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diff --git a/33043.txt b/33043.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ef5c48e --- /dev/null +++ b/33043.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9508 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Windyridge, by W. Riley + +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: Windyridge + +Author: W. Riley + +Release Date: July 1, 2010 [EBook #33043] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WINDYRIDGE *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + + + + + +WINDYRIDGE + + +BY + +W. RILEY + + + + +HERBERT JENKINS LIMITED + +YORK STREET, ST. JAMES'S + +LONDON S.W.1. + +1915 + + + + +_POPULAR EDITION._ + + + +_Printed in Great Britain by Love & Malcomson, Ltd., + London and Redhill._ + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER + + I. THE CALL OF THE HEATHER + II. FARMER GOODENOUGH STATES HIS TERMS + III. GRACE MEETS THE SQUIRE + IV. THE STUDIO + V. FARMER BROWN IS PHOTOGRAPHED + VI. OVER THE MOOR TO ROMANTON + VII. THE CYNIC DISCOURSES ON WOMAN + VIII. CHRISTMAS DAY AT WINDYRIDGE + IX. MRS. BROWN EXPLAINS + X. INTRODUCES WIDOW ROBERTSHAW + XI. GINTY RUNS AWAY + XII. THE CYNIC EXAGGERATES + XIII. WHITSUNTIDE EXPERIENCES + XIV. BARJONA FALLS INTO THE TRAP + XV. ROSE ARRIVES + XVI. THE CYNIC SPEAKS IN PARABLES + XVII. GRACE BECOMES DEJECTED + XVIII. CARRIER TED RECEIVES NOTICE TO QUIT + XIX. BARJONA'S DOWNFALL + XX. THE CYNIC'S RENUNCIATION + XXI. AT ZERMATT + XXII. THE HEATHER PULLS + XXIII. THE PARABLE OF THE HEATHER + XXIV. ROGER TREFFIT INTRODUCES "MISS TERRY" + XXV. THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL + XXVI. THE CYNIC BRINGS NEWS OF GINTY + XXVII. MOTHER HUBBARD HEARS THE CALL + XXVIII. IN THE CRUCIBLE + XXIX. THE GREAT STORM + XXX. CALM AFTER STORM + + + + +WINDYRIDGE + + +CHAPTER I + +THE CALL OF THE HEATHER + +I am beginning to-day a new volume in the book of my life. I wrote the +Prologue to it yesterday when I chanced upon this hamlet, and my Inner +Self peremptorily bade me take up my abode here. My Inner Self often +insists upon a course which has neither rhyme nor reason to recommend +it, but as I am a woman I can plead instinct as the explanation--or +shall I say the excuse?--of my eccentric conduct. Yet I don't think I +have ever been quite so mad before as I fully realise that I am now, +and the delight of it all is that I don't care and I don't repent, +although twenty-four hours have passed since I impulsively asked the +price of my cottage, and found that I could have it, studio and all, +for a yearly rental of ten pounds. I have never been a tenant "on my +own" before, and the knowledge that I am not going back to the attic +bedroom and the hard "easy" chairs of the Chelsea lodging-house which +has been my home for the last three years fills me with a great joy. I +feel as if I should suffocate if I were to go back, but it is my soul +which would be smothered. Subconsciously I have been panting for +Windyridge for months, and my soul recognised the place and leaped to +the discovery instantaneously. + +Yet how strange it all seems: how ridiculously fantastic! I cannot get +away from that thought, and I am constantly asking myself whether +Providence or Fate, or any other power with a capital letter at the +beginning, is directing the move for my good, or whether it is just +whimsicalness on my part, self-originated and self-explanatory--the +explanation being that I am mad, as I said before. + +When I look back on the events of the last three days and realise that +I have crossed my Rubicon and burned my boats behind me, and that I had +no conscious intention of doing anything of the kind when I set out, I +just gasp. If I had stayed to reason with myself I should never have +had the courage to pack a few things into a bag and take a third-class +ticket for Airlee at King's Cross, with the avowed intention of hearing +a Yorkshire choir sing in a summer festival. Yet it seems almost +prophetic as I recall the incident that I declined to take a return +ticket, though, to be sure, there was no advantage in doing so: no +reduction, I mean. Whether there was an advantage remains to be seen; +I verily believe I should have returned rather than have wasted that +return half. I dislike waste. + +That was on Tuesday; on Wednesday I went to the Town Hall and entered a +new world. It cost me a good deal in coin of the realm--much more than +I had dreamed of--but I got it all back in the currency of heaven +before I came away. It may have been my excitable temperament--for my +mother, I remember, used to condone my faults by explaining that I was +"highly-strung," whatever that may mean--or it may have been the +Yorkshire blood in my veins which turned to fever heat as the vast +volume of sweet sound rose and fell; one thing is certain, I lost +myself completely, and did not find myself again until I discovered +that the room was almost bare of people, and realised by the +good-humoured glances of the few who remained that I appeared to be +more vacant than the room, and was making myself foolishly conspicuous +by remaining seated with my head in my hands and that far-away look in +my eyes which tells of "yonderliness." + +To be quite candid, I am not quite sure that I _did_ find myself; I +suspect some tenant moved out and another moved in that afternoon, and +I am disposed to think that Airlee explains Windyridge. If I were to +attempt to put down in cold words what I heard or what I felt I should +fail, and it would seem very ordinary and uninspiring, so I shall not +make the attempt. But when I got outside, the noise of the busy city +grated on my senses, and the atmosphere--which was really not bad, for +the day was bright and sunny--seemed heavy and stifling. I longed for +something which I had not previously cared about; I did not understand +my yearnings--I do not yet--but I wanted to get away from the wooden +pavements, and the granite banks, and the brick warehouses, and the +huge hotels, and the smoke and bustle and din, and lay my head in the +lap of Nature, and think. + +I slept a little, I am sure, but I tossed about a good deal in the cosy +little bed of the modest hotel where I took lodging, and when morning +came I found my Inner Self still harping on the same string, and more +vigorously than ever. Perhaps, if I had been sensible, I should have +gone straight to the station, and by this time have been going through +the old routine in Bloomsbury and Chelsea, instead of which I made my +way into the street after breakfast, and asked a kind-faced clergyman +which tramcar would take me farthest away from the turmoil. He was a +fatherly man, but his answers were so vague, and he seemed in so much +doubt of their reliability, that I disregarded them and accosted a +bright young workman who crossed the square a moment later. "A good +long ride?" he repeated; "right into the country, eh? Take this car +and go to the far end." With this he led me to one which bore the +fateful sign "Fawkshill." + +It was a lovely day even in the city, warm but not muggy. When I had +found an outside seat at the extreme front of the upper deck of the +car, the greater part of which was covered, and redolent of tobacco +fumes, I made up my mind to enjoy the breeze and the experience. So +far as I knew it was just a parenthesis in a chapter of my life, not +the beginning of a new volume. In the background of my thoughts there +was always Chelsea, though I affected to forget it. Meantime, in the +foreground, there was a good deal to make even Chelsea attractive by +comparison. + +We made our way slowly along the grimy road, with its rows of +monotonously uninteresting warehouses, and its endless drays filled +with the city's merchandise. When the warehouses ended the grime +remained. We passed street after street of brick-built cottages, over +which spread a canopy of smoke from a hundred factory chimneys. When +the country was reached--if the bleak and sad-looking fields could be +called country--the mill chimneys were just as evident. They were +everywhere, even on the horizon, and my spirits sank. The villages +through which we passed were just suburbs, with the thumb-print of the +city on them all. Every cottage, every villa, spoke of the mill or the +shop. As we neared the terminus I found to my dismay that so far from +leaving these things behind we were entering a prosperous-looking +little town which was just Airlee on a smaller scale, with its full +quota of smoke-producing factories. How I blamed myself for following +the advice of the young workman and regretted that I had not trusted +the parson! + +I had an early lunch at a confectioner's and then wandered, aimlessly +enough, up a quiet road which led away from the town and the +tram-lines. It was not very promising at first, but when I had passed +the last row of houses and found myself hemmed in by green, moss-grown +walls, my spirits rose. By and by I reached cross-roads and a broad, +white highway, which was manifestly one of the great arteries of this +thriving district. It had no attractions for me and I crossed it, and +continued my upward path. A sign-post told me that I was on my way to +Windyridge. + +I was now in a rather pleasant country road, but one which certainly +could boast few attractions. Yet I was attracted, perhaps because I +could see so little in front of me, perhaps because I could not see a +single factory chimney, look where I would. + +Fifteen minutes after leaving Fawkshill I had reached the brow of the +hill, and my spirits rose with a bound. Just in front of me, on a +rising knoll, some fine sycamores and beeches clustered together, +guarding the approach to a grey, ivy-coated hall. The rooks cawed +dismally in the highest branches of the sycamores, the leaves of which +were already beginning to fall. Autumn, apparently, lays her hand in +good time upon the foliage in these northern regions, for some of the +trees had already grown ruddy at her touch. + +When I came to the bend of the road I think my heart stood still for a +second or two. There in front of me and to my left--almost, as it +seemed, at my feet--were the heather-covered moors, gloriously purple, +and the tears came into my eyes. I could not help it; it was so +unexpected, and it unlocked too suddenly the chamber where a memory was +preserved--a hallowed, never-to-be-forgotten memory. + +Years ago, and long before his sufferings ended, my father was leaning +back in his chair one day, his hand clasping its arms, as his custom +was, when there came into his eyes a look of inexpressible longing, +almost of pain. I went and knelt by his side, and passed my hand +gently through his hair, and asked, "What is it, dad dear?" He drew my +face to his and answered sadly--it was little more than a whisper, for +he was very weak,--"It was the heather calling me, lassie; I felt its +sweet breath upon my cheek for a moment, and longed to fall upon its +comfortable breast. But it cannot be; it cannot be!" + +That was ten years ago, and now the heather was to call me and I was to +respond to the call. How long I stood there, with the tear-drops +dimming my vision, I do not know, but presently I became conscious of a +village street, if the few houses which straggled back from the roadway +could with any propriety be termed a village. I walked along the path +and drank in every sight and sound, and thirsted for more. I thought, +in the intoxication of that hour, that peace and contentment must be +the portion of every dweller in that quiet spot. I know it will not be +so, of course. I suppose sorrow and heartache may inhabit that quaint +one-storeyed cottage from which the wreath of blue smoke curls so +lazily; that the seeds of greed and falsehood and discontent may thrive +and grow here, and be just as hateful and hideous as the flowers which +fill the gardens around me are bright and beautiful. But for the +moment I did not realise this. + +A woman was washing the flags at her cottage door, and she smiled upon +me as I passed. It was my first human welcome to the moors. At the +sound of my footsteps a whole regiment of hens flew from the hilly +field which was their pasture, and perched in line upon the wall to +give me greeting. + +I saw no sign of church or inn; no shop save a blacksmith's, and that +was closed. The cottage windows and the little white curtains behind +them were spotlessly clean. Within, I caught a glimpse here and there +of shining steel and polished brass which sparkled in the firelight; +and the comfort and cosiness of it all appealed to me strongly. + +I do not think there are more than a score houses in the village, but +before I had come to the end of the street my soul had made the +discovery I referred to just now. "Surely," I said to myself, "it is +good to be here; this people shall be my people." + +It was doubtless a mad thing to say, but I was prospered in my madness. +At the extreme end of the village, just past the little Methodist +chapel which by its newness struck a jarring note in the otherwise +perfect harmony, I saw a long, low building, of one storey like most of +its fellows, roofed with stone, and fronted by a large garden. It was +separated by a field-length from its nearest neighbour, and the field +was just the side of a hill, nothing more. Two doors gave access to +the building, which was apparently unevenly divided into two cottages, +for a couple of windows appertained to the one door and one only to the +other. A board at the bottom of the garden and abutting upon the road +conveyed the information that this "Desirable cottage" was "to let, +furnished." + +Then and there I gave hostages to fortune. If that cottage was to be +had for a sum which came within the limits of my slender purse, it +should be mine from that hour. For I saw at a glance that it faced the +moors and the sunset; and I vowed that the windows should be always +open, so that the breath of the heather might have free entrance. + +I pushed aside the little green gate and walked up the tiny path amid a +profusion of flowers whose names are as yet unknown to me. I promise +myself to know them all ere long: to know their habits and their +humours: to learn their secrets and the story of their lives; but that +is for the future. Something almost as sweet and dainty as the flowers +claimed my attention first. + +At the sound of the creaking gate, a dear old lady appeared at the door +of the doll's house which was joined to my cottage and advanced to meet +me. She had the pleasantest of faces, and was pink and pretty in spite +of her sixty odd years. She wore a cap with strings, in the style of +long ago: it was a rather jaunty cap and not devoid of colour. A faded +shawl hung loosely around her shoulders, and a white apron protected +her neat black frock. I saw at once that she was a nervous little +body, yet there was dignity as well as deference in the face which +looked smilingly into mine. But the manner of her address took my +heart by storm. I had never been accosted in this way before, and I +nearly took the old lady in my arms and kissed her. I have done since! + +"Yes, love!" she said. It was not an inquiry exactly, though there may +have been the faintest note of interrogation in her voice. It was as +though I had told her of my desire to rent the cottage, and she was +expressing a gratified assent. + +"I see this little house is to let," I began; "may I look at it, and +will you tell me all about it?" + +"To be sure, love," was the reply. "Now, just come inside my cottage +and rest yourself, and I'll pour you out a cup of tea if you're in no +hurry, for there's sure to be someone passing who will tell Reuben +Goodenough to come hither." + +"How sweet of you!" I replied. "A cup of tea will be like the nectar +of the gods. I will drink it thankfully." + +The inside of that room was a revelation to me. It was, oh, so very, +very small--the smallest living-room I am sure that I ever set eyes +upon--but so marvellously clean, and so comfortably homelike that I +uttered an exclamation of surprise and delight as I crossed the +threshold. + +The ceiling was of oak, with deep, broad, uneven beams of the same +material, all dark and glossy with age. The stone floor was covered +for the most part with druggeting, whilst a thick rug composed of small +cuttings of black cloth with a design in scarlet was laid before the +ample hearth. An old oak sideboard, or dresser, nearly filled the wall +facing the window, and on its open shelves was an array of china which +would make some people I know break the tenth commandment. A +magnificent grandfather's clock, also in oak, with wonderful carving, +ticked importantly in one corner, and a capacious cupboard filled +another. + +The wall decorations consisted of a bright but battered copper +warming-pan, which hung perpendicularly from the ceiling, looking like +the immense pendulum of some giant clock; and three "pictures" which +aroused my interest. Two of them were framed examples of their owner's +skill in needlework, as evidenced by the inscription, carefully worked +in coloured wool--"Mary Jackson, her work, aged 13." The letters of +the alphabet, and the numerals from 1 to 20, with certain enigmatical +figures which I took to represent flowers, completed the one effort, +whilst familiar texts of Scripture, after the style of "Thou God Seest +Me," made up the other. + +The third frame was of mahogany like the others, and contained a +collection of deep, black-edged funeral cards of ancient date. + +But the fireplace! My father's description of a real, old-fashioned +Yorkshire range was understood now for the first time, as I saw the +high mantelpiece, the deep oven and the wide-mouthed grate and chimney, +in which the yellow flames were dancing merrily, covering the whole +room with the amber glow which made it so warm and enticing. Through +an open door I caught sight of a white counterpane, and found that +there was, after all, a wee bedroom built out at the back. + +Drawn quite close to the hearthrug was a round deal table covered with +a snowy cloth. Two minutes later I was seated there, sipping tea and +eating toast, deliciously crisp and hot, and taking my new friend into +my confidence. + +I confess it pleased me to find that my mad proposal was all as natural +as the sunshine to her. The dear old soul never uttered one word of +warning or suggestion. She was delighted with the scheme I rapidly +evolved and ready to be my willing helper. I won her affection at once +when I told her that I was a "Yorkshireman," and she took me to her +heart and begged me to let her "mother" me. I lost my own mother +before I had learned to value her, and I think I shall like to be +"mothered," though I shall be thirty-five in April. + +God bless Mother Hubbard! I must tell how I took the cottage to-morrow. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +FARMER GOODENOUGH STATES HIS TERMS + +A fee of one penny, paid in advance, lent wings to the feet of the +small boy who was pressed into my service, and before many minutes had +passed Farmer Goodenough appeared upon the scene. + +He shook hands with me, after Mother Hubbard had performed the ceremony +of introduction, and I can feel the warmth of his greeting in my right +hand yet. I shall be careful in future when I get to close grips with +big, horny-handed Yorkshire farmers. + +I almost regretted that I had felt it necessary to explain the +situation to him when I heard his hearty and somewhat patronising +laugh, but Mother Hubbard's previous treatment had emboldened me. + +"Well, I do declare, Miss..." he hesitated and looked at me +inquiringly, for my hostess had not mentioned my name. + +"Grace Holden is my name, and I am unmarried," I said in reply. + +"Oh!" he answered--only he pronounced it "Aw!" + +"Well now, miss, you must excuse _me_, for I mostly speaks straight and +no offence meant, and I hope none taken; but isn't this just a little +bit daft-like? 'Marry in 'aste an' repent at leisure,' as t' Owd Book +says. I'm thinkin' this'll be summat o' t' same sort. Hadn't you +better sleep on it, think ye? It'll happen be a mucky day to-morrow, +an' Windyridge 'll hev t' polish ta'en off it." + +I have written this down with Mother Hubbard's assistance, and I +required a little help from her at the time in the interpretation of +it. But the farmer's candour pleased me. + +"If the rent is more than I can afford to pay I shall return to London +early to-morrow," I said; "but if it is within my means I shall +certainly stay--at any rate for twelve months," I added guardedly. + +"Now look you here, miss," returned the farmer; "I've got this cottage +to let, an' if you take it for three months, _or_ for six months, _or_ +for twelve months--for three months _or_ for six months _or_ for twelve +months you'll hev it to pay for. Right's right, an' a bargain's a +bargain all the world over. Frenchman, Scotchman _or_ Yorkshireman, a +bargain's a bargain. But nob'dy shall say 'at Reuben Goodenough took +advantage of a woman. I won't let you this cottage, if you like it so +as never, an' whether you can afford it or no, not until to-morrow I +won't. An' I'll tell you why. + +"You've just come an' seen Windyridge when all t' glory o' t' +sunshine's on it, an' t' birds is singin' an' t' flowers is bloomin'; +but it isn't allus like that. Not 'at I'm runnin' Windyridge down. +_I_'m content here, but then I were born here, an' my work's here, an' +t' missus an' t' youngsters were brought up here. But when you've +slept on it you'll happen see different. Now you've no 'casion to +speak"--as I was about to protest--"I've made up my mind, an' I'm as +stupid as a mule when I set myself, an' there can be no harm done by +waiting a toathree hours. Come, I'll show you what I can let you have +for a ten-pun' note a year, if so be as you decide to take it at t' +finish." + +He unlocked the door and stepped aside to let us enter. The kitchen +was almost a duplicate of Mother Hubbard's, but longer. There were the +same oak rafters, the same oak sideboard, the same huge fireplace, the +same cupboard. A horrible contrivance of cocoa-matting covered the +floor, and a hearthrug, neatly folded, was conspicuous in one corner. +A bedroom, of ample size for one woman of modest requirements, opened +out of the kitchen, and I saw at a glance that I might have as cosy a +home as Mother Hubbard herself. My mind was made up; but then so was +Farmer Goodenough's, and as I looked at the square jaw and the thin +lips I was convinced that this man with the good-natured face was not +to be moved from his resolution. + +"I shall take the cottage for twelve months," I said; "but I recognise +the force of your objection, and I will not ask you to make out an +agreement until to-morrow--to-morrow morning. + +"But I claim to be a Yorkshirewoman, and so can be just a wee bit +stupid myself, and you know the proverb says, 'When a woman says she +will, she _will_, you may depend on 't.' Tell me, though, is not ten +pounds per annum a very low rental, seeing that the cottage is +furnished?" + +"Low enough," he answered, "sadly too low; but it's as much as I can +get. I charge fifteen shillin' a week in summer time, but then it +never lets for more'n three months at t' outside, an' for t' rest o' t' +year it 'ud go to rack an' ruin if I didn't put fires in it now an' +then, an' get Mrs. 'Ubbard here to look after it. So I reckon it'll +pay me as well to have someone in for a twelvemonth, even if I make no +more money. But, miss"--he hesitated a moment, and thrust his hands +deep into his trousers' pockets, whilst his eyes, as I thought, became +tender and fatherly--"you must excuse _me_; I'm a deal older nor you, +an' though I haven't knocked about t' world much, I've learned a thing +or two i' my time, an' I have it on my mind to warn you. What t' Owd +Book says is true: 'As you make your bed, so you must lie on 't,' an' +it's uncommon hard an' lumpy at times. You know your own business +best, an' I will say 'at I like t' look on you, an' it 'ud be a good +thing for Mrs. 'Ubbard here to have you for a neighbour, but--think it +well over, an' don't do nowt daft." + +I suppose some people would not have liked it, but I did, and I told +him so. And really it had the opposite effect from that he intended, +for it showed me that I might have at least two friends in Windyridge, +and that one of them would not be wanting in candour. + +These preliminaries settled, the farmer handed the key to Mother +Hubbard, so that it would be handy for me, as he explained, IF I should +turn up again in the morning, and prepared to take his departure. Just +as he reached the gate, however, he turned back. + +"I should ha' said 'at you're welcome to t' use o' t' paddock. If so +be as you care to keep a few hens there's pasture enough for 'em an' +nob'dy hurt. An' if you want a greenhouse"--he laughed heartily--"why, +here you are!" + +He motioned that I should follow him, and I stepped through a gate in +the wall into the hilly field which he called the paddock. There, +firmly secured to the end of the house, was a structure of wood and +glass which seemed out of all proportion to the size of the cottage. + +"What in the world is this?" I exclaimed, but my landlord only laughed +the louder. + +"Now then, what d'ye think of that, eh? Kind o' Crystal Palace, that +is. Strikes me I should ha' put this cottage in t' _Airlee +Mercury_--'Desirable country residence with conservatory. Apply, +Goodenough, Windyridge.' Them 'at takes t' cottage gets t' +conserva_tory_ thrown in at t' same rent. It was put up by t' last +tenant wi' my consent, an' he was as daft as----" + +"As I am?" I suggested. + +"Well, he _proved_ hisself daft. He kep' hens i' one part an' flowers +in t' other, but he neither fed t' hens nor t' flowers, bein' one o' +them menseless creatures 'at gets their heads buried i' books, an' +forgets their own meals, let alone t' meals o' them 'at can't sing out +for 'em. T' upshot of it all was he left t' cottage an' made me a +present of all t' bag o' tricks." + +Then and there the idea of my studio had its birth. With a very little +alteration I saw that I could easily adapt it to photographic purposes; +and I was more determined than before--if that were possible--to take +possession of my Yorkshire home. I know people will laugh and call me +madder than ever. It does seem rather ridiculous to fit up a studio in +a village of perhaps a hundred inhabitants, but my Inner Self urges it, +and I am going to live by faith and not by sight. I am irrational, I +know, but I just don't care. I have got a theory of life--not a very +definite one just now, though it is getting clearer--and I am sure I am +taking a right step, though I could not explain it if I wished, and I +don't wish. + +Mother Hubbard was tearful when I wished her good-night, and it was as +an antidote to pessimism that I took the dear old soul into my arms and +bade her stifle her tears and look confidently for my return. Farmer +Goodenough's worldly wisdom had convinced her that the anticipations of +a quarter-hour ago had been ill-founded. She had counted only too +prematurely on my companionship, but the farmer's words had led her to +see how unreasonable it was. She was stricken with remorse, too, at +the selfishness of her conduct. + +"You see, love," she explained, as we sought her cottage again and drew +our chairs up to the fire--she had turned back her skirt lest the heat +should scorch it--"I was just thinking about myself. I'm a lonely old +woman, love, and it's only natural I should like the company of a nice, +friendly young lady like yourself; but that's just selfishness. You +must think over what Reuben has said, and don't do anything rash, +but----" + +"Mother Hubbard," I said, "you need not crumple your apron by turning +it into a handkerchief, nor wet it by shedding useless tears. And I'm +not a hair-brained young lady, fresh from school, but a sensible woman +of thirty-five. Mark my word! At twelve o'clock to-morrow I shall be +with you again, and I shall have lunch with you; and you'll oblige me +by airing my bed for me, and getting things ship-shape, for to-morrow +night I shall be your next-door neighbour." + +I went back to Airlee by train from Fawkshill. I had noticed the +railway as I came in the morning, and I felt that the tram would be too +slow. As a matter of fact it took nearly as long and cost me more +money. But my mind was full of Windyridge and I was oblivious to +everything else. When I reached the coffee-room of the hotel I was +calmer, for somehow the old familiar sights and sounds of the city +threw my cottage into the background, and I was able to view the +situation dispassionately. + +Had I been a fool? Was not Farmer Goodenough right, after all; and had +not his sound common sense saved me from committing myself to a rash +and quixotic adventure? + +"Grace Holden," I said, "you have got to face this question, and not +make an ass of yourself. Weigh up the pros and cons. Get pencil and +paper and make your calculations and strike your balance, and don't for +goodness' sake be emotional." + +Then my Inner Self said with great distinctness, "Grace Holden, the +heather has called you! Listen to it!" And I went to bed and slept +the sleep of the just. + +My first sensation on awaking was one of exhilaration. Not a single +cloud of doubt or apprehension appeared upon the sky of my hopes; on +the contrary, it was rosy bright with the promise of success. I like +to trust my intuitions, for it seems to me you treat them unfairly and +do not give them a chance of developing upon really strong lines if you +don't do so. Intuitions are bound to become weak and flabby if you are +always coddling them and hesitating whether to let them feel their +feet. An intuition that comes to you deprecatingly, and hints that it +does not expect to be trusted, is a useless thing that is dying of +starvation. _My_ intuitions are healthy and reliable because I believe +in them and treat them as advisers, and am becomingly deferential. +It's nice to feel that your Inner Self likes you too well to lead you +astray. + +I wrote several letters and chuckled to myself when I thought of the +effect they would produce in certain quarters. I am just a nonentity, +of course, in the city of London, and nobody outside of it ever heard +of me so far as I know, and I am my own mistress, without a relative of +any kind to lay a restraining hand upon my actions; yet there are just +two or three people who will be interested in this new phase of madness. + +I can see Madam Rusty adjust her pince-nez and scan the postmark +carefully before unfolding my note. And I dare bet anything that the +glasses will fly the full length of the chain when she finds she has to +pack up my belongings and despatch them to Windyridge. I always carry +my cheque book with me in case of emergencies, so I have sent her a +blank cheque "under five pounds" to cover her charges. I guess there +won't be much change out of that when madam has filled it in. + +And Rose! I wonder what Rose will say. I think she will be rather +sorry, but she has many other friends and will soon console herself. +And, after all, she _did_ say I was "_swanky_"; but I daresay I shall +ask her down some day, and I am sure she will attend to the little +matters I have mentioned. + +I paid my bill, and by ten o'clock was once more in the Fawkshill car; +but I went inside this time, and closed my eyes and dreamed dreams. I +got rid of the factory chimneys that way. + +It was approaching twelve when I walked up the garden path to my new +abode, and heard the joyful "Yes, love!" of my new mother. She could +not forbear giving me one peep into my own cottage as we passed the +door. A cheerful fire was blazing in the grate, the rug was in its +place, the mattress and all its belongings were heaped around the +hearth, and the clock upon the wall was ticking away in homeliest +fashion and preparing to strike the noontide hour. There was not a +speck of dust anywhere. Evidently Mother Hubbard had been up early and +had worked with a will, and I was touched by this evidence of her +faith, and glad that I had proved worthy of it. + +"But what will Farmer Goodenough say?" I asked jocularly, as we +discussed the appetising ham and eggs which she had prepared in her own +kitchen. + +"Reuben? Oh, I take no notice of him, love. He called out as he +passed, whilst I was in the garden this morning, that I was to remember +that he had not yet let you the house, and that we might never see your +face again; but I said, 'For shame! Reuben Goodenough,' though I will +admit I was glad to see you, love. And now we'll just go in together +and get everything made tidy. Bless you! I'm glad you've come. I +think the Lord must have sent you to cheer a lonely old woman." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +GRACE MEETS THE SQUIRE + +I have spent my first Sunday in Windyridge, and have made a new +acquaintance. I believe I shall soon feel at home here, for the +villagers do not appear to resent the presence of a stranger, and there +is no sign of the Cranford spirit, perhaps because there is an entire +lack of the Cranford society. + +My adventure befell me as I walked back from church in the morning. It +was too far for Mother Hubbard to accompany me to Fawkshill if she had +wished to do so, but she has no leanings in the direction of the +Establishment, being, as I have discovered, a staunch dissenter. She +has asked me to go with her to the little Methodist chapel one day, but +I put her off with a caress. + +I was as full of the joy of life as a healthy woman can be, whose +church-going garments are two hundred miles away, and I filled my lungs +again and again with the sweet moorland air as I sauntered leisurely up +the village street. A delightful breeze was blowing from the west, and +I knew that my hair would be all about my ears before I reached the +church; but that was a small matter, for who was there to care or +criticise? The village rested in the calm of the Sabbath: no sound of +human voice or human feet disturbed its quiet. But the cocks crowed +proudly from their elevated perches by the roadside, and the rooks +cawed noisily in the sycamores as they saw their lofty homes rocked to +and fro in the swell of the wind. I stood for a moment or two to watch +the behaviour of the trees when Boreas, rude as ever, flung himself +upon them. How irritable and angry they became! How they shook their +branches and shrieked their defiance, trembling all the time through +every stem and leaf! + +As I passed the entrance gate at the farther end of the Hall grounds a +carriage was leaving it, and I caught sight of an old gentleman sitting +alone within. I guessed him to be the owner of the place and dubbed +him the Squire, and I was right, except as to the title, which I find +he disavows. + +I must have dawdled away more time than I realised, for they were well +on with the prayers when I entered the church, but I will guard against +that in future, for I pride myself on my methodical and punctual +habits. But hurrying makes one hot, and churches are often chilly, as +this one was! I was glad when the service was over and I could get out +into the sunshine again. + +The squire's carriage passed me on its homeward way soon after I had +left the church, but when I reached the cross-roads I saw that its +owner must have sent it forward and decided to continue the journey on +foot, for he was standing at the bend of the lane in conversation with +Farmer Goodenough. + +The latter smiled as I approached and half raised his cap; and the +squire turned and saluted me with grave politeness. + +"Mornin', Miss 'Olden, mornin'," said my landlord. "So you've +exchanged the 'eath for the 'assock, in a manner o' speakin'," and he +laughed loudly at his alliterative success. "Well, well, some must +pray an' some must work. 'There's a time for everything,' as t' Owd +Book says; that's it, isn't it, sir, eh?" and without waiting for an +answer Farmer Goodenough strode off. In a few seconds, however, he was +back. + +"Excuse me, miss, but I should ha' made you two known to each other. +Miss 'Olden, this is Mr. Evans of the 'All, an' this is my new tenant, +sir; a lady from London, Miss 'Olden, who's taken the cottage for +twelve months for a sort of a whim, as far as I can make out." He +touched his cap, and turned on his heel once more. + +The situation was amusing and a little embarrassing, but I was left in +no suspense. The old gentleman smiled and looked down into my eyes. +He is a fine old man, something over seventy years of age, I should +say, but very erect, with deep, rather cold eyes, surmounted by bushy +eyebrows, and a head of thick, steely-grey hair. One glance at his +face told me that he was a man of intellect and culture. + +"We may as well be companions, Miss Holden, if you do not object," he +said smilingly. "I should like to ascertain for myself whether the +village report is true, for I may inform you that I have heard all that +my butler can tell me, which means all that he can ascertain by shrewd +and persistent inquiry." + +"I am flattered by the attention of my neighbours," I replied, "and I +can quite understand that in a little place like this the advent of a +stranger will create a mild sensation, but I was not aware that there +was anything so dreadful as a 'report' in circulation. The knowledge +makes me uneasy; can you relieve my anxiety?" + +He was walking along with his hands holding the lapels of his jacket, +his light overcoat blowing about behind him, and he looked quizzically +at me for a moment or two before he replied: + +"I think you are able to take it in good part, for--if you will permit +me to say so--I judge that you have too much common sense to be easily +offended, and therefore I will admit that the villagers are prepared to +look upon you as slightly 'daft,' to use their own expression. They +cannot understand how, on any other supposition, you should act on a +momentary impulse and leave the excitements of the metropolis for the +simple life of a tiny village. I need hardly say that I realise that +this is distinctly your own affair, and I am not asking you to give me +your confidence, but you will not mind my telling you in what light the +village regards this somewhat--unusual conduct." + +I laughed. Goodness knows I am not touchy, and the opinion of my +neighbours only amused me. But somehow I felt that I must justify my +action to the squire, and my Inner Self put on her defensive armour in +readiness for the battle. I seemed to know that this rather stern old +man would regard my action as childish,--and indeed the scheme could +not be regarded as reasonable; it was simply intuitive, and who can +defend an intuition? I therefore replied: + +"You have certainly relieved my disquietude. I thought the villagers +might have conceived the notion that I was a fugitive from justice, and +had a good reason for hiding myself in an out-of-the-way place. If +they consider me inoffensive in my daftness I am quite content; for, +after all, there are hundreds of people of much wider experience who +would be not a whit more lenient in their judgment. In fact, I suspect +that you yourself would endorse it emphatically, especially when I +admit that the premise is correct from which the conclusion is drawn." + +"You invite my interest," he returned, "but your silence will be a +sufficient rebuke if my inquiries over-step the bounds of your +indulgence. You tell me that the premise is correct. I understand, +therefore, that you admit that you have acted on mere impulse; that, in +fact, our friend Goodenough was speaking truly when he called it +bluntly a 'whim.'" + +"I am not skilled in dialectics," I said, feeling rather proud of the +word all the same, and mightily astonished at my coolness; "but I +should not call it a whim, but rather an intuition. I suppose there is +a difference?" + +He bent his brows together and paused in his walk; then he replied: + +"Yes: there is a distinct difference. I cannot deny or disregard the +power of the mind to discern truth without reasoning, but the two have +so much in common that I think a whim may sometimes be mistaken for an +intuition. Can you prove to me that this was an intuition?" + +"No," I said, and I think it was a wise answer; at any rate it seemed +to please him; "nobody could do that. Time alone can justify my action +even to myself. I am going to be on the lookout for the proof daily." + +He smiled again. "You know what would have been said if a man had done +this?" he said deliberately; "it would be asked, Who is the woman?" + +I blushed furiously, and hated myself for it, though he was nearly old +enough to have been my grandfather. "I always feel glad that Eve did +not blame the other sex," I replied, "and, in spite of the annoying +colour in my face, I can say with a clear conscience that there is no +man in the case at all." + +"Do not be grieved with me," he said, just as calmly as ever. "I +realised that I was taking a big risk, but I wished to clear the ground +at the outset. I have done so, but I hesitate to venture further." + +His tone was so very kindly that I, too, determined to take a big risk, +though I half feared he would not understand, or understanding would be +amused. So I told him something of my life in London, and how its +problems had perplexed and depressed me, and I told him of the heather +and how it had called me; and I think something of the passion of life +shook my voice as I spoke, and I expressed more than I had realised +myself until then. + +He listened with grave and fixed attention, and did not reply at once. +Then, halting again in his walk, though only for a second, he said: + +"Miss Holden, subconscious influences have been at work upon you for +some time past. You have experienced the loneliness which is never so +hard to bear as when one is jostled by the crowd. I gather that the +wickedness of London--its injustice and inequalities--have been +weighing upon your spirits, and you feel for the moment like some +escaped bird which has gained the freedom of the woods after beating +its wings for many weary months against the bars of its city cage. You +may have done well to escape, but beware of false ideals, and beware of +the inevitable reaction when you discover the wickedness of the +village, and learn that injustice and vice and slander, and a hundred +other hateful things, are not peculiar to city life." + +"But surely," I Interposed, "the overcrowding, and the sweating and the +awful, awful wretchedness of the poor are wanting here." + +"My dear young lady," he said, "I suppose you think that the devil is a +city gentleman whose attention is so much occupied with great concerns +that he has had no time to discover so insignificant a place as +Windyridge. You will find out your mistake. There are times when he +is very active here, but he has wit enough to vary his methods as +occasion requires. + +"Sometimes, as Scripture and experience have shown you, he goes about +as a roaring lion, and there is no mistaking his presence; but at other +times he masquerades as an angel of light. You speak of the evils you +know, and it may be admitted that most of these are absent from +Windyridge, at any rate in their aggravated forms. But analyse these +various evils which have caused you to chafe against your environment, +and you will find that selfishness is at the root of them all, and +selfishness flourishes even in the soil which breeds the moorland +heather. + +"Don't let this discourage you, however," he continued, as he held out +his hand, for we had now reached the gateway of the Hall; "the devil +has not undisputed possession here or elsewhere, and Windyridge may +help you to strike the eternal balance. + +"Come to see me sometimes; I am an unconventional old man, and you need +not hesitate. I can at least lend you good books, and give you advice +from an experience dearly bought." + +He grasped the collar of his coat again and walked slowly up the drive. + +Dinner had been waiting quite ten minutes when I reached home, and I +found Mother Hubbard in a state of apprehension, partly lest some evil +should have befallen me, and partly lest the Yorkshire pudding, whose +acquaintance I was to make for the first time, should be so spoiled as +to prejudice my appreciation of its excellences from the beginning. + +But no such untoward event occurred, and my appetite enabled me to do +full justice to Mother Hubbard's preparations. We have come to a +convenient and economical arrangement by which we are to share +supplies, Mother Hubbard being appointed cook, and I housemaid to the +two establishments. In her delight at the prospect of my companionship +the dear old lady was prepared to unite the two offices in her one +person, but this was an impossible proposition, as I promptly pointed +out. She might be prime minister, but not the entire Cabinet. + +So we shall take our meals together in her cottage or in mine, as may +be most convenient, and I think I shall be able to spare her some of +the delightful drudgery which is harming her body whilst it leaves her +spirit untouched. Not that I shall ever be able to maintain the +spotless cleanliness which she guards as jealously as a reputation; and +I cannot help thinking that her unwillingness to consent to this part +of the bargain was due in some degree to doubts of my competency. But +I am willing to be taught and corrected, and I will encourage her not +to spare the rod. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE STUDIO + +I have been here a whole week, and as for being busy, I think the +proverbial bee would have to give me points. Monday was occupied with +a variety of odd jobs which were individually insignificant enough but +meant a good deal in the aggregate. First of all I attended to +household duties under the keen but kindly supervision of Mother +Hubbard, and acquitted myself fairly well. + +Then I turned my attention to the studio and drew up my plans for its +equipment. A young girl from the village readily undertook the work of +cleaning, and the muscle she put into it was a revelation to me after +my experience of the leisurely ways of London charwomen! I soon +discovered that she is a sworn enemy of every form of dirt--or "muck" +as she prefers to call it--that she has a profound contempt for all +modern cleansing substances and mechanical methods, and a supreme and +unshakable belief in the virtues of soft soap, the scrubbing-brush, and +"elbow-grease." + +Four hours of "Sar'-Ann" brought joy to my heart and sweetness to my +studio. + +Then, with some difficulty, for he was at work in the fields, I found a +sturdy and very diffident young man who has had some experience of +carpentry, and who can also wield a paint-brush. To him I explained my +requirements, and also handed over the plan I had prepared. He stood +chewing the neb of his cap, and repeated in most irritating fashion: +"Aw, yes 'm" whenever I paused to plumb the depths of his intelligence; +but would only promise to do his best. As a matter of fact his "best" +is not at all bad. + +Sar'-Ann informed me in his presence, when he showed a little +difficulty in understanding one of my requirements, that he was "gurt +and gawmless," whereat he blushed furiously, and most unnecessarily so +far as I was concerned, for the description was Greek to me. His +awkwardness disappears, I find, when my back is turned; and he is +really a very capable workman, and he and Sar'-Ann between them have +made my studio most presentable. + +But I am anticipating. + +Tuesday morning brought me a small budget of letters and several +parcels. I opened Madam Rusty's first, with some mischievous +anticipation of its contents. I knew the sort of thing I might expect: +the quasi-dignified remonstrance, the pained surprise, and the final +submission to the will of an inscrutable providence which had seen fit +to relieve me of my senses and her of a great responsibility. + +I leaned back in my chair, put my feet upon thy fender, and prepared +for a good time. The precise, angular handwriting was as plain as the +estimable lady herself, and no difficulty in decipherment impeded my +progress. + + +"MY DEAR MISS HOLDEN," it ran, + +"I have received your most extraordinary communication, which I have +perused with mingled feelings of astonishment, sorrow and dismay. I am +astonished that you should leave my house, where I am sure you have +been surrounded by every home comfort, without a single expression of +your intention to do so, or one word of explanation or farewell to +myself or your fellow-boarders. Conduct of this kind I have never +experienced before, and you must pardon me saying that next to an +actual elopement it seems to me the most indelicate thing a young +person in your position could do. And I am sorry because I feel sure +there is more behind all this than you have been willing to inform me +of, and I do think I have not deserved to be deceived, for I can +honestly say that I have endeavoured to act a mother's part towards +you; and as to any little differences we have had and complaints and so +on, I did not think you had an unforgiving spirit. Not that one +expects gratitude from one's boarders in the ordinary way, which being +human is unlikely, but there are exceptions, of which I thought you +were one. But if you believe me I am dismayed when I think of you +going out into these wild parts which I have always understood are as +bad as a foreign country, and without anyone to look after you, and no +buses and policemen, and what you would do in case of fire I don't +know. However, they do say that providence takes care of babies and +drunken people and the insane, and we can only hope for the best. I +know it's no use trying to persuade you different, for if there's one +thing about you that is known to all the boarders it is that you are +self-willed, and you must excuse me telling the plain truth, seeing +that it is said for your good. So I have had your things packed up, +and Carter Patersons have taken them away to-day. You will find it all +in the bill enclosed, and I have filled in the cheque accordingly. Of +course if you change your mind I shall try to accommodate you if I am +not full up. I cannot help signing myself + +"Yours sorrowfully, + "MARTHA RUSSEN. + +"N.B.--I may say that the other boarders are very shocked." + + +Poor old Rusty! She is really not half a bad sort, and I am glad to +have known her: almost as glad as I am to get away from her. It is my +misfortune, I suppose, to be "nervy," and the sound and sight of Madam +in these latter days was enough to bring on an attack. + +I turned to the letter from Rose, which was short, sharp and +sisterly--sisterly, I mean, in its shameless candour and freedom from +reserve. Rose rather affects the role of the superior person, and has +patronised me ever since I discovered her. This is what she wrote: + +"MY DEAR GRACE, + +"I am not sure that I ought not to write '_disgrace_.' I always have +said that you are as mad as the March hare in 'Alice' and now I am sure +of it. Your letter has not one line of sense in it from beginning to +end except that in which you suggest that I may come to see you some +time. So I may, if the funds ever run to it. It will be an education +to do so. I would go to see you in your native haunts just as I would +go to see any other natural freak in which I might be interested. But +I won't pay ordinary railway fare, so that's flat. If the railway +companies won't reduce their charges by running cheap excursions as +they do for other exhibitions, I shall not come. For if you are not an +exhibition (of crass folly) I don't know what an exhibition is. +However, you have a bit of money and a trade (sorry! I mean a +profession) at your finger-ends, so I can only hope you'll not starve +whilst your native air is bringing you to your senses. I will see to +your various commissions, and if I can be of further use to you up here, + +"I am, as I have ever been, + +"Your humble, but not always obedient servant, + "ROSE." + + +This concluded what may be termed the social portion of my +correspondence, and I took up the other letters with less zest. One, a +mere formal acknowledgment of my changed address, was from the bankers +who have the privilege of taking care of my money, and who have never +manifested any sense of oppression under the responsibility. +Nevertheless, two hundred and forty odd pounds is something to fall +back upon, and it looms large when it represents savings; and in any +case it is all I have except the interest which comes to me from a few +small investments--all that was rescued from the wreck of my father's +fortunes. Well, well! I am a good deal richer than some very wealthy +people I have met. + +Two others were business communications from firms which give me +employment, and I may frankly admit that I was just a little relieved +to find that distance was not going to affect our relationships. Not +that I had been actually uneasy on that score, for I have discernment +enough to know my own value. I am not a genius, but what I _can_ do is +_well_ done; and I have lived long enough to discover that that counts +for much in these days. The parcels which accompanied the letters +contained sufficient work for a month at least. + +Then came a letter from Shuter and Lenz with all sorts of suggestions +for the furnishing of my studio. The consideration of this occupied a +couple of hours, but my list was made out at last, and I expect I shall +receive the bulk of the goods before the end of next week. Transit +between London and Windyridge is quick--much more so than I +anticipated, for my boxes were delivered during the afternoon, and I +spent the rest of the day and some part of the night in unpacking them. +It was no easy matter to find storage for my small possessions, but I +accomplished it in the end, and arranged all my household goods to the +best possible advantage. + +Since then I have been sewing for all I am worth. The joint +establishments do not boast the possession of a sewing machine, so I +have had to make my studio curtains by hand. Mother Hubbard was +delighted to be able to help in this department, and between us we +finished them yesterday, and with Ginty's assistance I have hung them +to-day! "Ginty" is the carpenter. The "g" is hard and the name is +unusual, but I am inclined to doubt whether it was ever bestowed upon +him by his godparents in baptism. I suspect Sar'-Ann of having a hand +in that nomenclature. + +If my landlord could see my studio now he would hardly recognise his +conserva_tory_. One end has been boarded off for a dark-room, and the +whole has been neatly painted slate colour. When my few backgrounds +and accessories arrive I shall have a very presentable studio indeed. + +Ginty is now engaged painting the outside in white and buff, and he is +then going to make me a board which will be placed at the bottom of the +garden to inform all and sundry that "Grace Holden is prepared to do +all kinds of photographic work at reasonable prices." I don't +anticipate that barriers will be needed to keep back the crowd. + +How tired I am, and yet how wonderfully fresh and buoyant! My limbs +tremble and my head aches, but my soul just skips within me. I have +had a week in which to repent, and I have never come within sight of +repentance. And yet I have seen no more of Windyridge. I have not +been near the heather. I have not even climbed to the top of the hill +behind my cottage in order to look over the other side. I have wanted +to, but I dare not; I am terrified lest there should be factory +chimneys in close proximity. + +Once or twice it has been warm enough for me to stretch myself full +length upon the grass, and I have lain awhile in blissful contemplation +of the work of the Great Architect in the high vault of His cathedral. +That always rests me, always fills me with a sense of mystery, always +gives me somehow or other a feeling of peace and of partnership. I +rise up feeling that I must do my best to make the world beautiful, and +use all my abilities--such as they are--to bring gladness into the +lives of other people. I cannot make clouds and sunsets, but I can +paint miniatures, and I can take portraits (or I think I can), and +these things make some homes bright and some folk happy. But I must +not moralise. + +More often I bring out the deck-chair, which is one of my luxuries, and +sit in front of the cottage with Mother Hubbard as a companion. She is +splendid company. If I encourage her she will tell me interesting +stories of her youth and married life, or repeat the gossip of the +village; for none is better versed than she in all the doings of the +countryside. If, however, I wish to be quiet she sits silently by my +side, as only a real friend can. But whether she talks or is silent +her knitting needles never stop their musical clatter. What she does +with all the stockings is beyond my knowledge, but I believe Sar'-Ann +could tell me if she would, and I am sure all this knitting contributes +no little to Mother Hubbard's happiness. + +So I lean back in my chair and feast upon the scene before me and am +satisfied. I wonder if it would appeal to many as it does to me. +Probably not, for, after all, I suppose there are many more beautiful +places than Windyridge, but I have never travelled and so cannot +compare them. Then again, this is Yorkshire and I am "Yorkshire," and +that explains something. Still, I ought to try to write down what it +is that impresses me, so I will paint as well as I can the picture that +is spread before me as I sit. + +First of all, as a fitting foreground, the garden--past its best, I can +see, but still gay with all the wild profusion of Flora's providing; +plants whose names are as yet unknown to me, but which are a constant +delight to sight and smell. Then the road, with its border of cool, +green grass, winding down into the valley between hedges of hawthorn +and holly--ragged, untidy hedges, brown and green where the sun catches +them, blue-grey and confused in the shadows. Beyond them a stretch of +fields--meadow and pasture, and the brown and kindly face of Mother +Earth dipping steeply down to meet the trees which fill the narrow +valley, and are just beginning to catch the colours of the sunset. +Footpaths cross the fields, and I see at times those who tread them and +climb the stiles between the rough grey walls; and I promise myself +many a good time there, but not yet. + +On the other side, beyond the trees, the climb is stiffer, and the +hills rise, as it sometimes seems, into the low-lying clouds. I can +see a few houses under the shelter of a clump of chestnuts and +sycamores, the farthest outposts of their comrades in the valley, but +far above them rises the moor, the glorious moor, heather-clad, wild, +and, but for the winding roads, as God made it. Far away to the west +it stretches, and when the day is clear I catch the glow of the gorse +and the daily decreasing hint of purple on the horizon miles away; but +in these autumn days the distance is often wrapped in a diaphanous +shawl of mist, which yet lends a charm to the glories it half conceals. + +High up the hill to the left is the village of Marsland, with its +squat, grey church, which I must visit one day; and farther away +still--for I must be candid at all costs--there are a few factory +chimneys, but they are too distant to be obtrusive. + +Such is my picture: would that I could paint it better. Looking upon +it my spirit bathes and is refreshed. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +FARMER BROWN IS PHOTOGRAPHED + +My studio is complete at last, and I have already had one customer, not +counting Mother Hubbard, who had the privilege of performing the +opening ceremony, and who was my first sitter. I insisted upon that, +all the more because the dear old soul had never been photographed +before in her life, and was disposed to regard the transaction in the +light of an adventure. + +She is altogether too gentle and pliant to oppose her will to mine on +anything less important than a matter of principle, but I could see +that she was grievously disappointed when I would not let her put on +her very best garment, a remarkable black satin dress in the fashion of +a past generation, which she keeps in lavender and tissue paper at the +bottom of the special drawer which is full of memories and fading +grandeur. + +I wanted her just as she was, with the shawl loose upon her shoulders, +and the knitting-needles in her hand, and that pleasant expression of +countenance which makes all soulful people fall in love with her at +first sight. + +I succeeded in the end, and the delight of the old lady when I showed +her a rough print a day or two later was good to see. + +"But I wish you could have taken me in my satin, love, and with the +lace collar. Matthew always thought I looked nice in them." + +"You look nice in anything," I replied, "and I am sure your husband +thought so; but _I_ want the dear old Mother Hubbard of to-day; for, do +you know, I am going to send you to a big News Agency, and if you are +accepted you and I will make holiday, and do it right royally." + +But my real customer arrived on the second Wednesday in October. My +board had been in position for several days, and had attracted a good +deal of curiosity but no clients, which was as much as one had a right +to expect. I knew, of course, that sitters would be rare, but I had my +own plans for turning the studio to profitable use, and I did not +worry. "Everything comes to him who waits." + +I was busy with my miniatures, and was just deciding to lay them aside +for a time and do a little re-touching on Mother Hubbard's negatives, +when I happened to glance out of the window, and saw an elderly man +stop to read my board. He stood quite a long time looking at it, and +then turned in at the gate. + +I went to the door to meet him, and asked if he would like me to take +his portrait, and he replied: "Ay, if it doesn't cost too much, I +should." + +I led the way into the studio and asked him to sit down, but he would +not do so until we had discussed terms. I soon satisfied him on this +point, for, of course, high charges in Windyridge would be ridiculous, +and then I inquired how he would like to be "taken." + +"I shan't make much of a picter, miss," he said, "but there's them +'at'll like to look at my face, such as it is. If you can make ought +o' my head and shoulders it'll do nicely." + +I looked at him as I made my preparations, and was puzzled. He was a +tall man, somewhat bent and grey, his face tanned with exposure to the +weather. It was clean shaven, and there was character in the set of +his features--the firm mouth, the square jaw, and the brown eyes. They +were dreamy eyes just now, and I wondered why, and was surprised that +he should seem so natural and free from constraint. I judged him to be +a farmer clad in his Sunday clothes, but why he should be so garbed on +a bright afternoon in mid-week I could not guess. That he was no +resident in the village was certain, for by this time I know them all; +or rather I should say that I can recognise them all--to know them is +another thing. + +He gave me no trouble, except that I had some difficulty in driving the +sad look away from his eyes. It went at last, however, though only +momentarily, yet in that moment I got my negative. It was in this way. + +"Cheer up!" I said, when I was ready for the exposure. "Your friends +would think me a poor photographer if I should send them home such a +sad-looking portrait." + +"Ay, right enough," he agreed; "that 'ud never do. But I'm not much of +a hand at looking lively." + +"I want to do you justice for my own sake as well as yours," I said. +"Now if _I_ wanted to have a pleasing expression I should just think of +the moors, radiant in gold, and the cloud-shadows playing leap-frog +over them, and that would be sufficient." + +"Ay, ay, I can follow that," he said; and before the glow left his eyes +I had gained my point. + +"Shall I post the proof to you?" I asked. He did not understand, and I +explained. + +"No, no," he replied; "if you're satisfied 'at they'll do it'll be +right to me, miss. This is your line, not mine, and there's nobody at +our end 'at knows ought much about photygraphs. And there's one thing +more 'at I want to say, only I hardly know how to say it. But it comes +to this: I don't want you to send any o' these photygraphs home until +you hear from Dr. Trempest. When he lets you know, just send 'em on, +and put a bit of a note in, like, to say 'at they're paid for. It'll +none be so long--a matter o' five weeks, maybe." + +He unbuttoned a capacious pocket and drew out a bag of money, from +which he carefully counted out the amount of my bill, but when I +offered him a receipt he declined to take it. + +"Nay, nay," he said, "I want nowt o' that sort. I can trust you; but +you'll have 'em ready when t' time comes, won't you?" + +I assured him confidently, and as he turned to leave I expressed the +hope that he would like the prints when he saw them. Then it all came +out. + +"I shall never see 'em. I shall be on t' moorside, with t' +cloud-shadows you talk about playing loup-frog aboon me by then. +That's why I wanted t' photygraphs. I only thought on 't when I passed +t' board, but there's them at home 'at 'll be glad to have 'em when I'm +gone." + +Tears filled my eyes, for I am a woman as well as a photographer, and I +felt that I was face to face with a tragedy. + +"Cannot you tell me about it?" I asked. "Believe me, I am very sorry. +Perhaps I could help. But please don't say anything if you would +rather not." + +"There's not much to tell," he responded, "but what there is 'll soon +be all round t' moorside. You see, I've lived at yon farm, two miles +off, all my life, and I'm well known, and folks talk a good deal in +these country places, where there isn't much going on. + +"I walked into Fawkshill to see Dr. Trempest this morning, and he's +been with me to Airlee to see a big doctor there--one o' these +consulting men--and he gives me a month or happen five weeks at t' +outside. There's nought can be done. Summat growing i' t' inside 'at +can't be fairly got at, and we shall have to make t' best on 't. But +it'll be a sad tale for t' missus and t' lass, and telling 'em is a job +I don't care for. + +"You see, we none of us thought it was ought much 'at ailed me, for +I've always been a worker, and I haven't missed many meals i' five and +fifty year, and it comes a bit sudden-like at t' finish." + +What could I say? I saw it all and felt the pity of it. God knows I +would have helped him if I could. The old wave of emotion which used +to sweep over me so often surged forward again; and again I was +powerless in the presence of the enemy. + +I said something of this, but my friend shook his head in protest. + +"Nay, but I don't look at it i' that way. I'm no preacher, but there's +One above 'at knows better than us, and I wouldn't like to think 'at t' +Old Enemy 'ad ought to do wi' it. I've always been one to work wi' my +hands, and book-learning hasn't been o' much account to me, but there's +_one_ Book, miss, 'at I have read in, and it says, 'O death, where is +thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? Thanks be to God which +giveth _us_ the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.'" + +I sat with my head in my hands for a long time after Farmer Brown had +left, and when at length I raised my eyes the shadows had left the +moor, and I saw that the sun would set in a clear sky. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +OVER THE MOOR TO ROMANTON + +We have had our promised holiday, Mother Hubbard and I, and a right +royal one. On those rare occasions when work may be laid aside and +hard-earned coin expended upon the gratification of the senses, our +younger neighbours turn their steps to Airlee or Broadbeck, and seek +the excitements of the picture palace or the music-hall; their elders +are seldom drawn from the village unless to the solemn festivities of a +"burying." + +We spent our day in the great alfresco palace of Nature, amid pictures +of God's painting, and returned at night, tired in body, but with heart +and soul and brain refreshed by unseen dews of heaven's own distilling. + +Fortunately we have had a spell of fine, dry weather, with occasional +strong winds--at least, they were strong to me, but the folk about here +dismiss them contemptuously as "a bit of a blow." Had the weather been +wet Mother Hubbard's cherished desire to "take me across the moor" to +Romanton would have had to be postponed indefinitely. + +We were to drive as far as "Uncle Ned's" in Mr. Higgins' market cart, +Mr. Higgins having volunteered to "give us a lift," as it was "nowt out +of his way." + +We started early, before the morning mists had forsaken the valleys, +and whilst night's kindly tears still sparkled on the face of the +meadows. It was good to lean back, my hand in Mother Hubbard's and my +feet resting on the baskets in the bottom of the cart, and drink in +sight and sound and crisp morning air. + +What a peaceful world it was! I thought for a moment of the mad rush +of petrol-driven buses along Holtorn, and the surging tide of sombre +humanity which filled the footpaths there. This had been the familiar +moving picture of my morning experience for more years than I care to +remember, and now--this. Beyond, the meadows and the shawl of mist in +the valley, a long stretch of gold and golden-brown where gorse and +bracken company together, the one in its vigorous and glowing prime, +the other in the ruddy evening of its days, but not a whit less +resplendent. + +Overhead, a grey-blue sky, with the grey just now predominating, but a +sky of promise, according to Mr. Higgins, with never a hint of +breakdown. By and by the blue was to conquer, and the sportive winds +were to let loose and drive before them the whitest and fleeciest of +clouds, but always far up in high heaven. + +In the distance, just that delightful haze which the members of our +Photographic Society so often referred to as "atmosphere"--a mighty +word, full of mystic meaning. + +Here and there we pass a clump of trees, heavily hung with bright +scarlet berries, whose abundance, our conductor informs us, foretells a +winter of unusual severity. "That's t' way Providence provides for t' +birds," he says. It may be so, though I daresay naturalists would +offer another explanation. All the same, it is pleasing to see how the +blackbirds and thrushes enjoy the feast, though they have already +stripped some of the trees bare, and to that extent have spoiled the +picture. + +Mr. Higgins was not disposed to leave us to the uninterrupted enjoyment +of the landscape. He is a thick-set little man, on the wrong side of +sixty, I should judge, with a clean top lip and a rather heavy beard; +and I suspect that the hair upon his head is growing scanty, but that +is a suspicion founded upon the flimsiest of evidence, as I have never +yet seen him without the old brown hat which does service Sundays and +weekdays alike. + +He jogged along by the side of the steady mare, who never varied her +four-miles-an-hour pace, and who, I am sure, treated her master's +reiterated injunction to "come up" with cool contempt; but he fell back +occasionally to jerk a few disjointed remarks towards the occupants of +the cart. + +"Fox," he said, inclining his head vaguely in the direction of a lonely +farm away on the hillside to the right. "Caught him yesterda' ... been +playin' Old 'Arry wi' t' fowls ... shot him ... good riddance." + +We made no comment beyond a polite and inquiring "Oh?" and he continued +to be communicative. + +"Just swore, did Jake ... swore an' stamped about ... but t' missus ... +now there's a woman for you ... she played Old 'Arry wi' him ... set a +trap herself ... caught him." + +Mother Hubbard ventured to surmise that it was the fox which had been +captured and not the husband, and Mr. Higgins acquiesced. + +"Nought like women for ... settin' traps," he continued, with a +chuckle, shaking his head slowly for emphasis; "they're all alike ... +barrin' they don't catch foxes... Man-traps mostly ... aye, man-traps." + +"That is just like Barjona, love," Mother Hubbard whispered; "he has +never a good word for the women." + +"You have managed to evade them so far, Mr. Higgins?" I suggested +meekly. + +"Nay ... bad job ... bad job ... been as big a fool as most ... dead +this many a year ... dead an' buried twenty year ... wide awake now ... +old fox now ... no traps ... no, no, no!" + +He strode forward to the mare's side again, but I saw him wagging his +head for many a minute as he chewed the cud of his reflections. +Meanwhile Mother Hubbard, with some hesitation and many an apprehensive +look ahead, told me something of his story. + +"His mother was a very religious woman, love, but she was no scholar, +though she knew her Bible well. And you know, love, the best of people +have generally their little fads and failings, and she _would_ call all +her boys after the twelve Apostles. At least, love, you understand, +she had four sons--not twelve--but she called the first John because he +was the beloved disciple, and the next James because he was John's +brother. Then came Andrew and afterwards Simon Barjona. They do +say--but you know, love, how people talk--that she would have liked +eleven boys, missing out Judas because he was a thief and betrayed his +Master, but she had only nine children, and five of them were girls. + +"I have heard my husband say, love, that when they came to christen the +youngest boy the minister was quite angry, and would not have the +'Barjona,' but the mother was much bent on it, and would not substitute +Peter, which was what the parson suggested. Anyhow, she registered him +in his full name." + +"Which name was he called by?" I inquired. + +"Oh, Barjona, love, always. And behind his back he is Barjona yet, +though he likes to be called Mr. Higgins. But you may give a man a +good name when you cannot give him a good nature, and he might as well +have been christened Buonaparte for all it has done for him. Oh yes, +love, he is close-fisted, is Barjona, and it is said that his wife was +so tired of his nagging ways that she was quite pleased to go. I'm +sure I thank the Lord that I am not Mrs. Higgins, though they do say in +the village that Widow Robertshaw would have had him this many a year +back." + +"But he is an old fox now," I remarked, "and avoids the trap." + +It lacked still a couple of hours of noon when Mr. Higgins deposited us +at Uncle Ned's lonely hostelry, and drove off in the company of the +tired mare and his own complacent thoughts. Ten minutes later I had +completely forgotten his existence in the joy of a new experience. + +I was there at last! The moors of which I had dreamed so long were a +conscious reality. Before me, and on either hand, they stretched until +they touched the grey of the sky. The glory of the heather was gone, +though sufficient colour lingered in the faded little bells to give a +warm glow to the landscape, and to hint of former splendour. My heart +ached a wee bit to think that I had come so late, but why should I +grudge Nature's silent children their hour of rest? The morning will +come when they will again fling aside the garb of night and deck +themselves in purple. Besides, there was the gorse, regal amid the +sombre browns and olives and neutral tints of the vegetation; and there +were green little pools and treacherous-looking bogs, and the uneven, +stony pathway which made a thin, grey dividing line as far as the eye +could see. What more could the heart of man desire? + +How sweet the breath of the air was as it covered my cheeks with its +caresses! I _tasted_ the fragrance of it, and it gave buoyancy to my +body, and the wings of a dove to my soul. I flew back down the years +to the dingy sitting-room which held my sacred memories, and saw dear +old dad painting his moorland pictures in the glowing embers on the +hearth; and I flew upwards to the realms which eye hath not seen, and +was glad to remember that the moors are not included amongst the things +that are not to be. + +Then, characteristically, my mood changed. The sense of desolation got +hold of me. I looked for sound of throbbing life and found none: only +tokens of a great, an irresistible Power. It may seem strange, but in +the silence of that vast wilderness I felt, as I had never felt before, +that there must be a God, and that He must be all-powerful. I have not +tried to analyse the emotion, but I know my heart began to beat as +though I were in the presence of Majesty, and a great awe brooded over +my spirit. + +Suddenly there was a fluttering of wings in the tangled undergrowth a +few yards away, and as my soul came back to earth I saw a hawk swoop +down and seize its prey, and then I choked. "If I take the wings of +the morning and fly to the uttermost parts of the earth," I said to +myself, "I cannot escape the tragedy of life and death--the mystery of +suffering." + +Mother Hubbard put an arm around my waist and looked questioningly into +my eyes, her own being bright with tears. I put my hands upon her +cheeks and kissed her. + +"Grace Holden is a goose," I said. "How many hours have I been +standing still or floating about in vacancy? I believe my dear old +Mother Hubbard thought her companion had flown away and left only her +chrysalis behind!" + +We moved on, and my spirits came out with the sun and the blue sky. +After all, I fear I am an emotional creature, for I am my father's +daughter, but I think my mother must have been a very practical woman, +and bequeathed to me somewhat of the counterpoise, because on the whole +I am sure I have more common sense than dreaminess. + +We had the moor pretty much to ourselves except for the game, which we +rarely saw, and the snipe which frequented the swamps. The one +outstanding recollection of the remainder of our two hours' tramp is of +a young couple (of human beings, not snipe) who came sauntering along, +sucking oranges and throwing the peel on the heath. It seemed like +sacrilege, and I went hot with indignation. + +"I feel as if I could swear and stamp around, like the ineffective +Jake," I exclaimed. + +"Yes, love," said Mother Hubbard, but I doubt if she understood. + +Mother Hubbard was in excellent trim, and I am beginning to think that +there must be a good deal of reserve force in her delicate-looking +little body. She led me to the brow of the hill whence one gets an +unexpected view of the enchanting beauty of the Romanton valley, and +said "There!" with such an air of proud proprietorship, as if she had +ordered the show for my special gratification, that I laughed outright. + +I negotiated the steep downward path with difficulty, but she went +steadily on with the assurance of familiarity, pausing at intervals to +point out the more notable landmarks. + +We had lunch at one of the large hotels, and if Rose had seen the +spread I ordered she would have had good cause to charge me with +"swankiness," but I was having a "day out," and such occurrences at +Windyridge are destined to be uncommon. Besides, no fewer than three +magazines are going to print my old lady's picture, so the agents have +sent me thirty shillings--quite a decent sum, and one which you simply +_cannot_ spend on a day's frolicking in these regions. + +When it was over Mother Hubbard showed me all the lions of the place; +and after we had drunk a refreshing cup of tea at a cafe that would do +no discredit to Buckingham Palace Road we set out on the return journey. + +I was tired already, but I soon forgot the flesh in the spirit +sensations that flooded me. We were now traversing the miniature high +road which skirts the edge of the moor, and reveals a scene of quiet +pastoral beauty along its entire length which is simply charming. I +cannot adequately describe it, but I know that viewed in the opalescent +light of the early setting sun it was just a fairy wonderland. + +The valley is beautifully wooded, and Solomon and the Queen of Sheba +together were not so gorgeously arrayed as were the trees on the +farther side. A white thread of river gleamed for a while through the +meadows, but was soon lost in the haze of evening. + +Comfortable grey farms and red-tiled villas lent a homely look to the +landscape, and at intervals we passed pretty cottages with +old-fashioned gardens, where the men smoked pipes and stood about in +their shirt-sleeves, whilst the women lounged in the gateways with an +eye to the children whose bed-time was come all too soon for the +unwilling spirit. + +And, best of all, my journey ended with a great discovery. We had +climbed a steep hill, and after a last long look back over my fairy +valley I set my face to the dull and level fields. Two hundred yards +farther and my astonished eyes saw down below--the back of my own +cottage! + + +That night no vision of factory chimneys disturbed the serenity of my +sleep, for a haunting fear had been dispelled. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE CYNIC DISCOURSES ON WOMAN + +"Woman," said the Cynic sententiously, "may be divided into five parts: +the Domestic woman, the Social woman, the Woman with a Mission, the New +Woman, and the Widow." + +"Nonsense!" snapped the vicar's wife, "the widow may be any one of the +rest. The mere accident of widowhood cannot affect her special +characteristics. The worst of you smart men is that you entirely +divorce verity from vivacity. The domestic woman is still a domestic +woman, though she become a widow." + +"No," returned the Cynic, "the widow is a thing apart, if I may so +designate any of your captivating sex. Domestic she may still be in a +certain or uncertain subordinate sense, just as the social woman or the +woman with a mission may have a strain of domesticity in her make-up; +but when all has been said she is still in a separate class; she is, in +fact--a widow." + +"I remember reading somewhere," I remarked, "that a little widow is a +dangerous thing. Manifestly the author of that brilliant epigram was +of your way of thinking. He would probably have classed her as an +explosive." + +He turned to me and smiled mockingly. + +"I think all men who have seriously studied the subject, as I have, +must have formed a similar opinion. The widow is dangerous because she +is a widow. She has tasted of the tree of knowledge of good and evil. +She knows the weak places in man's defensive armour. She has acquired +skill in generalship which enables her to win her battles. Added to +all this is the pathos of her position, which is an asset of no +inconsiderable value. She knows to a tick of time when to allure by +smiles and melt by tears, and woe to the man who thinketh he standeth +when she proposes his downfall." + +"My dear Derwent," interposed the squire from the other side the +hearth; "you speak, no doubt, from a ripe experience, if an outside +one, and no one here will question your authority; but surely the new +woman and the woman with a mission may be bracketed together." + +The squire was leaning back in a comfortable saddle-bag, one leg thrown +easily over the other and his hands clasped behind his head. A +tolerant half-smile hung about the corners of his lips and lurked in +the shadows of his eyes. He has a grand face, and it shows to +perfection on an occasion like this. + +The vicar sat near him. He is a spare, rather cadaverous man, who +lives among Egyptian mummies and Assyrian tablets and palimpsests and +first editions, and knows nothing of any statesman later than Cardinal +Wolsey. An open book of antiquities lay upon his knee, and his +finger-tips were pressed together upon it, but the eyes which blinked +over the top of his gold-rimmed spectacles were fixed upon space, and +the Cynic's vapourings were as unheeded as yesterday. + +The vicar's wife is the very antithesis of her husband. She is a +plump, round-faced little body, and was tidily dressed in a black silk +of quite modern style with just a trace of elegance, and a berthe of +fine old lace which made me break the tenth commandment every time I +looked at her. She was evidently on the best of terms with herself, +and stood in no awe of anybody, and least of all of the Cynic, whom she +regarded with a half-affectionate, half-contemptuous air. She had a +way of tossing her head and pursing her lips when he was more than +usually aggressive that obviously amused him. I had soon found out +that they were old antagonists. + +The Cynic himself puzzled me. I scarcely dared to look at him very +closely, for I had the feeling that none of my movements escaped his +notice, and I had not been able to decide whether his age was thirty or +fifty. He is of average height and build, and was somewhat carelessly +dressed, I thought. His dinner jacket seemed rather loose, and his +starched shirt was decidedly crumpled. I wondered who looked after his +menage. + +His hands are clean and shapely, and he knows where to put them, which +is generally an indication of good breeding and always of a lack of +self-consciousness, and from their condition I judged that he earned +his bread in the sweat of his brain rather than of his brow. + +As to his face--well, I liked it. It is dark, but frank and open, and +he has a good mouth, which can be seen, because he is clean shaven, and +his teeth are also good. But then in these degenerate days anyone who +has attained middle life may have good teeth: it is all a matter of +money. + +I think it is the eyes that make the face, however. They are deep grey +and remarkably luminous, and on this occasion they simply bubbled over +with mischievousness. His smile was never very pronounced, and always +more or less satirical, but his eyes flashed and sparkled when he was +roused, though they had looked kindly and even plaintive when he +arrived, and before he was warmed. He is the sort of man who can do +all his talking with his eyes. + +A high forehead is surmounted by a mass of hair--once black, but +rapidly turning grey--which he evidently treats as of no importance, +for it lies, as the children say, "anyhow." But how old he is--I give +it up. + +He passed his hand through his hair now, with a quick involuntary +movement, as he turned to the squire. + +"You may bracket the new woman and the woman with a mission together, +but you can never make them one. That they have some things in common +is nothing to the point. The new woman, as I understand her, has no +mission, not even a commission. The new woman is Protest, embodied and +at present skirted, but with a protest against the skirt. Her most +longed-for goal is the Unattainable, and if by some chance she should +reach it she would be dismayed and annoyed. Meantime, with the vision +before her eyes of the table of the gods, she cries aloud that she is +forced to feed on husks, and as she must hug something, hugs a +grievance." + +"Philip Derwent," interposed the vicar's wife, "you are in danger of +becoming vulgar." + +"Vulgarity, madam," he rejoined, "is in these days the brand of +refinement. It is only your truly refined man who has the courage to +be vulgar in polite society. No other dares to call a spade a spade or +a lie a lie. Those who wish to be considered refined speak of the one +as an 'agricultural implement' and of the other as a 'terminological +inexactitude.' But to return to our sheep who are clamouring for +wolves' clothing----" + +"Really, Philip!" protested the vicar's wife, pursing her lips more +emphatically than ever. + +"The latest incarnation of Protest, if I may so speak, takes the form +of a demand for the suffrage, and is accompanied by much beating of +drums and----" + +"Smashing of windows," I ventured. + +He bowed. "And smashing of windows. By and by they will get their +desire." + +"And so have fulfilled their mission," the squire smiled. + +"By no means; they have no mission; they have simply a hunger, or +rather a pain which goes away when their appetite is stayed, and comes +on again before the meal has been well digested. Then they go forth +once more seeking whom or what they may devour." + +"Tell us of the woman with a mission," I pleaded. + +"Miss Holden is anxious to discover in what category she is to be +classed," laughed the squire. "You are treading on dangerous ground, +Derwent. Let me advise you to proceed warily." + +"Mr. Evans, when a boy at school I learned the Latin maxim--'Truth is +often attended with danger,' but I am sure Miss Holden will be merciful +towards its humble votary." + +I smiled and he continued: "The woman with a mission, Miss Holden, is +an altogether superior creature. She may be adorable; on the other +hand she may be a nuisance and a bore. Everything depends on the +mission--and the woman." + +"A safe answer, Philip," sneered the vicar's wife, and the squire +smiled. + +"There is no other safe way, madam, than the way of Truth, and I am +treading it now. Even if the woman be a nuisance, even if the mission +be unworthy, she who makes it hers may be ennobled. Let us assume that +she believes with all her heart that she has been sent into the world +for one definite purpose--shall we say to work for the abatement of the +smoke nuisance? That involves, amongst other things----" + +"Depriving poor weak man of his chief solace--tobacco," snapped the +vicar's wife. + +"Exactly. Now see how this strengthens her character, and calls out +qualities of endurance and self-sacrifice. The poor weak man, her +husband, deprived of his chief solace, tobacco, turns to peppermints, +moroseness and bad language. His courtesy is changed to boorishness, +his placidity to snappishness. All this is trying to his wife, but +being a woman with a mission she regards these things philosophically +as incidental to a transition period, and she bears her cross with +ever-increasing gentleness and----" + +"Drives her husband to the devil and herself into the widows' +compartment," interrupted the vicar's wife, with disgust in her voice. +"Miss Holden, do you sing?" + +"I have no music," I replied, "but may I 'say a piece' instead, as the +village children put it?" I turned to the Cynic and made him a mock +curtsey: + + "Small blame is ours + For this unsexing of ourselves, and worse + Effeminising of the male. We were + Content, sir, till you starved us, heart and brain. + All we have done, or wise or otherwise + Traced to the root was done for love of you. + Let us taboo all vain comparisons, + And go forth as God meant us, hand in hand. + Companions, mates and comrades evermore; + Two parts of one divinely ordained whole." + + +"Bravo!" said the squire, and the vicar murmured, "Thank you," very +politely. The Cynic laughed and rose from his chair. + +"I will take it lying down," he said. "Mr. Evans, may I look in the +cabinet and see if there is anything Miss Holden can sing?" + +I had to do it, because the cabinet contained all the Scotch songs I +love so well. I was my own accompanist, _faute de mieux_, but the +Cynic turned the leaves, and contributed a couple of songs himself. He +talks better than he sings. The squire wanted us to try a duet, and +the vicar's wife was also very pressing, but one has to draw the line +somewhere. The only pieces we both knew were so sentimental that my +sense of humour would have tripped me up, I know, and I should have +come a cropper. + +Just as coffee was brought in the squire asked me if I would sing for +him, "Oh wert thou in the cauld blast." I saw he really wanted it, so +I found the music, though I had to choke back the lump in my throat. I +had never sung it since that memorable evening when we sat +together--dad and I--on the eve of his death, and he had begged for it +with his eyes. "I know, dad, dear," I said; "I must close with your +favourite," and he whispered, "For the last time, lassie." And so it +had been. + +The tears fell as I sang, and the Hall and its inmates faded from my +view. The Cynic must have left my side, for when at length I ventured +to look round he was across the room examining a curio. But the squire +rose and thanked me in a very low voice, and his own eyes were bright +with tears that did not fall. + +Soon after, the vicar's carriage came, and the Cynic accepted the offer +of a lift to the cross-roads. I left at the same time, but the squire +insisted on accompanying me. Under cover of the darkness he remarked: + +"That was my wife's song. It gave me much pleasure and some pain to +hear it again; but it hurt you?" + +I told him why, and he said quite simply, "Then we have another bond in +common." + +"Another?" I inquired, but he did not explain; instead he asked: + +"How fares your ideal? Have you met him of the cloven foot in +Windyridge yet?" + +"I fear I brought him with me," I replied, "and I fancy I have seen his +footprints in the village. All the same, I do not yet regret my +decision. I am very happy here and have forgotten some of my London +nightmares, and am no longer 'tossed by storm and flood.' My Inner +Self and I are on the best of terms." + +He sighed. "Far be it from me to discourage you; and indeed I am glad +that the moors have brought you peace. To brood over wrongs we cannot +put right is morbid and unhealthy; it saps our vitality and makes us +unfit for the conflicts we have to wage. And yet how easy it is for us +to let this consideration lead us to the bypath meadows of indifference +and self-indulgence. You remember Tennyson: + + "'Is it well that while we range with Science, glorying in the Time, + City children soak and blacken soul and sense in city slime?' + + +"I have led a strenuous life, and taken some part in the battle, but +now I have degenerated into a Lotus-eater, with no heart for the fray, +'Lame and old and past my time, and passing now into the night.'" + +"Nay," I said, "let me quote Clough in answer to your Tennyson: + + "'Say not the struggle nought availeth, + The labour and the wounds are vain. + The enemy faints not nor faileth, + And as things have been they remain, + + 'For while the tired waves, vainly breaking, + Seem here no painful inch to gain, + Far back, through creeks and inlets making, + Comes silent, flooding in, the main.' + + +"You are no Lotus-eater: no shirker. You are just resting in the +garden in the evening of a well-spent day, and that is right." + +"For me there is no rest," he replied. "To-morrow I go to Biarritz, +and thence wherever my fancy or my doctor's instructions send me; but I +shall carry with me the burdens of the village. It is selfish of me to +tell you this, for I would not make you sad, but I am a lonely man, and +I am going away alone, and somewhat against my will, but Trempest +insists. + +"I think it has done me good to unburden myself to you, and I will say +only this one word more. Always, when I return, there has been some +tragedy, great or small, which I think I might have hindered." + +"Surely not," I murmured, "in so small a place." + +He rested his arm upon my garden gate and smiled. "A week ago I +witnessed a terrible encounter between two redbreasts in the lane +yonder. They are very tenacious of their rights, and one of them, I +imagine, was a trespasser from the other side the hedge. They are +country birds, yet very pugnacious, and the little breasts of these two +throbbed with passion. But when I came near them they flew away, and I +hope forgot their differences. I never even raised a stick--my mere +presence was sufficient. And therein is a parable. Good-night, Miss +Holden, and au revoir!" + +He opened the gate, raised his hat, and was gone. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +CHRISTMAS DAY AT WINDYRIDGE + +Christmas has come and gone, and so far not a flake of snow has fallen. +Rain there has been in abundance, and in the distance dense banks of +fog, but no frost to speak of, and none of the atmospheric conditions I +have always associated with a northern Yuletide. + +Christmas Day itself, however, proved enjoyable if not wildly exciting. +The air was "soft," as the natives say, and the sun was shining mistily +when I stepped into the garden, now bare of attractions save for the +Christmas roses, whose pure white petals bowed their heads in kindly +greeting to the wrinkled face of Earth, their mother. The starlings +were whistling as cheerily as if spring was come, and a solitary +missel-thrush was diligently practising a Christmas ditty on the bare +branches of the hawthorn. + +"A merry Christmas, Mother Hubbard!" I called through the open window, +with such unwonted vigour that the old lady, whose toilet was not +completed, flung a shawl hastily around her shoulders, only to be +reassured by my hearty laugh. + +Over the breakfast table we drew up the day's programme. It was no +difficult task. Mother Hubbard would occupy the morning in preparing +the great dinner, and from these preparations I was to be rigorously +excluded. To my old friend this was a holy-day, but one to be marked +by a sacrificial offering of exceptional magnitude, she being the High +Priestess who alone might enter into the mysteries; but I did not mind, +seeing that I was to be allowed to do my part in consuming the +sacrifice. + +The afternoon was to be devoted to rest, and in the evening we were to +go to Farmer Goodenough's, where the youngsters were already wild in +anticipation of the glories of a Christmas-tree. + +So I was dismissed to "make the beds" and dust my own room, and having +done this I went to church in the temple which is not made with hands. +I had intended going to Fawkshill, but the angels of God met me on the +way, and turned me aside into the fields which lead to Marsland. When +I reached the wood I knelt on the soft, thick carpet of fallen leaves +and said my prayers amid the solitude, with the running brook for music +and all Nature for priest. + +What a loud voice Nature has to those who have ears to hear, yet withal +how sweet and forceful. They tell us that if our faculties were less +dull we should hear in every stem and twig and blade of grass the +throbbing of the engines and the whir and clatter of the looms which go +on day and night unceasingly. It is well for us that we are not so +highly tuned, but it is also well if our spiritual perceptions are keen +enough to find tongues in trees and sermons in stones, and to interpret +their language. I am but a dunce as yet, but I have learned one thing +since I came to this northern school--I have learned to listen, and I +am beginning to understand something of what God has to teach us by the +mouth of his dumb prophets. Anyhow, I went home with peace in my heart +and goodwill to all men; also with a mighty hunger. + +The menu was roast turkey and plum pudding, to be followed by cheese +and dessert, but on this occasion there was no "following." Imagine +two domesticated women, and one of them--the little one--with the +appetite and capacity of a pet canary, seated opposite a bird like that +the squire had sent us, which had meat enough upon it to serve a +Polytechnic party; and imagine the same couple, having done their duty +womanfully upon the bird, confronted with a plum pudding of the +dimensions Mother Hubbard's sense of proportion had judged necessary, +and one of the twain compelled either to eat to repletion or to wound +the feelings of the pudding's author--and then say whether in your +opinion cheese and dessert were not works of supererogation! + +After we had cleared the things away and drawn our rocking chairs up to +the fire, the old clock ticked us off to sleep in five minutes; and +then that part of me which it is not polite to mention took its revenge +for having been made to work overtime on a holiday. I dreamed! + +I was running away from Chelsea in the dead of night, clothed in my +night-dress and holding my bedroom slippers in my hand. A great fear +was upon me that I should be discovered and frustrated in my purpose; +and as I strove to turn the heavy key in the lock my heart thumped +against my chest and the perspiration poured down my face. At first +the bolt resisted my efforts, but at length it shot back with a great +noise, which awakened Madam Rusty, who opened her bedroom window as I +rushed out on to the pavement and cried "Murder!" at the same time +emptying the contents of the water jug upon me. + +Fear gave wings to my feet and I fled, followed by a howling crowd +which grew bigger every moment and gained on me rapidly. By this time +I realised that I was carrying madam's best silver tea-pot under my +arm, and I wanted to drop it but dared not. + +Then I found myself in the lane at Windyridge, with the squire dressed +as a policeman keeping back the crowd, whilst Mother Hubbard, without +her bodice, as I had seen her in the morning, took my hand--and the +tea-pot--and hurried me towards the cottage. It was just in sight when +Madam Rusty jumped out of a doorway in her night-cap and dressing-gown +and shouted 'Bo!' waving her arms about wildly, and as I hesitated +which way to turn she flung herself upon me and seized my hair in both +her hands. As I screamed wildly, I saw the Cynic leap the wall in his +golf suit, and woke just in time to save myself considerable +embarrassment. + +"What was it, love?" inquired Mother Hubbard, who had been aroused by +my screams and was genuinely alarmed. + +"I don't quite know," I replied; "but I think the turkey was +quarrelsome and could not quite hit it with the plum pudding." + +Mother Hubbard composed herself to sleep again; and in order to prevent +a repetition of my unhappy experience I got my books and proceeded to +do my accounts. + +I have not been idle by any means during these months, and my balance +is quite satisfactory. I have painted quite a number of miniatures, +and have prepared and sold several floral designs for book covers and +decorative purposes. I see plainly that I am not likely to starve if +health is vouchsafed to me, and I was never more contented in my life. +I wonder, though, what it really is that makes me so. It cannot be +sufficiency of work merely, for that was never lacking in the London +days; and as for friends, I have, besides Mother Hubbard, only Farmer +Goodenough and the squire, and he is away and likely to be for months. +I think it is the sense of "aliveness" that makes me happy. Some folk +would call my life mere existence, but I feel as if I never really +lived until now; and I hanker after neither theatres, nor whist-drives, +nor picture-shows, nor parties. + +Parties! Why, we have parties in Windyridge, and the motherkin and I +went to one that evening. We put on our best bibs and tuckers--not our +very best, but I wore my blue voile with the oriental trimmings which +even Rose used to admit set off my figure to advantage, and Mother +Hubbard donned the famous black satin, and added to its glories the +soft Shetland shawl which I had given her that morning. + +Tea was prepared in the spacious kitchen, which had room enough and to +spare for the fifteen people of all ages who were assembled there. It +is a kitchen lifted bodily out of a story book, without one single +alteration. The room is low, so that Farmer Goodenough touches the +beams quite easily when he raises his hand, and his head only just +clears the hams which are suspended from them; and it is panelled all +the way round in oak. There are oak doors, oak cupboards, oak settles +and tables, and an oak dresser, all with the polish of old age upon +them and with much quaint carving; all of which is calculated to drive +a connoisseur to covetousness and mental arithmetic. An immense fire +roared up the great chimney, and its flames were reflected in the +polished case of the mahogany grandfather's clock, which seemed to me +rather out of place amongst so much oak, but which, with slow dignity, +ticked off the time in one corner. + +On the far side of the room, near the deeply recessed window, was the +Christmas-tree--a huge tree for that low room, and gay with glittering +glass ornaments in many grotesque shapes, brightly coloured toys, and +wax candles, as yet unlighted. + +The younger members of the party were gathered near it in a little +group, whispering excitedly, and pointing out objects of delight with +every one of which each individual had made himself familiar hours +before. + +Grandpa Goodenough, a hale old man of eighty, and to be distinguished +from Grand_father_ Goodenough, his son, smoked a long clay pipe from +his place on the settle near the hearth, and smiled on everybody. His +daughter-in-law, who looked much too young to be a grandmother, bustled +about in the scullery, being assisted in her activities by her eldest +daughter, Ruth, and her son Ben's wife, Susie, and obstructed by her +husband who, with a sincere desire to be useful, contrived to be always +in the most inconvenient place at the most awkward time. + +Mother Hubbard and I had been invited to step into the parlour, but +preferred the more homely atmosphere of the kitchen, so we took our +seats on the settle, opposite to that occupied by Grandpa. + +By and by tea was ready and we were instructed to "pull our chairs up" +and "reach to." What a time we had! If tables ever do groan that one +ought to have done so, for it had a heavy load which we were all +expected to lighten, but nobody seemed to think it might be necessary +to press anybody to eat. + +"Now you know you're all welcome," said Farmer Goodenough heartily, +when the youngest grandchild had asked what I took to be a blessing. +"We're not allus botherin' folks to have some more when there's plenty +before 'em, an' all they've got to do is to reach out for 't; but if +you don't all have a good tea it's your own fault, an' don't blame +_me_. 'Let us eat, drink, an' be merry,' as t' Owd Book bids us." + +The way the ham disappeared was a revelation to me. Farmer Goodenough +stood to carve, and after a while took off his coat, apparently in +order that he might be able to mop his face with his shirt sleeves and +so not seriously interrupt his operations. Plates followed each other +in unbroken succession, until at last the good man threw down the knife +and fork and pushed back his chair. + +"Well, this beats all!" he said. "Amos, lad, thee take hold. Thou's +had a fair innings: give thy dad a chance." + +Where the little Goodenoughs put the ham and the sponge cake, the tarts +and the trifle, the red jelly and the yellow jelly and the jelly with +the pine-apple in it I do not pretend to know. They expanded visibly, +and when the youngest grandchild, a cherubic infant of three, leaned +back and sighed, and whispered with tears in his voice, "Reggie can't +eat no more, muvver," I felt relieved. + +It was over at last and the table cleared in a twinkling. Ben whisked +away the remnants of the ham into the larder. The women folk carried +the crockery into the scullery, and whilst they were engaged in washing +it up the boys disappeared into remote places with the fragments of the +feast, and Mother Hubbard swept the crumbs away and folded the cloth. + +"Now," said Reggie, with another little sigh, but with just a suspicion +of sunshine in his eyes, "now we'se goin' to p'ay, an 'ave ze pwesents +off ze Kwismastwee." + +And so we did. Amos, as the eldest son at home, lit the candles, and +Grandpa distributed the gifts, which were insignificant enough from the +monetary point of view, but weighted in every case with the affection +and goodwill of the burly farmer and his wife. There was even a box of +chocolates for me, and with its aid I succeeded in winning the heart of +the melancholy Reggie. + +Then came the games. I wish Rose and the boarders at No. 8 could have +seen the demure Miss Holden of former days walking round and round a +big circle, one hand in Reggie's and the other clasped by a red-cheeked +farmer, whilst a dozen voices sang, and hers as loudly as any: + + "The farmer's dog was in the yard, + And Bingo was his name-O!" + + +Then came the mad scramble of "Shy Widow" and the embarrassments of the +"Postman's Knock," though nobody had letters for me, except Reggie, who +had one--very sticky and perfumed with chocolate--and Susie's little +daughter, Maud, who gave me three, very shyly, but accompanied by an +affectionate hug, which I returned. After this, crackers, with all +their accompaniments of paper caps and aprons, and by the time these +had been worn and exchanged and torn the youngsters were clamouring for +supper. Supper! Ye gods! + +When this repast was ended and the younger members of the party had +been packed off to bed--for only Mother Hubbard and I were to leave the +farmer's hospitable home that night--some of the grown-ups proposed a +dance. + +Grandpa shook his head in protest. "Nay, nay," he said in his thin, +piping voice; "I don't hold wi' dancin'. Never did. You were never +browt up to dance, Reuben, you weren't." + +"Reyt enough, father," responded his son, "but you know things has +changed sin' I were a lad. You remember what t' Owd Book says; I don't +just rightly call t' words to mind, but summat about t' owd order +changin'. We mun let t' young uns have a bit of a fling." + +"They danced in t' Bible, grandpa," said Rebecca saucily. + +"Well, they may ha' done," rejoined the old man, retiring to the +settle; "but I weren't browt up i' that way, an' your father weren't +neither. I were allus taught 'at it were a sort of a devil's game, +were dancing." + +However, dance they did, and I played for them, doing my best with the +crazy old box-o'-music in the parlour; and as I glanced through the +open door I saw that Grandpa was following it all with great interest, +beating time the while, in uncertain fashion, with head and hand. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +MRS. BROWN EXPLAINS + +There was a funeral in the village on the Wednesday of last week. On +the previous Sunday Mother Hubbard had assured me with great solemnity +that something of the sort was going to happen, for had not a solitary +magpie perched upon our garden wall and waved his handsome tail in full +view of the window for at least a minute? What connection there was +between his visit and the calamity which it foretold was not clear to +me, but it appears that the magpie is a bird of omen, and there is an +old rhyme which in these parts is considered oracular: + + "One for sorrow, + And two for mirth; + Three for a wedding + And four for a birth." + + +However that may be, it is a fact that in the late afternoon Dr. +Trempest called to inform me that Farmer Brown was dead. + +"He has lasted twice as long as anyone could have foreseen," he said. +"Poor chap, it's a mercy it's all over." + +The whole countryside was inches deep in snow when they buried him in +the little God's acre that clings to the side of the hill at the point +where the roads diverge. The grave-digger had a hard task, for we had +had a fortnight of severe frost; but he bent to his work with the grim +persistence of the man who knows that the last enemy is a hard master, +and that there must be no tarrying in his service. + +All the village turned out to the funeral, and there was a great crowd +of invited mourners. It struck me as strange that so many coaches +should be provided and that the last sad rites should partake of the +nature of a public spectacle, for surely when we have given our loved +ones into God's keeping it is most seemly to lay all that is human of +them in the lap of earth reverently and with simplicity; but the +Yorkshire folk make it an occasion of display, fearing, perhaps, to +dishonour their dead, and dreading even more the criticism and +displeasure of their neighbours. + +When the grave had been filled in and the upturned earth was covered +with the evergreens and wreaths which loving hands had brought and left +there, I went and stood beside the grave and thought of Farmer Brown's +parting words. I suppose it is heretical to pray for the dead, but I +did it. + +Yesterday I went to see Mrs. Brown, taking the photographs and a framed +enlargement with me. It was a hard tramp, and my arms ached before the +journey's end was reached, but I am wonderfully "fit" just now, and I +thoroughly enjoyed the walk. Well--perhaps I must modify that. There +was always present with me the anticipation of a depressing scene, and +that marred the enjoyment somewhat, though it could not destroy it. + +Yet to feel the sting of a north-easterly wind on one's cheek, and the +sensation of crunching snow beneath one's feet, with a bright blue sky +overhead and the far-away smell of spring in one's nostrils, was to +experience something of the joy of life. + +Here and there great drifts of snow were piled up against the banks and +walls, and I knew that sheep and even men were sometimes lost in them, +but I was safe enough, for the road was fairly well trodden, and when I +left it and climbed the stile into the fields leading to the farm the +track was quite discernible. + +It is a mistake to anticipate, and to dread what lies behind the veil +is folly. Mrs. Brown taught me that in a very few moments. There was +no gloom about the kitchen where she and her daughter Jane, were busily +engaged in household duties, though somehow one felt that sorrow dwelt +there as a guest. + +I explained the purpose of my visit, and the mother's eyes grew dim +with tears. + +"He never breathed a word," she said; "but that was just Greenwood to +nowt. He was allus tryin' to do someb'dy a good turn, but so as they +shouldn't know it, and it was just like the dear lad to think o' them +he was goin' to leave, an' try to pleasure 'em." + +"Perhaps you would rather open the parcels yourselves when I am gone," +I suggested, but the widow shook her head. + +"Nay, I'd like to see them whilst you're here, miss, if you don't mind. +Jane, love, put the kettle on an' make a cup of tea for the young lady. +I will confess 'at I had fret just a bit 'cos we haven't any picture of +father, except one 'at was took soon after we were wed, and that's over +thirty year sin'; and I can't tell you how glad I shall be to 'ave 'em." + +I had done my best, and I will admit that the enlargement pleased _me_, +but I was ill prepared for the effect it produced upon the widow and +the daughter. The girl was in her twenties, and looked matter-of-fact +enough, but the moment she saw it she took the frame in her hands, +pressed her lips to the glass, and cried with a dry sob, "Oh, dad, +dear, I cannot bear it!" and then knelt down on the broad fender and +prepared some toast. + +But her mother placed the picture against the big Bible on the high +drawers and gazed steadily at it for a moment or two, after which she +came up to me where I was standing, and throwing her arms around my +neck drew my head on to her shoulder, for she is a tall woman, and +kissed me again and again. But only one or two big tears fell upon my +cheek, and she wiped them away hastily with her apron. + +"I can't help it, miss," she said, "you'll not take offence, I'm sure. +But I can't do anything but love you for what you've done for me an' +Jane. You've brought more comfort to this house than I ever thought +the Lord 'ud send us, an' I hope He'll pay you back a hundredfold, for +I cannot." + +I wonder why one should feel so warm and virtuous for having done one's +duty. I had put my heart into the work, as I always do--for who would +be a mere mechanic whom God meant for a craftsman?--but the farmer had +paid me the price I asked, and the whole transaction had been conducted +on strict business lines. What right had I to be pleased with the +super-payment of love? But I was. + +Over the teacups Mrs. Brown opened her heart to me. Jane had gone away +to the dairy, and I think her mother spoke more freely in her absence, +or perhaps the feeling of strangeness had by that time been dispelled. +I saw it did her good to talk and I rarely interrupted her. She sat +with her cup on her knee, and her eyes fixed, for the most part, upon +the hearth. + +"He seemed to suffer terrible towards the end," she said, "but he allus +put a good face on it an' tried to keep it from us. But choose how he +suffered you never 'eard one word of complaint, an' he wouldn't let us +say ought hard against Him above. And yet, you know, he was never what +you might call a church member, an' he wasn't one 'at went regular to +either church or chapel. You see, it's a matter o' two mile to t' +chapel at Windyridge, an' t' nearest church 'll be gettin' on for four +mile away. + +"An' he wasn't one 'at spoke a deal about religion, neither, nobbut he +wouldn't hear anybody speak a word agen it. There isn't a labourer or +a farmer or t' doctor himself 'at 'ud use a bad word i' front o' +Greenwood, an' he never did himself. He used to sit i' that +high-backed chair where you're sittin' now, every night of his life, +wi' that big Bible on his knee, an' read in it, but he never read it +out loud, an' what Scripture we got we'd to read for ourselves. Nobbut +he'd quote it now an' then, like, when there were any 'casion. + +"I've thought often sin' he came home that day an' told us what were +goin' to happen, an' especially sin' he were laid up, 'at it 'ud maybe +have been better if he'd read it up for us all to hear, an' talked +about it a bit, but it wasn't his way, wasn't that. He was same as he +couldn't, but I wonder sometimes if it 'ud have saved us this trouble." + +"But could anything really have saved it?" I inquired. "He told me it +was something internal which could not be accounted for." + +"Ah, miss," she replied, "there's a kind of illness 'at you can't get +any doctor to cure, but Greenwood's illness could be accounted for when +you know all. It's true enough 'at there wasn't a stronger nor +likelier man i' t' West Ridin' than my 'usband, nor a steadier. And he +never ailed owt, never. Day in an' day out he did his work wi' t' best +on 'em, an' took all his meals hearty. But he lived wi' a great big +wound in his inside this last ten year for all that, an' they can say +what they like, but I know if he hadn't had that sore in his soul he'd +never have had that bad place in his body. + +"You can't go by appearances, miss. My husband was right enough in his +body, but he was sick at heart. It's not easy tellin', but I can tell +you, though I'm sure I don't know why. We never had but two children, +Jane an' her brother Joseph. My husband was called after his +mother--her name was Greenwood afore she was married--so we called our +lad Joseph after his grandfather. He came within a year of our gettin' +wed, and a brighter little lad never breathed. Eh! he was that bonny +an' sweet ... + +"How is it, miss, 'at some grows up so crook'd an' others i' t' same +family never gives you a minute's trouble? Our Jane has been a comfort +to us both all her life, but Joe has broke our rest many a hundred +nights. He was same as he took t' wrong road from bein' a little lad +o' twelve. He would go his own road, an' it was allus t' wrong road. +He'd work if it pleased him, an' he wouldn't if it didn't, an' you +could neither coax him nor thrash him into it. His father tried both +ways, an' I'm sure I did all I could. An' the way he sauced his father +you wouldn't believe for a young lad. + +"He had his good points, too, for he wouldn't lie to save his own skin +or anybody else's, an' he was as honest as they make 'em. But he was +self-willed and 'eadstrong past all tellin'. He used to laugh about +the devil, an' say it was all bosh an' old wives' tales, but if ever a +man was possessed wi' one our Joseph was when he were nineteen. + +"There isn't a church for four mile; no, but there are two drink shops +easy enough to get at. Oh, miss, why do they let the devil set traps +to catch the souls o' men? They can't keep him out of us, God knows, +but they've no need to build places for him to live in, and license him +to do his devil's work. O Lord, why didn't You save our Joe? + +"He came home drunk the day he was nineteen, an' his father was just +full up wi' grief an' vexation. An' men don't bear wi' it same as +women do. He put the Bible down on the table, Greenwood did, an' he +went up to t' lad, an' he said: + +"'I won't have it, Joe. I've told you afore an' I tell you again, if +you're goin' to come home drunk ye'll sleep in t' barn, for I won't +have you in t' house.' + +"Oh, I can't bide to think of it, but Joe swore a great oath, an' +clenched his fist an' hit his father in t' body; an' then Greenwood +seized him by t' coat collar an' flung him in t' yard, an' locked t' +door agen him. I shall never forget it. I cried an' begged him to go +out to t' lad, but he wouldn't. He said he could sleep in t' barn, but +until he were sober he shouldn't come into t' house. + +"Well, I said no more, but crept upstairs to bed an' sobbed for an +hour, an' then I heard Greenwood shouting 'at t' barn was afire. We +all rushed out, an' there was soon plenty of 'elp, but we lost two cows +an' a lot o' hay that night; but worse than that, we lost our Joe. Not +'at he were burned or ought o' that sort. He fired t' barn an' made +off, an' his father never tried to follow him. But from that day to +this we've never heard one word of our lad. + +"I can hear them beasts roaring with pain in the night yet, but you +know, miss, that was soon over, an' they got their release. But it's +different wi' us. We aren't beasts. Greenwood could bear pain. He +made nought o' the blow, though it was a savage 'un, but it was the +thought of it 'at hurt him, an' the thought of him 'at did it, an' +wondering what had come of him. Pain's nought; any woman can bide +pain--an' God knows 'at we have to do, oft enough--but when your soul +gets hurt there's no putting any ointment on _it_, an' there's no +doctor in t' world can do you any good. + +"God? Oh yes, miss, I know, but I don't understand. I believe +Greenwood did, an' he went home peaceful, if not happy; an' I'm not +murmuring. I believe the Lord 'll work it all out i' time, but it's a +puzzle. I should ha' lost heart an' hope but for Greenwood; but I'm +goin' to hold on for his sake an' Jane's--an' for our Joe's." + + +As I walked home the lingering sun cast long, black shadows athwart the +snow, but the shadows were only on the surface, and did not soil the +purity of the mantle which God had thrown over the earth. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +INTRODUCES WIDOW ROBERTSHAW + +I have been having quite an exciting time lately. If you have never +lived in a small hamlet of a hundred souls or thereabouts, with smaller +tributary hamlets dropped down in the funniest and most unlikely places +within easy walking distance, you do not know how very full of +excitement life can be. Why, when I was living at No. 8 nobody +displayed very much emotion when the jeweller at the end of the street +suffered "the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune" as the result of +the undesired patronage of connoisseurs in diamonds; and even when we +learned that the poor man had been found gagged and bound to his office +chair and more dead than alive, the languid interest of the company was +sufficiently expressed in the "Hard luck!" of the gentlemen, and the +"What a shame!" of the ladies. + +"That's the fire-engine," someone would remark, as the horses dashed +past to the clang of the warning bell; but we sent up our plates for a +second helping of boiled mutton with never a thought as to the +destination and fate of the brave fellows who might be about to risk +their lives in a grim struggle with flame and smoke. + +Murders and assassinations and suicides were discussed, if they had +been conducted respectably, with the same air of commiseration as was +employed when a fellow-boarder complained of headache; if they were not +respectable we did not discuss them at all. It took a first-class +society scandal to really stir us, and then we gathered in groups and +became thoroughly interested--the women, I mean, of course. The men +were just as interested but not so ready to admit it, and professed to +be debating politics. I sometimes wonder if what the Psalmist said in +his haste might not have been affirmed more leisurely. However, that +is nothing to the point; ordinarily, there is no denying the fact that +we were bored, or perhaps I ought to adopt the modern expression and +say "blase." + +Here in Windyridge that word and its significance are unknown. + +When old Mrs. Smithies' sow had a litter of seventeen pigs we all threw +down our work and went across to congratulate her, and stopped each +other in the street to discuss the momentous event, and to speculate on +the difference it would make in that worthy lady's fortunes. + +On the other hand, when old Woodman's dog, Caesar, was reported to have +gone mad, we were wildly excited for the space of one whole day, and +spent our time in telling each other what dreadful things _might_ have +happened if he had not been securely chained up from the moment the +symptoms became ominous; and recalling lurid and highly-imaginative +stories of men who, as the result of dog-bites, had foamed at the +mouth, and had to be roped down to their beds. Which reminded someone +else of the bull that old Green used to have, away yonder past Uncle +Ned's, which went mad one Whitsuntide, and tore along the road three +good miles to Windyridge, roaring furiously, and scattering the school +children, who were assembled for the treat, in all directions; and +badly goring this very dog Caesar, who had pluckily charged him. + +This week's excitements began on Monday, when young Smiddles, who had +been "gas-acting," according to his mother, ran his fist through the +window-pane, and cut his arm very badly and even dangerously. +Smiddles' roaring must have rivalled that of old Green's bull, and, +supplemented by his mother's screams, it served to rouse the whole +village. + +Smiddles' sister, a buxom young woman of plain appearance but sound +sense, threatened to box the sufferer's ears if he did not "stop that +din," and though much alarmed at the flow of blood, made some efforts +to staunch it with her apron. + +I had already gained an ill-deserved reputation for surgery, +principally on account of the possession of a medicine chest and an +"Ambulance" certificate, and my services were speedily requisitioned by +the fleet-footed son of the next door neighbour, who bade me come at +once, as "Smiddles' lad" was "bleeding to death on t' hearthstone." + +After I had prevented the realisation of this fatality by means of a +tight bandage, and made the patient as comfortable as a sling permits, +I despatched the mercuric youth to summon Dr. Trempest, as I was afraid +some stitches would be necessary, and went out to find the street +buzzing with excitement, and my humble self regarded as only slightly +less than super-human. + +No sooner had this sensation died down than the village thermometer +rose, two days later, to fever heat on the report that little Willie +Jones had ventured to test the ice upon the huge water-butt which +occupied a slightly elevated position at the end of his father's house +and was "drownded dead for sure." + +Not a soul in the village knew what course to pursue under the +circumstances, and every eager helper might have avowed with truth and +sincerity that he had done the things he ought not to have done, and +left undone the things he ought to have done; and it was fortunate for +poor little Willie that my First Aid lessons had qualified me for +dealing with an emergency of this kind. + +Farmer Goodenough and I worked hard for an hour, and my arms ached with +the effort, but at length the reluctant engine began to move, throbbing +fitfully but with increasing strength; and hot flannels and heated +bricks, with judicious but energetic rubbing, completed the treatment +and brought life and colour back again, so that when the doctor arrived +there was little left to be done. + +I believe I was excited myself when it was all over, and if my head had +not been fixed very solidly upon my shoulders it would certainly have +been turned that day by the ridiculous and extravagant eulogies of my +neighbours. + +Then followed the great blizzard. I suppose our cousins across the +water would have small respect for such an unpretentious specimen as we +experienced, but to me it was a revelation of what old Mother Nature +can do when she clenches her teeth and puts her hand to it. + +A bright but grey sky overhung the earth when I set out soon after +dinner for a brisk constitutional, and I never for a moment anticipated +any change in the conditions. For some weeks past we had had +alternations of frost and snow and thaw, and for several days the bare, +brown earth had been frozen hard, and the roadway was furrowed as a +field, with ice filling every rut and wrinkle. + +It was an ideal day for a sharp walk, provided one's organs were sound +and one's limbs supple, and though a thousand needles pricked my cheeks +and hands, and my ears smarted with the pinching they got, my whole +body was soon aglow and I revelled in the encounter. + +I took the downward road which winds slowly round to Marsland, and +tried to discover the heralds of spring. On such a day everybody +should be an optimist. I think I generally am as regards myself, +whatever the weather may be like, but I must admit that so far I have +had little cause for being anything else. It is only when I begin to +dwell on the miseries of other people, and the wrongs which it seems +impossible to put right, that the black mood settles upon me. + +But on this particular day I felt on good terms with the world, and +thought of the sunny days which lay ahead, and of the coming morning, +when the heather bells would feel the warm breath of summer upon their +face, and open their eyes in loving response to her kiss. + +And here and there in the shelter of the hedges, and by the banks of +the ice-bound stream where the bridge crosses it I found the heralds I +sought--tiny shoots of green pushing their way through the hard soil or +the warm coverlet of faded leaves. By and by the icy fingers will have +to relax their grasp, and the woods and hedgerows will be gay with the +little fairy creatures, who dress so daintily in colours of a hundred +hues for our enjoyment, and who smile, perhaps, to think what a limited +monarchy King Frost maintains after all. + +I am well known by now, and every farmer's boy who passes me exchanges +greetings, sometimes with a half-hearted movement of the hand in the +direction of the cap, but oftener with the smile of recognition which +betokens comradeship. For our relations are on the most cordial +footing of strict equality; we are all workmen, each after his kind, +servants of one Master; and if God gives us grace to use our +opportunities as we ought we may all enter, even now, into the joy of +the Lord. There is a vast difference, as I have learned, between +servility and respectfulness, and I believe I am as much respected as +the squire, though with less reason: and nobody is unduly deferential +even to him. + +The good women in the cluster of cottages down the lane waved their +hands as I passed, and a couple of maidens of tender years, one fair, +the other with raven locks, ran out and seized each an arm, and +escorted me a hundred yards along my way. + +I sat on the bridge for a while at the foot of the hill, and it may +have been the network of trees in the little wood which hid from my +eyes the approaching storm. For with the suddenness of a panther it +sprang upon me. There had been a fairly stiff breeze at my back, which +had helped me along famously, taking toll of my ears for its fee, but +now, as if its playful humour had been changed to madness, it lashed me +mercilessly with knotted whips of frozen rain. + +Expecting every minute to reach the shelter of a farm I hurried +forward, whilst the storm howled and raged behind and about me. It was +well for me that the storm was at my back, for my face was entirely +unprotected and the sleet was driven past me in straight, almost +horizontal lines, which obliterated the landscape in a moment, and +stung my neck so that I could have cried with pain. When I had rounded +the bend and climbed the stiff ascent my plight was worse. There was +no protection of any kind and my face suffered so terribly that I began +to be alarmed. To add to my difficulties every landmark had been +blotted out, and the road itself was becoming indistinguishable from +the low-lying edge of moor over which it wound. + +Like ten thousand shrouded demons let loose to work destruction the +wind hissed and shrieked and roared, and tore across my path with a +force I could scarcely resist. Ten minutes after its commencement I +was treading ankle-deep in snow, and I could see that drifts were +beginning to form where the road had been brought below the level of +the rising and lumpy moor. I would have given much to have been +sitting by Mother Hubbard's side, listening to the click of the +needles, but I was indeed thankful that she had not accompanied me. + +After the first sensation of alarm and dismay the novelty of the +situation began to appeal to me. One can get accustomed even to being +thrashed by the genii of the air, and I became conscious of a certain +exhilaration which was almost pleasant, even whilst I was ardently +longing for the sight of a friendly roof. + +I know now that I missed the broad road, and took a narrower one which +sloped down at an acute angle, but I was unconscious of this at the +time, and was only grateful to find some protection from the high wall +upon my left. I know also that I had passed two or three farms where I +might have been hospitably received, but no fog could have proved a +thicker curtain than that impenetrable veil of driven snow, and I never +even guessed at their existence. + +The moor now began to rise steeply upon my right, and as I stumbled +forward, holding my hat upon my head with both hands, I suddenly found +myself upon hard ground again, with scarcely a trace of snow to be +seen, and with a whole row of cottages on one side of the road, in +which blazing fires offered me a warm welcome. I could hardly realise +that I had found refuge. + +The roadway was only wide enough to accommodate a good-sized dray, and +was separated from the houses by the narrowest of footpaths, and +flanked on the right by the bare side of the hill, which rose +precipitously from the ground, to be soon concealed in the mantle of +the storm. Seen indistinctly as I saw it then it appeared more like a +railway cutting than anything else, and I could only marvel at the +eccentricity of man in erecting houses in such an unpromising locality. +However, for the mariner in danger of shipwreck to criticise the +harbour of refuge in which he finds himself is mean ingratitude. + +"Nay, to be sure!" The ejaculation came from the mouth of a comely +woman of considerable proportions who filled up the doorway of the +cottage opposite to which I was standing. She wore a brown skirt +protected by a holland apron, and surmounted by a paisley blouse +bearing a fawn design on a ground of crudest green. The sleeves of the +blouse buttoned and were turned back to the elbow, and as two hooks +were loose at the neck I felt justified in assuming that my new +acquaintance was an enemy of constraint. Her feet were encased in +carpet slippers of shameless masculinity, and a black belt encircled +her ample waist, which at this moment was partly hidden by the +outstretched fingers of her hands, as she stood, arms akimbo, in the +doorway. + +Her face, plump, pleasant and rosy, had for its principal feature two +merry, twinkling eyes, which sparkled with humour as she gazed upon me; +and her hair, which was beginning to turn grey, was drawn tightly back +and coiled in one large plait upon the crown. Altogether she was a +very homely, approachable woman, who had seen, as I judged, some fifty +summers, and I hailed her appearance with joy. + +"Nay, to be sure!" she repeated; "are ye Lot's wife? or has t' lads, +young monkeys, planted a snow man at my door? Here, bide a bit while I +brush ye down, an' then come inside wi' ye." + +I laughed, and submitted to the operation, vigorously performed in the +street, and then followed my rescuer indoors. + +All my explanations were greeted with the same expressive utterance. +"To be sures" came as thickly as currants in a Yorkshire tea-cake. We +were unknown to each other by sight--for I was now, I found, in +Marsland Gap, with the valley between me and Windyridge--but my fame +had preceded me. + +"Well, to be sure! So you're t' young lady what takes fotygraphs up at +Windyridge. Why, bless ye, I can show ye t' very house ye live in, an' +t' glass place where I reckon ye take yer fotygraphs from this window +in t' scullery. Nay, to be sure! it's that wild ye cannot see an arm's +length. Well, well, let's hev yer wet things off, for ye're fair +steamin' afore that fire." + +I protested in vain. My hat and coat had already been removed, and now +my hostess insisted that my dress skirt should be hung upon the +clothes-horse to dry. Oh, Rose, Rose! what would you not have given to +see me ten minutes later clad in a garment which was reasonable enough +as to length, but which had to be pinned in a great overlapping fold +half round my body? I looked at myself and roared, whilst the owner of +the dress shook her sides with merriment. All the same, I had found +the inn of the Good Samaritan, and my stay there did not even cost me +the two pence of the story. + +What do you think we had for tea? Muffins, toasted cheese, home-made +jam and "spice cake"! I helped to "wash-up," and as the storm +continued with unabated fury I resigned myself cheerfully to the snug +rocking-chair and the glowing hearth. Thoughts of Mother Hubbard's +anxiety worried me a little, but I hoped she would realise that I had +found shelter. + +"You have not told me your name yet," I began, when we were comfortably +settled, I with my hands idle upon my lap, and she with a heap of +"mending" upon her knee. + +"Well, to be sure! so I haven't," she replied. "Maria Robertsha' 's my +name, an' it's a name I'm noan ashamed on. Not but what I'd change it +if someb'dy 'ud give me a better. It's all right livin' by yerself if +ye can't 'elp it; an' to be sure, when ye live by yerself ye know what +comp'ny ye keep; but them can 'ave it 'at likes for me." + +"Then do you live here quite alone?" I inquired. + +"Barring the cat, I do. I did 'ave a parrot one time, 'cos it's nasty +temper seemed to make it more 'omelike; but t' lads, young imps, taught +it all sorts o' indecent stuff, which made it as I 'ad to part wi' it, +an' it was nearly like losing a 'usband a second time. It used to be +that gruff an' masterful you wouldn't think! No, I reckon nowt o' +livin' by mysen." + +"It is not good that man should be alone," I quoted. + +"It's worse for woman," she said, "an' yet, to be sure, I don't know, +for a woman 'at is a woman can allus make shift somehow, an' doesn't +stand pullin' a long face an' cussin' providence. But men are poor +menseless creatures when they're left to theirsens; an' it allus caps +me to think 'at they call theirsens 'lords o' creation,' an' yet 'as to +fetch a woman to sew a gallus button on, an' 'ud let t' 'ouse get lost +i' muck afore they'd clean it. Suppose a man lived 'ere by hissen, do +you think this kitchen 'ud look like this?" + +"I am very sure it would not," I replied, "and it wouldn't if some +women lived here." + +"Well, anyway, it just goes to prove 'at men need women to look after +'em, but for all that it's bad enough for a woman to be alone. To be +sure, she's a poor sort 'at hasn't more about 'er nor a man, an' it +isn't 'at she's flayed o' bein' by hersen or can't manage for hersen, +or owt o' that. No, no. But there's summat short, for all that. Ye +can take it from me, miss, 'at Eve 'ud sooner have been driven out o' +Eden wi' her 'usband, nor have been left there to fend for hersen. +Women doesn't want to be t' boss: they want to be bossed, or anyway +they like t' man to think 'at he's bossin' 'em. An' they like 'im to +come in wi' his great dirty boots spreadin' t' muck all ovver t' floor, +an' puttin' 'em on t' scoured 'earthstone, so as they can 'call' 'im +an' clear up after 'im. + +"Oh, aye, to be sure, an' they like to see 'im light his pipe an' then +fratch wi' 'im for fillin' t' 'ouse wi' smoke; an' even if he knocks ye +about a bit now an' then, he sidles up to ye at after, an' 'appen puts +'is arms round ye, an'--an' makes a fool of hissen; but ye feel t' want +on it when ye've been used to 't." + +"But we cannot all have husbands," I objected; "there are not enough of +the other sex to go round." + +"To be sure, that's so," she consented; "but that doesn't alter t' fact +'at we want 'em, does it? But I'd tax all t' men 'at isn't married, +the selfish beggars. The Almighty meant 'em to pair off. Two an' two +they went into t' ark, an' two an' two they should go yet if I'd my +way. It's nature. An' I never could see yet why t' wimmen should 'ave +to sit quiet an' wait for t' men to come an' ask for 'em. A woman +knows better by 'alf what man 'ud suit 'er, an' 'er 'im, than t' man +knows. She knows without knowing how she knows; whereas t' man just +sees a pretty face, an' some dainty little feet i' 'igh-heeled boots, +an' some frizzy 'air, 'at she's bought as like as not at a barber's, +an' there ye are! But where are ye in toathree years' time? Aye, to +be sure, where are ye then?" + +"Perhaps if conventionality had permitted, your state might have been +changed again by now," I suggested slyly. + +"Well, now, to be sure, Miss Holden," she replied, drawing her chair a +little nearer to mine, and laying one hand upon my lap for emphasis, "I +thought after Robertsha' died 'at it were a case of 'once bitten, twice +shy,' for there were odd times when he filled up the cup, so to speak. +But, ye know, I missed 'im; an' though it's twelve year sin' come +Shrove-tide, I miss 'im yet; an' if I had the askin' I've known for a +long time who it 'ud be 'at 'ud take his place; but ye see I 'aven't, +so I bide as I am." + +I thought of the old fox, Simon Barjona, and laughed inwardly as well +as outwardly. Widow Robertshaw little realised that I knew her secret. + +Outside the storm raged furiously. The snow lay thick upon the ground, +moist as it fell, but frozen in a moment, and to venture out seemed in +my case impossible. We held a council of ways and means which resulted +in the production of a young man of strong build from a cottage a few +doors away, who smiled at the storm and readily undertook, in exchange +for a shilling, coin of the realm--to convey a note to Mother Hubbard, +describing my predicament. + +I enjoyed Widow Robertshaw's hospitality, perforce, for two days, and +when I returned home it was in Mr. Higgins' market cart, he having +called in the Gap "casual-like" to see how Mrs. Robertshaw was "going +on." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +GINTY RUNS AWAY + +What a curious medley life is! How crowded with dramatic situations +and sudden anti-climaxes! Even in Windyridge the programme of +existence is as varied and full of interest as that of any picture +palace. We have all the combinations of tragedy and pathos and humour, +and he who has eyes to see and ears to hear and a heart to feel need +not complain of the monotony of the village, nor pine for the +manufactured excitements of the metropolis. + +A letter with a foreign postmark and an Egyptian stamp was handed to me +on Monday morning, and I have been excited and troubled ever since, +though it brought me a great joy. The handwriting was unfamiliar, but +when I turned to the signature I found it was from the squire, and I +began to read it eagerly. I was astonished to find how small and +particularly neat his handwriting is. + +The letter ran thus, omitting certain descriptive and unimportant +paragraphs: + + +"Assouan, Upper Nile, + "_March_ 12_th_, 19--. + +"DEAR MISS HOLDEN, + +"I wonder if I might claim an old man's privilege and call you 'Grace'? +I should like to do so, for do you know there is not one of your sex in +the wide world whom I have a right to address by the Christian name, +and, what is perhaps more noteworthy, there is no other whose +permission I have the least desire to ask. But somehow or other I am +longing for kinsfolk to-day, and the sensation is almost inexpressibly +acute, so much so that I actually feel the pain of loneliness, and that +'Inner Self' in which, I remember, you trust so completely, cries out +for sympathy and companionship. If I mistake not we have common ideals +and aspirations--you and I--which make us kin, and I am disposed to +'stretch out lame hands of faith' in your direction if haply I may find +you and draw your soul to mine. So if it be your will, let us be +friends, and do you send across the seas and deserts those mysterious +waves of kindly feeling which will vibrate upon the heart of the +solitary old man, to whom earth's messages of love come but seldom--now. + +"Have I ever told you that I have not a relative on earth, and that I +have outlived all my own friends? I sometimes feel to be like these +old monuments on the banks of Nile, which stand calm and impassive +whilst the children of this age picnic around their ruins; yet I am no +patriarch, for I have not much overstepped the natural span of man's +existence. I hope you may never experience the sensation, but the fact +that you are yourself amongst earth's lone ones is not the least of the +links that connect you to me. + +"I stayed some weeks in Biarritz ... but the weather turned cold and +wet, and the doctors bade me journey to Egypt. It is an unknown land +to my material senses, but not to my spiritual. Every stone preaches +to me of the familiar past. I have always revelled in ancient history +and have kept abreast of modern discovery and research. For a while I +enjoyed the company of my imagination, and we trod together the courts +and temple corridors of the mighty kings of ancient days, and +reconstructed their history. Sometimes, for brief periods, I have +interesting conversations with men who are learned in all this lore; +but imagination and learning are but cold companions, and I am longing +for a hand-grasp and the look of love--longing, like the modern woman +of whom Derwent speaks--for the unattainable. + +"I am half ashamed of myself for writing in this strain, and half +afraid of bringing a shadow over the spirit of the gentle soul whose +sympathy I seek; but you must not worry on my account, for I am neither +morbid nor unhappy, though sadness usually walks by my side. Indeed, +life is strangely and even unaccountably dear to me just now, though I +am perfectly sure that the 'call' is not far away, and when it comes I +shall pass behind the curtain and face the unknown without fear and +without regret. + +"Of late I have caught myself wondering whether I shall ever return +home and see the brown and purple moors again, and the homely people +whom I love; and when the thought that I may not do so grips me I have +just one overwhelming desire--a curious desire for the 'archaeological +old fossil' I am generally taken to be. Perhaps I am becoming weak and +sentimental, but when the time comes and I have to go, I want someone +who cares for me to 'see me off.' I should like my eyes to close to +the sound of a woman's voice, I should like to feel the touch of a +woman's hand, and maybe the kiss of a woman's lips; and I should like a +few verses of Scripture and a simple hymn. + +"I am an old fool, but the thought brings sweetness and peace with it; +and it is as a father to a daughter that I ask this boon of you: When I +hear the summons, will you come to me? Whether I am at home or abroad +will you do me this service for love's sake? I have no claim upon +anyone, and certainly none upon you, but my heart calls for you, and I +believe yours will answer the call. + +"For the present, letters addressed to the British Post Office, Cairo, +will be forwarded to me, for I have no fixed address, but I shall look +eagerly for your reply. Let me say in one word that I shall make +provision for the expense of your journey if I should send for you, and +I shall not send unless the call is clear. + +"And now tell me of Windyridge.... Write to me when you can: give me +all the news; tell me how the great quest for peace progresses, and +believe that I am ever, + +"Your very sincere friend, + "GEORGE EVANS." + + +Womanlike, I watered this missive with my tears, but they were April +showers, after all, with great patches of blue sky in between, and +plenty of warm sunshine; for it was sweet to know that I was cared for +and that someone wanted me. + +I hope none would mistake me. I am an emotional goose at times, I +know, but thank goodness! I am no sentimentalist. I am not possessed +with the idea that the squire wants to marry me and leave me his +fortune, for I am perfectly sure that he does not. I heard his voice +the night before he went away, and it told me the secret of his +fidelity. Besides, I wouldn't marry him if he did want it, for though +my heart tells me that I have loved him instinctively from the first +day of our acquaintance, and I love him now more than ever, it also +tells me that the affection is filial and nothing more. What more +should it be? It is all the more likely to be unselfish and sincere on +both sides that it has nothing of passion in it. You see, unlike Widow +Robertshaw, I am not eager to change my state. + +As to my decision, I did not hesitate for one moment. When he needs me +I will go to him and, God helping me, I will act a daughter's part. +Act? Nay, rather, I will do a daughter's loving duty. + +I wrote him yesterday, telling him all the news of the little world of +Windyridge, but painting the shadows lightly. In truth, they are heavy +and full of gloom just now. + +I had just commenced work in my studio after reading the squire's +letter when Sar'-Ann burst in upon me, and throwing herself into one of +my ornamental chairs commenced to cry and sob hysterically, holding her +apron to her eyes and rocking her body to and fro in a frenzy of +abandonment. I saw there was trouble of some sort, but recognised at +the same time the need of firmness. + +"Sar'-Ann," I said, "you will break that chair if you carry on in that +fashion. Restrain yourself, and tell me what is the matter." + +Restraint and Sar'-Ann, however, were strangers to each other, and her +only response was to redouble her groans, until I lost patience. + +"If you don't stop this noise, Sar'-Ann," I threatened, "I will get you +a strong dose of sal-volatile and make you drink it. Do you hear?" + +She did hear. Sal-volatile, as a remedy, had been unknown in +Windyridge before my advent, but the few who had experienced it had not +remained silent witnesses to its power, so that the very dread of the +strange drug had been known to perform miraculously sudden cures in +certain cases; and "that sally-stuff o' Miss Holden's" had become a +word to charm with. + +Sar'-Ann's groans subsided, but her breast heaved heavily, and her +apron still concealed her face. + +"Cannot you speak, child?" I asked. "What is the matter? If you want +me to help you, you must do more than sob and cry. Now come!" + +"It's Ginty!" she stammered; "he's run away an' robbed his mother of +every penny, an' brokken her heart an' mine. Oh, Ginty! Ginty! +Whatever shall I do?" and the rocking and sobbing began again. + +I got the sal-volatile this time and forced her to swallow it, taking +no heed of her protests. Mother Hubbard came in, too, and added her +entreaties to my commands; and after a while she became calmer, and +then the whole story came out. + +Ginty had been mixing in bad company for some months past. Somewhere +in the hollow of the moors a couple of miles away he had stumbled one +Sunday upon a gambling school, conducted, I imagine, by city rogues who +come out here to avoid the police, and had been threatened with +violence for his unwelcome intrusion. He had purchased immunity by +joining the school, and, unknown to everybody except Sar'-Ann, he had +visited it, Sunday by Sunday, with unfailing regularity, for the greed +of gain soon got hold of him. Sometimes he had won small sums, but +more often he had lost all his wages and even pledged his credit, until +he had not known where to turn for money. + +"I gave 'im all I had," said Sar'-Ann, "an' I begged him to drop it, +but he said he couldn't, an' he'd only to go on long enough to be sure +to get it all back an' more to it. An' now, oh dear! oh dear! he's +robbed his poor mother an' made off; an' whatever I'm goin' to do I +don't know. O God! I wish I was dead!" + +I left Mother Hubbard to console the stricken girl, fearing in my heart +that she had not revealed the extent of her trouble, and went straight +to Ginty's cottage, where a half-dozen women were doing their best to +comfort the poor mother, bereaved of her only support by what was worse +than death. Children were there, too, their fingers in their mouths +and their eyes wide with wonder, staring vacantly at the object of +universal commiseration, and silent in the presence of a sorrow they +could feel but not understand. + +The little garden was gay from end to end with multi-coloured crocuses, +and two or three men stood looking at them, not daring to venture +within the house, but ready to offer help if required. One of them +muttered: "Bad job, this, miss!" as I passed; and the rest moved their +heads in affirmation. + +Ginty's mother was seated at the little round table, her head in her +hands, and her eyes fixed upon an old cash box in front of her. The +lid was thrown back and the box was empty. The picture told its own +story; and to complete it a framed photograph of Ginty, which I had +given him only a few weeks previously, hung upon the wall opposite, so +that the author and his work were closely associated. + +The women turned as I entered, and began to explain and discuss the +situation before the poor woman who was its victim, in that seemingly +callous manner with which the poor cloak and yet express their sympathy. + +"Them's best off as has no bairns," said the blacksmith's wife; "ye +moil an' toil for 'em, an' bring 'em up through their teethin' an' all +make o' ailments, an' lay down yer varry life for 'em, an' this is how +they pay you back in t' end." + +"Ay," said Sar'-Ann's mother, "shoo'll hev to be thankful 'at it's no +worse. So far as I know he's ta'en nob'dy's money but 'er's, so I +don't suppose t' police 'll be after 'im. Eh! but it's a sad job an' +all, an' he were bahn to wed our Sar'-Ann in a toathree week. Well, +it's a rare good job for 'er 'at it's happened afore they were wed, +rayther than at after." + +"But whativver is shoo goin' to do now 'at Ginty's gone?" inquired the +next door neighbour, Susannah; "Ginty kept 'er, an' _shoo_ can't do +nowt, not wi' them rheumatics in her legs, an' all that pile o' money +gone. Nay, 'Lizabeth, lass, I nivver thowt ye'd scraped so mich +together. It 'ud ha' served ye nicely for yer old age, but ye sud ha' +put it in a bank. Whativver ye're bahn to do now, God only knows." + +"We must see what can be done," I interposed. "We must all be her +friends now that this trouble has come upon her, and do not let us add +to her distress by our discussion. You will let us help you, won't +you?" I asked. + +She did not speak or move, but just stared stonily into the empty box; +one would have said that she had not even heard. + +I withdrew my hand as Susannah came forward. Susannah is a good woman, +with a kind heart, and had known 'Lizabeth all her life. She knelt +down on the stone floor and put an arm around her neighbour's waist. + +"'Lizabeth, lass! Ye munnot tak' on like this. 'E'll be comin' back +i' now. It's 'appen nowt but a bit of a marlackin', an' ye shall come +an' live wi' us while 'e turns up. Now what say ye?" + +The mother's mouth set hard and her brow contracted. + +"I shall go into t' work'us, Susannah; where else should I go?" + +There was a murmur of dissent, broken by Susannah's: + +"No, no, lass, nowt o' t' sort. Ye'll come an' live wi' us; one mouth +more 'll none mak' that difference, an' Mr. Evans 'll be back i' now +an' put things straight for ye." + +"Do ye think, Susannah, 'at your lasses 'll want to live wi' a thief's +mother, an' do ye think 'at I'll let 'em? Ginty's a thief, an' all t' +worse thief because he's robbed his own mother, an' left 'er to starve. +But I won't be beholden to none of ye; I never 'ave been, an' I never +will be. I've worked hard while I could work, an' I've saved what I +could an' lived careful, so as I wouldn't need to be beholden to +nob'dy; an' if Ginty has robbed me of my all 'e shall 'ave a pauper for +his mother, an' 'e shall 'ear tell of 'er in a pauper's grave. I thank +ye kindly, neighbours, but ye must all go an' leave me, for I amn't +wantin' any comp'ny just now." + +I saw that I could not be of service just then, so I came away with +some of the other women, intending to go again on the morrow. But +though I went immediately after breakfast I found that she had gone. + +"She was off afore I'd well got t' fire lit," said Mrs. Smithies, who +was my informant; "I looked across an' chanced to see 'er open t' door +and pull it to behind 'er. She didn't lock it nor nowt, just like +snecked it. She had a bundle in a red handkercher in 'er 'and, an' +such a 'ard look on her face, an' she never once glanced be'ind nor at +all them grand flowers, but just kept 'er eyes straight afore 'er. + +"But I runs out an' I says: 'Nay 'Lizabeth, wherever are ye off, like?' +An' she says, 'I'm off to t' workus, so good-bye, 'Becca; an' if +there's ought in t' 'ouse after t' landlord's paid, you neighbours are +all welcome to 't.' Not 'at I'd touch ought there is, miss, unless it +were that chiney ornament on t' mantelpiece, which I could like if it +were goin' a-beggin'. + +"Well, I couldn't 'elp cryin' a bit, an' I axed 'er if she wouldn't +change 'er mind, but she were same as if she were turned to stone. So +I went up t' road wi' her a bit, just a piece beyond t' 'All gates, an' +there she turned me back. 'Good-bye, 'Becca,' she says, 'an' thank God +on yer knees 'at ye've no son to rob his mother! An' if my lad ever +comes back, tell 'im he'll find _his_ mother in a pauper's grave.'" + + +I walked down the fields into the sanctuary of the wood, where +understanding is sometimes to be found and freedom from painful +thoughts. It was bitterly cold, but the sky was blue, so that in the +clear atmosphere every twig stood out with microscopic sharpness, and +it was impossible to miss the note of hope in the song of new-born +spring. + +The trees were for the most part bare of colour--oak and elm and beech +were alike in the grey garb of winter--but the sycamores had burst +their buds and were clad in living green that delighted the eye and +quickened the pulse, whilst great blotches of yellow celandine blazed +in the sunshine of the open spaces like cloth of gold. + +But the wood was voiceless at first to the question of my heart, and I +told myself that the "Why?" of life is unanswerable. Then suddenly +there came into my mind the familiar words of Tennyson: + + "Behold, we know not anything; + I can but trust that good shall fall + At last--far off--at last, to all, + And every winter change to spring," + +and at a bound my Inner Self found firm ground again. + +"Grace," I said, "have you forgotten the closing verse of a preceding +stanza?" and I repeated aloud: + + "So fret not, like an idle girl, + That life is dash'd with flecks of sin. + Abide: thy wealth is gathered in + When time hath sundered shell from pearl," + +and I determined to conquer my morbid tendencies and take a broader +outlook on life. "An idle girl!" That stuck. "Ineffective depression +is a kind of idleness," I said to myself, "and I will kill it with +industry." + +In obedience to this impulse I rose to my feet, and saw Farmer +Goodenough crossing the brook just below. He smiled a greeting as he +came up, and we walked homewards together. + +"Now I durst bet a new bonnet to a new hat, Miss 'Olden," he began, +"that I can guess at twice why you've come down 'ere, an' I'll throw +one guess away. You're on what I should call in a manner o' speakin' a +'mopin' expedition;' now isn't that so?" + +"But I don't wear bonnets, my dear sir," I rejoined; "and if you should +win a new hat you wouldn't wear it, being of such conservative +leanings. Nevertheless, I am going to plead guilty to your indictment, +and I hope I shall be let off with nothing worse than a lecture." + +"Nay, it's none for me to lecture anybody, for I know as little about +the rights o' things as I know about bonnets, but I've lived long +enough to know 'at' man's born to trouble as the sparks fly upwards,' +as t' Owd Book puts it; an' if you're goin' to fret your heart out +every time it comes your way you'll spend your life in a mournin' coach. + +"'Cordin' to my way o' thinkin', Miss 'Olden, so long as human natur's +what it is you'll never get rid o' sufferin' an' trouble, an' what good +does it do to worrit yourself to death over what you can't mend? If +you could mend it ever so little it 'ud be another matter. Now look at +it i' this way. We can all choose our own road when it comes to a +question o' right an' wrong, an' we should be in a poor way if we +couldn't. My plough goes where t' horse pulls it, an' t' horse goes +where I guide it. Now, neither t' plough nor t' horse has any +responsibility, so to speak; but I'd rather be a man an' have t' power +to choose where I go, even if I go wrong, nor be a beast or a machine. + +"Now yon lad has gone wrong, an' I'm sorry for 'im, but accordin' to t' +Owd Book it's no use cryin' over spilt milk, an' both 'im an' us 'll +have to make t' best on 't. So will Sar'-Ann; so will Ginty's mother. +Ginty knows he's done wrong, an' he's known t' difference between right +an' wrong all along t' road. He's chosen, an' chosen badly, poor lad, +an' he's sufferin' for it, wherever he is, an' 'e'll have to sup more +sorrow still, there's no doubt about it, an' a bitter cup it'll be. + +"But don't you see, this same bitter cup is med'cine for t' lad at same +time. He's gone into t' far country now, but like t' other prodigal +he'll come to himself, as t' Owd Book says, one o' these days, an' we +shall have to leave him there till that time comes. + +"But now, take t' lad's mother. She's chosen her own way an' all. +Ginty's sin were greediness an' love o' money, an' his mother's sin is +pride. We haven't all t' same nature, an' I'm not settin' up for a +preacher, for Reuben Goodenough doesn't live up to his name by a long +chalk, so I'm not judgin' t' woman, like a Pharisee. + +"But I know this, if she'd just ha' let t' neighbours 'elp her a bit, +her 'eart wouldn't have been so sore, and t' blow 'ud have been +lightened for her. We're a roughish lot i' Windyridge, but there isn't +many 'at wouldn't have made shift to help t' owd woman as well as they +could, but she couldn't stomach bein' helped. + +"An' there's a taste o' revenge in it too, unless I'm sadly mista'en. +She thinks she'll pay t' lad out better wi' goin' to t' workus nor +ought else she could do; an' she likes to believe 'at he'll be +'eart-brokken if she's put in a pauper's grave. + +"That's how I size things up. All this trouble needn't have been, but +it is there, an' you an' me has no 'casion to mope over it. Mopin' +won't help neither of 'em, but I daresay we can both 'elp 'em a bit if +we try. I'm goin' to see if I can hear ought o' t' lad, an' if I do I +shall follow 'im up; an' I shall do my best to bring a bit o' sense to +his mother. An' if you'll excuse me, miss--well, you're a woman. Try +what a word o' prayer now an' again 'll do for 'em, i'stead o' frettin' +over 'em; an' 'be strong an' of a good courage.' That's in t' Owd +Book, an' it's good advice." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE CYNIC EXAGGERATES + +Easter is past and spring has burst upon us in all her glory. The +landscape is painted in the freshest and daintiest tints: the beeches +are a sight to make glad the heart of man; the chestnuts with their +cones of cream and pink look in the distance like huge, +newly-replenished candelabra; the slender birches, decked in silvery +white and vivid green, stand gracefully erect, veritable "ladies of the +woods," as Coleridge called them. Here and there a blackthorn bends +beneath its burden of snowy blossom, and calls a challenge to the +hedgerows which have wakened late, and are slow in their dressing. + +Occasionally primroses may be seen, though they are not common in these +parts; but on the banks of the lower lane modest violets peep out shyly +from the shadows, and the dull purple flowers of a species of nettle +offer their bashful welcome to spring. The gardens are gorgeous with +daffodils, and the woods with celandine and wild hyacinth; whilst our +humble friends, the buttercups, daisies, and dandelions, have sprung up +in abundance, the merry children of field and wayside charming us all +with their simple beauty. + +I spend almost all my leisure time in watching the birds, an occupation +which is in itself a never-failing delight, and I puzzle myself with +questions which no man can answer, but which are imperatively asked all +the same. + +Who guides these flocks of tiny travellers, who have journeyed by +trackless routes from distant lands hundreds of miles away, depending +only on the strength of their own wings, and the mysterious vital power +with which God has endowed them? How do they recognise the familiar +haunts of a year ago? How do they know that the woods in these +northern regions are ready for habitation? + +I give it up; but I love to see them approach from the distance like a +swiftly-moving cloud, and disappear into the haze again after circling +over the trees which surround the Hall; and I love to walk through the +meadows and see how my feathered brothers and sisters are making the +most of the sunshine and the softened soil. + +The blackbird is in full song now, and it darts past, me with its +chirpy "tuck-tuck-tuck"; whilst the lark soars upwards into the azure +with quivering song, full-throated, inimitable. + +The sagacious rooks have been busy for days past with household cares, +and have gone about thieving (with a clear conscience, I trust) for +strictly domestic purposes; and the thrushes are just as industrious in +their search for dainties hidden in Mother Earth. + +East winds prevail, and rheumatism holds some of my neighbours in +prison and in torment, but to me they bring exhilaration, a voracious +appetite, and the joy of life. Mother Hubbard looks upon me with +loving envy and sighs for the days that are beyond recall. + +Poor Mother Hubbard! The hard winter has tried her severely, but she +never complains and is always sweet and cheerful, and promises herself +and me that she will be all right when summer comes. I hope so, for +she has grown inexpressibly dear to her adopted daughter whom she does +her level best to spoil, and if we were parted now we should miss each +other sorely. + +I have discovered that she is an excellent chaperon, and enjoys the +role beyond my power of description. What a remarkable little woman +she is! She knows that I keep a record of my experiences, and has got +it into her head that I am writing a book, and she is therefore always +on the look-out for the appearance of the hero. She has given me to +understand that if she can only be in at the _denouement_, when the +hero leads the blushing bride to the altar amid the ill-restrained +murmur of admiration from the crowd, she will be then ready to depart +in peace. Needless to say, it is _I_ who am to be the blushing bride! +It is no doubt a very pleasing fancy, but I am afraid the dear old lady +will have to find contentment in an abstraction. + +What amuses me most is her well-founded misgiving as to my ability to +deal adequately with such a situation in my "book." + +"You are not very romantic, love," she said to me one evening, when she +had been making unusually large demands upon her imagination, to my +considerable amusement, "and I don't think you will ever be equal to +the greatest writers unless you cultivate that side of your nature. +You know, love, you are rather practical and common-sense and all that +sort of thing, and the men might not know how very nice you are." She +came across and kissed me, hoping I did not mind her candour. + +"You see, love, I was always rather romantic myself, and I think I +could help you a bit; though, of course, I am not clever like you. But +I could just tell you what I think ought to be put in, and you could +find suitable language for it.... Now you're laughing at me!" + +I believe she thought the hero had arrived when the Cynic turned up on +Easter Monday. + +It was a truly beautiful day, typically April, except that the showers +were wanting, and the much-abused clerk who controls the Weather +Department must have been unusually complaisant when he crowded so many +pleasing features into his holiday programme. Until the long shadows +began to creep across the fields it was warm enough to sit out in the +sunshine, whilst there was just sufficient "bite" in the air to make +exercise agreeable. + +Every cottage garden had on its gala clothing and smiled a friendly +welcome to the passer-by, and a sky that was almost really blue bent +over a landscape of meadow, moor, and wood that was a perfect fantasy +in every delicate shade of green. And the beasts of the field and the +fowls of the air lifted up their voices in their several degrees of +melody. + +It had been a glorious Easter Day, and perhaps on that account I had +risen early on the Monday and gone out bareheaded to catch the Spirit +of the Morning. Farmer Goodenough passed as I stood at the gate, and +threw one of his hearty greetings over his shoulder without pausing in +his walk. + +"Look out for customers to-day, Miss 'Olden! There'll be scores in t' +village this afternoon from Broadbeck way." + +"But suppose I don't want them, Mr. Goodenough," I replied; "it's +holiday to-day." + +"That 'ud be a sin," he shouted; "'make hay while t' sun shines,' as t' +Owd Book says, holiday or no holiday." + +There was sense in this. Customers had so far been scarce enough, for +I had been favoured with the patronage of only three paying sitters, +although I had been established in business for eight months. My total +takings from the portraiture branch had not totalled thirty shillings; +and if my neighbours had not grown accustomed to it, the sign at the +bottom of the garden must have appeared very ridiculous indeed. I +therefore anticipated the arrival of excursionists with no little eager +interest. + +Half a dozen houses in the village had got out brand new boards +indicating that Teas were provided within, and I knew that from this +date forward until the autumn a very brisk trade would be done on sunny +Saturday afternoons and holidays. + +Soon after half-past twelve I caught sight of the advance guard +approaching. The footpaths between Windyridge and Marsland Moor became +dotted with microscopic moving figures which materialised usually into +male and female, walking two and two, even as they went into the ark, +as Widow Robertshaw might have observed. + +When they reached the village street the sight of my studio seemed to +astonish them and tickle their fancy. "In the spring a young man's +fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love"--and portraiture. Quite a +group of young people gathered about my sign before two o'clock, and +from that time until five I never sat down for one minute. As fast as +I bowed out one couple another entered, amid a fusillade of +good-humoured chaff and curtly-expressed injunctions to "be quick about +it." I took so much money, comparatively speaking, in three short +hours that I began to see visions and dream dreams--but the Cynic +dispelled them. + +He was standing in the garden, talking to Mother Hubbard, when I locked +up the studio, and although he was in shorts I recognised him at once, +for thus had I seen him in my dream. I involuntarily glanced at myself +to make sure that I was correctly garbed and that it was really the +key, and not Madam Rusty's teapot, that I held in my hand. + +He came forward smilingly and held out his hand. "How do you do, Miss +Holden? I had intended asking you to take my photograph, but +competition for your favour was so keen that the modesty which has +always been my curse forced me to the background." + +"If it had forced you to the background you would have entered my +studio, Mr. Derwent," I replied; "all those who have competed +successfully for my favour were not deterred by dread of the +background. I fear, however, it is now too late to endeavour to +encourage you to overcome your bashfulness." + +"Indeed, yes: + + "'The shadows of departing day + Creep on once more,' + +as the poet hath it, and when one has walked eight or nine miles across +the moors the man within cries out for food and drink even more than +for art. And therefore I have ventured to introduce myself to Mrs. +Hubbard and to inquire if she would make me a cup of tea, and she has +very kindly consented to do so." + +I looked at Mother Hubbard, who had sufficient sense of the appropriate +to blush very becomingly. + +"You old sinner!" I said, "how dare you impose upon my good nature! +Are there so few neighbours of ours who cater professionally for the +requirements of these 'men within' that we must needs enter into +competition with them?" + +Mother Hubbard's nods and winks became so alarmingly expressive, +however, during the course of my speech, that I was in real danger of +becoming confused, so I turned to our guest and extricated myself. + +"Be pleased to enter our humble abode, to which we make you heartily +welcome. And in return for such poor hospitality as we can offer you, +you shall regulate the clock, which has lately developed certain +eccentricities, and nail up the creeper on the gable end. Then if time +permits you shall rest your limbs on the wicker chair in the garden and +enlighten us as to what is going on in the world of men." + +"With all my heart," he agreed, "and I promise to make so good a tea +that the debt will not be easily repaid." + +He did pretty well, I must admit, and when it was over Mother Hubbard, +with a self-conscious cough, and a look that was eloquence itself, +expressed her fixed determination to clear away without my help. + +"It's just a little fancy I have, love," she protested, as I tied on my +apron; "I really would like to do it all myself. I am tired of +sitting, and knitting seems to try my eyes to-day." + +"Mother Hubbard," I replied, "you are a hypocritical old humbug, and +you are wanting to persuade Mr. Derwent that I am not domesticated, +which is too bad of you. And you know that I take my share of the +work." + +"Really, love," said Mother Hubbard, who was almost in tears at the +denseness of my intelligence, "I'm sure Mr. Derwent will understand my +meaning." + +I am only too much afraid that he did, for he looked at me out of the +corners of his eyes and said, with a merry twinkle which was provoking: + +"I shall certainly need some information about the clock, and a little +assistance with the creeper. Miss Holden, you had better yield to Mrs. +Hubbard's wishes." + +"If you cannot regulate a clock without a woman standing over you, or +hold a bit of jasmine in one hand and a hammer in the other without a +woman's assistance, you deserve to remain in your ridiculous +background. You will find the tools in the top drawer of the dresser. +If you will be good enough to get them and go on with your work, Mother +Hubbard and I will soon finish ours." + +He grinned, and Mother Hubbard groaned; but before long we were sitting +together in the garden, with the knitting needles making music as usual. + +The Cynic leaned back in his chair and watched the blue smoke curl +lazily from his cigarette. The laughter of the visitors had ceased in +the streets, but the voice of song was wafted occasionally to our ears +from the fields below. How is it that homeward-bound excursionists +always sing? + +"I take it, Miss Holden, that you are a Prototype, which I spell in +capitals. But I venture to predict that you will not have a large +following. The modern craze is for kudos, and in this particular the +success of an enterprise like yours is not likely to be remarkable." + +"What, exactly, is my enterprise?" I inquired. "Please interpret me to +myself." + +"The surface reading is easy," he replied, "but the significance is +hieroglyphic. Who can read the riddle of woman's motives? They are +past finding out, and man can only grope for the meaning with +half-blind observation, having eyes indeed, but seeing not; hearing, +but not understanding." + +"As, for instance?" I again inquired. + +"I will come to your case shortly," he continued, "and meantime I will +speak in parables. I went into a fashionable draper's shop the other +day, as I had business with one of the principals. He was engaged, and +I elected to wait and was accommodated with a seat near the glove +counter. My experiences were distinctly interesting, but I cannot yet +read the riddle they offered me. Before I was summoned to the office +three customers had approached the counter at separate times, and the +procedure was in all three cases on approximately similar lines. + +"The lady sailed up to the counter, deposited her parcels upon it, +seated herself upon the waiting chair, adjusted her skirt, and then, +turning to the deferential young gentleman whose head was inclined +artistically to one side in the way that is characteristic of the most +genteel establishments, murmured languidly: 'Gloves, please.' + +"The deferential young gentleman brought his head to the perpendicular +and replied: 'Gloves! Yes, madam,' and proceeded to reach down a +half-dozen boxes from the shelves at his back. + +"'This, madam,' he said, bringing forth a pair of grey suedes, 'is a +beautiful glove. One of Flint's very best make, and they are produced +specially for our firm. Every pair is guaranteed. We can very +strongly recommend them.' + +"The lady took the gloves in her hand, stretched them, and examined +them slowly and critically, whilst the D.Y.G.'s head dropped to the +artistic angle again. + +"After having eyed them in silence for a minute or more, and half +conveyed the impression that they were the very gloves she was seeking, +the lady placed them without a word on the counter, and the D.Y.G. with +perfect understanding replaced them in the box. + +"He opened another box containing suede gloves in tan. + +"'This also is an excellent glove, madam,' he repeated, with all the +precision of a gramophone; 'it is one of our best selling lines, and +its wearing qualities are unsurpassed. You may buy more expensive +gloves, but none of better value.' + +"This pair is subjected to the same slow and critical examination, +after which the lady inquires: + +"'What is the price?' + +"'The price of these gloves, madam, is seven-and-six.' Professing to +confirm his statement by minutely examining the ticket, though, of +course, he is perfectly well aware that there is no mistake, he +repeats: 'Yes, madam, seven-and-six.' + +"Again the gloves are laid upon the counter, and again the D.Y.G. +replaces the lid and attacks another box! Meanwhile the lady's gaze is +wandering abstractedly around the shop; picking out an acquaintance +here and there she smiles a recognition; and she seems a little vexed +when a third pair of gloves is placed before her. The same performance +follows, with the same serenity on both sides, but the price has +dropped to five shillings. + +"Then the kids are produced, in all shades and at all prices, and are +in turn deposited upon the counter without comment. + +"At last the D.Y.G. has exhausted his stock and his familiar +recitations, but fortunately not his urbanity, and he looks at his +customer with deprecation in his eyes. + +"'You had some white kid gloves in the window a week or two ago,' she +murmurs, smiling sweetly; 'ten buttons; they were a special price, I +think.' + +"'Two-and-eleven, madam?' he asks, hopefully. + +"'I believe they were. Yes, two-and-eleven,' she responds, as though +consideration had confirmed her recollection; and in two minutes more +her wants are satisfied, and she departs to another counter to the +performance of Scene 2 in the same act." + +"And this is typical of woman's methods?" I ask. + +"It serves to show," he replies, "how unfathomable her methods are to +mere man. When _we_ unimaginative mortals enter a shop for a similar +purpose we say: + +"'I want a pair of tan kids, seven and three-quarters, about +three-and-six,' and before the current of cold air which came in with +us has circulated round the shop, we are going out with the little +parcel in our pocket. Now why does not woman do the same? _You_ don't +know--nobody knows; nobody really wants to know, or to see her act +otherwise." + +"It is a very silly exaggeration," I said, "and if it is characteristic +of _your_ methods they are certainly not past finding out." + +The Cynic is really a very irritating person. He has a way of ignoring +your rejoinders which is most annoying, and makes you want to rise up +and shake him. Besides, it isn't courteous. + +"Now to return to your own case, Miss Holden. It is not typical and +therefore I call it prototypical. _Why_ you have forsaken London +society (which in this case I spell with a small 's,' to guard against +possible repudiation) is possibly known to yourself, though personally +I doubt it. Why, having found the hermitage and the simple life, you +have adopted photography as a profession in a village where you will be +fortunate if you make an annual profit of ten pounds is another enigma. +But kudos is not everything, and I see in you the archetype of a race +of women philosophers of whom the world stands sorely in need." + +"You talk like a book," I said, "and use mighty big words which in my +case need the interpretation of a dictionary, but I'm afraid they cover +a good deal of rubbish, which is typical, if I may say so, of the +ordinary conversation of the modern smart man." + +"Nay," said he, "but I am in downright earnest. For every effect there +must be an adequate cause. You may not understand yourself. The why +and wherefore of your action may be hard to discover, but I was wrong +when I said that it was unfathomable. Given skill and perseverance, +the most subtle compound must yield its analysis, but it is not given +to every man to submit a woman's actions to the test, and I beg you to +believe that I was not impertinent enough to make any such suggestion." + +"Nevertheless," I said, "I may some day allow you to put my actions +into the crucible, and see if you can find my real motives. I confess +I do not understand myself, and I have nothing to conceal. I think I +should rather like to be analysed." + +"Then I may come again?" he asked. + +"You may come to be photographed, of course," I replied. + + +I wonder how old he is, and what he does! + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +WHITSUNTIDE EXPERIENCES + +New sensations have elbowed and jostled each other to secure my special +attention this Whitsuntide, until I have been positively alarmed for my +mental equilibrium. The good people here seem so sedate on ordinary +occasions that one fails to realise that after all there is a good deal +of the peacock and the kitten in the make-up of many of them; but +Whitsuntide reveals this. + +The peacock in them manifests itself as they strut up and down in new +clothing of brilliant dye, affecting an unconsciousness and unconcern +which deceives nobody. The shocks I received during that memorable +Sunday, when the village turned out in its new finery, I still +experience, like the after-tremors of an earthquake. + +Pray do not imagine that Windyridge knows nothing of the rule of +fashion. Every mother's daughter, though not every daughter's mother, +owns her sway and is her devoted subject. If the imperious Dame bids +her votaries hobble, the Windyridge belle limps awkwardly to and +fro--on Sundays and feast days--in proud and painful obedience, +heedless of the unconcealed sneers and contempt of her elders. If +headgear after the form of the beehive or the castle of the termite ant +is decreed, she counts it a joy, like any fashionable lady of fortune, +to suffer the eclipse of her good looks under the vilest monstrosity +the milliner's ingenuity can devise. Ah, me! How fine a line, after +all, divides Windyridge from Mayfair! + +The kitten in them gambols and makes fun whole-heartedly for several +hours at a stretch on the afternoon of Whit Monday, and with such +kindliness and good humour that one cannot help feeling that the world +is very young and one's self not so very old either. + +I thought the rain was going to spoil everything. Day by day for a +week it had come down with a steady determination that seemed to mean +the ruin of holiday prospects. The foliage certainly looked all the +fresher for it, and the ash took heart to burst its black buds and help +to swell the harmony of the woods. But these are aesthetic +considerations which do not appeal to people who are looking forward to +a good time--a time of fun and frolic for some, and harvesting of +shekels for others. + +When I woke on the Sunday, however, old Father Sol had shaken off his +lethargy, bundled the surly clouds into the store-room, locked the door +and put the key into his pocket, and strolled forth to enjoy the sight +of his welcome. Meadow, pasture and moor, green hedgerow and brown +road were silvered over with sunshine, and the flowers looked up and +laughed the tears away from their faces, and told themselves that +everything had been for the best; and the cocks crowed lustily from the +walls where they had flown to greet the sun, and all the birds came out +from eave and tree and lowly nest, and sang their doxology in happy and +tuneful notes which told how brimful they were of joy. + +Long before church-time it was so hot that the fields were steaming +like drying clothes before the fire, and as I walked back from +Fawkshill after the morning service I felt sure that there need be no +misgiving about the dryness of the grass for the children's treat on +the morrow. Everybody was concerned for the children! Young women of +eighteen and young men of the same age had no real concern or interest +in the weather except in so far as it involved disappointment to the +children! Well, well! How easily we deceive ourselves, and how +unwilling we are to acknowledge the child within the man! + +In the afternoon I went to chapel with Mother Hubbard, and saw and +heard that which made me want to laugh and cry at the same time, and I +really do not know why I should have done either. My emotions seem to +take holiday sometimes and enjoy themselves in their own peculiar way +without restraint. Let me set down my experiences. + +Do you know what a "sitting-up" is? If you live in Yorkshire or +Lancashire no doubt you do, but if you are a southerner or a more +northern northerner the probability is that you do not. When Mother +Hubbard told me that the children were to "sit up" at the chapel on +Whit Sunday I stared at her without understanding. "Do they usually +stand up or lie down?" I inquired. + +Then it occurred to me that this was, perhaps, a metaphorical way of +speaking, and that there was, so to speak, a "rod in pickle" for the +bairns on this special occasion, but why I could not imagine. Yet I +knew that when an irate Windyridge father undertook to make his lad +"sit up," it usually betokened some little difficulty in sitting at all +until the soreness wore off. + +This, however, foreboded nothing of so unpleasant a nature. When I +entered the light and airy little sanctuary I found thirty or forty +children ranged in rows one above the other, in front of the little +pulpit. Not many boys were there, and there was nothing specially +attractive about those who were, beyond the attractiveness that lurks +within the face of every cleanly-washed child. But the girls were a +picture; they were all in white, but most of them had coloured sashes +round their waists, and coloured ribbons in their hair, and one or two +were distinguished by black adornments, betokening the recent visit of +that guest who is so seldom regarded as a friend. + +Some of the frocks were new, but most of them were old; and it is safe +to assume that the younger children were wearing what had served the +turn of a past generation of "sitters-up." In some cases they were so +inadequate to the requirements of the long-limbed, growing maidens who +wore them, that it cannot be denied that the dresses "sat up" even more +than their owners, so that the white cotton stockings were taxed to the +utmost to maintain conventional decency. + +To listen to the children's performances, rather than to the address of +the preacher, the chapel was uncomfortably crowded by what the +handbills called "parents, relatives and friends." + +The door was wide open, and my eyes often strayed to it before the +service began, for it framed a picture of yellow meadows and waving +trees, of brown moorland and ultramarine sky, with drowsy cattle in the +pastures a hundred feet below, which seemed strangely unfamiliar, and +rather reminiscent of something I had once seen or dreamed of, than of +what I looked upon every day of my life. The explanation is simple +enough, of course. I saw just a _panel_ of the landscape, and with +limited vision the eye observed more clearly and found the beauty of +the scene intensified. + +But when the prayer was ended--a rather long and wearisome one, to my +thinking, on such a fine day, when all nature was offering praise so +cheerily--the children's part began. + +They sang children's hymns, the simple hymns I had sung myself as a +child, which I hope all English-speaking Christian children sing: the +hymns which belong to the English language and to no one church, but +are broad enough to embrace all creeds, and tender enough to move all +hearts, and which must find an echo in the Higher Temple, where +thousands of children stand around the throne of God. + +A wee lassie of five stood up to sing alone. As the thin, childish +voice rose and fell my heart began to beat fast, and I looked at the +fair little head through a veil of tears. They made an aureole which +transformed Roger Treffit's firstborn into a heavenly cherub, and I was +carried into that exalted state when imperfect speech and neglected +aspirates are forgotten: + + "Jesus, tender Shep'erd 'ear me: + Bless Thy little lamb to-night; + Through the darkness be Thou near me; + Keep me safe till mornin' light." + + +Was there one present who did not at that moment feel very near to the +sheep-fold of the Good Shepherd? I am a Churchwoman, and by training +and association inclined to look distrustfully upon Dissent, but that +child's lispingly tuneful prayer taught me that I was in the House of +God; for surely I know at the heart of me that neither in the Catholic +mountain nor the Anglican Jerusalem is God solely to be worshipped, but +wherever men seek Him in spirit and in truth; and this afternoon a +little child was leading us. + + "All this day Thy 'and has led me. + And I thank Thee for Thy care; + Thou 'ast clothed me, warmed an' fed me; + Listen to my evenin' prayer." + + +It was not evening, for the sun was still high in the heavens and the +shadows short upon the earth; but He with whom the night and the +morning are one day heard and understood, I do not doubt. + +Without a pause the sweet voice went on: + + "Let my sins be all forgiven; + Bless the friends I love so well; + Take me, when I die, to 'eaven, + 'Appy there with Thee to dwell." + + +Amen and amen, dear little Lucy! Surely no stain of sin as yet has +darkened your soul, but the thought of the good Lord who "forgiveth +iniquity, transgression and sin" cannot come to us too soon. Let it +sink into the plastic wax of your memory and your heart, and harden +into certainty, and then when the time comes for you to die--whether +the day be near or distant--it will be well with you, "happy there with +Thee to dwell!" + +There were other solos, but none which moved me like this of little +Lucy's, and there were recitations by two of the boys which affected an +entirely different compartment of my emotions. + +They were highly moral pieces, I know, and they exhorted us to a course +of conduct which must have been beneficial if followed; the trouble was +that the eye had so much employment that the ear was neglected and so +missed its opportunities. + +Each boy licked his lips vigorously to start with, and then glued his +eyes upon one fixed spot, as if he saw the words in bold type there. +If he did, an invisible compositor had set them up in the west window +for the one lad, and on a corner of the ceiling for the other. The +swiftness with which the words came out reminded me of a brakeless +gramophone running at top speed; and it made the performers gasp for +breath, which they dared hardly stop to renew lest memory should take +wings and fly away. I am sure I was relieved when the final bob to the +congregation was reached and the contortions ended. + +The address was tedious, like the prayer, but fortunately it was not +long; then the preacher came in to tea, it being Mother Hubbard's turn +to entertain him. + +The chapel people take the preachers according to an arranged plan with +which they are all familiar. My old lady regards the privilege as in +the nature of a heavenly endowment, and she has more than once reminded +me that those who show hospitality to God's ministers sometimes +entertain angels unawares. No doubt that is so, but the wings were +very, very inconspicuous in the one who ate our buttered toast that +Sunday. + +All the same he is, I am sure, a very good man, and a man of large and +cheerful self-sacrifice which calls for admiration and respect, and I +do sincerely honour him; and it is no fault of his that his great big +hands are deeply seamed over their entire surface, and that the +crevices are filled with black. He works, I discovered, at an +iron-foundry, and I believe his hands were really as clean as soap and +water could make them. But when all has been said, he need not have +spread them over all the plate whenever he helped himself to another +slice of bread, and he might just as well have taken the first piece he +touched. I suppose I am squeamish, but I cannot help it. I found some +amusement in pressing him to eat all he had touched, however, and +seeing that he did it. + +His conversation was chiefly remarkable for the use he made of the +phrase "as it were." Mother Hubbard regards him as a genius, but I +doubt if he is anything more than an intelligent eccentric. It must +have been his flow of language which got him "on the plan" that is to +say, into the ranks of the local preachers of the Wesleyan Church--for, +like the brook, he could "go on for ever." + +He is a tall, heavy man, perhaps fifty years of age, with a mass of +hair upon his head but none upon his face, except where thick eyebrows +hang like brushwood over the twin caverns of his eyes. As he speaks he +raises his right hand and holds the palm towards you, moving it slowly +to and fro for emphasis, and he measures his words as he goes along. + +He was describing his experiences in a new chapel where he had recently +preached, a gothic building, "more like a church, as it were, than a +chapel." + +"Ah yes, Mrs. Hubbard," he said (he never addressed me direct, perhaps +because he suspected that I was not one of the confraternity), "I +always mistrust a chapel with a spire to it; and the spirit of +Methodism, as it were, cannot dwell in transepts or chancels. There is +not the heartiness, not the freedom, which we associate with our +chapels. The air is heavy, as it were, with the spirit of +sacerdotalism. Why, ma'am, at this particular chapel--church, they +call it--they had choir stalls, filled with men and boys, and a +liturgical service, as it were. Ah yes! No sound of 'Hallelujah!' or +'Praise the Lord!' escaped the lips of the devout worshipper. They +were stifled stillborn, as it were. It was cold, ma'am, cold and +formal; John Wesley would never have found his heart strangely warmed +in such an atmosphere. No! + +"And yet, ma'am, there was something in the arrangements that stirred +my feelings, as it were. Here, on my right hand, were grouped the +scholars; children in the springtime of life, as it were. Yes! it was +a moving sight, ma'am, to a man of feeling." (I wickedly thought of +his hands.) "Life was before them--spread out like a map, as it were, +with nothing but the outline; or like a copy-book which would be soiled +and disfigured with many blots, as it were, before the end was reached. +Yes! + +"And on my left were the elders of the flock, gathered there, I was +told, because the acoustic properties, as it were, are excellent in the +transepts: the grey-headed sires, who had almost fought through the +battle and were now awaiting the recall, as it were. Men and women in +the late evening of life, as it were, who would soon pass behind the +sunset. + +"And in front of me were the middle-aged, those who were bearing the +burden and heat of the day, as it were. Yes! labourers in life's +vineyard; earning their bread in the sweat of their brow, going forth +to their work until the evening, as it were. + +"Yes! And as I looked upon them, young and middle-aged and old, I said +to myself in the language of the preacher: 'All go unto one place; all +are of the dust, and all turn to dust again.'--Ecclesiastes iii. 20, +ma'am." + +I got up and went into the garden, and filled my nostrils with the +fragrance which earth was sending to heaven--as it were--and felt +better. + +Whit Monday was a hard day for me. After dinner my Easter experiences +were repeated, and sitters came thick and fast. I really believe my +work is giving satisfaction, for some of my last holiday customers had +sent their friends to be "taken"; and some called themselves to say +"How d'ye do?" + +Nothing eventful transpired, however, and no Cynic turned up to disturb +the serenity of my temper with sarcastic observations upon women, so I +climbed the hill at the back of the house and joined the merry throng +of school-children who were having a jolly time with their elders in a +field at the top. And there I forgot my tiredness, and romped for a +couple of hours with the wildest of them, having as much of the kitten +in me as most folk. + +When the red had finally died out of the western sky the dustman came +round, and the eyes of the little ones grew heavy. But the grown-ups +were enjoying themselves far too much to think of leaving so soon, so I +gathered the infants around me and told them all the wonderful stories +which had been locked away in the dusty cabinets of my memory. Not the +ordinary nursery tales, which are as well known in Windyridge as in +Westminster, but some of the simpler records of Greek mythology, and +extracts from the lives of the saints. + +Little Lucy came and laid her head upon my shoulder and asked if it was +all true. I tried to show her the truth that was hidden in the +make-believe, but I fear with small success. Her eyelids were held +open with difficulty as she continued to question me. + +"Is comets true?" + +"Comets?" I inquired; "what do you know of comets?" (One is about due +now, and the children are on the tip-toe of excitement.) + +"Dada says they has long tails, an' runs up an' down the sky when I'se +asleep, like little mouseys." + +"You are not afraid of them, are you?" I asked. + +"Dunno. I think I is afraid of them, but I always asks God." + +"What do you say?" I ventured. + +The little head was growing heavier, and it was a very sleepy voice +that murmured: + +"God bless ev'ybody ... an' don't let them be 'ungry, so they won't die +... until You makes 'em ... 'cept it be comets an' things." + +Now what could anybody make of that? I carried the child home, and she +did not wake when I undressed her and put her to bed. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +BARJONA FALLS INTO THE TRAP + +"Arternoon, miss!" + +It certainly was afternoon, for only a few minutes earlier the little +clock in my studio had chimed three, and I was not in the least +expecting visitors, particularly of the paying kind, and was hard at +work upon the accumulated negatives of Whitweek, when the blunt +ejaculation caused me to turn with a start. My astonished eyes fell +upon a transformed Barjona! + +Barjona in a frock coat of modern cut, with a white waistcoat, and +slate-coloured trousers, correctly creased! Barjona, with a starched +shirt and a satin tie, vividly blue! Above all, Barjona in a silk hat, +which he was at that moment carefully removing from his head, as though +anxious to prevent the escape of some bird imprisoned within! + +It was not a bird, however, that he captured and produced, but an +elaborate "button-hole," properly wired, as one could see at a glance, +and with its stems wrapped in silvered paper; and Barjona chuckled as +he stepped to the mirror and adjusted it in the lapel of his coat. + +"Took that out quick, I can tell you.... Gives the show away, that +does ... thought once over I'd throw it in t' gutter ... but I says, +'Nay, it cost fourpence' ... sixpence she asked for it ... sixpence ... +mustn't waste it ... smarten up my photygraph, too.... No, no, mustn't +waste fourpence!" + +"Why, Mr. Higgins," I exclaimed, "you must surely have been to a +wedding! But none of our friends in Windyridge have been getting +married to-day, have they?" + +"No, no ... Marsland Gap ... widow-woman ... name o' Robertsha' ... now +Mrs. Higgins ... Mrs. S. B. Higgins ... she's in the trap now," jerking +his head towards the roadway. + +This was too much for my gravity. I had just enough presence of mind +to shake hands with him and offer my congratulations, and then gave way +to uncontrollable laughter. + +"It's your own fault, Mr. Higgins," I blurted out at length. "Last +October you told me that you were too old a fox to be caught again; +there were to be no traps for you, and when you said Mrs. Higgins was +in the trap it amused me vastly." + +"Meanin' the cart, of course," he interrupted, looking somewhat +sheepish, but still sufficiently pleased with himself. + +"I know," I replied, "but I was just wondering how you come to be +caught in the other trap, the trap of wedlock--you, a man of years and +experience, and pre-eminently a man of caution." + +He hung his hat on the support of my reflecting-screen, and passed his +hand thoughtfully over his smooth crown--I had always felt sure that +his head was bald--and I imagined I saw an uneasy look creep into his +eyes. + +"It be very cur'ous, Miss Holden," he said, in a confidential tone, +"very cur'ous.... Said to myself many a time ... hunderds of times.... +'Don't 'ee be a fool, Simon ... women be kittle cattle,' I says ... +some weepin' sort ... some blusterin' ... but all masterful ... an' +costs a lot o' money ... awful lot o' money to keep up.... Went into +'t wi' my eyes open ... oh yes; very cur'ous.... Come to think on 't +... dunno why I done it." + +"Don't worry, Mr. Higgins," I said soothingly; "many animals flourish +splendidly in captivity, and if they miss their freedom they never say +anything about it, but look quite sleek and contented. And I am sure +you have secured a very capable and good-natured wife, and are to be +heartily congratulated. Now fetch her in and I will be getting the +camera ready." + +"Fetch her in?" he inquired. + +"Yes, I shall be ready by the time you return, and it will be the work +of only a moment or two to arrange you suitably." + +"But she isn't goin' to have 'er photygraph taken," he said, with an +emphatic shake of the head; "only me." + +"Do you mean to tell me," I remarked severely, "that you will not be +photographed together on your wedding day? Mr. Higgins, it is quite +the customary thing, and I certainly never heard of such a procedure as +you are suggesting. Besides, it costs no more." + +"Costs the same? ... for two as for one?" + +"Certainly," I replied. + +"Taken separate, like?" he continued. + +"No, if taken separately the cost would be doubled, but on wedding +occasions the bride and bridegroom are almost invariably photographed +together, and that involves no extra cost." + +He thought this over for half a minute and then made up his mind +definitely. + +"I'll be taken by myself," he said, "... to match this 'ere."--He drew +from his breast-pocket a rather faded photograph, cabinet size, which +displayed a younger Mrs. Robertshaw in the fashion of a dozen years +before.--"Maria got these ... just afore Robertsha' died ... has best +part of a dozen on 'em .... gave Robertsha' 's away ... pity to waste +these ... 'll do nicely." + +"But Mr. Higgins," I protested, "these photographs are faded, and they +are not the Mrs. Higgins of to-day. Nobody wears that style of dress +now, and she has actually a fringe! Throw them away, and do as I +propose." + +"I see nowt wrong wi' 't," he replied, examining it critically. "She's +fatter now, an' isn't as good lookin' ... more wrinkles, like.... +Makes a nicer pictur, this does ... plenty good enough for 'er." + +"Mr. Higgins!" I exclaimed indignantly. + +"If--you--please--miss," he said emphatically, "it's me as gives the +order ... one dozen, miss ... to match this 'ere." + +There was nothing more to be said, and I took two negatives of the +wretched little man, in the first of which he is shown standing as +erect as nature permits, with the silk hat fixed firmly upon his head, +and one hand in his trousers' pocket, so that the white waistcoat might +not be concealed; and in the second, sitting with one leg thrown over +the other, and the silk hat upon his knee. It was in vain that I +pointed out that neither pose would correspond with that of his wife, +which was a mere vignetted head and shoulders; Barjona had made up his +mind, and was not to be moved, and I felt thankful, with Mother +Hubbard, that I was not Mrs. Higgins. + +I went out to speak to her when the operation had been completed, and +at our approach the neighbours who had been keeping her company smiled +and drew back a little. + +"Good-afternoon, Mrs. Higgins," I said. "I have already congratulated +your husband; let me now wish you much happiness." + +"Well, now, to be sure, Miss Holden," she replied, and accompanying the +words with a most decided wink, "that remains to be seen. But if he +doesn't give me much, he'll 'ave less, I can tell you. I think we +shall get on when we've settled down a bit; an' anyway, time won't hang +as 'eavy on my 'ands, so to speak." + +"Come, lass, we must be going," interrupted Barjona, who had climbed up +beside her. + +"As soon as ever I've finished," replied Mrs. Higgins, smiling upon him +sweetly. Nevertheless, she tightened the reins and prepared to move. + +"I'll drive, lass," said Barjona, holding out his hand. + +"I'll keep 'em mysen, lad," replied his wife; "I've 'eld 'em all this +time while t' mare was still: I'll 'old 'em now when she's on t' move. +Come up, lass!" + +She threw me another portentous wink, and the mare moved slowly down +the lane. + +"Poor Barjona!" murmured Mother Hubbard, as we sauntered back to the +cottage. + +"I wonder if you are right," I remarked rather viciously. "I certainly +hope you are. At present my sympathies lie in the other direction, and +I am disposed to say 'Poor Maria!'" + +"Yes, love," said Mother Hubbard, "perhaps she has the worse of the +bargain; but I think the old fox has got into a trap that is going to +hold him very tight this time, and it will nip hard." + +"I hope it nips until he squeals," I said impenitently. + +This was on the Monday following Whitweek. The next day brought me a +long, chatty letter from the squire, who feels wonderfully better and +talks of coming home again soon. He cannot understand why the doctors +always say "not just yet." He is at Sorrento now, and chaffingly +condoles with me on the remote prospects of a continental trip, at any +rate on his account. I wonder if he guesses how relieved I am, and how +eagerly I anticipate his home-coming. + +In him I seem to have a friend who understands, and I am beginning to +think that is the only real kind of friend. I have said all along that +I do not understand myself. I am always coming across odd little +tracts of territory in my nature which surprise me and make me feel +something of an explorer, whereas I cannot help feeling, somehow or +other, that the squire knows all about me, and could make a map of my +character if he chose, with all my moods and whims and angularities +accurately indicated, like so many rivers and mountains. And so far +from resenting this I am glad of it, because he is so kind and fatherly +with it all, and not a bit superior. Now the Cynic, although he is no +doubt a mighty clever man, makes you so frightfully conscious of his +cleverness. + +By the way, I have made a discovery about him. He is a barrister, and +quite an eminent one in his way. I suppose I might have found this out +long ago by asking any of the Windyridge men, but for some occult +reason I have never cared to inquire. The discovery came about in this +way. + +When I had finished reading the squire's letter, and before proceeding +to my work, I took up the _Airlee Despatch_ which Farmer Goodenough had +left with us, solely because it contained a short paragraph on the +"Wedding of a well-known Windyridge character"--no other, in fact, than +our friend Barjona. + +As my eyes travelled cursorily over the columns they were arrested by +the following: + +"Mr. Philip Derwent, whose brilliant advocacy admittedly secured a +verdict for the plaintiff in the recently concluded case of Lessingham +v. Mainwaring, which has occupied so much space in all the newspapers +recently, is, as most of our readers will know, a native of Broadbeck. +His father, Mr. Stephen Derwent, was engaged in the staple trade of +that town, but was better known for the interest he took in many +religious and philanthropic movements, and in those circles his death +five years ago occasioned a considerable gap. If report may be relied +upon Mr. Philip Derwent's decision to read for the bar was a +disappointment to his father, but the striking success which has +attended him all through his legal career has sufficiently justified +his choice. It was a matter of general comment in legal circles during +the recent proceedings that Mr. Derwent more than held his own against +such eminent luminaries as Sir George Ritson and Mr. Montgomery Friend, +who were the King's Counsel opposed to him. He showed remarkable +versatility in the conduct of his case, and his cross-examinations and +repartees were brilliant in the extreme. Whether his law is as +reliable as his rhetoric may be open to question, but one looks forward +to his future career with special interest, as he is still on the sunny +side of forty, and is therefore young enough to win many laurels. His +mother died when he was quite young, and he is himself unmarried." + +Why I should have felt low-spirited when I put the paper down I do not +know. It is just these unexplained "moodinesses" which make me feel so +cross with myself. The squire's letter had been bright, and the +paragraph about Barjona amusing, and certainly the reference to Mr. +Derwent was ordinary enough. Still I stared at nothing quite intently +for a few minutes after reading it. Then I shook myself. + +"Grace Holden!" I said, "plunge your face into cold water, and go +straight to your work in the studio. You have negatives to retouch, +and prints to tone and develop, and nearly a dozen miniatures to paint, +all of which are shamefully overdue; and no amount of wool-gathering +will bring you in the thirty shillings which you have fixed as your +weekly minimum. Now be a sensible woman, and 'frame,' as your +neighbours say." + +So I "framed," thinking the while how contemptuously the Cynic would +smile at my thirty shillings. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +ROSE ARRIVES + +The surprises of life are sometimes to be counted amongst its +blessings. I daresay Reuben Goodenough, who is one of the most +religious men I have met--though I am puzzled to know where his +religion comes from, seeing that he rarely visits church or +chapel--would affirm that all life's incidents are to be regarded as +blessings. "All things work together for good," as "t' Owd Book" says. + +He argued this point with me at considerable length one day, and though +he did not convince my head he secured the approval of my heart. He is +distinctly a philosopher after his kind, with the important advantage +that his philosophy is not too ethereal and transcendent, but designed +for everyday use. He professes to believe that there are no such +things as "misfortunes," and so takes each day's events calmly. For +the life of me I cannot see it, but I rather cling to the thought when +the untoward happens. + +Be that as it may, the surprise which "struck me all of a heap," to use +a common expression of my neighbours, in the last week of June was a +blessing that one could count at the time. + +It was evening, and I was standing in the garden among the roses and +pinks, engaged in removing the few weeds which had escaped Mother +Hubbard's observant eye, and pausing occasionally to wonder which I +admired the more--the stately irises in their magnificent and varied +robes, or the great crimson peonies which made a glorious show in one +corner--when the gate was pushed open, and an elegant young lady, in a +smart, tailor-made costume and a becoming toque, glided towards me. I +took another look and gasped for breath. + +"Well, Grace," said the apparition, holding out a neatly gloved hand, +"one would say that you were astonished to see me." + +"Rose, you darling!" I ejaculated, "come and kiss me this minute, and +show me which particular cloud has dropped you at my feet! My dear +girl, you have stunned me, and I feel that I must pinch you to see if +you are really flesh and blood." + +"If there is to be any pinching, my dear Grace, _I_ prefer to do it. +It will prove my corporeal existence just as conclusively, and be less +painful--to me. So this is Windyridge?" + +"Rose!" I exclaimed, "for goodness' sake don't be so absurdly practical +and commonplace, but tell me why you have come, and where you are +staying, and how everybody is at old Rusty's, and how long you are +going to be in the north, and all about yourself, and--and--everything." + +"All that will take time," replied Rose calmly, as she removed her +gloves; "but I will answer the more important parts of your questions. +I am staying here, with you. If you are very nice and kind to me you +will press me to remain ten days with you, and I shall yield to +pressure, after the customary formal and insincere protests. Then you +will put on your hat and walk with me down to Fawkshill station, and as +there are no cabs to be had there we will bring up my bag between us." + +"_That_ we need not do," I said. "There are half a dozen strong boys +in the village, any one of whom would fetch your belongings for love of +me and threepence of your money." + +"Happy Grace!" she sighed; "'love rules the court, the camp, the +grove,' as saith the poet. Be it even so. Summon the favoured swain, +discharge his debt, and I will be in thine." + +"Rose! Rose! you are the same incorrigible, pert, saucy girl as of +yore, but you have filled my heart with joy. I am treading on air and +giddy with delight. We will have ten days of undiluted rapture. Come +inside and look round my home. Mother Hubbard is 'meeting for tickets' +to-night, and will not be back for a good half-hour." + +"Meeting for what?" inquired Rose blankly. + +"Meeting for tickets," I repeated. "My dear old lady is a Methodist +class leader, and to 'meet for tickets' is a shibboleth beyond your +untutored comprehension. But the occasion is one of vast importance to +her, and you are not to make fun of her." + +She was pleased with everything and expressed her pleasure readily. In +spite of her composed manner she is a very dear girl indeed, and though +she is years younger than I am she and I always hit it exactly. When +she saw the tiny bed and realised that we should have to share it she +laughed merrily. + +"_I_ will sleep next to the wall to-night," she said, "because I am +very tired, and it would be annoying to be always falling out. I shall +sleep so soundly that your bumping the floor will not disturb me, so +you will have nothing to worry about. Then to-morrow night I will take +the post of danger, and so alternately." + +"We might rope ourselves together," I suggested, "and fasten the ends +to a stake outside the window. I don't think the bumping idea appeals +to me." + +But Mother Hubbard planned a better way on her return, and contrived a +simple and ingenious addition to the width of the bed by means of +chairs and pillows, which served our purpose admirably. + +Over the supper table Rose told us all about her visit. "You see, I +have not been quite the thing lately: nervy and irritable and that sort +of nonsense, which the chief charitably construed into an indication of +ill-health. He was awfully decent about it and suggested that I should +see a doctor. I told him I was all right, but he insisted, so I saw +Dr. Needham, and he told me I was run down and required bracing air. +'Mountain air would be better than the seaside,' he said. 'You haven't +friends in Scotland or Yorkshire, I suppose?' Then I thought of you. +'I have a friend who went wrong in her head about twelve months ago,' I +said (or words to that effect), 'and she ran away to the Yorkshire +moors. She might take me in if I could get off.' 'The very thing,' he +said. 'Will you have any difficulty with your employer?' + +"'I don't think so,' I replied; 'not if it is really necessary. The +chief is a discriminating man, and I believe realises that my services +are invaluable, and he will put up with a little temporary +inconvenience in order to retain them permanently, I imagine.' You are +accustomed to my modesty, Grace, and will not be surprised that I spoke +with humility. + +"Well, he smiled and said he would give me a certificate, so I took the +certificate and my departure and interviewed the chief in his den! It +was as I had anticipated. I was to get away at once. Ten days on the +moors would put the wine of life into my blood. That was theory. The +practical assumed the form of a five-pound note, which enables me to +play the part of the grand lady--a role for which I was designed by +nature, but which providence spitefully denied me. I stated my +intentions to the Rusty one, who coldly sent you her regards, but I +determined to take you by surprise, hoping to catch you unprepared and +unadorned, whereas you are neither the one nor the other. Then I +boarded the two o'clock Scotch express at St. Pancras, changed trains +at Airlee, and _me voila_! By the way, what about my bag?" + +The bag came all right in due course, and in the days that followed +Rose and I gave ourselves up to enjoyment. It was like living one's +life twice over to share the delight she showed in her surroundings. +Fortunately I had got abreast of my work, and we ordinarily devoted our +afternoons to business and spent the mornings and evenings in Nature's +wonderland. + +During those ten glorious days the sun worked overtime for our special +benefit, and put in seventeen hours with unfailing regularity. He +smiled so fiercely on Rose's cheeks that she would have justified her +godmother's choice if she had not preferred the hue of the berry, and +turned a rich chestnut. + +Mowing was in full swing in the meadows, and we took our forks and +tossed the hay about and drank barley-water with the rest. We followed +the men whose heads were lost in the loads of hay which they carried on +their backs, and saw how they dropped their burden in the haymow. We +stood like children, open-mouthed, admiring the skill and industry of +the man who there gathered it up and scattered it evenly round and +round the mow. + +We went into Reuben Goodenough's farmyard, and I showed her the barn +owls which have taken up their abode in his pigeon loft, and which live +amicably with their hosts and feed on mice. We descended the fields to +the woods, which the recent felling has thinned considerably, but which +have all the rank luxuriance of summer, and revelled amid the bracken +and trailing roses. We stood by the streamlet where the green +dragon-flies flitted in the sunshine, and where millions of midges +hovered in the air to become the prey of the swallows which rushed +through with widely open mouths and took their fill without effort. + +We spent hours on the moor, where the heather, alas! had not yet +appeared, but which was a perfect storehouse of novelties and marvels. +Who would have thought, for instance, that the little golden bundles +which cling to the furze, and which we thought were moss, were just so +many colonies of baby spiders? We watched the merlins, the fierce +cannibals of the moors, which dash upon the smaller birds and are even +bold enough to attack the young grouse at times. What did we not do! +Where did we not go! And neither of us suffered from surfeit. + +"Grace," said Rose, as we lay on our backs in my paddock, and gazed +upon the white cumulus clouds which floated above, "I withdraw all I +have said about your madness, and I now declare you to be particularly +sane. If ever I go back to town, which is doubtful, I will describe +your sanity in terms which will relieve the fears of all at No. 8. My +personal appearance will give colour to my statements, and I shall +probably observe, with the originality which is a mark of genius, that +God made the country and man made the town. But I have not yet decided +to return, although I took a ten days' ticket. Your studio seems to +have served its purpose: is there any opening in Windyridge for a +talented stenographer and typist?" + +"The prospects would not appear to be exactly dazzling," I replied, +"but I'm willing to keep you here on the off-chance that something may +turn up." + +"Some_body_'s turning up," said Rose, hurriedly assuming a sitting +posture, "and we had better get up." + +I imitated her example, and saw that the Cynic had leaped the wall and +was coming towards us. + +I did the necessary introductions and we sat down again. "I called," +said the Cynic, "in the hope that there might be a clock to regulate or +a creeper to nail up, in which case I might earn a cup of tea. Also, +to make arrangements for my photograph." + +"I couldn't expect you to do any work in those clothes," I replied. +"Is this a visit of ceremony, or have you come in your Sunday best in +order to have your portrait taken? All my local sitters insist upon +putting on the clothes in which they feel and look the least +comfortable." + +"No," he said, with a glance at his black trousers--the rest of him was +hidden by a light dust-coat--"the fact is, I am dining with the vicar +and spending the night at the vicarage. I must go to town on Saturday, +but to-day and to-morrow are free. I propose, with your gracious +permission, to spend an hour here, walk on to Fawkshill, and return +to-morrow for the dread operation to which I have referred." + +"I am afraid it will not be convenient to-morrow," I said; "really I am +very sorry to upset your plans, but Miss Fleming returns to town on +Saturday, and we have promised ourselves a full day on the moors. Of +course, if you could come very early----" + +Rose interrupted. "Don't let me hinder business, my dear Grace, or I +shall have you on my conscience, and that will be no light burden. We +can modify our arrangements, of course." + +"What about my conscience, in that case?" said the Cynic. "I am not +really very particular about the photograph, especially in my 'Sunday +best,' and I can easily come up some other day. But--who is going to +carry the luncheon basket?" + +"There is no basket," I returned; "our arrangements are much more +primitive, and the burden grows lighter as the day proceeds. Moreover, +I don't think it is very nice of you to suggest that the photograph is +of slight importance. Don't you realise that it is my living?" + +"I realise the truth of the poet's assertion that woman is 'uncertain, +coy, and hard to please.' A moment ago you were declining +business--declining it with an air of polite regret, it is true, but +quite emphatically. Now, when I not only refuse to disturb your +arrangements, but actually hint an offer of assistance, you scent a +grievance." + +Rose was looking very hard at me, and I felt vexed with the man for +placing me in such an awkward position. And to make matters worse the +consciousness of Rose's stare upset my self-possession, and it was she +who spoke first. + +"If Mr. Derwent would join us I think it would be very nice," she said, +so demurely that I stared at her in my turn, "and it would be +an--education for him. And he certainly could carry the sandwiches and +our wraps, which are a bit of a nuisance." + +What could I say? I was annoyed, but I could only mutter something +incoherent which my companions construed into an assent, and Rose +instructed the Cynic to be at the cottage at ten o'clock in the morning. + +To add to my confusion, Mother Hubbard was manifestly excited when we +went in to tea, and she telegraphed all sorts of meaning messages to +Rose when the Cynic's back was turned. I was cross with myself for +becoming embarrassed, but I hate to be placed in a false position. +What on earth is the Cynic to me? + +I thought he was rather subdued and not quite as satirical as usual, +but he was obviously very much taken with Rose, who was quite brilliant +in her cuts and thrusts. She soon took the Cynic's measure, and I saw +how keenly he enjoyed the encounter. I left them to it very largely, +much to the disappointment of Mother Hubbard, who developed a series of +short, admonitory coughs, and pressed my foot beneath the table a score +of times in a vain effort to induce me to shine. It was not my "night +out," and her laudable endeavours simply resulted in a sore foot--the +injured member being mine! + +We accompanied him a little way along the road, and when we left him +Rose turned upon me: + +"Now 'fess!" she said. + +"Rose, don't be a goose!" I replied, whilst the stupid colour flooded +my face; "there is nothing to confess. I have seen Mr. Derwent only +twice before in my life. He is little more than a stranger to me." + +"A remarkable circumstance, however, my dear Grace, is that you have +never mentioned his name in your rather voluminous correspondence, and +yet you seem to be on familiar and even friendly terms; and our good +friend Mother Hubbard----" + +"Mother Hubbard, Rose, is romantic. The moment the man turned up at +Easter she designated him as my lover. Let me be quite candid with +you. If I was not so constituted that blushing comes as naturally to +me as to a ripe cherry you would have had no reason to suspect +anything. It is the innocent, I would remind you, who blush and look +guilty. Mr. Derwent is a barrister--a friend of the vicar and of the +squire--and he amuses himself by calling here when he is in the +village--that is all. And if you are going to be as silly as Mother +Hubbard it is too bad of you." + +I felt this was frightfully weak and unconvincing, as the truth so +often is. + +"U-m!" said Rose, spreading the ejaculation over ten seconds; "I see. +Then there's nothing more to be said about it. He isn't a bad sort, is +he? Why in the world you never mentioned him in your letters I cannot +conceive." + +It was too bad of Rose. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE CYNIC SPEAKS IN PARABLES + +"What makes you call me the Cynic?" he inquired. + +It was Rose's fault; she is really incorrigible, and absolutely +heedless of consequences! If I had dreamed that she would have done +such a thing I would never have told her, but that is the worst of +blanket confidences. I call them "blanket" confidences because it was +after we had gone to bed, when it was quite dark and Rose was inclined +to be reasonable, that I had explained to her calmly and quite +seriously that I had not mentioned the Cynic in my letters because +there had been no reason to do so; and Rose had accepted the +explanation, like a good girl, and kissed me to show her penitence. +Then I told her of the nickname I had given him, which she thought very +appropriate. But I would have held my tongue between my teeth if I had +contemplated the possibility of her revealing the secret; and here she +had blurted it out with a laugh, to my utter and dire confusion. + +We had had a glorious day, and I must admit that the Cynic had added +not a little to our enjoyment. He said he would have felt like a fool +to be walking out in black West of Englands, so he had called at the +Hall and got the butler to find up an old shooting jacket of the +squire's, which was much too large for him, but in which he appeared +quite unconcernedly a full ten minutes before the time appointed. + +"It isn't a good fit," he remarked with a laugh, "but the other toggery +was impossible for the moors." + +Under his guidance we had gone farther than we should otherwise have +ventured, and he had pointed out a hundred beauties and wonders our +untrained eyes would never have seen. He had interpreted the varying +cries of the curlew, and shown us how intently the gamekeeper listened +to them, so that he might know whether man or beast or bird was +attracting the watcher's notice. He had pointed out the trustful +little twite, which I should have mistaken for a linnet, and followed +it to its abode, where he told us we should find a single feather stuck +conspicuously in the edge of the nest; and it had been even so. Our +botanical knowledge would have been greatly increased if we had +remembered all he told us, but though we did not do so we were deeply +interested, for he had none of the air of the schoolmaster, and he did +not expect us to take our lessons very seriously. + +And now the day was spent, and our energy, though not our spirits, had +flagged considerably. We were sitting on the edge of the moor, a mile +or so away from home, and the flush of evening spread over the valley +and the distant hills, turning the landscape into mystery. The lamp of +the setting sun was flickering out in the west, but the handmaidens of +the night had lit their tiny torches here and there, and they shone +faintly behind the veil of twilight, giving promise of greater radiance +when the time should come for them to go forth to meet the crescent +bride who tarried in her coming. + +I was gazing on it dreamily, and breathing out peace and goodwill +towards men when Rose dropped her bomb, and shattered my complacency. + +"What makes you call me the Cynic?" He turned his eyes upon me and +awaited my answer with evident curiosity. + +I looked at him in my turn. He had been bareheaded all day, for he had +left his hat at the Hall, and he was now leaning back against a rock, +his hands clasped behind his head, and the mischievous look I have so +often noticed sparkling in his eyes. He really is rather a fine man, +and he has certainly a good strong face. I replied, calmly enough to +outward seeming: + +"Because it has seemed to me an apt description." + +"I hope not," he replied. "Cynicism is the small change of shallow +minds. All the same, it is interesting to be criticised. I did not +know when I offered to analyse your character that I was being +subjected to the same test." + +"Indeed you were not," I protested; "it was an appellation that came to +me spontaneously whilst you were discoursing so luminously on woman a +few months ago, and it is not to be taken seriously. It was wicked of +Rose to tell you." + +Rose laughed and put an arm around me. "Never mind, old girl," she +said, "I'm going back to-morrow, so you must forgive me." + +"I'm afraid you have not distinguished with sufficient care, Miss +Holden, between satire and cynicism. I daresay there is a strain of +satire in my composition, but I do not plead guilty to cynicism. A +cynic is a surly, misanthropical man, with a disordered liver and a +contempt for the good things of life." + +"Oh, Grace!" murmured Rose in pathetic tones, "how could you!" + +"Nonsense!" I said, "I am not going to allow you to pretend to take me +seriously. Do you think I subjected the word to subtle analysis before +I adopted it? I tell you it came to me as an inspiration, heaven-born, +doubtless, but if you don't like it pray forget it; and for your +comfort I will add that I have never attached to the word the meaning +you read into it. I know you have no contempt for art and poetry and +the good things of life. Now tell us what you see before you?" + +I wished to change the subject, and referred simply to the view, as +anyone might have known. Night was dropping her blue curtain as +gently, as silently, as the nurse spreads the coverlet over the +sleeping babe; but the stupid man professed to misunderstand me. + +"I see before me," he replied, "two interesting specimens of the sex +which ruins the peace and creates the paradise of the bulk of mankind. +I would call them charming but for the fear that my candour might be +mistaken for cajolery, which my soul abhorreth." + +"Oh, please stop this!" I pleaded, but Rose said: "Let him ramble on," +and he continued: + +"The one whom I judge to be the elder is tall and well proportioned. +She has a fairly deep brow which indicates some intellectual power, but +whether this is modified or intensified by cranial depressions and +protuberances, a mass of dark hair, arranged in a fashion that beggars +my feeble powers of description, hides from my eyes. + +"Her mouth is firm, and set above a determined chin, which would lead +me to conclude that she has a will of her own and is accustomed to +exercise it; but her eyes are tender and pleading, and so near the +reservoir of her emotions that the waters readily overflow, and this in +some measure counteracts the qualities of the chin. She has a pretty +wit and a ready tongue--usually--and has lived long enough to be +convinced of her own powers; rather masterful with the world at large, +but not mistress of herself." + +"Thank you!" I interrupted. He bowed. + +"She dresses with taste and has tidy and methodical habits; is ever +ready with sympathy, but would never care deeply for anybody who did +not show her a heap of affection." + +"Do I cross your hand with silver?" I inquired. + +He ignored my interruption and turned his whimsical gaze upon Rose. + +"Her companion, whom I have had fewer opportunities of observing, is +slight, fair, and small of stature. I should say she might be +scheduled as 'dangerous,' for she flashes most unexpectedly. She is +rather proud of her self-possession, and delights in appearing cool and +unemotional, but in reality she is neither. She has simply cultivated +repression for the sake of effect. She is intense in her likes and +dislikes and quite capable of hating those whom she regards with +aversion, whilst she would apotheosise anyone for whom she really +cared. Her wit is more brilliant but also more superficial than that +of her friend, and her mental outlook is clearer and consequently more +optimistic. She prides herself on unconventionality, and is at heart +the slave of conventionalism. In a word she is a paradox, but a very +agreeable and fascinating one." + +"I had much rather be a paradox than a paragon," said Rose; "but after +your very inadequate delineation of my character I am trying to +determine in which pigeon-hole of my carefully concealed emotions I am +to docket you." + +"Is that quite true, Miss Fleming?" inquired the Cynic, looking at her +keenly. "I should have said you made up your mind on that point last +evening." + +The tan upon her cheeks and the cloak of twilight covered Rose's +blushes to a large extent, but I am sure the colour deepened, and I am +convinced the Cynic saw it. + +He rose and gathered up the wraps. "It is getting chilly," he +observed; "shall we be moving?" + +I turned the conversation into another channel. "You are going to town +this week-end. Is most of your time spent there?" + +"Yes," he replied, "my work lies in London, though Broadbeck is my +home, and I ran down very often, merely, I believe, to breathe the +murky air and refresh my soul with the Yorkshire burr. I go back +refreshed without knowing why. I have no relatives here now, and few +friends, but the few I have, though they do not guess it, are my +greatest comfort." + +"Comfort!" ejaculated Rose; "what can you know of the need of comfort? +You, at any rate, are self-centred and self-possessed. You have +evidently a sufficient income and lots of the good things of life; you +are entirely your own master, and on the high-road to fame; what more +can you want?" + +"Much," he replied simply; "and chiefly the sympathy which understands +without explanations, and I get that only amongst my own folk. Do you +know what that means? I have all the things you speak of: an +increasing practice, an adequate income, good health, work that brings +its own pleasure, an appreciation of life, consequent, no doubt, upon +all these things, and an ardent longing for the relief which only real +sympathy affords." + +"I don't understand," said Rose, "notwithstanding my clear outlook on +life." + +"Do you?" The Cynic turned to me. + +"Partially," I replied. "I can understand that none of these things +satisfies in itself, and that you may have 'all things and abound,' and +yet crave something you cannot work for and earn. But I should have +thought your profession would have left you little time for sentiment, +even if it afforded scope for it." + +"You know, then, what my profession is?" + +"You are a barrister, and, as Rose says, on the high-road to fame." + +"Well," he replied, "I suppose that is true. I have as much work as I +can undertake and I am well paid for it. Success, in that sense, has +come, though slowly, and I am considered by many a lucky fellow. My +future is said to be full of promise. I have, in the sense in which +you spoke, 'all things and abound,' and when I step into the arena of +conflict I am conscious of this, and of this only. In the heat of the +fray the joy of battle comes upon me, and I am oblivious to all else. + +"Then comes the after-thought, when the fray is ended and the arena has +been swept clean for the next encounter. 'What lack I yet?' In the +process of gaining the whole world am I going to lose myself? And the +throng presses upon me and slaps my back and shakes my hand and shouts, +'Lucky dog!' into my ear, and I smile and look pleased--am +pleased--until my Good Spirit drives me north, where the air is not +soft, but biting, and men speak their minds without circumlocution and +talk to you without deference, and give you a rough but kindly thrust +if they think you need it. And there I find vision and comfort." + +"You are utterly beyond me," said Rose. "You are soaring in the clouds +miles above my head, and I cannot yet understand why you need comfort." + +"Do you remember the young ruler who went away sorrowful?" he replied. +He was looking straight ahead, with a sad, fixed look in his eyes such +as I had not seen there before. "I wonder if he went north and found a +friend who understood, and from him gained comfort. You see, he _knew_ +that something was lacking, but could not make up his mind to pay the +price of the remedy, and even the Great Physician, whilst He gave the +unwelcome prescription, pitied and loved him. The world called him a +lucky dog, and he called himself one--with a reservation. And he +wanted comfort; not the comfort which simply says, 'Buck-up, old man!' +but that which says, 'Brace-up, old man! If to sell all is the summum +bonum, go, see the broker now and have done with it.' I wonder if he +went eventually." + +This was a new mood, and I glanced at the Cynic curiously. What had +become of his cynicism? He was speaking quietly, contemplatively, and +I felt sure there was meaning behind his words. + +I said nothing, but Rose shook her head and muttered: "You speak in +parables." + +"Let me give you a parable," he continued. "Once upon a time a certain +boy on leaving school left also a large number of marbles. These were +claimed by two of his companions, and one of the two took possession of +them. Then arose a great outcry on the part of him who would have +taken them if he could, and he dragged his fellow before a council of +their peers. The monitor was judge, and two sharp young fellows who +were good in debate and of ready tongue acted as counsel for the +claimant and his foe respectively. + +"In the end judgment was given for the claimant, who carried off +triumphantly the spoils of battle. And this judgment was given, not +because the defendant had no right to the marbles, but because the lad +who championed his cause was not so glib of speech nor so ready in +argument as the fellow on the other side. Now it came to pass that the +lad who won the case for his friend discovered soon after, what he had +suspected all along--that the latter had no real claim to the marbles +at all, and that they had been taken unjustly from the lad to whom they +rightfully belonged. Yet the judgment of the court could not be upset. +What was he to do?" + +"Nothing," replied Rose promptly. + +"Why?" inquired the Cynic. + +"It was the fortune of war," she answered; "the case was properly tried +by an impartial court, and the defendant should have taken care to +secure the services of the smarter advocate. It would be a lesson to +him for the future. The world would never get on if everyone worried +about things of that sort." + +"And you?" he said, turning to me. + +"Was there no chance of reversing the judgment?" I inquired. + +"None: it was irrevocable." + +"Had the plaintiff's counsel reason to suspect, did you say, that his +client's cause was unjust before the verdict was given?" + +"He became practically convinced of it as the case proceeded, but not +absolutely certain. Yet he fought for his client with might and main." + +"Had the plaintiff's counsel any marbles of his own?" I continued. + +"He had. Quite a fair store." + +"Sufficient to pay back the lad who had suffered the unjust judgment?" + +"About sufficient; no more." + +My heart thumped painfully, but I did not hesitate to answer: "I think +he ought to have parted with his own marbles, and so redressed the +wrong and saved his soul." + +There was silence for a moment before the Cynic spoke: "I think so, +too." Then, irrelevantly: "There is something about this northern air +that is very bracing." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +GRACE BECOMES DEJECTED + +I had no time to feel depressed after Rose left on Saturday, for the +afternoon brought me more customers than I could well accommodate. + +My reputation must have travelled as far as Broadbeck, for the greater +number of my patrons are from that town. They consist for the most +part of engaged couples, or couples that obviously intend to become +engaged; and whether it is the excellence of my productions, or the low +charges, or just the fun of being photographed by a woman in a hamlet +like Windyridge that attracts them, I have not been able to determine, +and it does not very much matter. Mother Hubbard, on the other hand, +finds the explanation simple. I am the most talented of artists, with +all the indifference of the genuine genius to adequate remuneration. + +I was thoroughly tired when tea-time came and my day's labours ended, +and was quite ready to be petted and made a fuss of by my dear old +lady. By the way, the summer has unfortunately not brought back her +old vigour, and I cannot help worrying a little about her, though she +is as bright and optimistic as ever. + +I got a long letter from Rose on Monday morning. It had been written, +of course, on the Sunday, whilst the scent of the moors was still in +her nostrils; but though she feels the change pretty badly I am sure +she is not so depressed as I am. It must have taken her a heap of time +to fill so many sheets of notepaper with her small, business-like +handwriting. There were a good many sparkling sentences in the letter, +but I cannot say that I felt particularly cheerful when I had finished +it. + +It appears that the Cynic was travelling by the Midland express, and +they were companions all the way from Airlee. He was already in the +train, which starts from Broadbeck, and he caught sight of her on the +platform. It seems strange that he should have gone round that way, +for I remember he told us once that he always travelled by Great +Northern, as it is the shorter route. + +I fancy he was rather taken with Rose, and I know she liked him very +much, for she said so quite openly. It would do the Cynic good to be +married, especially as he seems to need comforting, and Rose is one of +the dearest girls in existence, and would make him a good wife--at +least, I hope she would. And although she has to earn her own living, +she is really very well connected, and had a quite superior education. +It was simply her father's recklessness that threw her on her own +resources, and I should say that her origin is as good as the Cynic's. + +And yet I should hardly have thought that she was just his sort. He is +a man who will make large demands upon his wife if she is to be a real +helpmeet, and he needs to be understood. I am sure Rose did not +understand him. But perhaps, after all, she would be very suitable in +one way. She is ambitious, and would see that he did not hide his +light under a bushel in social circles; though, to be sure, society +might turn up its nose at _her_. It would worry me terribly if +anything should come of this chance encounter under my chaperonage, and +either party should be unhappy. It may be undue sensitiveness on my +part, but I feel rather oppressed with a sense of responsibility. + +Of course, looking at the matter quite calmly, it seems ridiculous to +be building air-castles like this, but I am _very fond_ of Rose and I +would not for worlds have her marry unsuitably; and I cannot help +respecting the Cynic after what he said the other night. It would be +just terrible if they were to make a mess of their lives. Marriage is +such a very serious undertaking, and lots of really sensible people +appear to lose their heads altogether when they come to make the +important choice. However, it is none of my business, and I won't +refer to it again. + +Rose says he was very attentive to her during the journey, and handed +her quite a number of illustrated papers, including some ladies' +journals. If I were a barrister I should never dream of buying papers +which make their appeal to the other sex; but perhaps he finds it +necessary to the study of human nature. A man in his profession must +have to be as many-sided as a poet. + +I conclude that she did not read the magazines, for she says so much +about their conversation that it is evident there was little +opportunity, and besides, they lunched together in the diner, and that +must have taken up a lot of time. She admits that she teased him, and +that he seemed to like it, but she does not say what about. He said +the other day that she was dangerous. I wonder if he really thought +so, and is on his guard against the danger, for Rose has always been +somewhat of a flirt, and it would hurt a man like him deeply if he +really cared and found she was only playing with him. He is the sort +that---- But I said I would not refer to it, and here I am doing so. + +He told her he hoped to see something of her occasionally, and she was +unconventional enough to hope the same. They are sure to make +opportunities easily enough when they are both in London. I feel glad +for Rose, for he is the kind of man who will steady her a bit, but I +hope she---- Oh, bother it! + +Madam Rusty received my kind messages, it appears, with apparent +indifference, so Rose waxed eloquent over the Sunday dinner table, and +painted a picture of my surroundings in the most brilliant colours from +the palette of her imagination. She stimulated the curiosity of the +boarders, who showed a great interest in me and my adventures, and were +eager to know what kind of fare was provided in the wilderness, and +what was the character of the heathen in whose midst I dwelt; to all of +which she replied in a strain of subdued enthusiasm which she assured +me carried conviction. I was regarded, she informed them, with the +same respect as was naturally accorded to the squire of the place, with +whom I was on terms of extreme intimacy. Good air and really good food +(Rose emphasised this for madam's benefit) had brought to my cheeks the +glow of health; and my abilities had secured for me a clientele which +would make a West End photographer think sad thoughts. This, goodness +knows, was true enough. + +She went into ecstasies over Mother Hubbard's cooking, and caused the +company to believe that the fatted calf, and all other makes of fatted +beasts and birds of the primest and tenderest quality, appeared upon my +table regularly during her visit. When I remember the "pot-luck" we +had so often laughed over at dinner-time, my admiration for Rose's +imaginative faculties assumed huge proportions. + +The heathen amongst whom I dwelt were, it appears, Nature's gentlefolk, +hating unreality and humbug as they hated the devil. I think this was +really rather clever of Rose, for it hits off some of my neighbours +exactly, though the devil with whom they are on speaking terms might +possibly seem a mild and blunt-horned personage to some of my London +acquaintances. + +There was a good deal more to the same effect, and having driven the +Rusty one to the verge of apoplexy, Rose retired to her own room and +penned her epistle. Seclusion evidently induced reaction, and she +confessed to the depression I have hinted at. I don't wonder, poor +girl. I should hate to be going to work in the crowded city after +having tasted the freedom of the moors. All the same, there are +compensations if you look for them. If you have friends who are +congenial you have more opportunities of seeing them in a place like +London. Everybody goes to London. Perhaps the Cynic will take her to +see the new play at the St. James's Theatre. I shall be very glad, I +am sure, if they become firm friends. My only doubt is of Rose. She +is so thoughtless and flighty, and might do harm without meaning it.... + +Oh, bother it again! I'm going to bed. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +CARRIER TED RECEIVES NOTICE TO QUIT + +I have not been sleeping very well lately, and my dreams have given me +the creeps and left me so irritable that if I had only a considerate +and philanthropic employer like the one Rose patronises I am sure I +should have been sent away somewhere for a change. Being my own +employer, I stay on and make Mother Hubbard look worried. And the +worst of it is she does not discuss my state of health as a sensible +woman should, but just pets me and tells me it "will all come right in +the end." When I ask her what it is that is to come right she smiles +and relapses into silence. If she were not so gentle and loving and +altogether sweet I should feel inclined to shake her. + +Did I not say that the devil had his intimates in Windyridge? I nod to +him myself just now, but Simon Barjona Higgins has gone into business +with him on quite a large scale, and my friend Maria must surely be +casting longing backward glances in the direction of widowhood. It +makes one feel that matrimony is a snare which women are fools to enter +with their eyes open; though I suppose all men are not given up to +Satan. + +Fancy Rose saying there were no humbugs about here, when such a man as +Barjona flourishes unabashed! But when I come to think of it, she +didn't quite say that: she simply said that my neighbours hated humbug +as they hate the devil, and Barjona loves them both. The thought of +him makes me sick, and when I found out what an old Shylock the man is +I went into the studio with a hammer and smashed his negatives into a +hundred pieces, with as much zest as if I had been a militant +suffragette breaking windows in Regent Street under the eyes of a +scandalised policeman. + +If nature had been clothed in drab on Wednesday afternoon when the +report of unusual occurrences in the village drew me to the little +group of excited people who were discussing them it would have been +appropriate to the occasion. But she wasn't--she was dressed in her +gayest and most captivating summer clothing. + +I think that in itself is vexing. Why should nature look so pleased +and happy when people are miserable, and so emphasise the contrast? If +I am grumpy to begin with it makes me feel ever so much worse to know +that nature is laughing at me, and is just as bright and optimistic as +I am wretched. And, contrariwise, if I do wake up one morning +determined to "bid dull care begone"--who was it used that expression +recently?--and be merry and cheerful, the skies are sure to be like +lead, and the ram is certain to drip, drip, in that sullen, persistent +fashion that would drive Mark Tapley himself to pessimism. There is a +law of cussedness, I am convinced, and I believe I have discovered it. +Mother Hubbard says it is my liver, and prescribes pills! + +When I joined the group there were so many eager to tell me the story +that it was some time before I could make out its purport. By the way, +I ought to point out that I am _not_ becoming a gossip, but I am +interested in the news of the village. We have no _Daily Mail_ to +chronicle our doings, and our methods are therefore necessarily +primitive. Besides, to hold aloof from one's neighbours is a sign of +what Rose calls "snorkiness." + +One of the dearest little cottages in the village is inhabited by a man +called Carrier Ted. I had never been inside it, but its +picturesqueness appeals to me every time I pass it, and you may often +see visitors leaning over the low wall of the garden and enthusing +about it. It is just a little one-storeyed, two-roomed cot, not nearly +so big as some gentlemen's motor garages, but large enough for one +occupant, or even for two if their tastes are simple. + +The ground rises steeply behind it, and tall trees cover the hill from +base to summit, so that the little white house is quite overshadowed by +them. I call it a white house, but the walls are almost concealed by +green and yellow and crimson, where the canary creeper and climbing +roses stretch forth their slender arms to embrace the brown, thatched +roof. + +The garden is evenly divided into two parts by the flagged footpath +which leads straight to the door, and it is always ablaze with colour +in the summer time; but the arrangement is more orderly than in some of +our Windyridge gardens, for Carrier Ted, albeit old-fashioned in his +tastes, is an epicure in horticulture. Only a few days ago Rose and I +had stopped to admire his bloom, and especially the wonderful moss +roses which were his especial pride, and to have a word with the old +man whose skill and industry had aroused my friend's enthusiasm. + +When I first came to the village I took him to be of weak intellect, +principally, I believe, because he always wore a tall silk hat of +antiquated pattern. It was a very rough silk of uncertain colour, and +gave one the impression that it was constantly brushed the wrong way; +but whether working in the garden or walking along the road, Carrier +Ted might always be recognised by his peculiar headgear. + +But there is no daftness about him really. He is just a quiet, even +taciturn old man, who is alone in the world and has saved sufficient +money to enable him to spend the evening of life in comfort, and who +finds in his home and garden both business, recreation and religion. +He is a little, bent man, round-faced and ruddy in spite of his eighty +odd years, with thick grey eyebrows, and a half-circle of beard +stretching from ear to ear beneath his chin. When you praise his +flowers he pauses for a moment, draws his sleeve across his brow in a +confused sort of way, as if to remove perspiration, and smiles. The +smile and the action always remind me of a bashful child who would like +to be friendly but dare not all at once. The smile lights up his face +and reveals the angel within him; but he answers only in monosyllables, +and seems relieved when you pass on your way. It was this man and his +cottage who were the subject of excited conversation. + +"It's a burnin' shame, Miss 'Olden, that's what it is!" exclaimed Widow +Smithies, "an' if I'd my way I'd wring that old heathen of a Barjona +his neck for 'im, that I would; the good-for-nowt, graspin' old +money-lender 'at he is." + +"He wants hoss-whippin'," said Sar'-Ann's mother, "an' if I were a man +I'd do it! But our men fowk are no more use nor two penn'orth o' cowd +gin, an' I'll be bound ther' isn't one on 'em 'at'll lift a little +finger agen 'im." + +"An' I'm sure anyone 'at can find it in their 'eart to do ought wrong +to poor old Ted isn't fit to bide in t' village," said Martha Treffit; +"an' one 'ud ha' thought wi' 'avin' been in t' same trade, like, +Barjona 'ud never ha' tried to 'urt Ted." + +"They may have been in t' same trade, Martha," interposed Susannah, +"but Ted comes off a better pastur' nor ivver Barjona wa' raised on. +'E's as keen as mustard, is Barjona, an' 'ud mor'gage his soul for owt +he took a fancy tul." + +"He's as 'ard as iron in his 'eart," snapped Mrs. Smithies, "but as +soft as a boiled turnup in his 'ead. I'd like to put 'im through t' +wringin' machine, an' squeeze 'im for once, as is so ready to squeeze +other fowk. 'Ere comes Reuben. What'll Reuben 'ave to say about it, I +wonder?" + +Reuben shook his head. "It's a sad job, neighbours, but law's law, an' +we shall have to make t' best on 't." + +"Hark to him!" said Sar'-Ann's mother; "didn't I tell you there isn't a +man in t' village wi' as mich sperrit as a kitlin'? If Reuben won't do +nowt ye can go bail 'at t' rest 'll noan stir." + +"Right's right, an' law's law, all the world over," said Reuben, +shaking his head; "an' it'll be no manner o' use tryin' to persuade +Barjona ought different. I could easy throw him on t' midden, but that +wouldn't mend matters. 'Ye can take t' horse to t' water, but ye can't +make 'im drink,' as t' Owd Book says. It'll be a trial to t' owd man, +but Ted 'll have to make up 'is mind to flit." + +Reuben walked home with me and gave me a connected account of what had +happened. "You see, Ted's lived i' yon cottage ever sin' I can +remember, Miss 'Olden. I mind him bringin' his wife to it, maybe forty +year sin', though I were just a lad at t' time, an' it'll be 'appen +five year sin' she died. They were neither on 'em chickens when they +were wed, an' they never 'ad any childer; but they allus seemed to get +on right enough, an' I don't know 'at I ever 'eard tell of 'em 'aving a +wrong word wi' one another, or wi' anyone else, for that matter. They +lived peaceable wi' all men, as t' Owd Book puts it, an' kept +theirselves to theirselves. But they never really made any friends, as +you may say. If you looked in you were welcome, but you were never +asked to stop, an' they never called in to see t' neighbours. His +missis wasn't one o' t' gossipin' sort, an' 'e were away a good deal +wi' his cart; an' so we got into t' 'abit o' leavin' 'em alone. + +"She must have been seventy--ay, more than seventy--when she died (I +believe it tells on t' stone, but I never took that much notice), an' +one or two o' t' neighbours did look in during t' time 'at she were +ill, an' did what they could for 'em both, and he were very grateful. +But he made no fuss, an' when they put her away 'e just wiped 'is +sleeve across 'is face, an' walked back an' started diggin' a trench in +t' garden. + +"Well, it come out this mornin' 'at Barjona's bought t' cottage, an' it +appears he gave Ted notice to quit last week-end, an' his time 's up on +Saturda'. They say he's goin' to live there himself, an' I daresay +it's likely enough. It belonged to a young chap down i' Fawkshill, an' +Barjona has a 'old on him somehow, an' he's forced 'im to sell. I've +been to see t' chap just now, but Barjona has got it right enough, +deeds an' everything, an' law's law all the world over. Ted's fair +rooted in t' soil o' that land, but he'll 'ave to shift, an' quick too. +'E's as hard as nails, is Barjona, an' Ted 'll have to clear out on +Saturda'." + +"But what a shame!" I remarked; "could not someone be induced to buy it +from Barjona? Perhaps he would sell at a profit." + +"I'm goin' to see him in t' mornin'," replied Reuben, "but I durst bet +a five-pun note to a toothpick 'at he won't sell at any figure. I know +Barjona. There's good wheat i' all men, but it's so lost among t' +chaff i' Barjona's case 'at only t' Day o' Judgment 'll find it." + +Reuben called the next day to report the fruitlessness of his mission. + +"It's no use," he said, and for once the cheerful farmer had become +gloomy; "I haven't got a right hang o' t' words, but t' Owd Book says +summat, if I'm not mista'en, about ye can crush a man's 'ead up in a +mortar wi' a pestle, an' if he's a fool at t' start, he'll be a fool at +t' finish. Barjona says he's stalled o' livin' down yonder i' Maria's +house in t' Gap, an' he's set 'is 'eart on yon cottage o' Ted's ever +sin' he thought o' gettin' wed again. He's shut his teeth, an' ye +couldn't prize 'em open wi' a chisel an' hammer." + +"Could the squire do anything if I wrote him?" I asked. + +"Mr. Evans? What can 'e do? T' cottage isn't his. Law's law, an' +Barjona has t' law on his side. Ye can't fight agen law. Ted 'll have +to shift. It's a pity, but it's no killin' matter, an' 'e'll get over +it i' time." + +"Not if he's rooted to the soil," I said; "old plants often die when +transplanted." + +"Now look 'ere, Miss 'Olden," he replied kindly; "don't you take on +over this job. You're too fond o' suppin' sorrow. We all 'ave our own +crosses to carry, an' it's right 'at we should 'elp to carry other +folkses. But it's no use carryin' theirs unless you can lighten t' +load for 'em. Frettin' for owd Ted 'll none make it any easier for +'im. You want to learn 'ow to be sorry i' reason, without frettin' +yourself to death. Why aren't ye sorry for Barjona?" + +"The miserable old fox!" I exclaimed. + +"I dunno but what he's more to be pitied nor Ted," replied Reuben +thoughtfully. "Now you just study a minute. Don't ye think the Lord +'ll be more sorry to see Barjona's 'eart shrivelled up like a dried +pig-skin, so as it can't beat like other people's, nor what 'E will for +Ted, what's as 'armless as a baby? If I read t' Owd Book right 'E +allus seemed t' sorriest for them 'at were t' worst. 'E wept over +Lazarus, I know, but 'E didn't fret about him an' his sisters in t' +same way as 'E fret over t' city when 'E wept over it. You see, +Lazarus 'adn't gone wrong, an' t' city had. Lazarus an' t' girls had +suffered i' their bodies an' their minds, same as we all 'ave to do, +an' same as Ted is doin', but t' city 'at rejected 'Im was sufferin' in +its soul. + +"No, I pity Ted, but I pity Barjona more. It's t' sick 'at need t' +physician, as t' Owd Book says, an' Barjona's got t' fatal disease o' +greed an' selfishness an' covetousness an' 'ard-'eartedness, wi' all +sorts o' complications, an' it doesn't make me pity 'im any less 'at 'e +doesn't know 'at 'e ails ought. You never found the Lord ought but +kind to them 'at 'E drave t' devils out of. Now you think it over, an' +keep your sperrits up." + +I have thought it over. Just now, perhaps, I am not in the mood to +view the case philosophically. My own feelings reflect the mood of the +village generally. I don't doubt Barjona's sickness, but my +prescription would be a drastic one, and whipping with scorpions would +be too good for him. There are some people whom kindness does not +cure, and I imagine Barjona to be one of them. + +I would go over to see Maria, but Farmer Goodenough is emphatic that I +ought not to interfere. "It's ill comin' between married fowk," he +says. He is sure I should make trouble, and he is very likely right. +I was astonished when I heard that Barjona had left his lodgings and +gone to live in the Gap, for it certainly seems out of the way for his +business; but he has no right to disturb poor old Ted for his own +convenience. I hope judgment will overtake him speedily. + +Did I not say I had a nodding acquaintance with the devil? + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +BARJONA'S DOWNFALL + +Soon after breakfast on Saturday a furniture cart stopped at Carrier +Ted's gate, and the village turned out _en masse_. There had been a +heavy downpour of rain during the night, but the sun struggled through +the clouds at breakfast time, and by nine o'clock had gained the +mastery. It was dirty on the roadway, so the half-dozen neighbourly +men who were piling the household effects on to the cart had to be +careful not to rest them in the mud. + +Not that Carrier Ted cared anything about it. He stood in the garden +with the old silk hat pushed deep down over his brow, and looked +abstractedly at his peonies. He seemed oblivious to the busy scene +that was being enacted about him: of all the spectators he was the +least moved: he, the most interested of all, was less interested than +any. + +By and by Barjona drove up and was greeted with scowls and muttered +imprecations. Two or three of the women went a step beyond muttering, +and expressed their views in terms that lacked nothing of directness. + +"You ought to be ashamed o' yerself, Barjona Higgins!" said one; "yes, +you ought! To turn the old man out of his 'ome at his time o' life. +You'd turn a corpse out of its coffin, you would!" + +Barjona's cold eyes contracted. "What's wrong now, eh?" he jerked; +"house is mine, isn't it? .... Paid good money for it.... Can do as I +like wi' my own, can't I? ... You mind your business; I'll mind mine." + +He walked up the path to the house, merely nodding to Ted as he passed; +but Ted did not see him. + +After a while he returned and went up to the old man, and shouted in +his ear as though he were deaf, so that we all could hear: + +"There'll be a bit o' plasterin' to do ... your expense ... an' there's +a cracked winda-pane ... ye'll pay for that, Ted?" + +The old man looked up and passed his sleeve across his brow, then +rubbed his knuckles in his eyes as though awaking from sleep. + +"Owt 'at's right, Barjona; owt 'at's right, lad." + +Reuben Goodenough's eldest son was passing at the time, with a heavy +fender over his shoulder. Hearing these words he stopped, and I +thought for a moment that he was going to bring it down on Barjona's +head, but with an angry gesture he moved on and deposited his burden on +the cart. Then he went up to the new owner and laid a heavy hand on +his shoulder. How I admired the strong, well-set man, and the man +within him. + +"Mr. Higgins," he said, "you can see for yourself 'at Ted isn't fit for +business. If you've ought to say, say it to me. I'm actin' for 'im." + +There had been no such arrangement, of course, but this provisional +government met with the approval of the crowd. + +"That's right, Ben lad, you tak' both t' reins an' t' whip!" shouted +Sar'-Ann's mother; "I'm fain to see there's one man in t' village." + +"Now, you look here, Mr. Higgins," continued Ben, thus encouraged, +"ought 'at it's right for Ted to pay shall be paid, but you send your +list an' bill in to me, an' if my father an' me passes it ye'll be +paid, an' if we don't ye won't; so you can put that in your pipe an' +smoke it." + +"Keep cool, Ben, keep cool!" said Barjona, who himself was not in the +least ruffled; "only want what's right, you know ... only what's +right.... You or Ted, Ted or you ... all the same to me." + +"I feel dead beat, lad," said Ted, who still seemed dazed; "I'll go +inside an' lie down a bit." + +Ben motioned to me, and I stepped through the gate and joined them. + +"Ted's tired," he said, "and wants to lie down. Would you mind taking +him across to Susannah's and askin' her to let 'im rest on t' sofa a +bit?" Then turning to the old man he said: "Go with this lady, Ted: go +with Miss Holden. We've nearly finished packing all your stuff on t' +cart, you know. But Susannah 'll get you a sup o' something warm, an' +you can lie down on her sofa, an' Miss Holden 'll talk to you a bit." +He spoke soothingly, as to a child, and the old man turned his eyes +upon me. + +"Shoo's a stranger, Ben?" + +"Nay, she's lived here a twelvemonth, Ted. Now come, you go with 'er. +She'll look after you nicely." + +He suffered himself to be led away, but when we reached the group about +the gate he would go no farther, but suddenly found tongue, and began +to speak in a ruminating way, looking first at one and then another, +but keeping fast hold of my arm. + +"Ye'll none o' ye mind my mother? No, no, ye're ower young, all o' ye. +It'll be seventy year an' more sin' she died, an' I wor only a lad at +t' time. That wor her rockin'-chair 'at they're puttin' on t' cart, +an' when I browt my missis 'ome, shoo hed it. First my mother, +neighbours, an' then t' missis; an' t' owd chair lasts 'em both out, +an' 'll last me out. I nivver thowt but it 'ud stand there aside o' t' +chimley till they carried me out o' t' door, feet for'most. T' old +chair 'll feel kind o' lonesome, neighbours, kind o' lonesome, in a +strange kit chin." + +"Nivver 'eed, lad," said one of the older women; "ye'll be varry +comfortable down i' t' Clough." + +"Aye, happen so," he replied, "but lonesome, neighbours, lonesome. +There isn't a crack i' t' beams but what looked friendly-like, for +we've grown old together; an' all t' furnitur' spake to me abaht old +times, for I niwer shifted 'em out o' their places. An' them two +chaney orniments o' t' chimley-piece, they wor allus comp'ny, too--Duke +o' Wellington an' Lord Nelson they are. My mother wor varry proud on +'em i' her time, an' t' missis wor just t' same; an' sin' shoo went +they've allus felt to be comp'ny like. I doubt they'll nivver look t' +same on another chimley-piece." + +"It's a shame 'at 'e's turned ye out, Ted," said Susannah, "an' I 'ope +'e'll 'ave to suffer for it, I do." + +"Aye, lass," he replied, "I could ha' liked well to ha' drawn my last +breath i' t' old cottage, I could, for sure. I think Barjona mud ha' +let me live on i' t' old 'ome. I shouldn't ha' troubled 'im so +long--not so long." + +"Come inside, Ted," said Susannah, whose eyes were filling with tears, +"an' lie down while I get you a sup o' tea." + +He appeared not to hear her, however, but stared fixedly at the flagged +footpath and muttered, as he slowly shook his head: + +"I shouldn't ha' troubled 'im so long--not so long." + +Somebody fetched him a stool, and he sat down outside the gate with his +back against the wall, whilst the women sympathised volubly, arms +akimbo. + +It was very pathetic, but no words of comfort came to my lips, though +my heart ached for the silent old man who was leaving behind everything +that counted in life, and who was sure to feel keenly the loss of +familiar faces and friendly looks, even though he had not shown himself +neighbourly. I said something of the sort to Mother Hubbard, who had +now joined us, but she was doubtful. + +"Well, love, I don't know. Ted has never shown much feeling. I have +known him nearly all his life, and I don't think he has very deep +feelings, love. He always seemed friendly with his wife, but not what +you would call affectionate, you know, love. Of course, one doesn't +know what he really felt when she died, but it didn't seem to trouble +him very much." + +"That proves nothing," I replied, with the emphasis born of +observation; "the proverb says that 'still waters run deep,' and it is +never more true than in this connection. The wailing widower is +usually easily consoled." + +"Yes, love, but I have discovered that you are very imaginative, though +at one time I didn't think so, and you may read your own feelings into +Ted's, you know. I really do think, love, that he has not very deep +feelings." + +Soon everything was piled upon the cart, and Ben Goodenough came up to +the old man to inform him that they were ready to leave. + +"Now, Ted!" he said, with an assumption of cheerfulness; "we've got +everything on nicely, an' we'll step down with you to t' Clough an' get +'em into their places at t' other end. You'll want to have a look +round, 'appen, before we leave." + +"Aye, Ben lad, I tak' it varry kindly 'at ye're givin' yerself all this +trouble. It's friendly, lad, friendly. Aye, I sud like to hev a look +round for t' last time afore we start." + +He rose wearily and accompanied Ben up the path. Barjona was standing +at the door, and all three went in. They came out before long, and +there were no traces of emotion on Ted's ruddy face. But as he looked +up and down the garden his lips quivered, though he mastered himself +with an effort. The gladioli and hollyhocks made a brave show amid the +humbler sweet-williams and marigolds, but they would have to be left. +He stopped opposite the rose-bush. + +"Ben, lad," he said, "ye'll do me one more favour, willn't ye? Get me +a spade off o' t' cart, will ye? I've left it till t' last minute, for +I can 'ardly bide to root it up, but I munnut leave that tree be'ind." + +One of the men had darted off at the mention of the word "spade," and +the beloved implement--the old man's faithful friend--was placed in his +hand. + +"Thee an' me's hed monny a grand time together, lad," he said, +apostrophising the spade, "but nivver such a sad job as this afore. A +sad job, aye, a sad job. But we've got to do it, lad, ye an' me." + +He put his foot upon it and prepared to dig up the tree, when Barjona +interposed. Every word was clearly heard by the group in the roadway. + +"Steady there! ... what ye goin' to do?" + +"Nobbut just dig t' tree up, Barjona." + +"Leave t' tree alone ... that tree's mine." + +Ted looked at him and his hands began to tremble. "Ye don't meean, +Barjona, 'at ye won't let me tak' t' rose-tree away wi' me?" + +"Ye tak' nowt out of t' garden ... all what's rooted in t' soil belongs +to me ... paid good money for it.... Put yer spade away." + +"Look 'ere, Mr. Higgins," interrupted Ben, "do you mean to tell me 'at +you're going to prevent Ted takin' a bit of a rose-tree with him? If +you do, you're a harder-'earted old wretch than I took you for." + +Angry murmurs arose from the crowd, but Barjona's jaw stiffened and +there was no hint of yielding in his tone. + +"Right's right," he said ... "that rose-tree's mine ... took a +partic'lar fancy to it ... won't part with it for nob'dy." + +Ted fumbled in his pocket and produced a wash-leather bag, the neck of +which was tied round with string. With shaking fingers he felt for a +coin and drew out a half-sovereign. + +"I'll pay ye for't, Barjona. Sitha, I'll give ye ten shillin' for t' +plant." + +"Put yer brass back, Ted ... brass willn't buy it ... took my fancy, +that tree has ... you mun buy another." + +Sar'-Ann's mother pushed her way through and strode up to the stubborn, +grasping man, and shook her fist in his face. + +"You miserable old devil!" she cried. "Oh, if I were only a man I'd +thrash ye while ever I could stand over ye. Yes, I would, if they sent +me to gaol for 't. I wish the earth 'ud open an' swalla' ye up. But +t' varry worms 'ud turn at ye." + +Barjona thrust his hands deep into his trousers' pockets and assumed an +air of weariness. + +"Isn't there a man among ye?" continued the infuriated woman. "Ben, +haven't ye spunk enough to fell 'im to t' ground? Eh, these men! God +forgive me 'at I call 'em men!" + +She fell back, and burst into hysterical tears, and Ben made another +attempt. + +"What the hangment do ye mean by it, Mr. Higgins? Have ye no 'eart at +all? Ye'll never miss t' tree. I'll give you two just as good out of +our own garden, hanged if I won't. Let him take t' tree, an' we'll be +going." + +"He--leaves--that--tree--where--it--is," replied Barjona with emphasis; +"an' ye can all clear out o' this garden.... That tree's mine." + +Ben took Ted's arm, but the old man refused to move. A tear forced its +way out of the corner of his eye, and he drew a red cotton handkerchief +from his trousers' pocket and wiped it away. + +"Barjona, lad," he pleaded tremulously, "only just this one tree--nowt +else; just this one tree, there's a good lad." + +"I've said my say," replied Barjona. + +"Take no notice of him, Ted," said Ben. "I'll give you one o' t' +grandest rose-trees i' Yorkshire. Let t' old skinflint have his tree." + +"Nay, but I mun hev it, I mun hev it," moaned the old man. "I mun hev +it, lad; I mun hev it." + +I wondered if I could influence Barjona, and I stepped up to him. + +"Mr. Higgins, you see how distressed Ted is. Surely you will not make +the parting more bitter for him. Think how unpleasant it will be for +you to live among us if you make us all your enemies." + +"Much obliged, Miss 'Olden.... If you mind your business ... I'll +mind mine." + +"But why are you so set upon it, Mr. Higgins?" + +"'Cos I am ... that's enough ... that plant's mine, an' mine it's goin' +to be." + +I turned to Ted. "Cannot you make up your mind to do without it?" I +asked. "Do you want it so very much?" + +He nodded, and the tears now followed each other fast down his cheeks. +"I mun hev it; I mun hev it," he moaned. + +We were all gathered round now; not a soul was left in the roadway, and +the flower-beds were suffering. + +"But why?" I persisted. "What makes you so very anxious to have it? +You shall have another just as fine. Why do you want this particular +one so badly?" + +He shook his head, and raised his sleeve to his brow with the old +nervous, familiar action. + +"Cannot you tell me?" I asked. + +Then the answer came, low but clearly heard by everybody: "_Shoo_ liked +it!" + +The shame of the confession made him shake from head to foot, but the +revelation of unsuspected deeps thrilled us, every one, and set us on +fire with indignation and contempt. + +"You heard him!" I said, turning to Barjona. "Now listen! I will give +you five pounds for that rose-bush." + +"That--tree--will--bide--where--it--is," replied Barjona doggedly. + +There was a movement in the crowd as a raging woman forced her way +through. She was hatless, like the rest of us, but her arms were bare +to the elbows. Until I noticed the tightly-coiled hair I did not +recognise Barjona's wife, for the usually pleasant face was clouded in +storm. + +She strode up to her husband and seized him by the collar of his coat +with both hands. + +"You heartless rascal!" she hissed in his ears; "so this is your +blessed secret 'at you've kept for a surprise, is it? I'll surprise +ye, ye good-for-nowt old Jew. What do ye mean by it, eh?" She shook +him as if he had been a lad of ten, and he was helpless in her grip. + +"You leave me alone!" he threatened, but all the brag was gone from him. + +"Leave--you--alone!" she hissed between her clenched teeth; "I wish to +God I had; but I took ye for better or worse, an' it isn't goin' to be +all worse, I can tell ye! I hearkened to ye while I could 'earken no +longer. The Lord gi' me grace to keep my 'ands off o' ye!" + +It was a remarkably futile prayer, seeing that she was holding him as +in a vice, and shaking him at intervals. + +"D'ye think I'd ever live 'ere, an' let a poor old man like Ted fend +for hisself anywhere? What do ye take me for? Ye knew better than to +tell me while ye'd gotten yer dirty work done, but thank the Lord I was +just in time. 'Ere, get away! I'm stalled o' talkin' to ye!" + +She pushed him away roughly, but he made one more sulky struggle for +mastery. + +"Are ye t' boss 'ere, or am I?" he growled; "I've bought it ... an' +I'll live in it." + +"Will ye?" she said with scorn, "then ye'll live by yersen. But I'll +show ye who's t' boss. You may thank the Lord 'at ye've got a wife wi' +a bit o' gumption. Ye shall be t' master when ye can master yersen. +I'm fair shamed o' ye! We'll 'appen live 'ere when owt 'appens Ted, +but never as long as 'e wants it; so that's flat!" + +The crowd cheered, and Maria brightened visibly. "Nay, to be sure, +Miss 'Olden, an' friends," she said, "to think 'at any 'usband o' mine +should disgrace hisself an' me i' this fashion! I never knew a word, +believe me, while 'alf an hour sin' when I chanced across young +Smiddles, an' he let into me right an' left. I can tell you I didn't +let t' grass grow under my feet afore I set off 'ere. Don't you fret, +Ted, lad! Turn ye out? Not we! Sitha, Barjona's fair shamed of +hisself, an' well he might be. Nay, to be sure, I stood at back on ye +all an' hearkened while my blood boiled. He must ha' been wrong i' his +'ead, Barjona must. Come, friends, get out o' t' gate, an' we'll carry +t' furnitur' in agen, an' soon hev t' place to rights. Now you can +stop that mutterin', Barjona, an' just get into t' trap out o' t' road!" + +Many willing hands made the task a light one, and in an hour's time the +cottage had assumed its old aspect, and the women had swept and dusted +and given the finishing touches to everything. Mrs. Higgins was +critical, but expressed herself satisfied at last. Then she climbed +into the trap and seated herself beside her husband. + +"Good-bye, friends," she shouted, as they drove off. "Don't ye worry. +He can drive t' owd mare, but 'e can't drive me. I'll bring 'im to 'is +sops!" + +"Gosh!" snapped Sar'-Ann's mother, "now that's some bit like! Gi' me a +woman for mettle an' sperrit I Lord 'elp us, but I reckon nowt o' such +a white-livered lot o' men as we hev i' Windyridge. She'll mak' a man +o' yon old rascal yet, will Maria!" + +As I looked back on my way home I saw that Ted had fetched his rake, +and was busy getting the garden into order again. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE CYNIC'S RENUNCIATION + +Excitements tread upon each other's heels. After Barjona, the Cynic. +He appeared unexpectedly on Monday morning, and I took the +long-promised photographs, which have turned out very badly; why, I +don't know. He was not in his Sunday best, so the fault did not lie +there; and his expression was all right, but I could not catch it on +the plate, try as I might. He was very much amused, and accused me of +looking haggard over the business, which was absurd. Every +photographer is anxious to secure a satisfactory result, or if he is +not he does not deserve to succeed. I think really I was afraid of his +waxing sarcastic over my attempts at portraying his features. He is +not a handsome man, as I may have remarked before, but he is not the +sort that passes unnoticed, and I wanted to secure on the plate the +something that makes people look twice at him; and I failed. I took +several negatives, but none of them was half as nice as the original; +and yet we are told that photography flatters! + +He professed an indifference which I am afraid he felt, and Mother +Hubbard assured him over the dinner-table that there was not the +slightest ground for anxiety. It will be a long time, I fear, before +he gets the proofs. He stayed to dinner on his own invitation, and +Mother Hubbard prepared one of her extra special Yorkshire puddings in +his honour. Fortunately, we had not cooked the beef on the Sunday, or +he would have had to be content with the remains of the cold joint; and +though I should not have minded, I know Mother Hubbard would have been +greatly distressed. + +He spoke quite naturally about Rose, and appeared to have enjoyed her +company immensely, but he had not seen her again up to then. + +When the meal was over we went out into the garden and sat down, and +somehow or other the sense of quiet and the beauty of the view soothed +me, and I felt less irritable than for days past. I never get tired of +the dip of green fields and the stretch of moor on the far side of the +wood. + +"Can you spare me a full hour, Miss Holden?" he asked. "I have come +down specially to see you, principally because I have had a letter from +Mr. Evans which in some measure concerns you, and also because I want +to continue the discussion of the parable of the marbles which we were +considering the other evening." + +How pretty the landscape looked from our garden! Cloud shadows were +racing each other across the pastures as I lay back and watched them, +and I thought the view had never been bonnier. + +"I am not overworked," I replied, "and I can give up a whole afternoon, +if necessary. What is the news from the squire? Nothing serious, I +hope; and yet it must be important to bring you down here specially." + +"I hardly know what to say. Something in his letter conveys the +impression that he is far from well again, though he does not +definitely say so. But it appears that he has asked you to go out to +him if he becomes seriously ill. That is so, isn't it?" + +"Yes," I answered, "and I have promised to go. It touches me deeply +that he should want me." + +"I don't wonder," he said; but whether at my emotion or the squire's +proposal did not transpire. + +"If and when he sends for you," he continued, "he wishes you to +communicate with me, and he asks me to make all the business +arrangements for you. I need hardly say that it will afford me much +pleasure to do whatever I can. I will give you my Broadbeck and town +addresses, and if you will wire me whenever you need my services I will +reply at once. Please don't feel obliged to look anything up for +yourself, as I will see to every detail, and provide all that is +necessary for the journey in accordance with my old friend's +instructions." + +"It is extremely good of you," I said, "and very thoughtful on the +squire's part. I accept your offer gratefully. But do you think there +is much likelihood of my being sent for?" + +"Candidly, I think there is; equally candidly, I hope the necessity may +not arise. If the end comes whilst he is abroad, a man ought by all +means to be present, for there will be no end of difficulties, and it +will be absolutely necessary for someone to go out. But that takes +time, and meanwhile the position would not be a pleasant one for you. +I would go to him myself now but for two insuperable difficulties, one +being that certain important duties keep me in London at present, and +the other that Mr. Evans most distinctly does not want me." + +"I quite see what you mean," I said; "but if the worst happens, and I +am there at the time, I shall do my best and not mind the +unpleasantness." + +"I am sure of that," he returned, "but you don't at all realise what is +involved. However, we won't discuss this further. On his account I +should be heartily glad for you to go, and I am relieved that he has +had the good sense to suggest it." + +"I regard him very highly," I said. + +"You do more: you love him," he remarked, with a sharp, keen glance at +my face. + +"Yes, I think I love him," I replied without confusion. "I could +easily be his daughter; we have much in common." + +He said nothing for quite a long time, during which he threw his +cigarette away and lit a pipe. Then he turned to me: + +"Now for my parable." + +"Yes," I said; "tell me about it." + +"You guessed, of course, that it is a matter that affects me deeply and +seriously?" + +"I was afraid so. I could not be certain, of course, but I felt that +it was much more than an ethical conundrum." + +"God knows it was, and He knows, too, that I am grateful to you for the +clear lead you gave, suspecting, as you must have done, that it meant +much to me." + +Had I suspected? I suppose I did, for my heart, I remember, beat +painfully; yet I had not thought much more of it since. I looked at +him, and saw that his face was white but resolute, and I said +hesitatingly: + +"I am sorry if you are in trouble, but Farmer Goodenough thinks that +troubles are blessings in disguise. I wish I could give you more than +second-hand comfort." + +"I am going to tell you exactly where I stand," he said, "and you must +not allow your woman's instinct of comfort to cloud or bias your +judgment. Goodenough may be right, but if I take the step I +contemplate it will not be because I expect good to result to +myself--though there may be, no doubt, a certain spiritual gain--but +because it is the only course possible to me if I am to retain my +self-respect. + +"You will hardly have heard of a rather prominent case in which I +figured recently as counsel for the plaintiff." + +"Lessingham _versus_ Mainwaring?" I queried. + +"You have heard of it then? Do you know the details?" + +"Not at all. I simply read in the paper that you had won the case for +your client." + +"I see. Well, it would take too long, and would be too uninteresting +to you to explain everything, but put briefly the case was this. +Mainwaring had got hold of a considerable sum of money--over L7,000, as +a matter of fact--which Lessingham claimed belonged to him. There were +a great many points which were interesting to lawyers, and when the +plaintiff's brief was offered to me I jumped at it. A barrister has +often to wait a long time before any plums fall to his share, but this +was a big one, for the other side had engaged two of the most eminent +counsel in the land; and I had a big figure marked on my brief. + +"We had a tremendous fight, and in the heat of the forensic duel I lost +sight of everything except the one goal of triumphant and overwhelming +victory. I have no desire to speak of my accomplishment in terms that +may sound egotistical, but I may say without affectation that I found +all the weak places in the defence and used every talent I could +command to crush my opponents, and I succeeded, and became for a week +one of the most talked-of men in London. Outwardly collected, I was +inwardly exalted above measure, for I knew what the winning of the case +meant for me. + +"I say I knew. I should have said I thought I knew. All I realised +was that briefs would now be showered upon me, as they have been--as +they are being. What I failed to realise was that I should have to +stand at the bar of my own conscience, and be tried by the inexorable +judge whose sentences are without mercy. That came to pass quickly, +and I was condemned, and on appeal you confirmed the judgment." + +"I? Oh, Mr. Derwent!" + +"During the course of the trial I became convinced, or at any rate I +had grave reasons for suspecting that my client was a scoundrel, and +had no right to a penny of the money. The conviction came in part from +what was revealed to me in conversation with him, and in part from what +came out in evidence, but at the moment I did not care. I was paid to +win my case, not to secure justice. That was for the judge and jury. +There was more than that, however. It was not the lust of gain, but +the lust of glory that obsessed me. I, Philip Derwent, was going to +defeat Ritson and Friend at whatever cost. + +"But, Miss Holden, I have inherited certain qualities which are likely +to put awkward obstacles in the path of ambition. My father was a good +man. He was scrupulously, fastidiously honest. He believed that the +principles of the Sermon on the Mount could and should be practised in +everyday life. Consequently he never made much money, and was terribly +disappointed when his only son adopted the law as a profession. +Some--not all, but some--of his qualities are in my blood; and the +voice of conscience is always telling me that the father was a better +man than the son, and that, unless I am careful, I shall sell my life +for power and possessions; and I have made up my mind to be careful. + +"Well, I have made inquiries--carefully and without hurry--and I now +know for a fact that Mainwaring had every right to that money, and that +Lessingham is a fraud, so that my course is clear. I have seen +Lessingham, and he laughs in my face. 'You knew it at the time, old +man!' he said; 'and a jolly good thing you've made out of it.' There +was no chance of putting things right from that quarter." + +"But, Mr. Derwent," I interrupted, "surely in your profession this is +an everyday occurrence. Both sides cannot be right, and both need +legal assistance." + +"True," he replied, "and you must quite understand my attitude. I am +not judging any of my brethren: to their own master they stand or fall. +But for myself, I am not going to support any case, in the future, +which I am not convinced is a just one. If, after accepting a brief, I +have reason to believe that I am espousing an unjust cause I will throw +it up at whatever sacrifice." + +"I am afraid it will mean _great_ sacrifice," I murmured. + +"Would you recommend me not to do it?" he asked. + +"You must obey your Inner Self, or suffer torment," I replied. + +"I must, and I will," he said firmly. "Now listen to me. My father +was not, as I have said, a wealthy man, and on his death I inherited +little beyond good principles and good books. The waiting period for +financial success was long, but latterly I have made money. I have +L7,000 in the bank, and a good income. And my judgment agrees with +yours: I must part with my marbles." + +"Oh, Mr. Derwent," I exclaimed; "think well before you take so serious +a step! What is my hasty decision worth? It was given on the spur of +the moment: it was the immature judgment of an inexperienced woman!" + +"It was the spontaneous expression of pure, instinctive truth," he +replied. "Yet do not feel any sense of responsibility. I had already +reached the same conclusion: you merely confirmed it, and in doing so +helped and strengthened me--though the decision set back a hope that +had arisen within me." + +"But, Mr. Derwent"--I was groping around vainly for a loophole of +escape--"this Mr. Mainwaring, is he poor? does he need the money? will +he use it well?" + +"What does that matter?" he replied. "His wealth or poverty cannot +affect the question of right or wrong. The money is his by right. _I_ +robbed him of it by forensic cunning and rhetoric, and I will repay +him. As a matter of fact he is fabulously wealthy, and L7,000 is to +him a mere drop in an ocean. And he spends his money on horses and +dissipation. He is a bigger scoundrel than Lessingham, and that is +saying much." + +"But what a shame, Mr. Derwent! It does not seem right." + +"It can never be wrong to do right. Besides, I misled you at the +outset of our conversation--misled you purposely. I could not change +my mind now if I wished to do so, for I posted Mainwaring a cheque for +the full amount this morning." + +I felt ready to cry, but there was as much joy as sorrow in my breast. +I believe I smiled, and I held out my hand, which he grasped and +retained a moment. + +At that instant a telegraph boy pushed open the gate and advanced +towards me. + +"Miss Holden?" he inquired. + +I took the envelope and tore it open. It contained only a brief +message: + + +"Zermatt. _July_ 22_nd._ + +"Please come soon as possible. See Derwent. + +"EVANS. Hotel Victoria." + + +I burst into tears, and went into the house. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +AT ZERMATT + +I cannot truthfully say that sad thoughts were uppermost during the +hours that followed. After all, it was my first trip to the Continent, +and although I am thirty-six years old, and might be expected to have +got over mere juvenile excitements, I confess to a feeling of cheerful +anticipation. Of course the squire was always in the background of my +thoughts, but I had no sense of apprehension such as sometimes +oppresses one before an approaching calamity. + +And it was so nice to have everything arranged for me, and to find +myself in possession of time-tables and railway-coupons and a clear +itinerary of the journey without the slightest effort or inconvenience +on my part. Undoubtedly man has his uses, if he is a clear-headed, +kind-hearted fellow like the Cynic. + +When the whistle sounded and the boat express glided out of Charing +Cross I waved my handkerchief from the window as long as I could see +him, and then settled down into the luxurious cushions and gave myself +up to reflection. How nice and brotherly he had been all the way to +town, and since! I do not wonder that Rose enjoyed the journey. Rose! +I might have let her know that I was leaving by the morning train, but +then she would have had to ask for an hour off; and when she has just +been away for ten days her chief might not have liked it. Besides, the +Cynic had such a lot of minute instructions and emphatic warnings to +which I was forced to listen attentively. + +Then there was Mother Hubbard, who had been set upon accompanying me on +the ground that I ought not to travel alone and unchaperoned; but the +Cynic agreed with me that at my age chaperonage is unnecessary. I am +not the sort that needs protection; and the little motherkin would +merely have added to my anxieties. + +No, though there was a sick and perhaps dying man at the other end, and +though sorrow might soon compass me about, I determined to enjoy the +present moment, and I did. I enjoyed the breeze upon the Channel, the +glimpses of peasant life in France as the train rushed through the flat +and rather tame country, the dinner in the Northern railway station at +Paris, and the novel experience of the tiny bed which was reserved for +my use on the night journey. I was travelling in luxury, of course, +and am never likely to repeat the experience. + +But my chief enjoyment was one which could be shared by any who had +eyes to see, though they were sitting upright on the bare and narrow +boards of the miserable third-class compartments which I caught sight +of occasionally in the stations when morning came. + +The glory of the dawn! of the sun rising behind the mountains, when a +pink flush spread over the sky, dissolving quickly into rose and amber +and azure, delicately pencilled in diverging rays which spread like a +great fan to the zenith! The crags of a great hill caught the glow, +and the mountain burned with fire. Below, the grass was gold and +emerald; there were fruit-laden trees in the foreground, and in the +distance, away beyond the belt of low-lying mist and the vague neutral +tints which concealed their bases, were the snow mountains! I pushed +down the window and gorged myself with the heavenly vision. + +There was no time to see Geneva, but the ride along the banks of the +lake and through the fertile Rhone valley was one long, delightful +dream. Luncheon was provided at Visp, and then began the journey on +the mountain railway which I can never forget. + +As the train snorted and grunted up the steep incline I rejoiced to +realise that it could not travel more quickly. Stream, mountain and +forest; fertile valley, rushing waterfall and lofty precipice--all +contributed to the charm of the experience. But the rush of the Visp, +as it poured down the narrow gorge, and boiled and fretted in turbulent +cascades which hurled their spray through the windows of the passing +train is the one outstanding remembrance. It was glorious! Then the +Matterhorn came in sight for a moment, and just afterwards the toy +train drew up at the toy platform in Zermatt. + +The concierge of the Hotel Victoria took my bag and pointed me out to a +diminutive young lady who was standing near. She at once came forward +and held out her hand, whilst a winning smile spread over her pleasant +face. + +"You are Miss Holden, are you not? I have stepped across to meet you, +so that you might not feel so strange on your arrival. My husband is a +doctor--Dr. Grey--and he has taken an interest in Mr. Evans, and +continues to do so even though I have fallen in love with the old +gentleman." + +I liked the girl straight away. She is quite young--only just +twenty-three, as she told me frankly, and ever such a little creature, +though she carries herself with the dignity of a duchess--in fact, with +much more dignity than some duchesses I have seen. + +"Now that is 'real good' of you, as the Americans whose company I have +just left would say," I replied; "and I think it was very nice of you +to think of it. Tell me first, please, if Mr. Evans is worse." + +"I really cannot say with certainty," she replied; "the Zermatt doctor +thinks he is not going to recover, and my husband says that he will +live for months. Now my husband, dear, is a _very clever man indeed_, +though he is only young; and although the other man looks very +formidable and wears spectacles I don't believe he is as clever as +Ralph." + +I smiled. "You have known the one doctor longer than the other," I +said. + +"Not much, as a doctor," she confided. "To let you into a secret which +nobody here has discovered, Ralph and I are on our honeymoon, so that +my experience of his medical abilities is limited, but I am sure he is +very clever. But come! the hotel is only just across the way." + +She accompanied me to my room and chatted incessantly whilst I was +endeavouring to remove the grime and grit which the continental engines +deposit so generously upon the traveller behind them. + +"There!" she said, as I emptied the water for the third time, and +sponged my face and neck preparatory to a brisk towelling; "you have +emerged at last. But you will never be quite yourself until you have +washed your hair. Do it to-night, dear. I know a splendid way of +tying your head up in a towel so that you can sleep quite comfy." + +The squire's face brightened when he saw me. He was sitting near the +window in a great easy-chair which was almost a couch, and his hair was +whiter than when he left England, and his face was--oh! so thin and +grey; but what a gentleman he looked! He held out both hands, but I +bent over and kissed him. If it was a bold thing to do I don't mind. +My Inner Self bade me do it and I obeyed. + +He held my face against his for a moment, and neither of us spoke. +Then he said: + +"Look at my view, Grace, and tell me if you like it." + +I sat on the arm of his chair and looked through the open window. I +saw before me a scene of peaceful loveliness--a valley, richly green, +with here and there oblong patches of yellow framed in olive hedges: a +narrow valley, girded with mountains whose sides rise steeply to +tremendous heights, jagged, scarped, and streaked with snow: a wooded +valley, too, where sombre trees of fir and pine climb the heights and +spread out into thickets which end only with the rock. Quaint, +brown-timbered structures, built on piles and with overhanging roofs, +sometimes isolated, sometimes in little groups, were dotted about the +landscape. A white road wound down the valley, and the yellow waters +of the Visp rushed, torrent-like, along the bottom, to be lost to view +where the land dipped abruptly to the left. + +In the far distance mountains of snow lifted up their hoary heads into +the luminous haze; and light clouds, rivalling their whiteness, gave +the illusion of loftier heights still, and led the eye to the brilliant +blue of high heaven. + +The sun was behind us, and banks of clouds must have intercepted his +rays from time to time, for the play of light and shade varied like a +kaleidoscope, and the bare, stony flanks of the mountains in the middle +distance shone green or grey or red as the sun caught them. A rude +bridge crossed the stream away below, and I could just make out some +tourists in Tyrolese caps and with knapsacks on their backs, leaning +over the white rails. + +The squire put his arm on mine. "I will tell you the names of these +giants later. Meanwhile, tell me, have I chosen well?" + +"It is heavenly," I replied. "I should be content to sit here for +days." + +"I am content," he said; "there is grander scenery than this around +Zermatt--grander by far. At the other end of the valley you will see +and you will glory in the towering masses of crag and snow which the +Matterhorn and Breithorn present. You will see miles of glaciers and +sparkling waterfalls and a thousand wonders of God's providing; but it +was too cold and massive and hard to suit the mood of a dying man. I +wanted Nature in a kindlier temper, so I sit by the window and commune +with her, and she is always friendly." + +There was a stool in the room, and I drew it up and sat at his feet +with one arm upon his knee, as I used to sit for hours in the days of +old, before my father's death left me solitary; and when the squire +placed a caressing hand upon my shoulder I could have thought that, a +chapter had been re-opened in the sealed pages of my life. + +"Who is this Dr. Grey," I inquired, "whose charming little wife met me +at the station, and told me you are not going to die for a long +time?--for which I love her." + +He smiled. "Grey is an optimist, my dear, and a downright good fellow, +and he has picked up a prize in his wife. They are on their +wedding-tour, as anyone quite unversed in that lore can see at a +glance; and they ought to have left Zermatt a week ago or more but they +have cheerfully stayed on to minister to the physical and mental +necessities of an old man and a stranger. Not many would have done it, +for they are sacrificing one of the most attractive programmes that +Switzerland offers, for my sake." + +"What a lot of good people there are in the world," I said. "I am +going to like Dr. Grey as much as I like his wife. He is a big, +strong, well-developed man, of course?" + +"Why 'of course?'?" he asked. + +"Husbands of tiny wives invariably are; the infinitely small seems to +have a remarkable affinity for the infinitely great." + +"Well, he is certainly a strapping fellow, and he is devoted to the wee +woman he has made his wife. I believe, too, he will get on in his +profession." + +"His wife says he is a very clever man indeed," I remarked. + +"Does she? An unbiassed opinion of that kind is valuable. All the +same, he has done me good, not so much with physic--for I take the +Zermatt man's concoctions--as with his cheery outlook. I believe he +thinks I am a trickster." + +"Do you know what I believe, sir?" I asked. + +"No; tell me," he said. + +"I believe you are going to get better, and I shall take you back to +Windyridge and the moors." + +He sighed then, and laid a hand fondly upon mine. "Grace, my child, I +will say now what it may be more difficult to say later. You have +caught me in a good hour, and my weary spirits have been refreshed by +the sight of your face and the sound of your voice; but you must be +prepared for darker experiences. Sometimes I suffer; often I am +terribly weak and depressed. Gottlieb, I know, does not expect me to +recover, and my Inner Self (that is your expression, child, and I often +think of it) tells me he is right. You are too sensible to be unduly +distressed before the time comes, and I want to tell you what I have +planned, and to tell you quite calmly and without emotion. Death to me +is only a curtain between one room and the next, so that it does not +disturb me to explain to you what I wish to be done when it is raised +for me to pass through. + +"Midway in the village you will find some gardens opposite the Mont +Cervin Hotel. Pass through them and you will reach a little English +church, surrounded by a tiny graveyard. There lie the bones of men who +have been killed on the mountains, and of others who have found death +instead of life in these health-giving heights. There is one sunny +spot where I want my body to rest, and the chaplain knows it. You can +bear to hear me speak of these things, can you?" + +Yes, I could bear it. He spoke so naturally and with such ease that I +hardly realised what it meant: it was unreal, far-off, fallacious. + +"At first," he continued, "the idea was repugnant. I longed to be laid +side by side with my wife in the homeland, but that feeling passed. It +was nothing more than sentiment, though it was a sentiment that nearly +took me home, in spite of the doctors. But the more I have thought of +it the more childish it has seemed. I am conscious of her presence +here, always. Metaphysicians would explain that easily enough, no +doubt, but to me it is an experience, and what can one want more? Why, +then, should I run away to Windyridge and Fawkshill in order to find +her, or be carried there for that purpose after death? No, no. Heaven +is about me here, and our spirits will meet at once when the silver +thread is loosed which binds me to earth. Am I right, Grace?" + +I was crying a little now, but I could not contradict him. + +"Gottlieb shakes his head, but Grey says I may last for months. +Perhaps he is right, but I have no desire to live. Why should I? And +where could I end my days more pleasantly than amidst these +masterpieces of the great Architect?" + +Mrs. Grey came for me when the dinner bell sounded, and we went down +together. It has been arranged that I am to lunch with the squire in +his own room, but to have dinner with the rest at a little table which +I share with the Greys. + +The doctor is just a great bouncing boy, with merry eyes and thick +brown hair. He is on good terms with everybody--guests of high degree +and low, waiters, porters, chambermaids--all the cosmopolitan crowd. +He adores his little wife, and it is funny to see so big a man +worshipping at so small a shrine. + +I expressed my gratitude to them both as we sat at dinner, and he +laughed--such a hearty, boisterous laugh. + +"It's my wife. Dot wouldn't hear of leaving, and you cannot get a +separation order in these wilds. She has spent so much time with the +old gentleman that I have been madly jealous for hours at a stretch." + +"Don't be untruthful, Ralph," said Mrs. Grey. "You know perfectly well +that you have spoiled our honeymoon with the simple and sordid motive +of gaining professional experience. Besides, you are nicest when you +are jealous." + +"Am I, by Jove!" he laughed. "Then 'niceness' will become habitual +with me, for the way all the men look at you fans the flame of my +jealousy. But this is poor stuff for Miss Holden, and I want to talk +seriously to her." + +"What is your candid opinion of Mr. Evans?" I asked. + +"He is marked to fall, Miss Holden, but if he can be persuaded to make +the effort to live he need not fall for months, perhaps even for years. +The fact is, he has become indifferent to life, and that is against +him." + +"What is really the matter with him?" + +"Now, there you corner me," he replied. "He has a weak heart, +bronchial trouble, some diabetic tendencies and disordered nerves; but +what is really the matter with him I have not discovered. Can you tell +me?" + +"I should have thought all these things were matter enough," I +answered; "but what really ails him, I believe, is what is commonly +termed a 'broken heart.' He is always mourning the loss of his wife +and always dwelling upon reunion." + +"He never told me that," replied the doctor thoughtfully; "I am glad to +know it." + +"Why should he remain abroad all this time?" I asked. + +"Because he shouldn't!" he replied. "In my judgment he has been ill +advised; but it is largely his own fault, too. I think he did well to +leave England for the winter, but he ought to have gone home when the +warm weather came. His medical advisers have always prescribed change +of scene: told him to go anywhere he liked, and 'buck up' a bit, and he +has gone. France, Spain, Egypt, Italy, and now Zermatt. And the old +chap is dying of loneliness. Gottlieb shakes his mournful old head, +and goes out to arrange with the English chaplain where to bury him. +I'd bury them both! If you take my advice you'll pet him and make him +think the world is a nice place to live in, and then we'll take him +home, and let old Gottlieb find another tenant for his grave. If you +will second me we'll have him out of this hole in a week's time." + +I felt so cheered, and I will certainly follow his lead. I wrote a +long, explanatory letter to the Cynic, an apologetic one to Rose, and a +picture postcard, promising a longer communication, to Mother Hubbard, +and then turned in and slept like a top. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE HEATHER PULLS + +The sensation of dazzling light and the sound of tinkling silvery bells +woke me early, and I jumped up and looked out of the window. The bells +belonged to a herd of goats which were being driven slowly to pasture. +Stalwart guides, with stout alpenstocks in their hands, and apparently +heavy cloth bags upon their backs, were standing near the hotel and on +the station platform. Tourists of both sexes were getting ready to +accompany the guides, and there was much loud questioning and emphatic +gesticulation on both sides. A few mules stood near, presumably for +the use of the ladies. It was all too provocative, and I flung myself +into my clothes and went out. + +If I were writing a guide book I could wax eloquent, I believe, in my +descriptions of Zermatt; but I am not, and I therefore refrain. + +The squire was delighted with my enthusiasm, and insisted upon my +"doing" the place thoroughly. He did not rise until noon, so that my +mornings were always free, and the Greys took me all the shorter +excursions. One day we had quite a long trip to the top of the Gorner +Grat, whence one gets an unrivalled view of snow peaks and glaciers; +and from thence we walked to the Schwarz See, where the Matterhorn +towers in front of you like an absolute monarch in loneliness and +grandeur. + +Oh, those ravines, where the glacier-fed streams rage furiously in +their rapid descent! Oh, those gorges, in whose depths the pent-up +waters leap onward between high walls of rock to which the precarious +gangway clings where you stand in momentary fear of disaster! Oh, +those woods, with the steep and stony footpaths, and the sudden +revelation of unsuspected objects: of kine munching the green herbage; +of the women who tend them, working industriously with wool and needle; +of wooden _chalets_ with stone-protected roofs; of trickling cascades +and roaring waterfalls! + +Oh, those pastures, green as emerald, soft as velvet, where one might +lie as on a couch of down and feast the eye on mountain and vale and +sky, and never tire! Oh, those sunsets, and particularly the one which +struck my imagination most, when the sky was not crimson, but +topaz-tinted, and the huge cloud which hung suspended from the neck of +the Matterhorn was changed in a second into beaten gold, as though +touched by the rod of the alchemist; when the Breithorn flushed deep +for a moment at the sun's caress, and the land lay flooded in a +translucent yellow haze that spread like a vapour over the works of God +and man, and turned mere stones and mortar into the fairy palaces of +Eastern fable! + +It seems now like a wonderful dream, but, thank God! it is something +much less transient. For a memory is infinitely better than a dream: +the memory of an experience such as this is a continual feast, whereas +a dream too often excites hopes that may never be realised, and +presents visions of delight which are as elusive as the grapes of +Tantalus. + +I stored up every detail for the squire's benefit. I cultivated my +powers of observation more for his sake than my own, and reaped a +double reward. All I saw is impressed still upon my brain with +photographic sharpness, and it will be a long, long time before the +image becomes faded or blurred. But what was better still, I saw the +squire's eyes brighten and the "yonderly" look depart, as he came back +to earth evening by evening and followed the story of my adventures. + +I believe he would have been content to stay on indefinitely and give +me as good a time as my heart could have desired, but that would not +have been right. I had not gone out to enjoy a frolic, and at times I +felt almost ashamed of myself for enjoying life so much. "Grace +Holden," I said, "you are a very considerable fraud. Your special role +just now is supposed to be that of the ministering angel, whereas you +are flinging away your own time and somebody else's money like an +irresponsible tripper." + +Dr. Grey laughed when I told him that I had qualms of conscience on +this score. + +"Don't worry," he said; "Providence has her own notions of how angels +can best minister, and I fancy you are carrying out her scheme pretty +successfully, It's three days since the old gentleman spoke a word +about dying, and I'm certain he is not nearly as anxious to be gone as +he was before you came. But cannot you tempt him back to England by +any means? My wife and I cannot remain here much longer, and I would +like to help you to take him home." + +I did my best, but I made little headway. The squire seemed to have +lost all desire for home, and had quite made up his mind that his body +would soon be laid to rest amid the eternal snows. He was constantly +anticipating some further attack which would cut him down without +warning, and Gottlieb seemed to find a mournful satisfaction in +encouraging these forebodings, less perhaps by what he said than by +what he left unsaid. + +A tinge of annoyance began to mix with Dr. Grey's laugh, and he spoke +to the squire with a touch of asperity. He had subjected him again to +a thorough examination, and on its conclusion he broke out: + +"Look here, Mr. Evans, I stake my professional reputation upon my +verdict that you are not a dying man physically. If you die it's your +own fault. There is no reason why we should not start for home +to-morrow." + +The squire took his hand and held it. "Grey," he said, "has science +taught you that man has an inward voice that sometimes speaks more +authoritatively and convincingly than doctor or parson, and that +insists upon its dicta? Miss Holden knows it and calls it her 'Inner +Self.'" + +"No, sir," he replied, "science has taught me nothing of the kind. I +am no psychologist, for my business is with the body rather than the +soul. But science has taught me what the body is and is not able to +accomplish, and whatever your 'Inner Self' may say I am convinced that +your body is quite competent to take that perverse autocrat home if he +will let it. But it cannot otherwise." + +"Intuition is sometimes more powerful than logic," said the squire. +"Grey, you are a good fellow and I owe you a debt of gratitude, but +don't inconvenience yourself on my account. Go home, if you must, and +believe me, I am sincerely thankful for all your goodness and +attention." + +The doctor tackled me again at dinner. "I'm not going home," he said, +"and I'm not going to let him die without a struggle. But you'll have +to make that Inner Self of his listen to reason. Now put your thinking +cap on, and good luck to you." + +"I cannot understand him," I replied; "he was always inclined to +melancholy, but he was not morbid and listless as he now shows himself. +He seems sometimes pitiably weak and childish, whereas ordinarily he is +full of shrewd common sense." + +"Of course he is," said the doctor, "and will be again. His Inner Self +is sick just now, consequent upon his long seclusion from friends and +home associations. It needs to be roused. If you can once make him +_want_ to go home, his body will take him there hard enough. I can't +do that: you must. Can't you tell him you have got to go back?" + +I had thought of that. I had left my work at the busiest season of the +year, and, after all, it was my living. And there was Mother Hubbard, +who had learned to lean upon me, and had yielded me so willingly to the +more pressing duty. I owed something to her. As I thought upon these +things a feeling of homesickness stole over me, and I went in and sat +at the squire's feet. + +It was falling dusk, and the cool breath of evening fanned our cheeks +as we sat by the open window and watched the lights twinkling in the +celestial dome, and the mountains growing more black and mysterious +with the advancing night. + +"It is very lovely," murmured the squire. + +"Yes," I said, "it is. But close your eyes and I will paint you a more +attractive picture than this. You will not interrupt me, will you? and +I will try to tell you what I saw not long ago, and what I am aching to +see again." + +"No, my child," he replied, pressing my hand fondly "I will be quite +still and you shall paint your picture on my brain." + +I hesitated a moment, and I think a wordless, formless prayer for help +ascended to heaven. I endeavoured to visualise the scene in its +fairest colours, and trembled lest my effort should be in vain. I +closed my own eyes, too, for I feared distraction. Then I began: + +"I am standing in a country lane, with ragged hedges on either hand. +The hedges are brightly green, for they have been newly washed with the +warm rain of summer, and they sparkle like gems in the bright sunshine +of a glorious morning. There is a bank of grass, rank, luxurious +grass, on one side of the roadway, and I clamber up to secure a wider +view of the bounties nature has provided. + +"There is a merry, frolicsome breeze--a rude one, in truth, for it +winds my skirt about my limbs and blows my hair over my ears and eyes; +and yet I love it, for it means no harm, and its crisp touch braces my +body and gives me the taste of life. + +"From my elevated standpoint I see the distant horizon, miles and miles +away. Far off upon my right the clouds lie in long grey strata, like +closely-piled packs of wool, but on my left the remoter sky is washed +in silver, with here and there a rent revealing wonderfully delicate +tints of blue. + +"Overhead the wool-packs have been burst open by the wind which is +tearing them apart and scattering their contents over the deep blue +zenith. They are dazzlingly white, whether heaped together in massive +bulk, or drawn out--as so many of them are--into transparent fluff +which drifts in the rapid air current like down of thistles. + +"The morning is cold and the air is keen, so that the sky-line is +sharply defined and hints a threat of rain. But who cares about the +evil of the hour after next when there are so many glories to delight +the present sense? See, the sky-line of which I speak is dusky purple +and reddish-brown, but broad, flat washes of verdigris stretch up to +it, with here and there a yellow patch betokening fields of grain, and +in the foreground meadows and pastures of brighter hue. + +"In front of me is a clump of trees--fine, tall trees they are, with +shining grey boles--standing erect and strong in spite of the fury of +the gales. Sycamore and beech and elm, majestic, beautiful. I hear +the cawing of the rooks from out the dark shadows. + +"I climb over the wall a little farther on and walk fifty paces +forward. I now see a grey Hall, a dear old place, stone-roofed and +low, with tiny old-world window-panes around which the dark-hued ivy +clings tenaciously. There are brightly coloured flower-beds in front, +and a green lawn to one side, and a cluster of beeches stands sentinel +before the closed door. For the door, alas! is closed, and as I look a +thick thundercloud hangs over the house, and I turn away depressed and +seek the sunshine on the other side. + +"And now it is waste land upon which my delighted eyes rest, and the +west wind brings to my nostrils the scent of the moors. Waste land! +Who shall dare to call that russet-coloured hillside with the streaks +of green upon it, waste? That stretch of country, bracken-covered, +ending in the long expanse of heath which is now violet-purple in tint, +but will soon be glowing and aflame when the heather bursts its +bonds--can that be waste? Surely not! + +"I see tiny cottages from whose chimneys the blue smoke is being +twisted into fantastic forms by the wind's vagaries, and gardens gay +with bloom, and a green-bordered street, and through an open door the +dancing flame on a homely hearth. It is all very lovely and peaceful, +and when I turn for a last look at the old Hall where the door is +closed, lo! the thunder-cloud has gone, and the sky is blue over the +smokeless stacks, and hope arises within my breast, and I go on my way +with joy and peace in my heart. That is my picture!" + +I stopped and opened my eyes. A tear was stealing down the squire's +face, and the grasp on my hand had tightened. + +"Have you finished, Grace?" + +"Yes," I whispered. + +"I think I should like to go home," he said. "I believe I could manage +it, after all." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +THE PARABLE OF THE HEATHER + +We left Zermatt on the following day. I must say that I entered the +squire's room with some trepidation, but it was quite unnecessary. He +smiled as I bent over to kiss him, and relieved my apprehension at once. + +"It's all right, Grace," he said; "the heather pulls. You know, don't +you?" + +Dr. Grey was splendid. Motor cars are of no use in Zermatt, except to +bring you there or take you away, so the smell of petrol does not often +draw the tourist's attention from the sublime to the--nauseous; but it +was characteristic of the almost impudent audacity of the man that he +commandeered the only one there was at the Victoria. + +"How have you managed it?" I asked, when I learned that we were all to +travel as far as Lausanne in the Marquis d'Olsini's luxurious +automobile. + +"Oh, easily enough," he replied in his hearty way; "the marquis is no +end of a decent sort, and when I explained matters, and pointed out +that the car was rusting for want of use, he placed it at my disposal +with the grace and courtliness that distinguish your true Italian +nobleman." + +It was a veritable little palace on tyres, and we reached Lausanne +quickly and without inconvenience. The squire was not a bit worse for +the effort, but the sight of old Gottlieb turning away from the door +when he had bidden us good-bye, with a shrug of the shoulders that said +as plainly as any words could have done that he washed his hands of all +responsibility and was disgusted at the capriciousness of the mad +English, afforded me much delight and remains with me still. + +It took us four days to reach Folkestone, and we stayed there a couple +of nights before we went on to London. Dr. and Mrs. Grey remained with +us until we reached the St. Pancras hotel, where the Cynic was waiting +to receive us. The squire will see a good deal of the Greys, as the +doctor is a Manchester man and can easily run over. The Cynic took to +them at once, and Mrs. Grey, or "Dot" as I have learned to call her, +confided to me that my friend was a very nice fellow of whom she would +be desperately afraid. Fancy any woman being afraid of the Cynic! + +Mr. Derwent is, in his way, quite as good an organiser as the doctor, +though he goes about his work so quietly that you hardly realise it. +Instead of our having to change at Airlee he had arranged for a saloon +to be attached to the Scotch express, so that we travelled with the +utmost possible comfort. The squire was by this time so accustomed to +travelling, and had borne the fatigue of the journey so well, that I +should not have hesitated to accompany him alone, but it was very +pleasant to have the Cynic's company and to feel that he shared the +responsibility. He seemed pleased to see me, I thought, and +congratulated me warmly on the success of my mission. + +"You must thank Dr. Grey for all this," I said; "it was his persistence +that brought Mr. Evans home." + +"Nay, child," said the squire, "you and your word pictures sent me +home." + +Webster met us at Fawkshill with the pair of bays, and his eyes shone +as he greeted the squire. It was good to observe the sympathy that +exists between the two as they grasped hands at the station gate. One +was master and the other servant, but they were just old friends +reunited, and neither of them was ashamed of his emotion. + +When we entered the lane the squire closed his eyes. "I will play at +being a boy again, Grace. Tell me when we reach the brow of the hill, +so that I may see it all at once." + +I knew what he meant, and none of the three spoke a word until Webster +pulled up his horses at my request. It was nearly five o'clock in the +afternoon, and the warm August sun was well on his way to the west. A +thin haze hung over the distant hills, but the moors were glorious in +brown and purple, and there was here and there the glint of gorse. + +"Now, sir," I said, "look and rejoice!" + +He stood up in the carriage and looked around; and as he looked he +filled his lungs with the sweet moorland air. Then he said, with deep +emotion: + +"Thank God for this!--Drive on, Webster, please." + +I was anxious to see the motherkin, and leaving the squire to the +companionship of Mr. Derwent I hastened to the cottage. It would be +more correct to say that I did my best to hasten, but so many of the +villagers stopped me to offer their greetings and inquire the news that +my progress was considerably retarded. + +When I was nearing the cottage I met Farmer Goodenough, whose hearty +hand-grasp I accepted cautiously. After the usual preliminary +questions had been asked and answered his voice became rather grave as +he said: + +"Miss 'Olden, I don't want to worry ye, knowing 'at you're an extra +speshul hand at findin' trouble, but I don't altogether like the looks +o' Mrs. Hubbard. She's gone a bit thin an' worn, in a manner o' +speakin'. Ye'll excuse me saying ought, I know, but 'a stitch in time +saves nine,' as t' Owd Book puts it." + +I thanked him, and hurried home, feeling very troubled and uneasy, but +when the dear old lady came tripping down to meet me my fears retired +into the background. She was so bright and sweet and altogether +dainty, and she looked so happy and so well, with the pink flush of +pleasure on her cheeks, that I concluded the worthy farmer had for once +deceived himself. + +"Yes, love!" she exclaimed, flinging her arms around my neck as I +stooped to kiss her; "but you are so brown, love, and you are really +handsome. Do come in and have some tea." + +She hovered about me all the time I was removing my hat and coat, +anxious to render me service, and seizing every opportunity of stroking +my hands and cheeks. + +"You foolish old pussy-cat!" I said at length, as I forced her into her +easy-chair and placed the hot toast before her. "Give over petting and +spoiling me, and tell me all about yourself--the truth, the whole +truth, and nothing but the truth." + +She evaded all my questions, however, and insisted that I should +describe for her every incident of my journey. + +When we had cleared away the things and drawn our chairs up to the fire +I returned to the attack. Perhaps she was a little thin, after all, +and there was a tired look about the eyes that I did not like. + +"What have you been doing in my absence?" I asked; "not working +yourself to death in the vain attempt to impart a brighter surface to +everything polishable, eh?" + +"No, love, I have taken things very easily, and have just kept the +cottages and your studio tidy. I have spent a good deal of time at +Reuben's, where they have been very kind to me; but I have missed you +very much, love." + +"Well, I am back now, and not likely to leave you again for a long +time. We must have another full day's jaunt on the moors and see the +heather in all its royal magnificence." + +Her eyes brightened, but I noticed they fell again, and there was doubt +in her voice as she replied: + +"Yes, love. That will be nice. I think the heat has been very trying, +and you may find it so, too. You must take care not to overtire +yourself." + +Then I knew that there was something wrong, and was glad that I had not +consented to live at the Hall. It had been a disappointment to the +squire, but he had not pressed the point when he saw that I was +unwilling, and I had, of course, readily agreed to spend a good deal of +time with him. I know he would have welcomed my old lady as a +permanent guest for my sake, but she would never have consented to +abandon her own little Hall of Memories, though she would have sought +by every cunning artifice which love could devise to induce me to leave +her, and would have suffered smilingly. I registered a mental vow that +she should never know, if I could keep the secret from her, and that I +would do all in my power to make her declining days happy. + +"Why are you so weary, dear?" I asked. + +"Oh, it is nothing, love," she replied. "It is just the heat. I shall +be better when the days are cooler. Indeed, love, I am feeling better +already." + +I slept soundly enough, in spite of my new anxiety, but the morrow +brought me no alleviation. The old lady's vigour was gone, and she +moved about the house without energy. But her cheerfulness never +failed her, and her patience was something to marvel at. + +Dr. Trempest pulled up his horse at the gate and stopped to have a chat +one day, and I took the opportunity of mentioning my uneasiness. + +"I'll pop in and look at her," he said. "Why don't you give her the +same magic physic you've poured down the throat of my old friend Evans? +He's taken on a new lease of life. I tell you it's a miracle, and he +says you did it, but he won't divulge the secret. Dear! dear! we old +fogeys are no use at all in competition with the women! But come, +let's have a look at the old girl." + +He walked brusquely in and sat astride a chair, leaning his chin on the +high back, and talked with her for ten minutes. Then he came out to me +again. + +"Can't say much without an examination, but appears to me the +machinery's getting done. We can none of us last for ever, you know. +Keep her still, if you can, and tell her she needn't be up every two +minutes to flick the dust off the fireirons. Drive her out, now and +then, and let her have exercise without exertion; and don't you pull a +long face before her or get excited or boisterous." + +I pulled a face at _him_, and he grinned as he mounted his horse. +"I'll send her up a bottle," he said; "works wonders, does a bottle, if +it's mixed with faith in them that take it;" and the caustic old man +moved slowly away. + +The bottle came, but so far it has wrought no miracle, and there has +crept into my heart the unwelcome suggestion of loss. I have tried not +to admit it, not to recognise it when admitted, but the attempt is +vain. Dr. Trempest shakes his head and repeats his sagacious remark +that we can't live for ever, and the squire presses my hand in +sympathy, being too honest to attempt to comfort me with hollow hopes. + +Only Mother Hubbard herself is cheerful, and as her physical strength +decreases she appears to gain self-possession and mental vigour. When +the squire suggested that she should be asked to accompany us on the +drives which he so much enjoys I anticipated considerable opposition, +and felt certain that she would yield most reluctantly, but to my +surprise she consented without demur. + +"This is very kind of Mr. Evans, love," she said, "and if you do not +mind having an old woman with you I shall be glad to go." + +She did not say much on these excursions, but when she was directly +spoken to she answered without confusion, and was quite unconscious +that she occasionally addressed the squire as "love." He never +betrayed any consciousness of it, but I once noticed a repressed smile +steal over Webster's face as he sat upon the box. + +Now it was that I saw the full beauty of the moorland which had made so +strong an appeal to my father's heart. I felt my own strangely +stirred, and my two companions were also full of emotion. I believe it +spoke to each of us with a different voice, and had not quite the same +message for any two of us. I have hardly analysed my own feelings, but +I think the rich and yet subdued colouring got hold of my imagination, +and the wildness of the scene impressed me powerfully. + +I had always known these moors--known them from my childhood; but only +as one knows many things--the moon or the Mauritius, for instance--from +the description of others. The picture painted for me had been true to +life, but not living; yet it had been sufficiently lifelike to make the +reality strangely familiar. And now I looked at it with double +vision--through my own eyes and my father's; and the thought of what he +would have felt quickened my perceptions and attuned them to the spirit +of my ancestors. The moors were sheeted in purple, brightened by +clumps of golden gorse, and I could easily have followed the example of +Linnaeus, who, when he first saw the yellow blossom, is said to have +fallen on his knees and praised God for its beauty. + +The squire had known the moors always. To him the scene speaks of +home. I do not think the actual beauty of it impresses him greatly, +perhaps because of its extreme familiarity, and it does not arouse in +him the same sensation of pleasure or appeal to his artistic sense in +the same degree as the grander scenery he has so lately left behind. + +But this _contents_ him as nothing else does or could! It is as when +one exchanges the gilded chairs of state for the old, familiar +arm-chair which would appear shabby to some people, or the dress shoes +of ceremony for the homely slippers on the hearth. He admits now that +he is happier than he had ever been abroad, and that he is glad to +spend the late evening of his days amid the friendly scenes of his +youth and manhood. + +As for Mother Hubbard, she is quite unconsciously a mixture of poet and +prophet. Everything speaks to her of God. + +"Yes, love," she said quite recently, "'He maketh everything beautiful +in its season;'" and to her the country is always beautiful, because it +is always as God made it. That is why she loves it so much, I am sure; +and whether it glows and sparkles beneath the hot sun of August or lies +dun and grey under the clouded skies of February it is always full of +charm. To her, all God's paintings show the hand of the Master, +whether done in monochrome or in the colours of the rainbow, and none +of them fails to satisfy her. + +And Nature preaches to her, but the sermons are always comforting to +her soul, for her inward ear has never been trained to catch the gloomy +messages which some of us hear so readily. But where she finds +consolation I discover disquietude. + +The horse had been pulled up at a point where the wide panorama +stretched limitlessly before us, and for a time we had all been +speechless. I had gathered a tiny bunch of heather and fastened it in +my belt, and now stood, shading my eyes with my hand, as I looked +across the billowy expanse. The squire had closed his eyes, but his +face showed no trace of weariness, and I knew that he was happy. + +Mother Hubbard broke the silence, as she sank back into her seat with a +little sigh, and when I sat down Webster drove slowly on. + +"It is nice to think, love, that though you have gathered and taken +away a sprig of heather the landscape is still beautiful. And yet, you +know, the little flowers you have plucked gave their share of beauty to +the whole, and helped God to do His work. I think, love, that thought +encourages me when I know that the Lord may soon stretch out His hand +for me. Your little flowers have not lived in vain. Only their +neighbours will miss them, but their little world would not have been +quite as beautiful without them." + +I think the squire was astonished, but he remained quite still, and I +replied: + +"That is very true, dear, but the heather has never thwarted its +Maker's purpose, but has lived the life He designed, and so has +perfectly fulfilled its mission. With man, alas! it is not so. He too +often makes a sad bungle of life, and is so full of imperfections that +he cannot add much to the beauty of the landscape." + +Mother Hubbard shook her head and pointed to the moors. "Yet _that_ is +very beautiful, love, isn't it?" + +"It is perfect," I replied. + +"Perfect, is it? Look at the little flowers at your waist. See, one +little bell has been blighted in some way, and there are several which +seem to have been eaten away in parts, and here and there some have +fallen off. I wonder if you could find a sprig, love, where every bell +and tiny leaf is perfect. Not many, I think. Yet you say the view is +perfect, though the parts are full of imperfections." + +The squire opened his eyes and bent them gravely upon her, but he did +not speak, and she did not observe him. + +"Ah, but, dear Mother Hubbard," I said, "the heather bells cannot help +their imperfections. The blight and the insect, the claw of bird, the +foot of beast, the hand and heel of man---how can they resist these +things? But again I say, with man it is not so. He is the master of +his destiny. He has freedom of will, and when he fails and falls and +spoils his life it is his own fault." + +"Not always, love," the gentle voice replied; "perhaps not often +entirely his own fault. I used to think like that, but God has given +me clearer vision now. Here is poor Sar'-Ann, not daring to show her +face outside the door; covered with shame for her own sin and Ginty's. +Oh yes, love, she has spoiled her life. But think of how she has been +brought up: in a little cottage where there was a big family and only +two rooms; where the father was coarse and the boys--poor little +fellows--imitated him; and the mother, though she has a kind heart, is +vulgar and often thoughtless; where decency has been impossible and +woman's frailty has been made a jest. It has not been Sar'-Ann's +fault, love, that she has been placed there. She had no voice in the +selection of her lot. She might have been in your home and you in +hers. That little bunch of heather would have been safe yet if it had +not been growing by the roadside where you stood." + +"Then God is responsible for Sar'-Ann?" I asked. + +"God is her Father, and He loves her very dearly," she replied simply. +"There are lots of questions I cannot answer, love, but I am sure He +will not throw Sar'-Ann away because she has been blighted and stained." + +The squire broke in now, and there was just a little tremor in his +voice as he spoke: + +"'And when the vessel that he made of the clay was marred in the hands +of the potter he made it again another vessel, as seemed good to the +potter to make it.'" + +Mother Hubbard's eyes lit up. "Yes, sir," she said, "and I do not +think he grieved too much because the first design went wrong. He just +made it again another vessel. Perhaps he meant at first to make a very +beautiful and graceful vessel, but there were imperfections and flaws +in the material, so he made it into a homely jug; and yet it was +useful." + +"Oh, Mother Hubbard!" I said, "there are all sorts of imperfections and +flaws in your logic, and I know people who would shake it to pieces in +a moment." + +"Well, love, perhaps so; but they would not shake my faith: + + "'To one fixed ground my spirit clings, + I know that God is good.'" + + +"Stick to that, Mrs. Hubbard," said the squire earnestly; "never let go +that belief. Faith is greater far than logic. I would sooner doubt +God's existence than His goodness. Problems of sin and suffering have +oppressed my brain and heart all my life, but like you I have got +clearer vision during these later days. The clouds often disperse +towards the sunset, and my mental horizon is undimmed now. You and I +cannot explain life's mysteries, but God can, and meanwhile I hold + + "'That nothing walks with aimless feet; + That not one life shall be destroyed, + Or cast as rubbish to the void, + When God hath made the pile complete.'" + + +"Tennyson was not Paul," I remarked. + +"Why should he have been?" he asked. "He was a Christian seer, none +the less, and he had the heavenly vision." + +"But you cannot call his theology orthodox," I persisted; "is it in any +sense Biblical?" + +"Whence came his vision and inspiration if not from God?" he replied. +Then he turned to Mother Hubbard: "Thank you, thank you much," he said; +"I shall not forget your parable of the heather." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +ROGER TREFFIT INTRODUCES "MISS TERRY" + +I had a letter from Rose this morning. The lucky girl has got another +holiday and is apparently having a fine time at Eastbourne. She says +the chief insisted that her trip north was not a holiday, but a tonic. +If so, it was a very palatable one, I am sure, from the way she took +it. Whilst, therefore, I am exposing plates and developing negatives, +she is enjoying refreshing sea-breezes, and listening to good music. +It appears her chief recommended Eastbourne, and I gather from her +letter that he is there himself with his family. + +So is the Cynic! The courts are closed for the most part, but he told +me a while ago that there were one or two Old Bailey cases in which he +was interested which would prevent him from going very far away, and he +is taking week-ends on the south coast. It is curious that he should +have hit upon Eastbourne--quite by accident, Rose assures me--and that +they should have met so early. I am not surprised that they should +have been together for a long ramble over the downs, though I imagine +they would have liked it better without the presence of a third party. +Rose is not very clear about it, but apparently there were three of +them. What a nuisance for them both! + +The Cynic does not expect to be in Windyridge again before the end of +this month. I always think September seems a particularly long month, +and yet it has only thirty days. + +Meantime the village is affording me further opportunities of studying +Mother Hubbard's theories of human nature and discovering the germ of +goodness in things evil. It is a difficult hunt! + +Little Lucy Treffit's father has come home, and the fact has a good +deal of significance for Lucy and her mother. I cannot bear the sight +of the silly man. He struts about the village as though he were doing +us a favour to grace it with his presence. He puts a thumb in each +arm-hole of his waistcoat, wears a constant smile on his flabby face +when in public, and nods at everybody as he passes, in the most +condescending way imaginable. + +He is quite an under-sized man, but broad all the way down; it looks as +though at some time in his life, when he may have been very soft and +putty-like, a heavy hand had been placed on his head, and he had been +compressed into a foot less height. What gives reality to the +impression is the extreme length of his trousers, which hang over his +boots in folds. + +The delight of his eyes and the joy of his heart is neither wife nor +child, but a smooth-haired terrier which brings in the living, such as +it is. + +During the summer months Roger and his dog frequent the popular seaside +resorts and give beach entertainments of "an 'igh-class character" to +quote Roger himself. In the winter months they secure engagements at +music-halls, bazaars, school-entertainments and the like, when the +income is more precarious. + +Ordinarily the man is not home until October, but unfortunately the +dog's health broke down in the latter part of August, and Roger came +home to save the cost of lodgings, and to get drink on credit. For, +almost alone among the villagers, this man gets drunk day by day with +marked consistency; and if he is irritating when sober he is nothing +less than contemptible when intoxicated. He then becomes more suave +than ever, and his mouth curves into a smile which reaches his ears, +but he is more stupid and obstinate than the proverbial mule. And the +worst of it is he drinks at home, for the nearest inn is above a mile +away, so his unhappy wife has a rough time of it. Yet he is not +actively unkind to her; he does not beat her body--he merely starves +and wounds her soul. + +She is a thin, wasted woman, about thirty years old, I suppose, of more +than average intelligence, and one of the best needlewomen I have ever +seen. She does beautiful work for which she is wretchedly paid, but it +serves to keep the home together. I cannot help thinking that she is +suffering from some serious disease, but she herself refuses to harbour +any such thought. I am very much interested in her and little Lucy, +and during the summer have paid them many a visit and been cheered by +the little girl's delightful prattle. + +They live in a very poor house, and a most peculiar one. It is +two-storeyed, but unusually narrow, and the only window in the upper +room is a fixture in the roof. It really is remarkable that in a place +like Windyridge so many of the windows cannot be opened, either because +they were so constructed at first, or because their owners have painted +and varnished them until they are glued fast. + +The stones in the walls are loose in many places and the stone slabs on +the roof lie about at various angles, and seem to invite the thin, tall +chimney-stack--and why it should be so tall I have never been able to +surmise--to fall down and send them flying. It is a mean, rickety +house, not worth the cost of repair. + +Inside, however, it is as clean and comfortable as any other in the +village. The floor is spotless, the deal tables are white as soap and +water can make them, the steel fender and fire-irons shine like +mirrors, and the short curtains at the window might always have come +straight from the laundry. + +I did not know Roger had come home when I raised the latch and entered +the house, after the usual perfunctory knock, the other day, and I +apologised for my unceremonious entrance with some confusion. + +Roger waved his hand loftily. "Quite all right, ma'am; quite all +right. Miss Terry, oblige me by getting the lady a chair." + +The dog rose to its feet and with its nose and forepaws pushed a chair +from the wall in the direction of the fireplace. + +"Thank you, Miss Terry," remarked the man, "I am much obliged to you. +Pray be seated, ma'am." + +I was interested, in spite of myself. "Yours is a very remarkable dog, +Mr. Treffit," I said. + +"Yes'm; very much so indeed. Miss Terry is the name I gave 'er, +because she is a 'mystery.' See? Ha! ha! Very good that, eh? +Mystery--Miss Terry. Miss Terry and me, ma'am, has appeared before the +nobility, clergy and gentry of a dozen counties." + +I expressed polite astonishment and inquired for Mrs. Treffit. + +"My wife, ma'am, is upstairs in the chamber. If you want her I will +send for her. Miss Terry, will you convey my respects to the missis, +and ask her to step this way?" The request was accompanied by a +significant gesture in the direction of the narrow staircase, and the +dog, with an inclination of the head which might have been intended for +a bow, bounded up the steps and returned with its mistress. Its +mistress? No, I withdraw the word--with its master's wife. + +She coughed a good deal as she came down, and I suggested that a short +walk in the sunshine would do her good, but she shook her head. + +"I'm sorry, Miss 'Olden, but I'm that busy I couldn't leave just now. +I was wonderin' if you'd mind comin' upstairs while I get on with my +work." + +"Sit down a bit, can't you?" said the man; "I want Miss Terry to show +this lady some of her tricks. You're always in such a desperate hurry, +you are." + +"Someb'dy has to be in a 'urry," she replied, "when there's naught +comin' in, an' three mouths to feed, to say nothin' of the dog, which +costs nearly as much as all t' rest put together." + +"You leave the dog alone," he growled; "Miss Terry brings in as much as +all t' rest put together, doesn't she?" + +"I say nought against her," she answered wearily; "t' dog's right +enough, but she's bringin' nought in now." + +She sat down, however, at my side, and Miss Terry proceeded to justify +her name. She dressed herself in a queer little hobble-skirt costume, +put on a hat and veil, raised a sunshade, and moved about the room in +the most amusing way. She fetched a miniature bedstead, undressed and +put herself to bed in a manner calculated to bring down the house every +time. She removed the handkerchief (a very dirty one, by the way) from +her master's pocket, sneezed, wiped her nose, and then replaced it +without apparently arousing its owner's attention. She drank out of +his glass, simulated intoxication, and fell into a seemingly drunken +sleep, with much exaggerated snoring. + +And all the time Roger Treffit stood or sat, as circumstances required, +addressing the dog in the politest and most deferential terms, with the +smug smile of satisfaction threatening to cut the chin entirely, from +his face. + +"Now, Miss Terry," he said in conclusion, "you must not overtire +yourself. We are very grateful for the hentertainment you have +pervided. Have the goodness to step up to the lady and say good-bye." + +The dog extended a paw, and Martha and I were permitted to withdraw. + +"It really is a very clever dog," I remarked, when we were alone in the +prison-like bedroom. + +"It's a very good dog, too," she replied; "it 'ud look after me more +nor he would if he'd let it. It 'asn't a bit o' vice about it, an' I +only wish I could say as much for its master." + +"Why are you sitting up here in this wretched loft, where the light is +so poor for such fine work?" + +"To be out of his way, an' that's the truth," she replied bitterly. "I +shall go down when Lucy comes in from t' school, and not afore. I've +never no peace nor pleasure when he's at 'ome." + +"He doesn't ill-treat you, does he?" + +"No, but I cannot bear to see him all t' day through, soakin', soakin'. +He can always walk straight, however much he takes, but 'e gets that +nasty by tea-time there's no bidin' in t' 'ouse with 'im. And he +natters so when I cough, an' I can't help coughin'. It's nought much, +an' I've got used to it, but it vexes 'im, an' he says it worries t' +dog." + +"He's a brute!" I said; "anybody can see that he thinks more of his dog +than of you." + +"Well, you see, his dog's his business. I don't know 'at he's worse +nor lots more 'at makes their business into their god, but it isn't +always easy to bide. An' when I get to t' far end I answer back, an' +that makes fireworks. I wish he wor at Blackpool yet." + +At that moment a loud report rang through the house, and I sprang from +my seat in alarm. + +"It's nothin'," said Martha; "there's nought to be frightened of. He's +teachin' t' dog some new fool's trick with a pistol, but I don't +believe there's a bullet in it. He nearly frightened me an' our Lucy +out of our wits t' first time he did it." + +I sat down again, but my heart was still beating violently. "I fear I +couldn't live with such a companion," I said. + +"You'd 'ave to, if you were i' my shoes," she replied. "I'm tied up to +'im, ain't I? Tell me what _you'd_ do. You couldn't get a divorce +even if you'd plenty o' money, for he never bothers wi' other women. +An' t' court wouldn't give me an order, 'cos he doesn't thrash me; an' +t' vicar's wife says 'at it was for better or worse 'at I took 'im, an' +I must kill him wi' kindness. But kindness doesn't kill 'im; nought +does. Oh God, if it wasn't for our Lucy I'd be glad to go where he +couldn't follow." + +"You won't think I am preaching, will you, dear," I said, "if I ask you +if you have tried really hard to make him love you? I don't quite know +what you could do, but there must be some way of reaching his heart. +And think how happy you would all be if you could change his heart and +win his love." + +"Miss 'Olden, there comes a time when you give up tryin', becos you +fair 'aven't strength an' 'eart to go on. I've done all I could for +that man. He's asked nought of me I 'aven't let 'im 'ave. I'm the +mother of his child, an' I've tried to learn t' little lass to be as +good as she's bonny, bless her! an' I keep her as neat as I know how; +an' he thinks more o' t' dog. I've worked early an' late to keep t' +'ome together, an' he's never once found it ought but tidy, for I get +up afore he wakes to scrub and polish. I've gone without food to give +'im luxuries, an' he never says so much as 'Thank ye'; but he thanks t' +dog for every trick he's trained it to. I've smiled on 'im when my +heart's been like lead, an' talked cheerful when it 'ud 'a done me good +to cry--an' all for what? Not for curses: not for kicks. I could +stand curses an' kicks when he wor i' drink, if he'd love me an' be +sorry when he wor sober. No, after all I've done for 'im he just takes +no notice of me. I'm his woman, not his wife, an' I'm too +broken-hearted now to try any more." + +One solitary tear stole down her cheek--a tiny tear, as though the +fountain from which it had escaped were nearly dry; and she did not +stop to wipe it away. + +I bent over and kissed her. "The darkest night ends in day," I said. +"Don't lose heart or hope. I cannot preach to you, and I fear if I +were in your place I should not do so well as you. I should lose my +temper as well as my spirits. But don't let love die if you can help +it. I suppose you loved him once?" + +"Yes, I loved him once," she said. + +"And you still love him?" I ventured. + +"No, I don't. I neither love 'im nor 'ate 'im. But I love his child. +That's our Lucy's voice. I must be goin' down now." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL + +I have been one whole year in Windyridge, and like a good business +woman I have taken stock and endeavoured to get out a balance sheet in +regular "Profit and Loss" fashion. I am afraid a professional +accountant would heap scorn upon it, as my methods are not those taught +in the arithmetics; but that consideration does not concern me. + +My net profits from the portraiture branch amount to the huge sum of +nine pounds, eighteen shillings and sevenpence. If these figures were +to be published I do not think they would attract competitors to +Windyridge, and I can see plainly that I shall not recoup my initial +outlay on the studio for several years. But that matters little, as my +London firms have kept me well supplied with work, and would give me a +great deal more if I were willing to take it. + +But I am _not_ willing. Man does not live by bread alone, nor by +painting miniatures and designing book illustrations, and I am +determined to live and not just exist, and I _have_ lived during these +twelve months. And even from the monetary point of view I am better +off than I was when I came, because if I have lost in the way of income +I have gained by a saving in expenditure. You simply cannot spend +money in Windyridge, and, what is more, the things best worth having +cannot be bought with money. + +These "more excellent" things appear upon another page in my balance +sheet--a page which would make the professional auditor gasp for breath. + +My experiences have made me a richer woman, though not a more important +personage to my bankers. I am healthier and happier than I was a year +ago. I have a living interest in an entire community, and an entire +community has a living interest in me. And I have a few real friends +in various stations of life, each of whom would do a great deal for me, +and each of whom has taught me several valuable lessons without fee or +reward. The moors and the glens, too, have had me to school and opened +to me their secret stores of knowledge, and who shall compute the worth +of that education? As a result, I have a saner outlook and a truer +judgment, and that counts for much in my case. Undoubtedly the balance +is on the right side, and I have no regrets as I turn and look back +along the track of the year. + +The anniversary day itself was marked by an incident of uncommon +interest. The weather was atrocious, and in marked contrast to that of +the previous year on the corresponding date. Had such conditions +prevailed when I first saw Windyridge the village would not have known +me as one of its householders. + +It rained as though the floodgates of heaven had been opened and got +rusted fast. For three days there had been one endless downpour, but +on the fateful Wednesday it degenerated into a miserable, depressing +drizzle which gave me the blues. The distance disappeared behind an +impenetrable wall of mist, and the horizon was the hedge of the field +fifty yards away. The drip, drip, drip from a leak in the glazing of +my studio so got on my nerves that in the afternoon I put on my strong +boots and a waterproof and set out for a walk. + +But though the rain could not conquer me the sticky mud did. After +covering a mile in half an hour I was so tired with the exertion that I +turned back, and was relieved when the distance has been almost covered +and only a few hundred yards separated me from the cottage. + +I had had the road to myself so far, but as I came down the hill which +skirts the graveyard I saw a stranger in the act of opening the gate +and entering. At the same moment, apparently, he caught sight of me, +and we scrutinised each other with interest as the distance between us +lessened. + +He was a well-dressed young fellow of about thirty, with a stern +expression on an otherwise rather pleasing face. His mouth was hidden +by a heavy moustache, but I liked his eyes, which had a frank look in +them. His rather long raincoat was dripping wet, and he had no other +protection from the rain, for he carried in his hand a stout stick of +peculiar shape. His hands and face were brown from exposure, and I +took him to be a prosperous, intelligent farmer. + +He raised his hat at my approach. "I am sorry to detain you, even for +a moment, in this rain," he said, "but I wondered if you could tell me +whether anyone of the name of Brown--Greenwood Brown--is buried here." + +Oh! thought I, you have come back, have you? But I merely replied: + +"Yes, Mr. Brown's grave is near the top of the hill. I will show you +which it is." + +"Please do not put yourself to that trouble," he protested; "if you +will be good enough to direct me I shall be able to find it." + +"You could not identify it," I said, "for there is no stone, but just a +grassy mound, like many of the rest. Let me point it out to you, and +then I will go on my way." + +He made no further objection, but held the gate open for me to enter. +There are no paths, and he protested again when he saw me plunge into +the long, wet grass, but I laughed at his fears and led the way to the +spot where all that was mortal of poor Farmer Brown lay beneath the sod. + +"This is his grave," I said, and he thanked me with another courteous +inclination of the head. As I turned to leave he asked a further +question. + +"Can you tell me if any of his people still live in this neighbourhood? +I--I have a message for them." + +"If you will call at my cottage," I replied, indicating the little +house a stone's-throw away, "I will tell you all I know. Pray do not +stay too long in the rain. You have no umbrella." + +"Thank you," he said, "I shall take no harm, and I will call at your +house shortly, as you are so very kind." + +I left him, but I could not forbear looking from the window in Mother +Hubbard's bedroom, and I could distinctly see him standing with head +bent and uncovered in an attitude of deep dejection over his father's +grave. I had no misgiving on that point. In spite of the thick +moustache the likeness was too strong to admit of doubt. + +I went into the studio and brought out the copy of Farmer Brown's +portrait which I had retained, and placed it on the chest of drawers +where he could hardly fail to see it; but I said nothing to Mother +Hubbard, who was laying the cloth for tea. The kettle was boiling when +he came in, and I fetched a third cup and saucer and invited him to the +table. + +I could see that reluctance struggled with desire, but Mother Hubbard's +added entreaties turned the scale, and he removed his soaking overcoat +with many apologies for the trouble he was causing. + +He drank his tea, but appeared to have little appetite for the crisp +buttered toast which Mother Hubbard pressed upon him, and he took a +rather absent part in the desultory conversation which accompanied the +meal. I did not think it right to reveal the curiosity I felt, but +after a while he made an opening. + +"I only heard of Farmer Brown's death as I entered the village," he +said. "I met a boy, of whom I inquired, and he told me the farmer was +buried here in the beginning of the year." + +Mother Hubbard put on her glasses and looked at him with a new +interest, and removed them again in a minute or two as if satisfied. + +"He died early in January," I said; "did you know him?" + +"Yes," he said, and there was no sign of emotion in his voice or face; +"but I have not seen him for several years. He had a wife and +daughter; are they living, and still at the old place? I forgot to ask +the boy." + +I thought it curious that he should have overlooked so natural a +question, if, as seemed likely, he had come to the neighbourhood with +the intention of finding them; but after all, the explanation lay upon +the surface--he manifestly did not wish to arouse too much curiosity. + +"Yes, they are still at the farm, and both are well," I replied; "I +often see them. If you knew the farmer you will perhaps recognise his +photograph. It was taken only a little while before he died." + +I got up and handed it to him, and I saw his mouth twitch at the +corners as he took the card in his hand. All the same he examined it +critically, and his voice was still firm as he replied: + +"He had evidently aged a good deal since I knew him, but I am sure it +was a good likeness." + +"It was trouble that aged him, Joe," broke in Mother Hubbard's gentle +voice; "the good Lord overrules all things for good, but it was you who +brought his grey hairs with sorrow to the grave." + +There was a mild severity of tone which astonished me and revealed +Mother Hubbard in a new light, but I was too interested in the change +which came over the startled man's face to think much of it at the time. + +"So you recognise me," he said. "I thought your face was familiar, +though the young lady's is not so. Well, everybody will know of my +return soon, so I need not complain that you have anticipated the news +by a few hours. Yes, the prodigal has come home, but too late to +receive his father's blessing." + +"Not too late to receive _a_ Father's blessing, Joe," replied Mother +Hubbard; "not too late to find forgiveness and reconciliation if you +have come in the right spirit; but too late to bring the joy-light into +your earthly father's eyes: too late to hear the welcome he would have +offered you." + +"I do not ask nor deserve to be spared," he said, with some dignity, +"and my first explanations shall be offered to those who have most +right to them. But this I will say, for I can see that you speak with +sincerity. I came back to seek forgiveness and to find peace, but I am +justly punished for my sin in that I forfeit both. You have not said +much, but you have said enough to let me realise that the curse of Cain +is upon me." + +"It is not," said Mother Hubbard calmly and with firmness; "your father +would have told you so. Go home to your mother, and you will find in +her forgiveness and love a dim reflection of the forgiveness and love +of God, and peace will follow." + +He rested one elbow upon the table and leaned his head upon his hand, +whilst his fingers tapped a mechanical tune upon his forehead, but he +did not speak for several minutes--nor did we. Then he rose and took +the still damp overcoat from the clothes-horse before the fire, and +said as he put it on: + +"Since I left home I have had many hard tasks to perform, But the +hardest of them all now lies before me, and though I have made some +little money I would give every penny I possess if the past could be +undone and that grey-haired man brought back to life. I am accounted a +bold man, but I would sooner face a lion in the Rhodesian jungle than +my mother and sister on yonder farm." + +"Go in peace!" said the little mother. "God stands by the side of +every man who does his duty, and your mother, remember, is about to +experience a great joy. Let them see that you love them both, and that +you loved your father too, and that will heal the wound more quickly +than anything else." + +He shook Mother Hubbard's hand, bowed to me, and stepped out into the +rain; and I watched him walk briskly forward until the mist swallowed +him up. + +Two days afterwards I heard the sequel. The rain had cleared away and +the roads were fairly dry when I set off with the intention of walking +as far as Uncle Ned's. Before I had gone very far I overtook Farmer +Goodenough, who was journeying in the same direction, and almost +immediately afterwards we met Jane Brown. + +"I was just comin' to see you, Miss Holden," she said, "but as you're +going my way I'll walk back with you if you'll let me. Mother wants to +know if you can take our photographs--hers and Joe's and mine--on +Monday." + +I told her it would be quite convenient, and Farmer Goodenough began to +question her about her brother's home-coming. I hardly expected much +response, for Jane is not usually very communicative, but on this +occasion she was full of talk. + +"I came o' purpose to say my say," she explained, "for I must either +talk or burst." + +We encouraged the former alternative, and she began: "If you want to be +made a fuss of, and have people lay down their lives for you, you +mustn't stop at 'ome and do your duty; you must go wrong. Only you +mustn't go wrong just a little bit: you must go the whole hog an' be a +rank wrong 'un--kill your father or summat o' that sort--and then when +you come back you'll be hugged an' kissed an' petted till it's fair +sickenin'." + +"Gently, lass, gently!" said Farmer Goodenough; "that sounds just a +trifle bitter." + +"I may well be bitter; you'd be bitter if you saw what I see," she +replied. + +I endeavoured to turn the conversation and to satisfy my curiosity. +"Where has your brother been, and what has he been doing all these +years?" I inquired. + +"Oh, he tells a tale like a story-book," she replied impatiently. "I'm +bound to believe him, I suppose, because whatever else he was he wasn't +a liar, but it's more like a fairy tale than ought else. After he hit +father an' ran away he got to Liverpool, an' worked his passage on a +boat to Cape Town, an' for a long time he got more kicks than +ha'pence--and serve him right, too, _I_ say. He tried first one thing +an' then another, and landed up in Rhodesia at last, an' sought work +from a man who employed a lot o' labour. He says he wouldn't have been +taken on if the gentleman hadn't spotted him for a Yorkshireman. +'Thou'rt Yorkshir', lad?' he said; an' our Joe said: 'Aye! bred an' +born.' 'Let's hear ta talk a bit o' t' owd tongue, lad,' he said; +'aw've heeard nowt on 't for twelve yeear, an' t' missis willn't hev it +spokken i' t' haase.' + +"Well, of course, Joe entered into t' spirit of it, an' the old +gentleman was delighted, an' gave him a job, an' he always had to speak +broad Yorkshire unless the missis was there. It wasn't exactly a farm, +but they grew fruit an' vegetables and kept poultry an' pigs an' bees +an' such like, and it was just to our Joe's taste. I won't deny but +what he's clever, and he was always steady an' honest. He says the old +gentleman took to him an' gave him every chance, an' t' missis liked +him too, because he always spoke so polite an' proper. An' then he +fell in love wi' one o' t' daughters, an' they were married last year, +an' by what I can make out he's a sort of a partner in t' business now. +Anyway, he says it's his wife 'at brought him to see what a wrong 'un +he'd been, and when he'd told 'em all t' tale nothing 'ud do but he was +to come to England and make it up with his father. So he's come, an' +mother blubbers over him, an' holds his 'and, an' strokes his 'air till +I'm out of all patience." + +Farmer Goodenough looked grave, but he did not speak, so I said: "Isn't +this rather unworthy of you, Jane? Your mother is naturally glad to +see her boy back again, and if she had not been here you would have +welcomed him just as cordially." + +"Would I?" she replied. "No fear! He gave father ten years of sorrow +an' brought him to 'is grave. I loved my dad too well to forgive his +murderer that easy. He's taken no notice of us all this time, an' +while he's been makin' money an' courtin' a rich girl we might all have +been in t' workhouse for ought he knew or cared. And then he's to come +home, an' it's to be all right straight off, an' we must have t' best +counterpane on t' bed, an' t' china tea-service out 'at were my +grandmother's, an' we must go slobberin' round his neck the minute he +puts his head in at t' door. Bah! it makes me sick. You've only got +to be a prodigal, as I say, an' then you can have t' fatted calf killed +for you." + +"Now look you here, lass," said Farmer Goodenough kindly, "I've said +nought so far, 'cos it does you good to talk. It's poor policy to bung +t' kettle up when t' water's boilin', but I think ye've let off enough +steam now to keep from burstin', so we'll just look into this matter, +an' see what we can make on 't." + +"Oh, I know you of old, Reuben Goodenough," replied the girl; "you'd be +every bit as bad as my mother." + +"You'll be every bit as bad yerself, lass, when ye've as much sense; +but now just let me ask you a question or two. T' Owd Book says, if I +remember right, when t' father came out to talk to t' sulky brother: +'It was meet to make merry an' be glad,' an' I take that to mean 'at it +was t' right an' proper thing to do. Now why were they glad, think ye?" + +"Just because he'd come home," replied Jane bitterly, "an' his brother, +like me, had never gone away. I don't wonder 'at he was sulky. But +that prodigal hadn't killed his father." + +"Well, now, Jane," replied the farmer, "'cordin' to my way o' sizin' +that tale up, you've got hold of a wrong notion altogether. I don't +know what t' parsons 'ud make of it, but it seems to me 'at t' owd man +was glad, not so much because t' lad had come back, but because he'd +come to hisself, an' that's a very deal different thing." + +"I don't see no difference," said Jane. + +"You will do if you think a minute, lass. Suppose a lad loses his +senses an' runs away from 'ome, an' comes back one fine day as mad as +ever. There'll be as much sorrow as joy, won't there, think ye, in +that 'ome? But suppose while he's away his reason comes back to 'im, +an' he gets cured, an' as soon as he's cured he says: 'I must go 'ome +to t' owd folks,' an' he goes, an' they see 'at he's in his right mind, +don't you think they'll make merry an' be glad? Wouldn't you?" + +"Our Joe didn't lose his senses," the girl replied sullenly; "he was as +clear-headed then as he is now. It's a different thing when they're +mad." + +"Nay, lass," he replied, "but unless I'm sadly mista'en all sin is a +sort o' madness. You said just now 'at Joe went wrong. Now where did +he go wrong--I mean what part of 'im?" + +Jane made no reply. + +"You'd say he was wrong in his 'ead to have treated his father as he +did, but if 'is 'ead wasn't wrong 'is 'eart was, an' that's a worse +kind o' madness. Doesn't t' Owd Book talk about 'em bein' possessed +wi' devils? They mightn't be t' sort 'at has 'orns on, but they were +t' sort 'at tormented 'em into wrong-doin', an' surely it was summat o' +that sort 'at got hold o' your Joe. Now, if his wife has brought him +to hisself, an' he's come 'ome to say he's sorry, 'it was meet to make +merry an' be glad.'" + +"It's hard on them that don't go wrong," said Jane. + +"Well, now, how is it 'ard on them?" asked the farmer. "Talkin' quite +straight, where does t' 'ardship come in?" + +"Well, mother doesn't cry round _my_ neck, an' stroke my hands, an' +make a big fuss," replied the girl, "an' it's hard to see her thinkin' +a deal more o' one 'at's done her so much wrong." + +"Now you know better, Jane. Your mother thinks no more o' your Joe +than she does o' you, only, as you say, she makes more fuss of him 'cos +he's come round. It 'ud 'a been just t' same supposin' he'd been ill +for ten year an' then got better. You'd ha' made a fuss over 'im then +as well as your mother, an' you wouldn't ha' thought 'at your mother +loved 'im more than you, if she did fuss over 'im a bit. Now you just +look at it i' this way: Joe's been mad--clean daft--but he's come to +hisself, an' it's 'meet to make merry an' be glad.'" + +Jane is not at all a bad sort. She gave a little laugh as she said: + +"Eh, Reuben! I never heard such a man for talkin'. However, I daresay +you're right, an' my bark's worse than my bite, anyway. I was just +feelin' full up when I came out, but I'm better now. I'll see if I can +manage not to be jealous, for we shan't have 'im long. He's in a hurry +to be back to his precious wife, an' he wants mother an' me to go with +him, but mother says she'll have her bones laid aside father's, so +he'll have to go by himself." + + +I took the photographs this morning, and was pleased to find that the +reconciliation between brother and sister was complete. In the +afternoon I went into the graveyard and found some beautiful flowers on +Farmer Brown's grave, and a man was taking measurements for a stone. +He told me that there was to be a curious inscription following the +usual particulars, and fumbling in his pocket he drew forth a piece of +paper on which I read these words: + +"A foolish son is a grief to his father." + +"A good man leaveth an inheritance to his children's children." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +THE CYNIC BRINGS NEWS OF GINTY + +It is the middle of October, and autumn is manifested on every side. +It makes me rather sad, for bound up with these marvellous sunset tints +which ravish the eye there is decay and death. The woods are carpeted +in russet and gold; the green of the fields is dull and faded; every +breath of wind helps to strip the trees a little barer; and as though +Nature could not, unaided, work destruction fast enough, the hand of +man is stretched forth to strip the glowing bracken from the moors, and +great gaps on the hillsides tell of his handiwork. + +I know, of course, that Nature is kindly and beneficent, and that death +in this connection is a misnomer. I know that after the falling leaf +and the bare branch and twig there will come the glory of spring, the +glory of bursting bud and fragrant flower; but though that mitigates +the feeling of sadness it does not entirely dispel it. The flowers and +the foliage, the heather and the bracken have been my companions during +these sunny days of summer, and it is hard to lose them, though only +for a while. + +And when I look on dear old Mother Hubbard, as she sits quietly by the +fire, with her needles clicking ever more slowly, and the calm of a +peaceful eventide deepening upon her face, my heart sinks within me, +and I dare not look forward to the wintry months that lie ahead. What +Windyridge will be to me when her sun sinks behind the hill I will not +try to realise. I attempt to be cheerful, but my words mock me and my +laugh rings hollow, and she, good soul, reads me through and through. +I know I do not deceive her, and my Inner Self warns me that one of +these days the motherkin will have it out with me and make me face +realities, and I stand in dread of that hour. + +The squire, on the other hand, looks far better than when he came home. +He is still feeble, and he has his bad days, but the light in his eyes +is not the light of sunset. Dr. Trempest means to be convincing, +though he is merely vague when he assures the squire that he will +"outlive some of us yet." I am glad he is better, for I cannot be with +him as much as I should if Mother Hubbard did not claim my devotion. + +I had tea with him and the Cynic on Sunday afternoon when some of her +chapel friends were keeping Mother Hubbard company. + +The Cynic was in the garden when I reached the Hall, and he told me +that the squire was asleep in the library, so we drew two deck-chairs +into the sunshine and sat down for an hour on the lawn. + +He lit a cigarette, clasped his hands behind his head, and began: + +"Well, I suppose you will want to know what is being done in the City +of Destruction from which you fled so precipitately. I have not +noticed any tendency on your part to stop your ears to its sounds, +though you may not hanker after its fleshpots." + +"Do not be horrid," I replied; "and if you are going to be cynical I +will go in and chat with the housekeeper. I am not particularly +anxious to know what is happening in your City of Destruction." + +He elevated his eyebrows. "Miss Fleming, for instance?" he queried. + +"Of course I shall be glad to hear of Rose. I always am. And that +reminds me that her letters are few and unsatisfactory. Have you seen +anything of her since the holidays?" + +"Yes," he replied, "we have met several times; once at the house of a +mutual friend, once at Olympia, and I believe twice at the theatre." + +"Do people 'meet' at the theatre?" I inquired. + +"They do if they arrange to do so, and keep their appointments," he +replied provokingly. "I am fortunate in being acquainted with some of +Miss Fleming's friends. I am sorry her letters leave something to be +desired, but you need not be uneasy; she herself is as lively and +fascinating as ever." + +I should have liked to ask him who the friends were, for Rose has never +mentioned them, and she had none who could possibly have been in the +Cynic's set in the old days; but friends can generally be found when +the occasion demands them. I said nothing, of course, and he looked at +me quizzically. + +"Your comments," he remarked, "if I may quote, are 'few and +unsatisfactory.'" + +It was true, but he need not have noticed it. The fact is, I had +nothing to say at the moment. That being the case there was plainly +nothing for it but to abuse _him_. + +"You are the Cynic to-day," I said, "and I foresee that you are going +to sharpen your wit upon poor me. But I am not in the mood. You see, +it is Sunday, and in Windyridge we are subdued and not brilliant on +Sundays." + +Perhaps his ear caught the weariness in my voice, for I was feeling +tired and depressed; at any rate his tone changed immediately. + +"I saw at once you were off colour," he said, "and I was making a +clumsy attempt to buck you up; but, seriously, have you no questions +you wish to ask me about the old place?" + +"I should like to know how matters are progressing with you," I said. +"I often wonder what the world thinks of your pronunciation." + +"The world knows nothing of it. I have never mentioned what I have +done to anyone but you, and I do not propose to do so. As for +myself--but what makes you wonder? Are you afraid I may have repented?" + +"No," I replied, "you will never repent, you are not that sort. Not +for one moment have I doubted your steadfastness." + +"Thank you," he said simply; and then, after a moment's pause: + +"I don't think it is anything to my credit. If I had been differently +constituted the sacrifice would have entailed suffering, even if it had +not proved too great for me. It was a lot of money, and if money is in +any sense a man's god it must hurt him to lose so much. My god may be +equally base, but it is not golden. In that respect I am like those +ancient Athenians of whom Plato speaks, who 'bare lightly the burden of +gold and of possessions,' though I fear I am not like them in despising +all things except virtue. Besides, even now I am not exactly poor, for +I have a good income." + +"I have thirty shillings a week on the average," I interposed, "and I +consider myself quite well to do." + +"Exactly," he replied; "you and I take pleasure in our work for its own +sake, and we are each paid, I suppose, fair value for what we do. +Having food and clothing and a roof to shelter us we have all that is +necessary, but we have luxuries thrown in--true friendships, for +instance, which money cannot purchase. In my own case I am hoping to +be quite wealthy if things turn out as I am beginning to dare to +expect." + +"I am glad to hear it," I said; "I am sure you deserve to succeed, and +I trust you will be very happy in the possession of wealth when your +expectation is realised." + +He laughed, but with some constraint, I thought, and then said: + +"We shall have to go in presently, Miss Holden, and before we do so, +and whilst we are not likely to be interrupted, I have something to say +to you which I find it difficult to mention." + +I believe the colour left my face, and I know my stupid heart lost +control of its beats again. His voice was so grave that I felt sure he +had some communication to make which I should not relish, though I +could not guess at its nature. I controlled myself with an effort, and +encouraged him to proceed with an inquiring "Oh?" + +He looked down at his boots for a moment and then continued: + +"If it had not been for this I should not have come here this week-end, +but I wanted to tell you what I have done, and to give you a message +from one in whom you are interested. I have hesitated because I fear +it may give you pain, though in one way it does not concern you in the +slightest degree." + +Why anything should give me pain which did not concern me was puzzling, +and I wished the man would get to the story and skip the introduction. +I never could bear to have news "broken gently" to me, it always seems +like a mere prolongation of the agony; but I did not dare to interrupt. + +"I had to be in attendance at the Central Criminal Court last Tuesday," +he continued; "and the case in which I was interested was delayed by +one in which the prisoner on trial was a young fellow whom you know." + +It was very silly of me, but the revulsion of feeling was so great that +I nearly cried, though goodness only knows what I had been expecting. +The Cynic saw my emotion and mistook it for sympathy. + +"I was afraid it would trouble you," he said kindly, "but you must not +worry about it. + +"The charge was quite an ordinary one and I had scarcely listened to +the case at all, for my mind was occupied with what was to follow, but +I heard sufficient to know that the man was one of a gang of sharpers, +and that he had been caught red-handed whilst his companions had +escaped. He had no one to defend him, but the judge nominated a junior +who was present to be his counsel, and the lad did his best for him. +But the youth had been in trouble before, and it was likely to go hard +with him. All at once my neighbour nudged me: 'He's meaning you, +Derwent,' he said. + +"'What's that?' I asked. + +"'I have just asked the prisoner if he has anyone who can speak to his +character, and he says you know him slightly,' said the recorder with a +smile. + +"'To the best of my knowledge I never saw the man in my life before,' I +replied. + +"'Yes, you have, Mr. Derwent,' the prisoner said in a low voice--and +you will understand what silence there was in the court--'you have seen +me working at Windyridge 'All, sir, afore I sank to this. You +remember, sir, I was allus known as Ginty.'" + +I started, and the Cynic continued: "I looked at him closely then, and +saw that it was indeed he, Ginty, ten years older than he was a year +ago: haggard, seamed with lines of care, unkempt, but, unless I am +mistaken, not altogether hardened. + +"I turned to the recorder. 'I do know the prisoner, sir,' I said, 'but +I did not recognise him, and therefore I have not paid attention to the +case;' and as briefly as I could I told the court how he had been led +astray. It was you, Miss Holden, who described it all so graphically, +you may remember, and I repeated the story as you told it, and I +pleaded hard for the young chap. He got off with three months, which +was less than might have been expected." + +"Poor Ginty!" I interrupted. "I wonder if his mother will hear of it. +I suppose news of that kind rarely filters through the walls of a +workhouse?" + +"No walls are impervious to bad news," he replied, "but Ginty's concern +was less for his mother than for his sweetheart, Sarah Ann. At bottom +I believe Ginty is penitent, and would like to break with the rogues +who have led him on; but the poor beggar is weak-willed, and the easy +prey of his blustering companions. I managed to get an interview with +him, and he wished me to ask you to tell the girl everything, and to +beg her to pity and forgive him; and he promises to turn over a new +leaf, and will marry her eventually if she is willing." + +"Sarah Ann must not be told at present," I replied; "she is far from +well, and the shock might be too much for her. She is a highly +emotional girl, who would go into violent hysterics incontinently." + +"Well," he said, "I can leave the matter to your discretion. I have +fulfilled my promise, and I am sure you will do what is best. Would it +be possible to tell the girl's mother?--if she has a mother." + +"She has a mother," I answered, "but she is a woman entirely destitute +of tact. To tell her would be to publish the news to the whole +village, and to have it conveyed to Sarah Ann in the crudest manner +conceivable. I think it will be best to hold back the message until I +have a fitting opportunity of delivering it to the girl herself. But +believe me, the present time is most inopportune." + +"I do believe you," he said, "and I suppose it is hardly likely that +information will reach the village in any other way. 'Ill news flies +fast,' but the case was too insignificant to be reported in the +provincial papers. Anyhow, we must take the risk, and you can deliver +your soul of the message when you think fit. I am sorry to have laid +this burden upon you." + +"I accept it willingly," I said, "and am glad that I can be of service +to these poor young folk." + + +I had a pleasant evening with the squire and the Cynic, both of whom +were at their best in discussing disendowments, in regard to which they +held opposite views. The squire showed the possession of a wealth of +knowledge which aroused my admiration, and he was so courteous in +argument, so magnanimous and altogether gentlemanly, that I could have +hugged him for very pride; but I am bound to say that I think the Cynic +had the best of it. He is just as generous and courtly as the squire, +and he is absolutely sure of his facts and figures; but when he does +corner his opponent he does not gloat over him. In my judgment--and I +am sure I am impartial, for I like them both so much--he was more +convincing than the squire; but then I don't think I ever met a more +convincing speaker. Of course I have met very few good speakers, but I +doubt if there are many to surpass Mr. Derwent. + +He took me home about ten o'clock, and I saw that the village had got +some new excitement, but the Cynic's presence barred me from +participating in it. At the cottage, however, I learned everything, +for a gossip had, as usual, hastened to tell Mother Hubbard the news, +and she was still discussing it on my arrival, though my invalid ought +to have been in bed. + +Nobody in Windyridge takes a Sunday newspaper, but a visitor from +Airlee had left a _News of the World_ at Smiddles's, and after his +departure Smiddles had glanced down its columns and found a report of +Ginty's trial and sentence. Mrs. Smiddles, bursting with importance, +hurried off to impart the information to Sar'-Ann's mother. Sar'-Ann's +mother, as might have been anticipated, had expressed her opinion of +Ginty's moral character in loud and emphatic language which echoed +round the village and awakened a like response. + +I closed the door wearily on the woman and went to bed, for it was too +late to see Sar'-Ann that night. I wish I had made the endeavour now, +for with the morning there came news that distressed me terribly. +Sar'-Ann's baby had been born at midnight, and poor Sar'-Ann was dead! + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +MOTHER HUBBARD HEARS THE CALL + +The world is very drab to-day, as I look out of my bedroom window at +the Hall and once more open the book in which I set down the +experiences of my pilgrimage. I am living in luxury again, a luxury +which has, alas! more of permanency in it than before. The little room +in which I am writing is charming in the daintiness of its colouring +and the simplicity of its furnishings. There is just a suspicion of +pink in the creamy wallpaper, and the deeper cream of the woodwork. +The bed, like the dressing table and the chairs, is in satinwood, +beautifully inlaid, and the wardrobe is an enormous cavern in the wall, +with mirrored doors behind which my few belongings hang suspended like +ghostly stalactites. The floor is nearly covered with a Wilton rug, +and the rest of it is polished until it looks like glass. A few choice +etchings and engravings hang upon the walls--Elaine dreaming of +Lancelot, Dante bending over the dead body of Beatrice, Helen of Troy, +and similar subjects, with two of Leader's landscapes. The counterpane +gleams, snowy white, beneath the lovely satin eider-down, which gives a +splash of colour to the room; and the room is _mine_! + +Mine! Yes, but the world is very drab all the same. The sky is grey +to its farthest limits--an unrelieved greyness which presses upon one's +spirits. The landscape is grey, with no solitary touch of brightness +in it until you come to the lawn in front of my window, where there is +a gorgeous display of chrysanthemums. The cawing of the rooks is a +shade more mournful than usual, and the grey smoke from the stacks +above my head floats languidly on the heavy air. + +And for the moment I would have it so, for it harmonises with my mood +and gives me the inspiration I need in order to write down the +occurrences of these later days. It is not that I am morbid or +downcast; I am sad, but not depressed; the outlook is not black--it is +just drab. + +I suppose if anyone were to read what I have written thus far they +would guess the truth--that my dear old Mother Hubbard has been taken +from me. We laid her to rest a week ago in the little plot of ground +which must ever henceforward be very dear to me, and my heart hungers +for the sound of her voice and the sight of her kindly face. But I +cannot doubt that for her it is "far better," so I will not stoop to +self-pity. + +And, after all, there is not a streak of grey in the picture I have to +reproduce. As I live over again those few last days of companionship I +feel the curtains to be drawn back from the windows of my soul; I +experience the freshness of a heaven-born zephyr. I find myself +smiling as one only smiles when memory is pleasing and there is deep +content, and I say to myself: "Thank God, it was indeed 'sunset and +evening star' and there was no 'moaning of the bar' when the spirit of +the gentle motherkin 'put out to sea,' and she went forth to meet her +'Pilot face to face.'" + +I think the shock of Sar'-Ann's death upset her, for, like her Master, +she was easily touched with the feeling of other people's infirmities, +and though outwardly she was unexcited I knew that the deeps within her +were stirred. + +We always slept together now, for I was uneasy when I was not with her. +For months past my cottage had been rarely used except as a bedroom, +but now I abandoned it altogether and had my bed brought into Mother +Hubbard's cottage and placed in the living-room, quite near to her own, +so that I could hear her breathing. Far into the night I would lie +awake and watch the dying embers on the hearth, and the light growing +fainter upon the walls, and listen for any sound of change. + +Each morning she rose at the same hour, dressed with the same care, and +sought to follow the old, familiar routine; but she did not demur when +I placed her in her chair and assumed the air and authority of +commander-in-chief. + +"I must work while it is day, love," she said, smiling up at me in the +way which always provoked a caress. + +"Martha, Martha," I always replied, "thou art anxious and troubled +about many things: but one thing is needful, and that in your case is +rest." + +She drew my head on to her breast one day as I said this for the +hundredth time--I had knelt down upon the rug, and mockingly held her +prisoner--and she said very, very softly: + +"Grace love, I am going to give in. The voice within tells me you are +right, and I do not fret. 'In quietness and in confidence shall be +your strength.' It is because I am so strong in spirit that I do not +recognise how weak I am in body; but I think, love, I am beginning to +realise it now. And as I have you to look after me I have much to +thank God for. Do you know, Grace love, I am sure the Lord sent you to +Windyridge for my sake. It is wonderful how He makes things work +together for the good of many. He knew this poor old Martha would soon +need somebody to pet her and look after her, so he sent you to be an +angel of comfort." + +"Well," I said, as cheerfully as I could with my spirit in chains, "He +has paid me good wages, and I have a royal reward. Why, my own cup is +filled to overflowing, 'good measure, pressed down, running +over'--isn't that the correct quotation? I wouldn't have missed these +twelve months of Mother-Hubbardism for a king's ransom." + +She pressed my head still more closely to her. "Are you very busy this +morning, love?" she asked. "I feel that I can talk to you just now if +you have time to listen, and it will do me good to speak." + +It had come at last, and I braced myself to meet it. "What have you +got to say to me, motherkin? Speak on. I am very comfy, and my work +will wait." + +"Yes, love," she said--and it was so unlike her to acquiesce so readily +that my heart grew heavier still--"work can wait, but the tide of life +waits for no man, and there is something I want to say before the flood +bears me away." + +"Are you feeling worse, dear?" I asked; "would you like me to ask Dr. +Trempest to call? I can telephone from the Hall." + +"No, love," the gentle voice replied, "I am past his aid. I shall slip +away some day without pain; that is borne in upon me, and I am +thankful, for your sake as well as for my own. The doctor will just +call to see me in the usual way, but you will not have to send fer him. +No; I just want to discuss one or two things with you, love, whilst my +mind is clear and my strength sufficient. And you are going to be my +own cheerful, business-like Grace, aren't you, love?"' + +"Yes," I said, swallowing my lump, and summoning my resources. + +"Well, now, love, I want to make my will, and you shall do it for me +when we have talked about it. I have neither chick nor child, and if I +have relatives I don't know them, and once over I thought of leaving +all I have to you, love, for you have been more than a daughter to me; +but after thinking it over I am not going to do so." + +"It was sweet of you to think of it, dear," I said, "but I really do +not need it, and I am glad you have changed your mind. Tell me." + +She stroked my face with a slow, patting movement as she continued: +"You won't need it, love. You have a little of your own, and you are +young and can work; but I would have added my little to yours if that +had been all, but I _know_ you will not need it, and I am glad. But +you will like to have something which I have valued, and you shall have +whatever I hold most dear." + +She paused a moment or two, but I knew she would not wish me to speak +just then. + +"There are three things, love, which are very precious to me," she +continued; "one is the ring which Matthew gave me when he asked me to +be his wife. I have never worn it since he died, but it is in the +little silver box in my cap drawer. I want you to wear it, love, in +remembrance of me. Then there is the little box itself. Besides the +ring, it contains my class tickets--tickets of membership, you know, +love; I have them all from the very first, and Matthew bought the +little box for me to put them in, and he called it my 'Ark.' I am so +pleased to think that you will have it, but I would like the tickets to +be buried with me." + +She broke off and laughed. "That sounds silly, love, doesn't it? It +looks as if I thought the tickets would help me to the next world; but, +of course, I didn't mean that. They are just bits of printed paper, +but I don't want them to be burned or thrown into the rubbish heap, +that's all. + +"Last and dearest of all, there's my Bible. It wouldn't fetch a penny +anywhere, for it's old and yellow and thumbed, and the back is loose; +but its value to me, love, is just priceless, and I should hardly die +happy unless someone had it who would love it too. Now that's your +share." + +I drew her hand to my lips and kissed it; she knew what I was feeling. + +"Give Reuben the old grandfather's clock. It is oak and will match his +furniture, and he can give his mahogany one to Ben. Reuben has always +admired the clock, and he will be pleased I remembered him. Let my +clothes go to any of the neighbours who are poor and need them. And +the lamp which his scholars gave Matthew when his health failed and he +had to give up teaching-----" + +She paused, and I held my peace. It was a chaste and artistic +production in brass, which had always seemed to me rather out of place +amid its homely surroundings, and I should not have been sorry if it +had been amongst the treasures to be bequeathed to me... + +"Yes, dear," I said at length, "the lamp?" + +"I want you to ask Mr. Derwent, love, to accept the lamp. He admired +it very much, and he has been so very nice to me; and give him the +china, too. + +"You will not live here alone, Grace, when I am gone. Mr. Evans will +want you, and you will not have to deny him then as you have done +previously for my sake. These old eyes have seen more, love, than you +have realised, and I am very grateful. The Lord bless you! + +"Both the cottages are mine. I bought this one when Matthew died, and +Reuben sold me the other one, just as it stands, whilst you were away, +and we arranged to keep it a secret for a while. Then there will be +about L1,500 in the bank and Building Society when everything has been +paid. I have thought a great deal about what to do with it, and I am +going to leave both the cottages, with all the furniture, for the use +of poor widows who otherwise might have to go to the workhouse; and the +interest on the money will keep them from want. + +"I haven't much head for business, but a lawyer will work it out all +right. You see, love, I was left comfortably off by Matthew, and I +think the Lord would like me to remember that all widows are not so +fortunate; and I don't want to forget that it is His money I have to +dispose of." + +The tears came into my eyes now and I could not speak. The sun was +shining brightly outside, but within that humble room there was a +radiance that outshone that of the sun, even the reflected splendour of +heaven. + +After a while she continued: "I want you and Reuben to decide who are +to live in the cottages, but I should like Ginty's mother to have the +first offer, love, and I think she will not refuse for my sake; and you +must arrange about the other. You will see Lawyer Simpson in +Fawkshill, love, and tell him all this. Go this afternoon, for I shall +be restless now until all is done. And now let me tell you what no +lawyer need know." + +Again she rested for a while and then continued: + +"They are sure to want a service at the chapel, for I am the oldest +member, and a class leader. But I do so dislike doleful singing, so I +have been thinking it over and I have put down on a paper which you +will find in my Bible the hymns which I should like to have sung. Ask +them to sing first 'My God, the spring of all my joys,' to the tune of +'Lydia.' You won't know the tune, love, for it is a very old-fashioned +one, but I have always liked it, and it goes with a rare swing. Then I +_must_ have 'Jesu, Lover of my soul' to 'Hollingside,' for that is the +hymn of my experience; and to conclude with let them sing a child's +hymn. I'm afraid you will laugh at me, Grace, but I would like to have +'There is a better world, they say.' I think these will be sufficient, +and they are all very cheerful hymns and tunes." + +"And the minister?" I asked, for her calmness was infectious. + +"Oh, either of them, love," she said; "they are both good men, and they +must arrange to suit their own convenience. Now give me a kiss. I am +so glad to have got this done, and though I am tired I feel ever so +much better." + +I saw the lawyer in the afternoon, and he called with the draft on the +following day, and by the next it had been signed, witnessed and +completed. + +Mother Hubbard did not go to chapel on the Sunday, but on the Thursday +she expressed her fixed determination to take her class. I protested +in vain; the motherkin had made up her mind. + +"I must, love; it is laid upon me, and I am not at all excited." + +"But, dear," I urged, "I shall worry terribly whilst you are out of my +care. You are not fit to go--you are not strong enough." + +"It is only a step, love," she replied, "and the evening is warm; why +need you worry when you can come with me?" + +She had never suggested this before--indeed, when I had laughingly +suggested it she had been visibly alarmed, and I admit that the idea +was not attractive. Somehow or other I distrusted the Methodist class +meeting. But my love for the class leader prevailed. + +"Very well," I said; "if you go, I go too." + +We went together and found eight or nine women of various ages +assembled in the little vestry. Mother Hubbard took her seat at the +table, and I sat next to Widow Smithies, who moved up to make room for +me. + +We sang a hymn, and then Mother Hubbard prayed--prayed in a gentle +voice which had much humility in it, but an assured confidence which +showed her to be on intimate terms with her Lord; and when she had +finished I read the 103rd Psalm at her request, and we sang again. + +Then she spoke, and her voice gathered strength as she proceeded. I +cannot write down all she said, but some of the sentences are burned +into my memory, though the connections have escaped me. + +"We will not have an experience meeting to-night, my friends, because I +want to speak to you, and God has given me strength to do so. I am +weak in body, but my spirit was never stronger. It is the spirit which +is the real life, so I was never more alive. I have thought a good +deal lately on those words: + +"'Even the youths shall faint and be weary, and the young men shall +utterly fall. But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their +strength: they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run and +not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.' + +"'They that wait upon the Lord' shall do this. Not just the strong and +powerful, but poor, weak old women like me; aye, those weaker still who +are helpless on sick-beds; the paralysed and lame who cannot walk at +all--all these shall 'renew their strength.' They are unable even to +totter to the old pew in the house of God, so weak and shaky is their +poor human frame; aye, but they shall 'mount up with wings as eagles.' +The eagle is a strong bird; it makes its nest on the cliffs of high +mountains, it soars up and up into the clouds, and it can carry sheep +in its talons, so great is its strength. And, do you realise it? they +that wait upon the Lord are like that. Weak and worn out in body, but + + "'Strong in the strength which God supplies + Through His Eternal Son.' + + +"My friends, I thank God that in that sense I am strong to-night; and +do you think that when I am so strong I am going to die? Never! Life +is going to be fuller, richer, more abundant." + +I gazed upon Mother Hubbard in astonishment. She was not excited, but +she was exalted. No earthly light was in her eyes, no earthly strength +was in those triumphant tones. Death had laid his hand upon her but +she shook him off and spoke like a conqueror. I looked at her members, +and saw that every eye was fixed upon her, and that reverential fear +held them immovable. There was a clock over the mantelpiece, and it +ticked away slowly, solemnly, but no other sound disturbed the +stillness. + +"I have heard some of you speak often of your crosses, and God knows +how heavy some of them have been, and how I have pitied and tried to +help you. You will not think I am boasting when I say that I have had +crosses to carry, too, but I have always endeavoured to make light of +them, and I am so glad of that to-night. Because, dear friends, I +realise very clearly now that to carry a cross that is laid upon us is +to help the Master. I think Simon was a strong, kindly man, who was +glad to carry the cross for Christ's sake. I like to think of him as +pushing his way through the crowd and saying: 'Let me help the Master: +I will gladly carry it for Him.' And I want to say this: that all +through my life when I have tried to carry my cross cheerfully the +Master has always taken the heavier end--always! + +"You will go on having crosses to carry so long as ever you love the +Lord Jesus Christ; but remember this--all troubles are not crosses. +God has nothing to do with lots of our troubles. Indeed, I am not sure +that what we call a trouble is ever a cross. That only is a cross +which we carry for His sake. It is a privilege to carry a cross, and +we ought to be glad when we are selected. + +"'But suppose we fall under it?' some of you may say. Listen: 'They +that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength.' You forgot that. +'When I am weak then I am strong.' Why? Because the good Lord never +asks us to carry a cross without giving us strength for the burden. +His grace is always sufficient for us. Never forget my words--they are +perhaps the last I shall speak as your leader, and oh, my dear friends, +how my heart yearns over you! how very dear to me is your truest +welfare!--no trouble need ever o'erwhelm you, no temptation need ever +cause you to fall, no weakness of the body need ever affect the +strength of the soul, no darkness of earth need ever shut out the light +of heaven, because--listen, 'Lo, I am with you always, even unto the +end of the world'!" + +She paused, and the women, unaccustomed to self-control, were sobbing +audibly into their handkerchiefs, and Mother Hubbard noticed it. + +"We will not sing a closing hymn," she said; "let us pray." + +The women knelt; but she merely leaned forward, with her hands clasped +on the table in front of her, and commended them all to God. She +prayed for each of them individually, using their Christian names, and +remembering all their families and family difficulties. She prayed for +the absent ones, for the toilworn and the sick; and she prayed for +me--and may God in His mercy answer that prayer, then shall my life be +blessed indeed. + +When she had pronounced the benediction in a very low voice we rose +from our knees, and saw her with her face uplifted to heaven, and the +calm of heaven spread over it, like the clear golden calm of a +cloudless sunset. Then, slowly, the head dropped upon her hands; and +when at length we tried to rouse her we found that she was beyond our +call. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +IN THE CRUCIBLE + +Despite the squire's protests I remained in my own cottage until the +Monday when Mother Hubbard's frail body was laid to rest in the little +graveyard. There was nothing to fear, and I felt that I could not +leave her there alone. She would have rebuked me, I know, and would +have read me the lesson of the cocoon and the butterfly; but I am most +contented when I trust implicitly to my instincts, and my Inner Self +bade me stay. + +Practically all the village turned out to the funeral, and the chapel +was crowded to its utmost capacity. It was a cheerful service, too, in +spite of our tears, for the ministers and members had caught her +spirit, and "Lydia" was sung with a vigour and heartiness which I +should have liked the dear old lady to witness. Perhaps she did: who +knows? + +The squire and I occupied the position of chief mourners, but the +entire village sorrowed, as those only sorrow who have lost a friend +that cannot be replaced. There is no other Mother Hubbard here, and +how much she will be missed when trouble sits by the hearths of the +people only time can make known. + +When all was over I went straight to my new home at the Hall, and +entered into possession of the lovely room which had been prepared for +me. Every morning and afternoon I go to my work at the studio, but +without the zest which makes duty a delight. The squire would like me +to abandon the studio altogether and do my regular work at the Hall, +but I cannot quite reconcile myself to the idea. After all, the studio +is there, and as the weeks go by I shall lose the sense of desolation +which is now associated with the place, and which hangs like lead upon +the wings of my spirit. + +Yet what cause for gratitude is mine! Though I have lost one true +friend another is here to comfort and cheer me with never-failing +insight and sympathy. How I enjoy these long evenings in the library, +the quiet talks in the firelight, the hour which follows the lighting +of the lamp, when I read aloud from the squire's favourite authors or +the learned quarterlies; and best of all, the comments and discussions +which enable me to plumb the depths of his mind and make me marvel at +the extent of his knowledge. He likes me to sit on a stool at his feet +as I did, ages ago, at Zermatt, resting my arm or book upon his knee +and within easy reach of his caressing hand. Whatever I may have lost +by coming to Windyridge I have certainly found affection, and I am +woman enough to value it above all my losses. + +So far, Mr. Derwent has come down each week-end and has remained at the +Hall over the Sunday. For some reason which he does not explain the +squire seems rather amused with him just now, and indulges occasionally +in a mild form of banter which leaves the younger man quite unruffled. +He asks him how he can possibly tear himself away so often from the +attractions and duties of the metropolis; and I cannot help thinking +that he suspects the existence of an attractive force there. I wonder +if the Cynic has told him anything of Rose. For myself, I am not +surprised that he comes to Broadbeck for the week-ends, because the +habit is ingrained in him, and bachelors of his age do not readily +abandon old customs. + +We had a very interesting evening on Saturday. The vicar is away on a +stone-hunt of some kind, so his wife came to dinner, and gave spice to +the conversation, as she invariably does. I am always delighted when +she forms one of the company that includes the Cynic, for she is +refreshingly blunt and frank with him, and he does not get all his own +way. And at the same time he seems to enjoy drawing her out--I suppose +he would say "pulling her leg," if she were not a lady. + +On this particular occasion she attacked him the moment we were +comfortably settled in the library, and for a long time the battle was +a mere duel of wits. She was extremely scornful because he had chosen +to remain a bachelor, and he defended himself with more than his usual +cynicism. + +Something had been said about the growing spirit of brotherhood, when +she broke in: + +"Bah! don't talk to me about your altruism or any other 'ism. In these +days you men make high-sounding phrases take the place of principle. +If I know anything of the meaning of words altruism is the very +opposite of selfishness--and who is more selfish than your bachelor?" + +The Cynic blew a thin column of smoke towards the ceiling and spoke +languidly: + +"Stevenson says--I mean R. L., of course--that if you wish the pick of +men and women you must take a good bachelor and a good wife." + +"Stuff and nonsense!" replied the vicar's wife; "if there were such a +thing as a good bachelor I should say that he got amongst the pick of +men only when he took to himself a good wife. But who ever yet saw or +knew a 'good' bachelor? It's a contradiction of terms. Mind you, I +don't call boys bachelors; bachelors are men who might be married if +they would, but they won't. Good men are unselfish, and bachelors are +brazenly self-centred, and usually unbearably conceited. And you are +as bad as any of them, Philip." + +"Veritatis simplex oratio est," muttered the Cynic. + +"Didn't I say so?" ejaculated the vicar's wife triumphantly. "It is a +sure sign of conceit when a man hurls a bit of school Latin at his +ignorant opponent and so scores a paltry advantage." She pursed her +lips in scorn. + +"I beg your pardon," replied the Cynic calmly;. "I got the quotation +from a cyclopaedia, but I will substitute a line from an English poet +which accurately expresses the same meaning: + + "'How sweet the words of truth, breathed from the lips of love!' + +But is there no excuse for me and others in like case? Are we +unmarried men sinners above all the rest? Granted that we are selfish, +conceited, corrupt and vile, is there yet no place for us in the +universe? no lonely corner in the vineyard where we can work with +profit to the State?" + +"I suppose you think you work 'with profit to the State,'" returned the +vicar's wife with a curl of the lip, "when you persuade one of His +Majesty's judges to send some poor wretch to gaol, where he will be +provided for at the country's expense whilst his wife and children are +left to starve. You would be of far more use to it, let me tell you, +if you became the father of a family and----" + +The Cynic held up his hand: "The prey of some conceited bachelor who +should wickedly persuade one of His Majesty's judges to send me to +gaol, whilst my wife and children were left to starve. The reasoning +does not seem very clear. If I had remained a bachelor I might have +become a wretch, and I might have suffered imprisonment, but at least +my sins would not have been visited upon the innocent heads of wife and +children. And then it occurs to me that I have known bachelors to be +sent to gaol at the instance of married men who persuaded the judges to +send them there. No, no, madam, you are too deep for me! I give it +up!" + +"Rubbish!" snorted the vicar's wife, "you evade the issue, which is +simple enough. Are--bachelors--selfish--or--are--they--not?" + +The Cynic shook his head mournfully. "They are more to be pitied than +blamed, believe me. They are too often the sport of cruel Fate--tossed +here and there upon the wave of Circumstance--unable, alas! and not +unwilling to find safety in the Harbour of Matrimony. Their lot is +indeed a sad one. Don't call them hard names, but drop for them--and +me--the silent tear of sympathy." + +"Oh, of course," broke in the vicar's wife, "I knew that dodge was sure +to be employed sooner or later. I was on the watch for it. It is the +old excuse that there is nobody to marry. The wave of Circumstance +does not toss you into the arms of some captivating nymph, and so you +remain all at sea--more ornamental, perhaps, but hardly more useful +than a cork on the ocean. If you really wanted to get into the Harbour +of Matrimony, let me tell you, you would turn about and swim there, +instead of blaming Fate for not rolling you in on the crest of a wave." + +We laughed, and the Cynic said: "After all, madam, selfishness is not +confined to those who have no intention of marrying. When your good +husband took to himself the most charming of her sex he doubtless +grudged every smile that was thrown to his rivals. Altruism, as you +very sagaciously remarked a moment or two ago, is the very antithesis +of selfishness, and hence it is unpopular except as an ideal for +others. The popular altruist is he who denies himself to minister to +my selfishness. We are all selfish, with certain rare exceptions--to +be found, fortunately, within the circle of my friends." + +"I am sure I am selfish," I interjected; "I wonder if that is because I +am unmarried." + +"My dear," said the vicar's wife, "your case is not on all fours with +Philip's and other bachelors'. _You_ are the sport of Fate, and not +these men who can easily find some woman silly enough to have them, but +who prefer their own selfish ease and comfort, and then entreat +sympathy, forsooth! When women are unmarried it is rarely their own +fault." + +"All this is very puzzling," drawled the Cynic. "I am groping in the +darkness with a sincere desire to find light, and no success rewards my +patient efforts. I hear that it is silliness on the women's part to +accept our offers, and still we are blamed for saving them from +themselves. No doubt you are right, but to me it seems inconsistent." + +"Bother your casuistry!" replied the vicar's wife, dismissing him with +a wave of the hand. "Philip, you make me tired. What makes you sure +you are selfish, dear? I have seen no signs of it." + +The question was addressed to me, and I answered: "I am beginning to +think it was selfishness that brought me here, and I am not sure that +it is not selfishness which keeps me here. At the same time I have no +wish to leave, and the question arises, Is it only the disagreeable +which is right? Is selfishness never excusable?" + +"In other words," remarked the Cynic, whose eyes were closed, "is not +vice, after all, and at any rate sometimes, a modified form of virtue?" + +"Listen to him!" exclaimed the vicar's wife; "the embodiment of +selfishness is about to proclaim himself the apostle of morality. The +unfettered lord of creation will expound to a slave of circumstance the +ethical order of the universe, for the instruction of her mind and the +good of her soul." + +"The fact is," continued the Cynic, without heeding the interruption, +"Miss Holden, like many other sensitive people of both sexes, has a +faulty conception of what selfishness is. There are many people who +imagine that it is sinful to be happy, and a sign of grace to be +miserable, which is about as sensible as to believe that it is an +indication of good health when you are irritable and out of sorts. To +be selfish is to be careless of the interests of others, and Miss +Holden is certainly not that." + +"It is good of you to say so," I said, "but I sometimes wonder if I am +not shirking duty and evading responsibility by enjoying myself here." + +The squire gave my hand an affectionate squeeze, but only his eyes +spoke; and the vicar's wife turned to me. + +"What brought you up here, dear? I don't think I ever knew." + +"I am sure I don't," I replied, and before I had time to continue the +Cynic leaned forward and looked at me. + +"I know," he said. + +"You once promised to explain me to myself," I said, smiling, "Is this +the day and the hour?" + +"That is for you to say," he replied. "You may object to analysis in +public. True, there are some advantages from your point of view. You +will have one of your own sex to hold a brief for you, and a very +partial judge to guarantee fair play." + +"I do not mind," I replied; and the squire smiled contentedly. + +The Cynic threw his cigarette into the fire and began: "As I understand +the case, before you left London your duties kept your hands busily +employed during working hours, but allowed you ample opportunity for +the consideration of those social problems in which for the previous +year or two you had been deeply interested, and a certain portion of +your leisure was devoted to social and philanthropic work?" + +I assented with a nod. + +"Very well. Yielding to what appeared to be a sudden impulse, but to +what was in reality the well-considered action of your subconscious +self, you bound your burden of cares upon your back and fled from your +City of Destruction." + +"Like a coward," I interposed, "afraid to play the game of life because +of its hazards. I might have remained and faced the problems and +helped to fight the foe I loathed." + +"I will come to that shortly," he said, and every trace of irony had +left his voice; "at present I am considering why your subconscious self +decided upon this line of action. The world's sorrows were oppressing +you like a nightmare. Do you know that few of us can meet sorrow face +to face and day by day and retain our strength, and particularly if we +seek to meet it unprepared, unschooled? One of two things usually +happens: we become hardened, or we go mad. From these alternatives it +is sometimes wise to flee, and then flight is not cowardice, but +prudence." + +"I certainly obeyed my Inner Self," I said, "but is there not such a +thing as a false conscience?" + +"Your 'Inner Self' did not betray you," he continued. "Unwittingly you +sought, not oblivion, but enlightenment and preparation. All earnest +reformers are driven of the Spirit into the wilderness." + +"Yes, but for what purpose, Derwent?" interposed the squire; "to be +tempted of the devil?" + +"To face the tempter, sir. To test their own armour in private +conflict before they go forth to strike down the public foe. To +discover the devil's strength, his powers and his limitations, before +they match themselves against legions. To discover their own strength +and limitations, too. The first essential in successful warfare is to +know yourself and your enemy, and you gain that knowledge in solitude. +It was so with Jesus, with Paul, with Savonarola, with scores of other +reformers. Miss Holden was driven into the wilderness--if you care to +put it so--for a similar purpose." + +"But ought one to avoid opportunities of usefulness?" I urged. "I was +in the fray and I withdrew from it." + +"A raw soldier, invalided home, though you did not know it," he +continued, "and sent into the country for rest and renewal, and quiet +preparation for effective service. Here you have gained your +perspective. You survey the field of battle from the heights, and yet +you have come in contact with the enemy at close quarters, too, and you +know his tactics. You will face the problems of sin and suffering and +social injustice again, but with new heart and less of despair." + +"You are too generous, I fear. I should like to think that my motives +were so pure, but----" + +"What is motive? Motive is what excites to action. Your motive was +not less pure because it was intuitive and unrecognised. But let me +ask you: What idea are you disposed to think you left unaccomplished? +What object ought you to have pursued?" + +I thought a moment before I replied: "It seems to me that when there is +so much sin and suffering in the world we should try to alleviate it, +and to remedy the wrongs from which so much of it springs. And from +these things I fled, though I knew that the labourers were few." + +"You fled from the devil, did you? And you found Windyridge a Paradise +from which he was barred!" + +I remained silent. + +"London has no monopoly of sin and suffering. Evil has not a merely +local habitation. If it was a wile of the devil to remove you out of +his way it has been singularly unsuccessful, I conclude, for I +understand you have found him vigorously at work here all the time. +Have you then discovered no opportunities of service and usefulness in +the wilderness?" + +"If happiness is gained by administering it to others," said the squire +with some emotion; "if to break up the hard ground of the heart and sow +in it the seed of peace is to defeat the devil and his aims, then has +Miss Holden reached her ideal and earned her happiness. I told her a +year ago that the devil was a familiar presence in this village, but I +thank God, as others do and have done, that she has helped to thwart +him." + +Perhaps I ought not to write all this down, for it has the savour of +vanity and conceit, but I do not see how I can well avoid doing so. +There are times when the heart speaks rather than the judgment, and the +squire's heart is very warm towards me; and though I would not doubt +his sincerity it is certain that he is not impartial where I am +concerned. + +The Cynic looked pleased. "I quite agree, sir," he said; "Miss Holden +has used her opportunities--not simply those which presented +themselves, but those which she has sought and found, which is higher +service. Hence, I conclude that the policy of her subconscious self +has been justified, and that she is absolved from any charge of +selfishness." + +"Really, Philip!" said the vicar's wife, "your eloquence has almost +deprived me of the power of speech, which you will acknowledge is no +mean achievement. I thought I was appointed counsel for the defence +and that you were to prefer the indictment and prove Miss Holden guilty +of some heinous crime. _My_ office has been a sinecure, for a better +piece of special pleading for the defence I have never listened to." + +"I must be fair at all costs," he replied; "Miss Holden had no +misgivings, I imagine, when she came here at first. Doubts arose, as +they so often do with the conscientious, when the venture prospered. +The martyr spirit distrusts itself when there is no sign of rack and +faggot. I seek now to reveal Miss Holden to herself." + +"You are wonderfully sure of yourself," returned his opponent, "but let +us be fair to our pretensions. If you are for the defence let me be +for the prosecution. Does one serve his country better when he leaves +the thick of the fray to study maps and tactics? If one has the +opportunity to live is it sufficient to vegetate? For every +opportunity of usefulness that Windyridge can offer London can provide +a score, and Miss Holden's lot was cast in London. Is she living her +life? That, I take it, is her problem." + +"Yes," I said, "it is something like that." + +"I accept your challenge," replied the Cynic, "and I agree that it is +not what we do but what we are capable of doing that counts. But the +most effective workman is not he who undertakes the largest variety of +jobs, but he who puts himself into his work. You speak of vegetating, +and you ask if Miss Holden is living her life. What is life? The man +who rises early and retires late, and spends the intervening hours in +one unceasing rush does not know the meaning of life; whereas the +farmer who goes slowly and steadily along the track of the hours, or +the student who devotes only a portion of his time to his books and +spends the rest in recreation, or the business man who declines to +sacrifice himself upon the altar of Mammon--these men live. And it is +the man who lives who benefits his fellows. To visit the sick, to +clothe the naked, to dole out sympathy and charity to the poor is noble +work, but it is not necessarily the most effective way of helping them. +The man who sits down to study the problem of prevention--the root +causes of misery and injustice--and who discovers and publishes the +remedy, is the truer and more valuable friend, though he never enter a +slum or do volunteer work in a soup kitchen." + +"And whilst we are diagnosing the conditions rather than the case the +patient dies," said the vicar's wife. "We stop our sick visiting and +our soup kitchens, and bid the people suffer and starve in patience +whilst we retire into our studies to theorise over causes." + +"To refer to your illustration of a moment ago, my dear madam, the +battle need not stop because one or two men of insight retire to serve +their country by studying maps and tactics. We need not chain up the +Good Samaritan, but we shall be of far greater service to humanity if, +instead of forming a league for the supply of oil and wine and +plasters, we inaugurate measures to clear the road of robbers. 'This +ought ye to do and not to leave the other undone.'" + +"You admit, then, that some may find their opportunity of service in +work of this baser sort?" + +"No work is base which is done with a pure motive and done well. All I +contend for is that when instinct bids any of us withdraw for a time, +or even altogether, it is wise to trust our instincts. If Miss Holden +had devoted herself to a life of pleasure and selfish isolation she +might have been charged with cowardly flight from duty. We all know +she has done nothing of the kind, and therefore I say her intuition was +trustworthy, and she must not accuse herself of selfishness." + +"I agree with all my heart," said the vicar's wife; "but the problems +which she left unsolved are no nearer solution." + +"How do you know that?" he asked. "The war may be nearer its end +because your unheroic soldier sheathed his sword and put on his +thinking-cap. That unsoldier-like action may have saved the lives of +thousands and brought about an honourable peace. I do not know that +Miss Holden has done much to solve the general problem, but I dare +assert that she views it more clearly, and could face it more +confidently than she could have done a year ago--that is to say, she +has solved her own problem." + +"There is some truth in that," I said. "Windyridge has given me +clearer vision, and I am more optimistic on that account. Mr. Evans +told me on the occasion of our first meeting that I should find human +nature the same here as elsewhere, and that is so. But the type is +larger in the village than it is in the town, and I can read and +understand it better. Yet one thing town and country alike have proved +to me, and that is what you, Mr. Evans, asserted so confidently--that +selfishness is the root of sin. How are we to conquer that?" + +"Only by patient effort," replied the squire. "Shallow reformers are +eager to try hasty and ill-considered measures. Zealous converts, +whose eyes have been suddenly opened to the anomalies and injustices of +society, are angry and impatient because the wheels of progress revolve +so slowly, and they become rebellious and sometimes anarchical. And +their discontent is a sign of life, and it is good in its way, but +ordinarily it is ineffective. You may blow up the Council House in +Jericho because the councillors have not done their duty, and you may +shoot the robbers because they have wounded the traveller, and the +zealous reformer will commend you and say: 'Now we are beginning to +make things move!' But the man who goes to work to destroy the seeds +of greed and selfishness, so that men will no longer either need or +covet the possessions of others, is the real reformer; but reformation +is a plant of slow growth. Yet everyone who sows the antidote to +selfishness in the heart of his neighbour is to be accounted a +reformer." + +The vicar's carriage was announced at that moment and the conversation +was interrupted. + +"We will continue it next week, sir," said the Cynic, "if you will +allow me to pay you another visit. I cannot be here until the evening +of Saturday; may I stay the week-end?" + +"Certainly," said the squire with a smile, "if your engagements permit. +I think we must all realise that you seek to carry your theory of life +into practice." + +That was on Saturday. The Cynic left by the early train this morning, +and he had no sooner gone than the post brought me a letter from Rose. +It was short and sweet--very sweet indeed. + + +"MY DEAR GRACE, + +"Congratulate me! I am engaged to be married to the best of men, _not +excepting your Cynic_. You will blame me for keeping it quiet, but how +can I tell what is going to happen beforehand? Besides, you don't tell +me! + +"I am to marry my chief, who is henceforward to be known to you and me +as 'Stephen.' He is two or three years older than I am; good-looking, +of course, or he wouldn't have appealed to me, and over head and ears +in love with + +"Your very affectionate and somewhat intoxicated + +"ROSE. + +"PS.--He has known your Cynic for years, but he (I mean your Cynic) is +too good a sportsman to spoil the fun. + +"PPS.--It is a beautiful ring--diamonds!" + + +I am delighted to think that Rose is so happy, and can excuse the +brevity of the communication under the circumstances. But I _am_ +surprised. I never dreamed that her chief was young and unmarried. +Why she should always say "your" Cynic, however, and underline it, too, +I cannot understand. I wish ... + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +THE GREAT STORM + +My book is nearly full, and I do not think I shall begin another, for +my time is likely to be fully occupied now. But I must set down the +events of the last week-end and tell of the wonderful climacteric that +I have passed through. Then the curtain may be allowed to fall on my +unimportant experiences. + +They have not been unimportant to me, and my recent adventures have +provided sufficient excitement to keep the tongues of the villagers +busy for months. + +Incidentally I have discovered that Windyridge does not belie its name, +but that the storm fiend makes it the stage for some of his most +outrageous escapades. + +We had samples of all the different kinds of weather England provides +last week--rain, snow, sleet, light breezes, fleecy clouds sailing +slowly across the blue, dull and threatening times when the skies were +leaden. + +Saturday was the gloomiest day of all. It was gusty from the +beginning, but until the afternoon the wind was only sportive, and +contented itself with rude schoolboy pranks. By five o'clock, however, +its mood had changed and its force increased fourfold, and by six +o'clock it had cast off all restraint and become a tempest. + +Whilst I remained in the Hall I hardly realised its fury, for the house +is well built and shielded from the full force of the northerly winds. +It was when I ventured out to visit Martha Treffit soon after dinner +that I became aware of it. + +The squire had left the table with a severe headache, and retired to +his own room where, with drawn blinds and absolute quietude, he usually +finds ease, and I was left to my own devices and the tender mercies of +the Cynic, when he should arrive. + +But his train was not due until eight, and it would take him a good +thirty minutes to walk from the station, so I had more than an hour at +my disposal, and I was anxious to find out how little Lucy was +progressing. She had been under the care of the doctor for several +days, and was still in bed and very feverish. + +I put on my ulster, wound a wrap about my head, and stepped out on to +the drive, and it was then that I became aware of the raging elements +around me. + +The wind blew bitingly from the north, charged with smarting pellets of +sleet. I had known strong winds before, but never anything like this. +It howled and roared, it hissed and shrieked; it was as much as I could +do to force my way forward against the pressure of its onrush; but +though my head was bent I saw that every bush and shrub was shaken as +by some gigantic Titan, and that the tall and naked trees swayed +towards me with groans that sounded human and ominous. + +On the topmost branches, black bundles which I knew to be deserted +nests were rocked violently to and fro, like anchored boats in the +trough of a storm-lashed sea. The night was grim and black, save when +for a brief moment the full moon gleamed down upon the angry scene from +the torn rifts of the scurrying clouds. + +The thought crossed my mind that it might be wiser to return, but Fate +or Providence urged me forward, and I laughed at my fears and set my +shoulder to the storm. + +Phew! if it was a gale along the drive it was a hurricane in the +village street, and a hot-headed, impetuous hurricane, too. Pausing +for a second in its mad rush it leaped upon one the next moment with a +sudden fury that seemed almost devilish and was well-nigh irresistible. +Twice I was flung against the wall, but as I was hugging it pretty +closely I suffered no harm. As I struggled onward the wind was in my +teeth; a dozen steps farther and it leaped the wall on my right with a +roar, like a pack of hounds in full cry, and tore down the fields with +reckless velocity to hurl itself into the black mystery of the wood. + +Not a soul was to be seen, but the clatter of a dislodged slate upon +the pavement brought a frightened woman to the door of one of the +cottages, and I stepped inside for a moment's breathing-space. + +"Lord! Miss 'Olden, is it you?" she said. "I don't know how you dare +stir out. I'm a'most flayed to death to stay in t' 'ouse by myself, +but my master is off wi' most o' t' other men to Gordon's farm to give +'em a hand." + +"What is the matter there?" I inquired. + +"Ye 'aven't 'eard, then? They say 'at t' wind's uprooted t' big +sycamore an' flung it again' one o' t' barns, or summat, an' it's like +to fall in, so they've gone to see what can be done." + +I did my best to encourage her and then made what haste I could to the +house of Roger Treffit, which stood lank and dark against the black +sky. As it was Saturday night I hoped that Roger would be away, but it +was his voice that bade me enter, and the dog rose to give me welcome. + +The fire roared up the chimney and the wind met it there with answering +roar. Roger was sitting with his feet stretched out to the blaze, one +arm resting upon the table and encircling a half-empty whiskey bottle. +In his right hand he held a tumbler nearly full of spirits. I saw at a +glance that he was very drunk, but I believed him to be harmless. + +"Is Mrs. Treffit upstairs? may I go to her at once?" I asked. + +"Quite all right, ma'am, quite all right. Show lady ... way, Miss +T'ry.... Missis ill ... kid ill ... Miss T'ry ill ... ev'yb'dy ill. +Doctor says mus' keep kid quiet, mus'n' disturb 'er. Won't let 'em +disturb 'er, I won't.... Go forw'd, ma'am." + +He rose steadily enough, and held the door open for me to pass through, +and I heard him mutter as he returned to his chair: + +"Won't let 'em disturb 'er, I won't." + +Martha greeted me in her usual sadly-cordial fashion, and motioned me +to a chair near the bed where the little one lay, flushed and asleep. + +"She's a bit better," she whispered, "but she's to be kept quiet, an' +whatever I do I haven't to miss 'er med'cine every hour. But he says +wi' care an' good nursin' she'll pull through." + +"And how is your cough?" I asked. + +"Oh, about as usual," she replied indifferently. "I have to cough into +my apron when Lucy's asleep, but I should soon be right enough if I'd +nought to worrit about. It's yon chap downstairs 'at 'll be t' death +of us both." + +"Has he no engagement to-night? I thought he was never free on +Saturdays." + +"It's t' dog. She's poorly again, an' he can't work her. My opinion +is 'at t' poor brute's about done, an' I believe Roger knows it an' +it's drivin' 'im mad. He drinks t' day through, an' in a bit there'll +be nought for us but t' work'us, for I can't keep 'im i' whiskey; an' +whativver's goin' to come o' our poor little Lucy I don't know. I've +been lookin' at her as she lay there, Miss 'Olden, so sweet an' pretty, +like a little angel, an' I a'most asked the Lord to take 'er out of all +t' trouble, but I couldn't bide to lose 'er." + +The overwrought woman buried her face in her apron and sobbed +convulsively--deep-drawn, quiet sobs which told of her soul's agony. A +solitary candle was burning upon the dressing-table, and the room +looked eerie in the half darkness. Outside the storm was at its +height, and in the stillness which neither of us broke I heard it +shriek with the shrillness which one associates with spirits in torment. + +But it was the savage thrust of the wind that frightened me most, and +the heavy and repeated thuds which struck the end of the house like the +battering blows of a heavy ram. It is no exaggeration to say that the +house rocked, and I began to fear lest it should collapse. I +remembered what a shaky, decrepit structure it was, and I turned to +Martha to see if she shared my alarm. + +She caught the question in my eyes: "I think it's safe enough," she +said; "it allus rocks a bit in a 'igh wind. I've got while I take no +notice of it." + +Poor woman! There was a storm within her breast which dwarfed the +tempest outside into insignificance; but I held my breath again and +again, and tried in vain to stay the tumultuous beatings of my heart as +the mad wind rained blow after blow upon the quivering walls with a +persistency and ever growing fury which seemed to make disaster +inevitable. + +By and by I could stand it no longer. "Are you sure the house is safe, +Martha?" I asked. "Listen to the wind now; it makes me shudder to hear +it, and the wall on yonder side absolutely heaves. Had we not better +wrap Lucy up well, and take her downstairs?" + +"You aren't used to it, Miss 'Olden, an' it's gettin' on your nerves. +You needn't fear. I've seen it like this oft enough afore. But you +ought to be gettin' back 'ome, for it's hardly a fit night for you to +be out." + +I was reluctant to leave, and yet I saw that I was likely to do more +harm than good if I remained, so I said good-night and left her; but at +the foot of the narrow staircase I found my way blocked and the door +barred. Angry voices came from within the room, and my knocks were +unheard or unheeded. Roger's back appeared to be against the door, and +I put my ear to it and listened. + +They were mostly women's voices, and their angry tone convinced me that +they had been protesting in vain. + +"Don't be a fool, Roger! I tell you t' stack 'll fall in another +minute, an' where 'll you all be then? Oppen t' door, an' let's bring +your Martha an' Lucy out, or ye'll all be killed!" + +"Ye shan't disturb 'er," said the maudlin voice on the other side the +door; "doct'r said mus'n' disturb 'er ... keep 'er quiet ... won't let +anyb'dy disturb 'er." + +"Can't you understand, you gawmless fool," shouted another woman, "'at +t' chimley's rockin' an' swayin', an' is bound to come down on t' top +on us all while we're standin' 'ere? Oppen t' door, you drunken +beggar, an' let your missis an' child come out!" + +"I'll shoot anyb'dy 'at disturbs 'er," stuttered Roger; "hang me if I +don't. Doct'r said mus'n be disturbed ... won't have 'er disturbed. +Clear, all of ye!" + +There was a sound of sudden movement, and I gathered that Roger had +raised his weapon. Sick at heart I groped my way upstairs again and +discussed the situation with Martha. + +She was alarmed in good earnest now, as much for my sake as for Lucy's, +and we went down and battered the door in vain. We could hear voices +faintly, but the crowd was evidently in the road, and Roger was still +guarding the door. + +We returned to the bedroom, and Martha flung herself upon her knees and +broke into fervent prayer to God. + +What happened afterwards has been told me since. Afraid of the +tottering chimney-stack, and cowed by Roger's revolver, the group of +women and boys had fallen back into the road, when Barjona appeared +upon the scene with his cart. + +With one accord the women rushed up to him and explained the peril of +Roger and his family, and the drunken man's insane refusal of help and +warning. + +A glance above showed Barjona that their fears were only too well +founded, and--let me say it to his credit--he did not hesitate for a +moment. "Can only die once," he muttered, and without another word he +seized his whip and strode towards the house. As he entered the door +Roger covered him with his weapon and defied him to advance, but with a +hoarse growl the sturdy old man flung himself forward, lashed his whip +around the legs of the drunken man, and as the revolver discharged +itself harmlessly into the air, he seized his opponent round the waist, +and with super-human strength hurled him into the corner, where he lay +stupefied, if not senseless. + +The faithful dog sprang at his master's assailant, but he kicked it +quickly aside. It was the work of a moment to draw back the heavy bolt +and rush up the creaking stairs. + +"Out with you!" he cried ... "Out at once! ... no time to lose ... t' +chimney's fallin' ... Bring Lucy, Martha ... I'll go down an' watch +Roger. 'Urry up, now!" + +We needed no second admonition. Barjona hurried down the steps, and +Martha darted to the bed, seized her child and a blanket, and followed +him. I had almost reached the foot of the stairs when I remembered the +medicine on which so much depended, and I ran back to fetch it. As I +did so I thought I heard a warning cry from the street, and fear gave +wings to my feet. But it was too late. + +Just as I reached the dressing-table there came a fearful crash, and +through an opening in the roof an avalanche of stones and tiles and +mortar descended with terrific force. Then, to the accompaniment of an +awful roar, a dark and heavy mass hurled itself through the gap, and +the crunch of broken beam and splintered wood told where it had +disappeared into the room below. A pit opened almost at my feet, and +there came up a blinding, suffocating mist of dust, like the breath of +a smouldering volcano. + +One whole end of the house fell over into the field, and I felt the +floor slope away beneath me as I made an agonised clutch at the +framework of the bed. Loosened stones fell upon and around me in +showers, but I was conscious of no pain. Choked and terrified, +however, and certain that my last hour had come, I lost my senses and +fell upon the littered bed in a swoon. + +I came back to semi-consciousness in a land of shadows. I thought I +was in Egypt, lying among the ruins of the great Nile temples about +which I had been reading to the squire only a day or two before. +Overhead the moon was looking down, full orbed, and tattered clouds +were racing along the path of the skies. The jagged piles of masonry +were the giant walls of Philae, and the roar of the wind was the rush +of waters over the great dam. It was not unpleasant to lie there and +dream, and listen to the spirit voices which came indistinctly from the +pillared courts. + +Then the figure of a man bent over me and an arm was placed beneath my +neck, and a familiar voice whispered in tones that sounded anguished, +and oh! so distant: + +"Grace, my darling! Speak to me!" + +I tried to speak, but could only smile and lean upon his arm in deep +content, and the figure bent over me and placed his cheek against my +lips, and laid a hand upon my heart, and seemed to cry for help; but +the cry was faint and indistinct, like that of a distant echo. + +Then another form appeared--taller and more stalwart--and I felt myself +raised from the ground and carried to the top of the masonry, where +formless hands grasped me, and I sank--sank--with a feeling that I was +descending into the bowels of the earth--into oblivion again. + +When I next awoke my mind was clearer, but I was still dazed. I half +opened my eyes and found myself in my own bed, with the housekeeper +seated at my side, and Dr. Trempest and the squire talking together in +quiet tones by the fire. + +"How in thunder did they get her down?" the doctor was asking. + +"Derwent heard the story as he got to the Hall and he fetched a short +ladder and climbed up as far as he could, and did some wonderful +gymnastics," replied the squire; "but Goodenough's sons came hurrying +up with longer ladders, and they lashed three together side by side, +and managed in that way. Derwent couldn't lift her, but Ben Goodenough +has the strength of an ox. But it was a tough job in a high wind on a +rickety floor." + +"Well, it's a miracle, that's all I can say. I must go see Martha +Treffit's child now, but I'll look in to-morrow, early on." + +"You are sure there is no cause for anxiety?" inquired the squire +anxiously; "she will come round all right?" + +"As right as a bobbin," replied the doctor cheerfully. "There's only +the least bit of concussion. She was more frightened than hurt. I'll +send her up a bottle when I get back." + +"You needn't trouble," I ejaculated; "it won't be mixed with faith this +time." + +"She'll do!" chuckled the doctor, and he turned to me: "Go to sleep now +and behave yourself." + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +CALM AFTER STORM + +Of course the Cynic had to explain, because he did not realise at first +how shadowy the whole occurrence had been to me. You see, I really was +not fully conscious at the time, and might easily have concluded that I +had dreamt it. + +However, he is _my_ Cynic now, really, so I can talk quite freely to +him; and I tell him that after he called me "darling" and whilst he was +trying to make sure that I still breathed, he kissed me; but he says +that convinces him that I really was dreaming. But we have agreed not +to quarrel about it, as one more or less doesn't much matter. + +His professional duties must be pretty elastic, for it is now Wednesday +and he has not gone back; though, to be sure, he has done a fair amount +of pleading in a local court and has won the first part of his case and +seems likely to be successful in the next. A remarkable thing about +these bachelors who have waited so long is that they cannot afford to +wait the least bit longer. They are no sooner engaged than they must +be married. But in this instance things are going to be done decently +and in order. The squire says we do not know each other well enough +yet, and suggests two years as the term of our engagement, but I think +we shall compromise on four months. + +"What about my studio, Philip?" I asked this morning. "I have not seen +it for days, and it is as dear to me as a lover." + +"Is it?" he said; "can you bear to walk as far?" + +"Why, of course," I replied; "I'm all right now." + +"You'll have to take my arm," he remarked; "you are only shaky yet." + +It was merely an excuse, but I did it to please him. Of course all the +village knows what has happened, and a dozen friendly folk nodded, or +smiled or shouted their congratulations according to the measure of +their intimacy or reserve. + +When we came in sight of my cottage the studio was nowhere to be seen, +and, greatly surprised, I turned to the Cynic for an explanation, but +he merely pressed my arm and said: + +"Farmer Goodenough is there. He will tell you all about it." + +I held my peace until we entered the field and stood by my late +landlord's side. Explanation was unnecessary, for the field was still +littered with splintered wood and broken glass, though much of it had +been cleared away. + +"So you're about again, miss! Well, I'm downright glad to see you." +Then, indicating the _debris_ with an inclination of the head: "I've +sorted out all 'at seemed to be worth ought. All t' glass picturs 'at +weren't reight smashed I've put into a box an' ta'en into t' 'ouse. +But there isn't much left. Them 'at saw it say 'at t' stewdio cut up +t' paddock like a hairyplane, an' it must ha' collapsed in t' same way." + +"It knew it was doomed," remarked the Cynic, "supplanted--and it +promptly put an end to itself." + +"Well, never mind, miss," put in Reuben, "there's nought to fret about. +'Off wi' the old love an' on with the new!' I'd nearly put that down +to t' Owd Book, but I should ha' been mista'en. However, ye've made a +good swop, an' I don't know which on ye's got t' best o' t' bargain." + +"I have, Reuben," said the Cynic heartily. + +I wasn't going to contradict him, of course, though I know he is +"mista'en." + +"I was just thinkin', miss, if it's all t' same to you," continued the +farmer, "'at it 'ud be a charity to let Martha an' her little lass have +your cottage. You see----" + +"But you forget they are only for widows, Mr. Goodenough," I +interrupted. + +He glanced quickly at Philip. "They haven't told you then, miss? +Well, it's out now. Martha is a widow. Barjona got clear by t' skin +of his teeth, but Roger an' t' dog were killed on t' spot; an' though +it sounds a 'ard sayin', it's no loss to Martha an' Lucy. Are we to +let 'em have t' cottage, think ye?" + +I agreed, of course; but the tragic death of Roger had saddened me, and +as usual Reuben noticed my clouded expression. + +"Now don't you take on, miss. You'll 'ave to leave these things to +them above. After all, as t' Owd Book says, 'It's an ill wind 'at +blows nobody iny good,' an' t' storm has blown you two into one +another's arms an' Martha into t' cottage, in a manner o' speakin'; so +we must look on t' cheerful side. However, I must be stirring." + +He raised his cap and left us, and I turned to the Cynic. + +"Philip," I said, and I know the tears filled my eyes, "the sight of +the cottage brings back to me sweet memories of dear old Mother +Hubbard. How delighted she would have been to welcome us! How pleased +she would have been if she had known!" + +"She did know, Grace," he replied. "I called to see her when you were +away, and the good soul spoke to me about you in such loving terms that +I could not help making her my confidante; and do you know, she asked +if she might kiss me before I left. She hoped to live to see the +consummation, but if that were denied her she bade me tell you how +earnestly she had prayed for our happiness, and how fervently she had +longed to see us united." + +Now I have reached the very last line in my book. How could I end it +better than with Mother Hubbard's blessing? + + + + +THE END + + + + +====================================================================== + + +_SOME EARLY PRESS OPINIONS_ + +WINDYRIDGE + +_Pall Mall Gazette_.--"'Windyridge' can be heartily recommended." + +_Saturday Review_.--"Oh, 'Windyridge' were paradise enow." + +_Academy_.--"'Windyridge'is an arresting, fascinating book, one to read +and read again." + +_Atheneum_.--"There is a quaint charm about this story of a Yorkshire +village." + +_Nation_.--"'Windyridge' is a book that should give genuine pleasure to +tens of thousands of people." + +_Methodist Recorder_.--"A White Novel.... This book has real vital +qualities and we can heartily recommend it." + +_Outlook_.--"A revelation of how much pleasure can be got from the +perusal of a sincere and simple description of the real things of life." + +_Bookman_.--"The story has an atmosphere and a curious charm of its own +that are not easy to define; there is a sort of dream-magic about it; a +delicate lavender-like fragrance." + +_Globe_.--"A Notable New Novel.... Few who take it up will care to lay +it down before the last page is reached. It is a novel of the genus to +which 'Cranford' belongs, and we are not sure that it may not challenge +comparison with Mrs. Gaskell's classic." + +_Standard of Empire_.--"Here is a book about which one prophecy may be +made with safety: it will be read, quoted, and enthusiastically admired +by a multitude of people; and that for the simple reason that it will +appeal to the hearts of the multitude.... 'Windyridge' will be much +talked of and read this autumn; and its publishers are to be +congratulated." + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Windyridge, by W. Riley + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WINDYRIDGE *** + +***** This file should be named 33043.txt or 33043.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/3/0/4/33043/ + +Produced by Al Haines + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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