diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:18:54 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:18:54 -0700 |
| commit | 38e6cc3aba42611651d596ac4538fab57eaad8f8 (patch) | |
| tree | 424eff839ad6d98a5195e135e8bc895ad357da6e /2309-h | |
Diffstat (limited to '2309-h')
| -rw-r--r-- | 2309-h/2309-h.htm | 14146 |
1 files changed, 14146 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/2309-h/2309-h.htm b/2309-h/2309-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b7ead7e --- /dev/null +++ b/2309-h/2309-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,14146 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Freelands, by John Galsworthy + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd7; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 2em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +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 + + + + + +</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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” + or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project +Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +“Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.” + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +“Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right +of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + </body> +</html> |