I hope you'll +be able to manage, my child." + +Nedda left him at the door of his room and went into her own. +After waiting there ten minutes she stole out again. It was all +quiet, and she went resolutely back down the stairs. She did not +care who saw her or what they thought. Probably they took her for +Derek's sister; but even if they didn't she would not have cared. +It was past eleven, the light nearly out, and the hall in the +condition of such places that await a morning's renovation. His +corridor, too, was quite dark. She opened the door without sound +and listened, till his voice said softly: + +"All right, little angel; I'm not asleep." + +And by a glimmer of moonlight, through curtains designed to keep +out nothing, she stole up to the bed. She could just see his face, +and eyes looking up at her with a sort of adoration. She put her +hand on his forehead and whispered: "Are you comfy?" + +He murmured back: "Yes, quite comfy." + +Kneeling down, she laid her face beside his on the pillow. She +could not help doing that; it made everything seem holy, cuddley, +warm. His lips touched her nose. Her eyes, for just that instant, +looked up into his, that were very dark and soft; then she got up. + +"Would you like me to stay till you're asleep?" + +"Yes; forever. But I shouldn't exactly sleep. Would you?" + +In the darkness Nedda vehemently shook her head. Sleep! No! She +would not sleep! + +"Good night, then!" + +"Good night, little dark angel!" + +"Good night!" With that last whisper she slipped back to the door +and noiselessly away. + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + + +It was long before she closed her eyes, spending the hours in fancy +where still less she would have slept. But when she did drop off +she dreamed that he and she were alone upon a star, where all the +trees were white, the water, grass, birds, everything, white, and +they were walking arm in arm, among white flowers. And just as she +had stooped to pick one--it was no flower, but--Tryst's white- +banded face! She woke with a little cry. + +She was dressed by eight and went at once to Derek's room. There +was no answer to her knock, and in a flutter of fear she opened the +door. He had gone--packed, and gone. She ran back to the hall. +There was a note for her in the office, and she took it out of +sight to read. It said: + + +"He came back this morning. I'm going home by the first train. He +seems to want me to do something. + +"DEREK." + + +Came back! That thing--that gray thing that she, too, had seemed +to see for a moment in the fields beside the river! And he was +suffering again as he had suffered yesterday! It was awful. She +waited miserably till her father came down. To find that he, too, +knew of this trouble was some relief. He made no objection when +she begged that they should follow on to Joyfields. Directly after +breakfast they set out. Once on her way to Derek again, she did +not feel so frightened. But in the train she sat very still, +gazing at her lap, and only once glanced up from under those long +lashes. + +"Can you understand it, Dad?" + +Felix, not much happier than she, answered: + +"The man had something queer about him. Besides Derek's been ill, +don't forget that. But it's too bad for you, Nedda. I don't like +it; I don't like it." + +"I can't be parted from him, Dad. That's impossible." + +Felix was silenced by the vigor of those words. + +"His mother can help, perhaps," he said. + +Ah! If his mother would help--send him away from the laborers, and +all this! + +Up from the station they took the field paths, which cut off quite +a mile. The grass and woods were shining brightly, peacefully in +the sun; it seemed incredible that there should be heartburnings +about a land so smiling, that wrongs and miseries should haunt +those who lived and worked in these bright fields. Surely in this +earthly paradise the dwellers were enviable, well-nourished souls, +sleek and happy as the pied cattle that lifted their inquisitive +muzzles! Nedda tried to stroke the nose of one--grayish, blunt, +moist. But the creature backed away from her hand, snuffling, and +its cynical, soft eyes with chestnut lashes seemed warning the girl +that she belonged to the breed that might be trusted to annoy. + +In the last fields before the Joyfields crossroads they came up +with a little, square, tow-headed man, without coat or cap, who had +just driven some cattle in and was returning with his dog, at a +'dot-here dot-there' walk, as though still driving them. He gave +them a look rather like that of the bullock Nedda had tried to +stroke. She knew he must be one of the Malloring men, and longed +to ask him questions; but he, too, looked shy and distrustful, as +if he suspected that they wanted something out of him. She +summoned up courage, however, to say: "Did you see about poor Bob +Tryst?" + +"I 'eard tell. 'E didn' like prison. They say prison takes the +'eart out of you. 'E didn' think o' that." And the smile that +twisted the little man's lips seemed to Nedda strange and cruel, as +if he actually found pleasure in the fate of his fellow. All she +could find to answer was: + +"Is that a good dog?" + +The little man looked down at the dog trotting alongside with +drooped tail, and shook his head: + +'E's no good wi' beasts--won't touch 'em!" Then, looking up +sidelong, he added surprisingly: + +"Mast' Freeland 'e got a crack on the head, though!" Again there +was that satisfied resentment in his voice and the little smile +twisting his lips. Nedda felt more lost than ever. + +They parted at the crossroads and saw him looking back at them as +they went up the steps to the wicket gate. Amongst a patch of +early sunflowers, Tod, in shirt and trousers, was surrounded by his +dog and the three small Trysts, all apparently engaged in studying +the biggest of the sunflowers, where a peacock-butterfly and a bee +were feeding, one on a gold petal, the other on the black heart. +Nedda went quickly up to them and asked: + +"Has Derek come, Uncle Tod?" + +Tod raised his eyes. He did not seem in the least surprised to see +her, as if his sky were in the habit of dropping his relatives at +ten in the morning. + +"Gone out again," he said. + +Nedda made a sign toward the children. + +"Have you heard, Uncle Tod?" + +Tod nodded and his blue eyes, staring above the children's heads, +darkened. + +"Is Granny still here?" + +Again Tod nodded. + +Leaving Felix in the garden, Nedda stole upstairs and tapped on +Frances Freeland's door. + +She, whose stoicism permitted her the one luxury of never coming +down to breakfast, had just made it for herself over a little +spirit-lamp. She greeted Nedda with lifted eyebrows. + +"Oh, my darling! Where HAVE you come from? You must have my nice +cocoa! Isn't this the most perfect lamp you ever saw? Did you +ever see such a flame? Watch!" + +She touched the spirit-lamp and what there was of flame died out. + +"Now, isn't that provoking? It's really a splendid thing, quite a +new kind. I mean to get you one. Now, drink your cocoa; it's +beautifully hot." + +"I've had breakfast, Granny." + +Frances Freeland gazed at her doubtfully, then, as a last resource, +began to sip the cocoa, of which, in truth, she was badly in want. + +"Granny, will you help me?" + +"Of course, darling. What is it?" + +"I do so want Derek to forget all about this terrible business." + +Frances Freeland, who had unscrewed the top of a little canister, +answered: + +"Yes, dear, I quite agree. I'm sure it's best for him. Open your +mouth and let me pop in one of these delicious little plasmon +biscuits. They're perfect after travelling. Only," she added +wistfully, "I'm afraid he won't pay any attention to me." + +"No, but you could speak to Aunt Kirsteen; it's for her to stop him." + +One of her most pathetic smiles came over Frances Freeland's face. + +"Yes, I could speak to her. But, you see, I don't count for +anything. One doesn't when one gets old." + +"Oh, Granny, you do! You count for a lot; every one admires you +so. You always seem to have something that--that other people +haven't got. And you're not a bit old in spirit." + +Frances Freeland was fingering her rings; she slipped one off. + +"Well," she said, "it's no good thinking about that, is it? I've +wanted to give you this for ages, darling; it IS so uncomfortable +on my finger. Now, just let me see if I can pop it on!" + +Nedda recoiled. + +"Oh, Granny!" she said. "You ARE--!" and vanished. + +There was still no one in the kitchen, and she sat down to wait for +her aunt to finish her up-stairs duties. + +Kirsteen came down at last, in her inevitable blue dress, betraying +her surprise at this sudden appearance of her niece only by a +little quivering of her brows. And, trembling with nervousness, +Nedda took her plunge, pouring out the whole story--of Derek's +letter; their journey down; her father's talk with him; the visit +to Tryst's body; their walk by the river; and of how haunted and +miserable he was. Showing the little note he had left that +morning, she clasped her hands and said: + +"Oh, Aunt Kirsteen, make him happy again! Stop that awful haunting +and keep him from all this!" + +Kirsteen had listened, with one foot on the hearth in her favorite +attitude. When the girl had finished she said quietly: + +"I'm not a witch, Nedda!" + +"But if it wasn't for you he would never have started. And now +that poor Tryst's dead he would leave it alone. I'm sure only you +can make him lose that haunted feeling." + +Kirsteen shook her head. + +"Listen, Nedda!" she said slowly, as though weighing each word. "I +should like you to understand. There's a superstition in this +country that people are free. Ever since I was a girl your age +I've known that they are not; no one is free here who can't pay for +freedom. It's one thing to see, another to feel this with your +whole being. When, like me, you have an open wound, which +something is always inflaming, you can't wonder, can you, that +fever escapes into the air. Derek may have caught the infection of +my fever--that's all! But I shall never lose that fever, Nedda-- +never!" + +"But, Aunt Kirsteen, this haunting is dreadful. I can't bear to +see it." + +"My dear, Derek is very highly strung, and he's been ill. It's in +my family to see things. That'll go away." + +Nedda said passionately: + +"I don't believe he'll ever lose it while he goes on here, tearing +his heart out. And they're trying to get me away from him. I know +they are!" + +Kirsteen turned; her eyes seemed to blaze. + +"They? Ah! Yes! You'll have to fight if you want to marry a +rebel, Nedda!" + +Nedda put her hands to her forehead, bewildered. "You see, Nedda, +rebellion never ceases. It's not only against this or that +injustice, it's against all force and wealth that takes advantage +of its force and wealth. That rebellion goes on forever. Think +well before you join in." + +Nedda turned away. Of what use to tell her to think when 'I won't-- +I can't be parted from him!' kept every other thought paralyzed. +And she pressed her forehead against the cross-bar of the window, +trying to find better words to make her appeal again. Out there +above the orchard the sky was blue, and everything light and gay, +as the very butterflies that wavered past. A motor-car seemed to +have stopped in the road close by; its whirring and whizzing was +clearly audible, mingled with the cooings of pigeons and a robin's +song. And suddenly she heard her aunt say: + +"You have your chance, Nedda! Here they are!" + +Nedda turned. There in the doorway were her Uncles John and +Stanley coming in, followed by her father and Uncle Tod. + +What did this mean? What had they come for? And, disturbed to the +heart, she gazed from one to the other. They had that curious look +of people not quite knowing what their reception will be like, yet +with something resolute, almost portentous, in their mien. She saw +John go up to her aunt and hold out his hand. + +"I dare say Felix and Nedda have told you about yesterday," he +said. "Stanley and I thought it best to come over." Kirsteen +answered: + +"Tod, will you tell Mother who's here?" + +Then none of them seemed to know quite what to say, or where to +look, till Frances Freeland, her face all pleased and anxious, came +in. When she had kissed them they all sat down. And Nedda, at the +window, squeezed her hands tight together in her lap. + +"We've come about Derek," John said. + +"Yes," broke in Stanley. "For goodness' sake, Kirsteen, don't +let's have any more of this! Just think what would have happened +yesterday if that poor fellow hadn't providentially gone off the +hooks!" + +"Providentially!" + +"Well, it was. You see to what lengths Derek was prepared to go. +Hang it all! We shouldn't have been exactly proud of a felon in +the family." + +Frances Freeland, who had been lacing and unlacing her fingers, +suddenly fixed her eyes on Kirsteen. + +"I don't understand very well, darling, but I am sure that whatever +dear John says will be wise and right. You must remember that he +is the eldest and has a great deal of experience." + +Kirsteen bent her head. If there was irony in the gesture, it was +not perceived by Frances Freeland. + +"It can't be right for dear Derek, or any gentleman, to go against +the law of the land or be mixed up with wrong-doing in any way. I +haven't said anything, but I HAVE felt it very much. Because--it's +all been not quite nice, has it?" + +Nedda saw her father wince. Then Stanley broke in again: + +"Now that the whole thing's done with, do, for Heaven's sake, let's +have a little peace!" + +At that moment her aunt's face seemed wonderful to Nedda; so quiet, +yet so burningly alive. + +"Peace! There is no peace in this world. There is death, but no +peace!" And, moving nearer to Tod, she rested her hand on his +shoulder, looking, as it seemed to Nedda, at something far away, +till John said: + +"That's hardly the point, is it? We should be awfully glad to know +that there'll be no more trouble. All this has been very worrying. +And now the cause seems to be--removed." + +There was always a touch of finality in John's voice. Nedda saw +that all had turned to Kirsteen for her answer. + +"If those up and down the land who profess belief in liberty will +cease to filch from the helpless the very crust of it, the cause +will be removed." + +"Which is to say--never!" + +At those words from Felix, Frances Freeland, gazing first at him +and then at Kirsteen, said in a pained voice: + +"I don't think you ought to talk like that, Kirsteen, dear. Nobody +who's at all nice means to be unkind. We're all forgetful +sometimes. I know I often forget to be sympathetic. It vexes me +dreadfully!" + +"Mother, don't defend tyranny!" + +"I'm sure it's often from the best motives, dear." + +"So is rebellion." + +"Well, I don't understand about that, darling. But I do think, +with dear John, it's a great pity. It will be a dreadful drawback +to Derek if he has to look back on something that he regrets when +he's older. It's always best to smile and try to look on the +bright side of things and not be grumbly-grumbly!" + +After that little speech of Frances Freeland's there was a silence +that Nedda thought would last forever, till her aunt, pressing +close to Tod's shoulder, spoke. + +"You want me to stop Derek. I tell you all what I've just told +Nedda. I don't attempt to control Derek; I never have. For +myself, when I see a thing I hate I can't help fighting against it. +I shall never be able to help that. I understand how you must +dislike all this; I know it must be painful to you, Mother. But +while there is tyranny in this land, to laborers, women, animals, +anything weak and helpless, so long will there be rebellion against +it, and things will happen that will disturb you." + +Again Nedda saw her father wince. But Frances Freeland, bending +forward, fixed her eyes piercingly on Kirsteen's neck, as if she +were noticing something there more important than that about +tyranny! + +Then John said very gravely: + +"You seem to think that we approve of such things being done to the +helpless!" + +"I know that you disapprove." + +"With the masterly inactivity," Felix said suddenly, in a voice +more bitter than Nedda had ever heard from him, "of authority, +money, culture, and philosophy. With the disapproval that lifts no +finger--winking at tyrannies lest worse befall us. Yes, WE-- +brethren--we--and so we shall go on doing. Quite right, Kirsteen!" + +"No. The world is changing, Felix, changing!" + +But Nedda had started up. There at the door was Derek. + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + + +Derek, who had slept the sleep of the dead, having had none for two +nights, woke thinking of Nedda hovering above him in the dark; of +her face laid down beside him on the pillow. And then, suddenly, +up started that thing, and stood there, haunting him! Why did it +come? What did it want of him? After writing the little note to +Nedda, he hurried to the station and found a train about to start. +To see and talk with the laborers; to do something, anything to +prove that this tragic companion had no real existence! He went +first to the Gaunts' cottage. The door, there, was opened by the +rogue-girl, comely and robust as ever, in a linen frock, with her +sleeves rolled up, and smiling broadly at his astonishment. + +"Don't be afraid, Mr. Derek; I'm only here for the week-end, just +to tiddy up a bit. 'Tis all right in London. I wouldn't come back +here, I wouldn't--not if you was to give me--" and she pouted her +red lips. + +"Where's your father, Wilmet?" + +"Over in Willey's Copse cuttin' stakes. I hear you've been ill, +Mr. Derek. You do look pale. Were you very bad?" And her eyes +opened as though the very thought of illness was difficult for her +to grasp. "I saw your young lady up in London. She's very pretty. +Wish you happiness, Mr. Derek. Grandfather, here's Mr. Derek!" + +The face of old Gaunt, carved, cynical, yellow, appeared above her +shoulder. There he stood, silent, giving Derek no greeting. And +with a sudden miserable feeling the boy said: + +"I'll go and find him. Good-by, Wilmet!" + +"Good-by, Mr. Derek. 'Tis quiet enough here now; there's changes." + +Her rogue face twinkled again, and, turning her chin, she rubbed it +on her plump shoulder, as might a heifer, while from behind her +Grandfather Gaunt's face looked out with a faint, sardonic grin. + +Derek, hurrying on to Willey's Copse, caught sight, along a far +hedge, of the big dark laborer, Tulley, who had been his chief +lieutenant in the fighting; but, whether the man heard his hail or +no, he continued along the hedgeside without response and vanished +over a stile. The field dipped sharply to a stream, and at the +crossing Derek came suddenly on the little 'dot-here dot-there' +cowherd, who, at Derek's greeting, gave him an abrupt "Good day!" +and went on with his occupation of mending a hurdle. Again that +miserable feeling beset the boy, and he hastened on. A sound of +chopping guided him. Near the edge of the coppice Tom Gaunt was +lopping at some bushes. At sight of Derek he stopped and stood +waiting, his loquacious face expressionless, his little, hard eye +cocked. + +"Good morning, Tom. It's ages since I saw you." + +"Ah, 'tis a proper long time! You 'ad a knock." + +Derek winced; it was said as if he had been disabled in an affair +in which Gaunt had neither part nor parcel. Then, with a great +effort, the boy brought out his question: + +"You've heard about poor Bob?" + +"Yaas; 'tis the end of HIM." + +Some meaning behind those words, the unsmiling twist of that hard- +bitten face, the absence of the 'sir' that even Tom Gaunt generally +gave him, all seemed part of an attack. And, feeling as if his +heart were being squeezed, Derek looked straight into his face. + +"What's the matter, Tom?" + +"Matter! I don' know as there's anything the matter, ezactly!" + +"What have I done? Tell me!" + +Tom Gaunt smiled; his little, gray eyes met Derek's full. + +"'Tisn't for a gentleman to be held responsible." + +"Come!" Derek cried passionately. "What is it? D'you think I +deserted you, or what? Speak out, man!" + +Abating nothing of his stare and drawl, Gaunt answered: + +"Deserted? Oh, dear no! Us can't afford to do no more dyin' for +you--that's all!" + +"For me! Dying! My God! D'you think I wouldn't have--? Oh! +Confound you!" + +"Aye! Confounded us you 'ave! Hope you're satisfied!" + +Pale as death and quivering all over, Derek answered: + +"So you think I've just been frying fish of my own?" + +Tom Gaunt, emitted a little laugh. + +"I think you've fried no fish at all. That's what I think. And no +one else does, neither, if you want to know--except poor Bob. +You've fried his fish, sure enough!" + +Stung to the heart, the boy stood motionless. A pigeon was cooing; +the sappy scent from the lopped bushes filled all the sun-warmed air. + +"I see!" he said. "Thanks, Tom; I'm glad to know." + +Without moving a muscle, Tom Gaunt answered: + +"Don't mention it!" and resumed his lopping. + +Derek turned and walked out of the little wood. But when he had +put a field between him and the sound of Gaunt's bill-hook, he lay +down and buried his face in the grass, chewing at its green blades, +scarce dry of dew, and with its juicy sweetness tasting the full of +bitterness. And the gray shade stalked out again, and stood there +in the warmth of the August day, with its scent and murmur of full +summer, while the pigeons cooed and dandelion fluff drifted by. . . . + +When, two hours later, he entered the kitchen at home, of the +company assembled Frances Freeland alone retained equanimity enough +to put up her face to be kissed. + +"I'm so thankful you've come back in time to see your uncles, +darling. Your Uncle John thinks, and we all agree, that to +encourage those poor laborers to do things which are not nice is-- +is--you know what I mean, darling!" + +Derek gave a bitter little laugh. + +"Criminal, Granny! Yes, and puppyish! I've learned all that." + +The sound of his voice was utterly unlike his own, and Kirsteen, +starting forward, put her arm round him. + +"It's all right, Mother. They've chucked me." + +At that moment, when all, save his mother, wanted so to express +their satisfaction, Frances Freeland alone succeeded. + +"I'm so glad, darling!" + +Then John rose and, holding out his hand to his nephew, said: + +"That's the end of the trouble, then, Derek?" + +"Yes. And I beg your pardon, Uncle John; and all--Uncle Stanley, +Uncle Felix; you, Dad; Granny." + +They had all risen now. The boy's face gave them--even John, even +Stanley--a choke in the throat. Frances Freeland suddenly took +their arms and went to the door; her other two sons followed. And +quietly they all went out. + +Derek, who had stayed perfectly still, staring past Nedda into a +corner of the room, said: + +"Ask him what he wants, Mother." + +Nedda smothered down a cry. But Kirsteen, tightening her clasp of +him and looking steadily into that corner, answered: + +"Nothing, my boy. He's quite friendly. He only wants to be with +you for a little." + +"But I can't do anything for him." + +"He knows that." + +"I wish he wouldn't, Mother. I can't be more sorry than I have been." + +Kirsteen's face quivered. + +"My dear, it will go quite soon. Love Nedda! See! She wants you!" + +Derek answered in the same quiet voice: + +"Yes, Nedda is the comfort. Mother, I want to go away--away out of +England--right away." + +Nedda rushed and flung her arms round him. + +"I, too, Derek; I, too!" + + +That evening Felix came out to the old 'fly,' waiting to take him +from Joyfields to Becket. What a sky! All over its pale blue a +far-up wind had drifted long, rosy clouds, and through one of them +the half-moon peered, of a cheese-green hue; and, framed and barred +by the elm-trees, like some roseate, stained-glass window, the +sunset blazed. In a corner of the orchard a little bonfire had +been lighted, and round it he could see the three small Trysts +dropping armfuls of leaves and pointing at the flames leaping out +of the smoulder. There, too, was Tod's big figure, motionless, and +his dog sitting on its haunches, with head poked forward, staring +at those red tongues of flame. Kirsteen had come with him to the +wicket gate. He held her hand long in his own and pressed it hard. +And while that blue figure, turned to the sunset, was still +visible, he screwed himself back to look. + +They had been in painful conclave, as it seemed to Felix, all day, +coming to the decision that those two young things should have +their wish, marry, and go out to New Zealand. The ranch of Cousin +Alick Morton (son of that brother of Frances Freeland, who, +absorbed in horses, had wandered to Australia and died in falling +from them) had extended a welcome to Derek. Those two would have a +voyage of happiness--see together the red sunsets in the +Mediterranean, Pompeii, and the dark ants of men swarming in +endless band up and down with their coal-sacks at Port Said; smell +the cinnamon gardens of Colombo; sit up on deck at night and watch +the stars. . . . Who could grudge it them? Out there youth and +energy would run unchecked. For here youth had been beaten! + +On and on the old 'fly' rumbled between the shadowy fields. 'The +world is changing, Felix--changing!' Was that defeat of youth, +then, nothing? Under the crust of authority and wealth, culture +and philosophy--was the world really changing; was liberty truly +astir, under that sky in the west all blood; and man rising at long +last from his knees before the God of force? The silent, empty +fields darkened, the air gathered dewy thickness, and the old 'fly' +rumbled and rolled as slow as fate. Cottage lamps were already +lighted for the evening meal. No laborer abroad at this hour! And +Felix thought of Tryst, the tragic fellow--the moving, lonely +figure; emanation of these solitary fields, shade of the departing +land! One might well see him as that boy saw him, silent, dogged, +in a gray light such as this now clinging above the hedgerows and +the grass! + +The old 'fly' turned into the Becket drive. It had grown dark now, +save for the half-moon; the last chafer was booming by, and a bat +flitting, a little, blind, eager bat, through the quiet trees. He +got out to walk the last few hundred yards. A lovely night, silent +below her stars--cool and dark, spread above field after field, +wood on wood, for hundreds of miles on every side. Night covering +his native land. The same silence had reigned out there, the same +perfume stolen up, the same star-shine fallen, for millions of +years in the past, and would for millions of years to come. Close +to where the half-moon floated, a slow, narrow, white cloud was +passing--curiously shaped. At one end of it Felix could see +distinctly the form of a gleaming skull, with dark sky showing +through its eyeholes, cheeks, and mouth. A queer phenomenon; +fascinating, rather ghastly! It grew sharper in outline, more +distinct. One of those sudden shudders, that seize men from the +crown of the head to the very heels, passed down his back. He shut +his eyes. And, instead, there came up before him Kirsteen's blue- +clothed figure turned to the sunset glow. Ah! Better to see that +than this skull above the land! Better to believe her words: 'The +world is changing, Felix--changing!' + + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Freelands, by John Galsworthy + diff --git a/old/frnds11.zip b/old/frnds11.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0007a59 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/frnds11.zip |