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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/35505-8.txt b/35505-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5006699 --- /dev/null +++ b/35505-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9289 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Anna of the Five Towns, by Arnold Bennett + +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: Anna of the Five Towns + +Author: Arnold Bennett + +Release Date: March 6, 2011 [EBook #35505] +Last updated: November 25, 2014 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANNA OF THE FIVE TOWNS *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + + + + + +ANNA OF THE FIVE TOWNS + + +BY + +ARNOLD BENNETT + + + + +THIRTEENTH EDITION + + + + +METHUEN & CO. LTD. + +36 ESSEX STREET W.C. + +LONDON + + + + + First issued in this Cheap Form (Third Edition) - September 5th 1912 + Fourth Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - September 1912 + Fifth Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - February 1913 + Sixth Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - July 1913 + Seventh Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - April 1914 + Eighth Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - September 1914 + Ninth Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - November 1915 + Tenth Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - July 1916 + Eleventh Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - March 1917 + Twelfth Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - February 1918 + Thirteenth Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 1919 + + + + This Book was First Published by Messrs Chatto & + Windus - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - September 11th, 1902 + Second Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - November 1902 + + + + +I DEDICATE THIS BOOK + +WITH AFFECTION AND ADMIRATION + +TO + +HERBERT SHARPE + +AN ARTIST + +WHOSE INDIVIDUALITY AND ACHIEVEMENT + +HAVE CONTINUALLY INSPIRED ME + + + + + 'Therefore, although it be a history + Homely and rude, I will relate the same + For the delight of a few natural hearts.' + + + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER + + I. THE KINDLING OF LOVE + II. THE MISER'S DAUGHTER + III. THE BIRTHDAY + IV. A VISIT + V. THE REVIVAL + VI. WILLIE + VII. THE SEWING MEETING + VIII. ON THE BANK + IX. THE TREAT + X. THE ISLE + XI. THE DOWNFALL + XII. AT THE PRIORY + XIII. THE BAZAAR + XIV. END OF A SIMPLE SOUL + + + + +ANNA OF THE FIVE TOWNS + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE KINDLING OF LOVE + +The yard was all silent and empty under the burning afternoon heat, +which had made its asphalt springy like turf, when suddenly the +children threw themselves out of the great doors at either end of the +Sunday-school--boys from the right, girls from the left--in two +howling, impetuous streams, that widened, eddied, intermingled and +formed backwaters until the whole quadrangle was full of clamour and +movement. Many of the scholars carried prize-books bound in vivid +tints, and proudly exhibited these volumes to their companions and to +the teachers, who, tall, languid, and condescending, soon began to +appear amid the restless throng. Near the left-hand door a little girl +of twelve years, dressed in a cream coloured frock, with a wide and +heavy straw hat, stood quietly kicking her foal-like legs against the +wall. She was one of those who had won a prize, and once or twice she +took the treasure from under her arm to glance at its frontispiece with +a vague smile of satisfaction. For a time her bright eyes were fixed +expectantly on the doorway; then they would wander, and she started to +count the windows of the various Connexional buildings which on three +sides enclosed the yard--chapel, school, lecture-hall, and +chapel-keeper's house. Most of the children had already squeezed +through the narrow iron gate into the street beyond, where a steam-car +was rumbling and clattering up Duck Bank, attended by its immense +shadow. The teachers remained a little behind. Gradually dropping the +pedagogic pose, and happy in the virtuous sensation of duty +accomplished, they forgot the frets and fatigues of the day, and grew +amiably vivacious among themselves. With an instinctive mutual +complacency the two sexes mixed again after separation. Greetings and +pleasantries were exchanged, and intimate conversations begun; and +then, dividing into small familiar groups, the young men and women +slowly followed their pupils out of the gate. The chapel-keeper, who +always had an injured expression, left the white step of his residence, +and, walking with official dignity across the yard, drew down the +side-windows of the chapel one after another. As he approached the +little solitary girl in his course he gave her a reluctant acid +recognition; then he returned to his hearth. Agnes was alone. + +'Well, young lady?' + +She looked round with a jump, and blushed, smiling and screwing up her +little shoulders, when she recognised the two men who were coming +towards her from the door of the lecture-hall. The one who had called +out was Henry Mynors, morning superintendent of the Sunday-school and +conductor of the men's Bible-class held in the lecture-hall on Sunday +afternoons. The other was William Price, usually styled Willie Price, +secretary of the same Bible-class, and son of Titus Price, the +afternoon superintendent. + +'I'm sure you don't deserve that prize. Let me see if it isn't too +good for you.' Mynors smiled playfully down upon Agnes Tellwright as +he idly turned the leaves of the book which she handed to him. 'Now, +do you deserve it? Tell me honestly.' + +She scrutinised those sparkling and vehement black eyes with the +fearless calm of infancy. 'Yes, I do,' she answered in her high, thin +voice, having at length decided within herself that Mr. Mynors was +joking. + +'Then I suppose you must have it,' he admitted, with a fine air of +giving way. + +As Agnes took the volume from him she thought how perfect a man Mr. +Mynors was. His eyes, so kind and sincere, and that mysterious, +delicious, inexpressible something which dwelt behind his eyes: these +constituted an ideal for her. + +Willie Price stood somewhat apart, grinning, and pulling a thin +honey-coloured moustache. He was at the uncouth, disjointed age, +twenty-one, and nine years younger than Henry Mynors. Despite a +continual effort after ease of manner, he was often sheepish and +self-conscious, even, as now, when he could discover no reason for such +a condition of mind. But Agnes liked him too. His simple, pale blue +eyes had a wistfulness which made her feel towards him as she felt +towards her doll when she happened to find it lying neglected on the +floor. + +'Your big sister isn't out of school yet?' Mynors remarked. + +Agnes shook her head. 'I've been waiting ever so long,' she said +plaintively. + +At that moment a grey-haired woman with a benevolent but rather pinched +face emerged with much briskness from the girls' door. This was Mrs. +Sutton, a distant relative of Mynors'--his mother had been her second +cousin. The men raised their hats. + +'I've just been down to make sure of some of you slippery folks for the +sewing-meeting,' she said, shaking hands with Mynors, and including +both him and Willie Price in an embracing maternal smile. She was +short-sighted and did not perceive Agnes, who had fallen back. + +'Had a good class this afternoon, Henry?' Mrs. Sutton's breathing was +short and quick. + +'Oh, yes,' he said, 'very good indeed.' + +'You're doing a grand work.' + +'We had over seventy present,' he added. + +'Eh!' she said, 'I make nothing of numbers. Henry. I meant a _good_ +class. Doesn't it say--Where _two or three_ are gathered together...? +But I must be getting on. The horse will be restless. I've to go up +to Hillport before tea. Mrs. Clayton Vernon is ill.' + +Scarcely having stopped in her active course, Mrs. Sutton drew the men +along with her down the yard, she and Mynors in rapid talk: Willie +Price fell a little to the rear, his big hands half-way into his +pockets and his eyes diffidently roving. It appeared as though he +could not find courage to take a share in the conversation, yet was +anxious to convince himself of his right to do so. + +Mynors helped Mrs. Sutton into her carriage, which had been drawn up +outside the gate of the school yard. Only two families of the Bursley +Wesleyan Methodists kept a carriage, the Suttons and the Clayton +Vernons. The latter, boasting lineage and a large house in the +aristocratic suburb of Hillport, gave to the society monetary aid and a +gracious condescension. But though indubitably above the operation of +any unwritten sumptuary law, even the Clayton Vernons ventured only in +wet weather to bring their carriage to chapel. Yet Mrs. Sutton, who +was a plain woman, might with impunity use her equipage on Sundays. +This license granted by Connexional opinion was due to the fact that +she so obviously regarded her carriage, not as a carriage, but as a +contrivance on four wheels for enabling an infirm creature to move +rapidly from place to place. When she got into it she had exactly the +air of a doctor on his rounds. Mrs. Sutton's bodily frame had long ago +proved inadequate to the ceaseless demands of a spirit indefatigably +altruistic, and her continuance in activity was a notable illustration +of the dominion of mind over matter. Her husband, a potter's valuer +and commission agent, made money with facility in that lucrative +vocation, and his wife's charities were famous, notwithstanding her +attempts to hide them. Neither husband nor wife had allowed riches to +put a factitious gloss upon their primal simplicity. They were as they +were, save that Mr. Sutton had joined the Five Towns Field Club and +acquired some of the habits of an archaeologist. The influence of +wealth on manners was to be observed only in their daughter Beatrice, +who, while favouring her mother, dressed at considerable expense, and +at intervals gave much time to the arts of music and painting. Agnes +watched the carriage drive away, and then turned to look up the stairs +within the school doorway. She sighed, scowled, and sighed again, +murmured something to herself, and finally began to read her book. + +'Not come out yet?' Mynors was at her side once more, alone this time. + +'No, not yet,' said Agnes, wearied. 'Yes. Here she is. Anna, what +ages you've been!' + +Anna Tellwright stood motionless for a second in the shadow of the +doorway. She was tall, but not unusually so, and sturdily built up. +Her figure, though the bust was a little flat, had the lenient curves +of absolute maturity. Anna had been a woman since seventeen, and she +was now on the eve of her twenty-first birthday. She wore a plain, +home-made light frock checked with brown and edged with brown velvet, +thin cotton gloves of cream colour, and a broad straw hat like her +sister's. Her grave face, owing to the prominence of the cheekbones +and the width of the jaw, had a slight angularity; the lips were thin, +the brown eyes rather large, the eyebrows level, the nose fine and +delicate; the ears could scarcely be seen for the dark brown hair which +was brushed diagonally across the temples, leaving of the forehead only +a pale triangle. It seemed a face for the cloister, austere in +contour, fervent in expression, the severity of it mollified by that +resigned and spiritual melancholy peculiar to women who through the +error of destiny have been born into a wrong environment. + +As if charmed forward by Mynors' compelling eyes, Anna stepped into the +sunlight, at the same time putting up her parasol. 'How calm and +stately she is,' he thought, as she gave him her cool hand and murmured +a reply to his salutation. But even his aquiline gaze could not +surprise the secrets of that concealing breast: this was one of the +three great tumultuous moments of her life--she realised for the first +time that she was loved. + +'You are late this afternoon, Miss Tellwright,' Mynors began, with the +easy inflections of a man well accustomed to prominence in the society +of women. Little Agnes seized Anna's left arm, silently holding up the +prize, and Anna nodded appreciation. + +'Yes,' she said as they walked across the yard, 'one of my girls has +been doing wrong. She stole a Bible from another girl, so of course I +had to mention it to the superintendent. Mr. Price gave her a long +lecture, and now she is waiting upstairs till he is ready to go with +her to her home and talk to her parents. He says she must be +dismissed.' + +'Dismissed!' + +Anna's look flashed a grateful response to him. By the least possible +emphasis he had expressed a complete disagreement with his senior +colleague which etiquette forbade him to utter in words. + +'I think it's a very great pity,' Anna said firmly. 'I rather like the +girl,' she ventured in haste; 'you might speak to Mr. Price about it.' + +'If he mentions it to me.' + +'Yes, I meant that. Mr. Price said--if it had been anything else but a +_Bible_----' + +'Um!' he murmured very low, but she caught the significance of his +intonation. They did not glance at each other: it was unnecessary. +Anna felt that comfortable easement of the spirit which springs from +the recognition of another spirit capable of understanding without +explanations and of sympathising without a phrase. Under that calm +mask a strange and sweet satisfaction thrilled through her as her +precious instinct of common sense--rarest of good qualities, and pining +always for fellowship--found a companion in his own. She had dreaded +the overtures which for a fortnight past she had foreseen were +inevitably to come from Mynors: he was a stranger, whom she merely +respected. Now in a sudden disclosure she knew him and liked him. The +dire apprehension of those formal 'advances' which she had watched +other men make to other women faded away. It was at once a release and +a reassurance. + +They were passing through the gate, Agnes skipping round her sister's +skirts, when Willie Price reappeared front the direction of the chapel. + +'Forgotten something?' Mynors inquired of him blandly. + +'Ye-es,' he stammered, clumsily raising his hat to Anna. She thought +of him exactly as Agnes had done. He hesitated for a fraction of time, +and then went up the yard towards the lecture-hall. + +'Agnes has been showing me her prize,' said Mynors, as the three stood +together outside the gate. 'I ask her if she thinks she really +deserves it, and she says she does. What do you think, Miss Big +Sister?' + +Anna gave the little girl an affectionate smile of comprehension. +'What is it called, dear?' + +'"Janey's Sacrifice or the Spool of Cotton, and other stories for +children,"' Agnes read out in a monotone: then she clutched Anna's +elbow and aimed a whisper at her ear. + +'Very well, dear,' Anna answered aloud, 'but we must be back by a +quarter-past four.' And turning to Mynors: 'Agnes wants to go up to +the Park to hear the band play.' + +'I'm going up there, too,' he said. 'Come along, Agnes, take my arm +and show me the way.' Shyly Agnes left her sister's side and put a +pink finger into Mynors' hand. + +Moor Road, which climbs over the ridge to the mining village of +Moorthorne and passes the new Park on its way, was crowded with people +going up to criticise and enjoy this latest outcome of municipal +enterprise in Bursley: sedate elders of the borough who smiled grimly +to see one another on Sunday afternoon in that undignified, idly +curious throng; white-skinned potters, and miners with the swarthy +pallor of subterranean toil; untidy Sabbath loafers whom neither church +nor chapel could entice, and the primly-clad respectable who had not +only clothes but a separate deportment for the seventh day; house-wives +whose pale faces, as of prisoners free only for a while, showed a naïve +and timorous pleasure in the unusual diversion; young women made +glorious by richly-coloured stuffs and carrying themselves with the +defiant independence of good wages earned in warehouse or +painting-shop; youths oppressed by stiff new clothes bought at +Whitsuntide, in which the bright necktie and the nosegay revealed a +thousand secret aspirations; young children running and yelling with +the marvellous energy of their years; here and there a small +well-dressed group whose studious repudiation of the crowd betrayed a +conscious eminence of rank; louts, drunkards, idiots, beggars, waifs, +outcasts, and every oddity of the town: all were more or less under the +influence of a new excitement, and all with the same face of pleased +expectancy looked towards the spot where, half-way up the hill, a +denser mass of sightseers indicated the grand entrance to the Park. + +'What stacks of folks!' Agnes exclaimed. 'It's like going to a +football match.' + +'Do you go to football matches, Agnes?' Mynors asked. The child gave a +giggle. + +Anna was relieved when these two began to chatter. She had at once, by +a firm natural impulse, subdued the agitation which seized her when she +found Mynors waiting with such an obvious intention at the school door; +she had conversed with him in tones of quiet ease; his attitude had +even enabled her in a few moments to establish a pleasant familiarity +with him. Nevertheless, as they joined the stream of people in Moor +Road, she longed to be at home, in her kitchen, in order to examine +herself and the new situation thus created by Mynors. And yet also she +was glad that she must remain at his side, but it was a fluttered joy +that his presence gave her, too strange for immediate appreciation. As +her eye, without directly looking at him, embraced the suave and +admirable male creature within its field of vision, she became aware +that he was quite inscrutable to her. What were his inmost thoughts, +his ideals, the histories of his heart? Surely it was impossible that +she should ever know these secrets! He--and she: they were utterly +foreign to each other. So the primary dissonances of sex vibrated +within her, and her own feelings puzzled her. Still, there was an +instant pleasure, delightful, if disturbing and inexplicable. And also +there was a sensation of triumph, which, though she tried to scorn it, +she could not banish. That a man and a woman should saunter together +on that road was nothing; but the circumstance acquired tremendous +importance when the man happened to be Henry Mynors and the woman Anna +Tellwright. Mynors--handsome, dark, accomplished, exemplary and +prosperous--had walked for ten years circumspect and unscathed amid the +glances of a whole legion of maids. As for Anna, the peculiarity of +her position had always marked her for special attention: ever since +her father settled in Bursley, she had felt herself to be the object of +an interest in which awe and pity were equally mingled. She guessed +that the fact of her going to the Park with Mynors that afternoon would +pass swiftly from mouth to mouth like the rumour of a decisive event. +She had no friends; her innate reserve had been misinterpreted, and she +was not popular among the Wesleyan community. Many people would say, +and more would think, that it was her money which was drawing Mynors +from the narrow path of his celibate discretion. She could imagine all +the innuendoes, the expressive nods, the pursing of lips, the lifting +of shoulders and of eyebrows. 'Money 'll do owt': that was the +proverb. But she cared not. She had the just and unshakable +self-esteem which is fundamental in all strong and righteous natures; +and she knew beyond the possibility of doubt that, though Mynors might +have no incurable aversion to a fortune, she herself, the spirit and +body of her, had been the sole awakener of his desire. + +By a common instinct, Mynors and Anna made little Agnes the centre of +attraction. Mynors continued to tease her, and Agnes growing +courageous, began to retort. She was now walking between them, and the +other two smiled to each other at the child's sayings over her head, +interchanging thus messages too subtle and delicate for the coarse +medium of words. + +As they approached the Park the bandstand came into sight over the +railway cutting, and they could hear the music of 'The Emperor's Hymn.' +The crude, brazen sounds were tempered in their passage through the +warm, still air, and fell gently on the ear in soft waves, quickening +every heart to unaccustomed emotions. Children leaped forward, and old +people unconsciously assumed a lightsome vigour. + +The Park rose in +terraces from the railway station to a street of small villas almost on +the ridge of the hill. From its gilded gates to its smallest +geranium-slips it was brand-new, and most of it was red. The keeper's +house, the bandstand, the kiosks, the balustrades, the shelters--all +these assailed the eye with a uniform redness of brick and tile which +nullified the pallid greens of the turf and the frail trees. The +immense crowd, in order to circulate, moved along in tight processions, +inspecting one after another the various features of which they had +read full descriptions in the 'Staffordshire Signal'--waterfall, +grotto, lake, swans, boat, seats, faïence, statues--and scanning with +interest the names of the donors so clearly inscribed on such objects +of art and craft as from divers motives had been presented to the town +by its citizens. Mynors, as he manoeuvred a way for the two girls +through the main avenue up to the topmost terrace, gravely judged each +thing upon its merits, approving this, condemning that. In deciding +that under all the circumstances the Park made a very creditable +appearance he only reflected the best local opinion. The town was +proud of its achievement, and it had the right to be; for, though this +narrow pleasaunce was in itself unlovely, it symbolised the first faint +renascence of the longing for beauty in a district long given up to +unredeemed ugliness. + +At length, Mynors having encountered many acquaintances, they got past +the bandstand and stood on the highest terrace, which was almost +deserted. Beneath them, in front, stretched a maze of roofs, dominated +by the gold angel of the Town Hall spire. Bursley, the ancient home of +the potter, has an antiquity of a thousand years. It lies towards the +north end of an extensive valley, which must have been one of the +fairest spots in Alfred's England, but which is now defaced by the +activities of a quarter of a million of people. Five contiguous +towns--Turnhill, Bursley, Hanbridge, Knype, and Longshaw--united by a +single winding thoroughfare some eight miles in length, have inundated +the valley like a succession of great lakes. Of these five Bursley is +the mother, but Hanbridge is the largest. They are mean and forbidding +of aspect--sombre, hard-featured, uncouth; and the vaporous poison of +their ovens and chimneys has soiled and shrivelled the surrounding +country till there is no village lane within a league but what offers a +gaunt and ludicrous travesty of rural charms. Nothing could be more +prosaic than the huddled, red-brown streets; nothing more seemingly +remote from romance. Yet be it said that romance is even here--the +romance which, for those who have an eye to perceive it, ever dwells +amid the seats of industrial manufacture, softening the coarseness, +transfiguring the squalor, of these mighty alchemic operations. Look +down into the valley from this terrace-height where love is kindling, +embrace the whole smoke-girt amphitheatre in a glance, and it may be +that you will suddenly comprehend the secret and superb significance of +the vast Doing which goes forward below. Because they seldom think, +the townsmen take shame when indicted for having disfigured half a +county in order to live. They have not understood that this +disfigurement is merely an episode in the unending warfare of man and +nature, and calls for no contrition. Here, indeed, is nature repaid +for some of her notorious cruelties. She imperiously bids man sustain +and reproduce himself, and this is one of the places where in the very +act of obedience he wounds and maltreats her. Out beyond the municipal +confines, where the subsidiary industries of coal and iron prosper amid +a wreck of verdure, the struggle is grim, appalling, heroic--so +ruthless is his havoc of her, so indomitable her ceaseless +recuperation. On the one side is a wresting from nature's own bowels +of the means to waste her; on the other, an undismayed, enduring +fortitude. The grass grows; though it is not green, it grows. In the +very heart of the valley, hedged about with furnaces, a farm still +stands, and at harvest-time the sooty sheaves are gathered in. + +The band stopped playing. A whole population was idle in the Park, and +it seemed, in the fierce calm of the sunlight, that of all the +strenuous weekday vitality of the district only a murmurous hush +remained. But everywhere on the horizon, and nearer, furnaces cast +their heavy smoke across the borders of the sky: the Doing was never +suspended. + +'Mr. Mynors,' said Agnes, still holding his hand, when they had been +silent a moment, 'when do those furnaces go out?' + +'They don't go out,' he answered, 'unless there is a strike. It costs +hundreds and hundreds of pounds to light them again.' + +'Does it?' she said vaguely. 'Father says it's the smoke that stops my +gilliflowers from growing.' + +Mynors turned to Anna. 'Your father seems the picture of health. I +saw him out this morning at a quarter to seven, as brisk as a boy. +What a constitution!' + +'Yes,' Anna replied, 'he is always up at six.' + +'But you aren't, I suppose?' + +'Yes, I too.' + +'And me too,' Agnes interjected. + +'And how does Bursley compare with Hanbridge?' Mynors continued. Anna +paused before replying. + +'I like it better,' she said. 'At first--last year--I thought I +shouldn't.' + +'By the way, your father used to preach in Hanbridge circuit-----' + +'That was years ago,' she said quickly. + +'But why won't he preach here? I dare say you know that we are rather +short of local preachers--good ones, that is.' + +'I can't say why father doesn't preach now:' Anna flushed as she spoke. +'You had better ask him that.' + +'Well, I will do,' he laughed. 'I am coming to see him soon--perhaps +one night next week.' + +Anna looked at Henry Mynors as he uttered the astonishing words. The +Tellwrights had been in Bursley a year, but no visitor had crossed +their doorsteps except the minister, once, and such poor defaulters as +came, full of excuse and obsequious conciliation, to pay rent overdue. + +'Business, I suppose?' she said, and prayed that he might not be +intending to make a mere call of ceremony. + +'Yes, business,' he answered lightly. 'But you will be in?' + +'I am always in,' she said. She wondered what the business could be, +and felt relieved to know that his visit would have at least some +assigned pretext; but already her heart beat with apprehensive +perturbation at the thought of his presence in their household. + +'See!' said Agnes, whose eyes were everywhere, 'There's Miss Sutton.' + +Both Mynors and Anna looked sharply round. Beatrice Sutton was coming +towards them along the terrace. Stylishly clad in a dress of pink +muslin, with harmonious hat, gloves, and sunshade, she made an +agreeable and rather effective picture, despite her plain, round face +and stoutish figure. She had the air of being a leader. Grafted on to +the original simple honesty of her eyes there was the +unconsciously-acquired arrogance of one who had always been accustomed +to deference. Socially, Beatrice had no peer among the young women who +were active in the Wesleyan Sunday-school. Beatrice had been used to +teach in the afternoon school, but she had recently advanced her +labours from the afternoon to the morning in response to a hint that if +she did so the force of her influence and example might lessen the +chronic dearth of morning teachers. + +'Good afternoon, Miss Tellwright,' Beatrice said as she came up. 'So +you have come to look at the Park.' + +'Yes,' said Anna, and then stopped awkwardly. In the tone of each +there was an obscure constraint, and something in Mynors' smile of +salute to Beatrice showed that he too shared it. + +'Seen you before,' Beatrice said to him familiarly, without taking his +hand; then she bent down and kissed Agnes. + +'What are you doing here, mademoiselle?' Mynors asked her. + +'Father's just down below, near the lake. He caught sight of you, and +sent me up to say that you were to be sure to come in to supper +to-night. You will, won't you?' + +'Yes, thanks. I had meant to.' + +Anna knew that they were related, and also that Mynors was constantly +at the Suttons' house, but the close intimacy between these two came +nevertheless like a shock to her. She could not conquer a certain +resentment of it, however absurd such a feeling might seem to her +intelligence. And this attitude extended not only to the intimacy, but +to Beatrice's handsome clothes and facile urbanity, which by contrast +emphasised her own poor little frock and tongue-tied manner. The mere +existence of Beatrice so near to Mynors was like an affront to her. +Yet at heart, and even while admiring this shining daughter of success, +she was conscious within herself of a fundamental superiority. The +soul of her condescended to the soul of the other one. + +They began to discuss the Park. + +'Papa says it will send up the value of that land over there +enormously,' said Beatrice, pointing with her ribboned sunshade to some +building plots which lay to the north, high up the hill. 'Mr. +Tellwright owns most of that, doesn't he?' she added to Anna. + +'I dare say he does,' said Anna. It was torture to her to refer to her +father's possessions. + +'Of course it will be covered with streets in a few months. Will he +build himself, or will he sell it?' + +'I haven't the least idea,' Anna answered, with an effort after gaiety +of tone, and then turned aside to look at the crowd. There, close +against the bandstand, stood her father, a short, stout, ruddy, +middle-aged man in a shabby brown suit. He recognised her, stared +fixedly, and nodded with his grotesque and ambiguous grin. Then he +sidled off towards the entrance of the Park. None of the others had +seen him. 'Agnes dear,' she said abruptly, 'we must go now, or we +shall be late for tea.' + +As the two women said good-bye their eyes met, and in the brief second +of that encounter each tried to wring from the other the true answer to +a question which lay unuttered in her heart. Then, having bidden adieu +to Mynors, whose parting glance sang its own song to her, Anna took +Agnes by the hand and left him and Beatrice together. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE MISER'S DAUGHTER + +Anna sat in the bay-window of the front parlour, her accustomed place +on Sunday evenings in summer, and watched Mr. Tellwright and Agnes +disappear down the slope of Trafalgar Road on their way to chapel. +Trafalgar Road is the long thoroughfare which, under many aliases, runs +through the Five Towns from end to end, uniting them as a river might +unite them. Ephraim Tellwright could remember the time when this part +of it was a country lane, flanked by meadows and market gardens. Now +it was a street of houses up to and beyond Bleakridge, where the +Tellwrights lived; on the other side of the hill the houses came only +in patches until the far-stretching borders of Hanbridge were reached. +Within the municipal limits Bleakridge was the pleasantest quarter of +Bursley--Hillport, abode of the highest fashion, had its own government +and authority--and to reside 'at the top of Trafalgar Road' was still +the final ambition of many citizens, though the natural growth of the +town had robbed Bleakridge of some of that exclusive distinction which +it once possessed. Trafalgar Road, in its journey to Bleakridge from +the centre of the town, underwent certain changes of character. First +came a succession of manufactories and small shops; then, at the +beginning of the rise, a quarter of a mile of superior cottages; and +lastly, on the brow, occurred the houses of the comfortable-detached, +semi-detached, and in terraces, with rentals from 25_l._ to 60_l._ a +year. The Tellwrights lived in Manor Terrace (the name being a last +reminder of the great farmstead which formerly occupied the western +hill side): their house, of light yellow brick, was two-storied, with a +long narrow garden behind, and the rent 30_l_. Exactly opposite was an +antique red mansion, standing back in its own ground--home of the +Mynors family for two generations, but now a school, the Mynors family +being extinct in the district save for one member. Somewhat higher up, +still on the opposite side to Manor Terrace, came an imposing row of +four new houses, said to be the best planned and best built in the +town, each erected separately and occupied by its owner. The nearest +of these four was Councillor Sutton's, valued at 60_l._ a year. Lower +down, below Manor Terrace and on the same side, lived the Wesleyan +superintendent minister, the vicar of St. Luke's Church, an alderman, +and a doctor. + +It was nearly six o'clock. The sun shone, but gentlier; and the earth +lay cooling in the mild, pensive effulgence of a summer evening. Even +the onrush of the steam-car, as it swept with a gay load of passengers +to Hanbridge, seemed to be chastened; the bell of the Roman Catholic +chapel sounded like the bell of some village church heard in the +distance; the quick but sober tramp of the chapel-goers fell peacefully +on the ear. The sense of calm increased, and, steeped in this +meditative calm, Anna from the open window gazed idly down the +perspective of the road, which ended a mile away in the dim concave +forms of ovens suffused in a pale mist. A book from the Free Library +lay on her lap; she could not read it. She was conscious of nothing +save the quiet enchantment of reverie. Her mind, stimulated by the +emotions of the afternoon, broke the fetters of habitual +self-discipline, and ranged voluptuously free over the whole field of +recollection and anticipation. To remember, to hope: that was +sufficient joy. + +In the dissolving views of her own past, from which the rigour and pain +seemed to have mysteriously departed, the chief figure was always her +father--that sinister and formidable individuality, whom her mind hated +but her heart disobediently loved. Ephraim Tellwright[1] was one of +the most extraordinary and most mysterious men in the Five Towns. The +outer facts of his career were known to all, for his riches made him +notorious; but of the secret and intimate man none knew anything except +Anna, and what little Anna knew had come to her by divination rather +than discernment. A native of Hanbridge, he had inherited a small +fortune from his father, who was a prominent Wesleyan Methodist. At +thirty, owing mainly to investments in property which his calling of +potter's valuer had helped him to choose with advantage, he was worth +twenty thousand pounds, and he lived in lodgings on a total expenditure +of about a hundred a year. When he was thirty-five he suddenly +married, without any perceptible public wooing, the daughter of a wood +merchant at Oldcastle, and shortly after the marriage his wife +inherited from her father a sum of eighteen thousand pounds. The pair +lived narrowly in a small house up at Pireford, between Hanbridge and +Oldcastle. They visited no one, and were never seen together except on +Sundays. She was a rosy-cheeked, very unassuming and simple woman, who +smiled easily and talked with difficulty, and for the rest lived +apparently a servile life of satisfaction and content. After five +years Anna was born, and in another five years Mrs. Tellwright died of +erysipelas. The widower engaged a housekeeper: otherwise his existence +proceeded without change. No stranger visited the house, the +housekeeper never gossiped; but tales will spread, and people fell into +the habit of regarding Tellwright's child and his housekeeper with +commiseration. + +During all this period he was what is termed 'a good Wesleyan,' +preaching and teaching, and spending himself in the various activities +of Hanbridge chapel. For many years he had been circuit treasurer. +Among Anna's earliest memories was a picture of her father arriving +late for supper one Sunday night in autumn after an anniversary +service, and pouring out on the white tablecloth the contents of +numerous chamois-leather money-bags. She recalled the surprising +dexterity with which he counted the coins, the peculiar smell of the +bags, and her mother's bland exclamation, 'Eh, Ephraim!' Tellwright +belonged by birth to the Old Guard of Methodism; there was in his +family a tradition of holy valour for the pure doctrine: his father, a +Bursley man, had fought in the fight which preceded the famous +Primitive Methodist Secession of 1808 at Bursley, and had also borne a +notable part in the Warren affrays of '28, and the disastrous trouble +of the Fly-Sheets in '49, when Methodism lost a hundred thousand +members. As for Ephraim, he expounded the mystery of the Atonement in +village conventicles and grew garrulous with God at prayer-meetings in +the big Bethesda chapel; but he did these things as routine, without +skill and without enthusiasm, because they gave him an unassailable +position within the central group of the society. He was not, in fact, +much smitten with either the doctrinal or the spiritual side of +Methodism. His chief interest lay in those fiscal schemes of +organisation without whose aid no religious propaganda can possibly +succeed. It was in the finance of salvation that he rose supreme--the +interminable alternation of debt-raising and new liability which +provides a lasting excitement for Nonconformists. In the negotiation +of mortgages, the artful arrangement of appeals, the planning of +anniversaries and of mighty revivals, he was an undisputed leader. To +him the circuit was a 'going concern,' and he kept it in motion, +serving the Lord in committee and over statements of account. The +minister by his pleading might bring sinners to the penitent form, but +it was Ephraim Tellwright who reduced the cost per head of souls saved, +and so widened the frontiers of the Kingdom of Heaven. + +Three years after the death of his first wife it was rumoured that he +would marry again, and that his choice had fallen on a young orphan +girl, thirty years his junior, who 'assisted' at the stationer's shop +where he bought his daily newspaper. The rumour was well-founded. +Anna, then eight years of age, vividly remembered the home-coming of +the pale wife, and her own sturdy attempts to explain, excuse, or +assuage to this wistful and fragile creature the implacable harshness +of her father's temper. Agnes was born within a year, and the pale +girl died of puerperal fever. In that year lay a whole tragedy, which +could not have been more poignant in its perfection if the year had +been a thousand years. Ephraim promptly re-engaged the old +housekeeper, a course which filled Anna with secret childish revolt, +for Anna was now nine, and accomplished in all domesticity. In another +seven years the housekeeper died, a gaunt grey ruin, and Anna at +sixteen became mistress of the household, with a small sister to +cherish and control. About this time Anna began to perceive that her +father was generally regarded as a man of great wealth, having few +rivals in the entire region of the Five Towns, Definite knowledge, +however, she had none: he never spoke of his affairs; she knew only +that he possessed houses and other property in various places, that he +always turned first to the money article in the newspaper, and that +long envelopes arrived for him by post almost daily. But she had once +heard the surmise that he was worth sixty thousand of his own, apart +from the fortune of his first wife, Anna's mother. Nevertheless, it +did not occur to her to think of her father, in plain terms, as a +miser, until one day she happened to read in the 'Staffordshire Signal' +some particulars of the last will and testament of William Wilbraham, +J.P., who had just died. Mr. Wilbraham had been a famous magnate and +benefactor of the Five Towns; his revered name was in every mouth; he +had a fine seat, Hillport House, at Hillport; and his superb horses +were constantly seen, winged and nervous, in the streets of Bursley and +Hanbridge. The 'Signal' said that the net value of his estate was +sworn at fifty-nine thousand pounds. This single fact added a definite +and startling significance to figures which had previously conveyed +nothing to Anna except an idea of vastness. The crude contrast between +the things of Hillport House and the things of the six-roomed abode in +Manor Terrace gave food for reflection, silent but profound. + +Tellwright had long ago retired from business, and three years after +the housekeeper died he retired, practically, from religious work, to +the grave detriment of the Hanbridge circuit. In reply to sorrowful +questioners, he said merely that he was getting old and needed rest, +and that there ought to be plenty of younger men to fill his shoes. He +gave up everything except his pew in the chapel. The circuit was +astounded by this sudden defection of a class-leader, a local preacher, +and an officer. It was an inexplicable fall from grace. Yet the +solution of the problem was quite simple. Ephraim had lost interest in +his religious avocations; they had ceased to amuse him, the old ardour +had cooled. The phenomenon is a common enough experience with men who +have passed their fiftieth year--men, too, who began with the true and +sacred zeal, which Tellwright never felt. The difference in +Tellwright's case was that, characteristically, he at once yielded to +the new instinct, caring naught for public opinion. Soon afterwards, +having purchased a lot of cottage property in Bursley, he decided to +migrate to the town of his fathers. He had more than one reason for +doing so, but perhaps the chief was that he found the atmosphere of +Hanbridge Wesleyan chapel rather uncongenial. The exodus from it was +his silent and malicious retort to a silent rebuke. + +He appeared now to grow younger, discarding in some measure a certain +morose taciturnity which had hitherto marked his demeanour. He went +amiably about in the manner of a veteran determined to enjoy the brief +existence of life's winter. His stout, stiff, deliberate yet alert +figure became a familiar object to Bursley: that ruddy face, with its +small blue eyes, smooth upper lip, and short grey beard under the +smooth chin, seemed to pervade the streets, offering everywhere the +conundrum of its vague smile. Though no friend ever crossed his +doorstep, he had dozens of acquaintances of the footpath. He was not, +however, a facile talker, and he seldom gave an opinion; nor were his +remarks often noticeably shrewd. He existed within himself, +unrevealed. To the crowd, of course, he was a marvellous legend, and +moving always in the glory of that legend he received their wondering +awe--an awe tinged with contempt for his lack of ostentation and public +splendour. Commercial men with whom he had transacted business liked +to discuss his abilities, thus disseminating that solid respect for him +which had sprung from a personal experience of those abilities, and +which not even the shabbiness of his clothes could weaken. + +Anna was disturbed by the arrival at the front door of the milk-girl. +Alternately with her father, she stayed at home on Sunday evenings, +partly to receive the evening milk and partly to guard the house. The +Persian cat with one ear preceded her to the door as soon as he heard +the clatter of the can. The stout little milk-girl dispensed one pint +of milk into Anna's jug, and spilt an eleemosynary supply on the step +for the cat. 'He does like it fresh, Miss,' said the milk-girl, +smiling at the greedy cat, and then, with a 'Lovely evenin',' departed +down the street, one fat red arm stretched horizontally out to balance +the weight of the can in the other. Anna leaned idly against the +doorpost, waiting while the cat finished, until at length the swaying +figure of the milk-girl disappeared in the dip of the road. Suddenly +she darted within, shutting the door, and stood on the hall-mat in a +startled attitude of dismay. She had caught sight of Henry Mynors in +the distance, approaching the house. At that moment the kitchen clock +struck seven, and Mynors, according to the rule of a lifetime, should +have been in his place in the 'orchestra' (or, as some term it, the +'singing-seat') of the chapel, where he was an admired baritone. Anna +dared not conjecture what impulse had led him into this extraordinary, +incredible deviation. She dared not conjecture, but despite herself +she knew, and the knowledge shocked her sensitive and peremptory +conscience. Her heart began to beat rapidly; she was in distress. +Aware that her father and sister had left her alone, did he mean to +call? It was absolutely impossible, yet she feared it, and blushed, +all solitary there in the passage, for shame. Now she heard his sharp, +decided footsteps, and through the glazed panels of the door she could +see the outline of his form. He stopped; his hand was on the gate, and +she ceased to breathe. He pushed the gate open, and then, at the +whisper of some blessed angel, he closed it again and continued his way +up the street. After a few moments Anna carried the milk into the +kitchen, and stood by the dresser, moveless, each muscle braced in the +intensity of profound contemplation. Gradually the tears rose to her +eyes and fell; they were the tincture of a strange and mystic joy, too +poignant to be endured. As it were under compulsion she ran outside, +and down the garden path to the low wall which looked over the grey +fields of the valley up to Hillport. Exactly opposite, a mile and a +half away, on the ridge, was Hillport Church, dark and clear against +the orange sky. To the right, and nearer, lay the central masses of +the town, tier on tier of richly-coloured ovens and chimneys. Along +the field-paths couples moved slowly. All was quiescent, languorous, +beautiful in the glow of the sun's stately declension. Anna put her +arms on the wall. Far more impressively than in the afternoon she +realised that this was the end of one epoch in her career and the +beginning of another. Enthralled by austere traditions and that stern +conscience of hers, she had never permitted herself to dream of the +possibility of an escape from the parental servitude. She had never +looked beyond the horizons of her present world, but had sought +spiritual satisfaction in the ideas of duty and sacrifice. The worst +tyrannies of her father never dulled the sense of her duty to him; and, +without perhaps being aware of it, she had rather despised love and the +dalliance of the sexes. In her attitude towards such things there had +been not only a little contempt but also some disapproval, as though +man were destined for higher ends. Now she saw, in a quick revelation, +that it was the lovers, and not she, who had the right to scorn. She +saw how miserably narrow, tepid, and trickling the stream of her life +had been, and had threatened to be. Now it gushed forth warm, +impetuous, and full, opening out new and delicious vistas. She lived; +and she was finding the sight to see, the courage to enjoy. Now, as +she leaned over the wall, she would not have cared if Henry Mynors +indeed had called that night. She perceived something splendid and +free in his abandonment of habit and discretion at the bidding of a +desire. To be the magnet which could draw that pattern and exemplar of +seemliness from the strict orbit of virtuous custom! It was she, the +miser's shabby daughter, who had caused this amazing phenomenon. The +thought intoxicated her. Without the support of the wall she might +have fallen. In a sort of trance she murmured these words: 'He loves +me.' + +This was Anna Tellwright, the ascetic, the prosaic, the impassive. + +After an interval which to her was as much like a minute as a century, +she went back into the house. As she entered by the kitchen she heard +an impatient knocking at the front door. + +'At last,' said her father grimly, when she opened the door. In two +words he had resumed his terrible sway over her. Agnes looked timidly +from one to the other and slipped past them into the house. + +'I was in the garden,' Anna explained. 'Have you been here long?' She +tried to smile apologetically. + +'Only about a quarter of an hour,' he answered, with a grimness still +more portentous. + +'He won't speak again to-night,' she thought fearfully. But she was +mistaken. After he had carefully hung his best hat on the hat-rack, he +turned towards her, and said, with a queer smile: + +'Ye've been day-dreaming, eh, Sis?' + +'Sis' was her pet name, used often by Agnes, but by her father only at +the very rarest intervals. She was staggered at this change of front, +so unaccountable in this man, who, when she had unwittingly annoyed +him, was capable of keeping an awful silence for days together. What +did he know? What had those old eyes seen? + +'I forgot,' she stammered, gathering herself together happily, 'I +forgot the time.' She felt that after all there was a bond between +them which nothing could break--the tie of blood. They were father and +daughter, united by sympathies obscure but fundamental. Kissing was +not in the Tellwright blood, but she had a fleeting wish to hug the +tyrant. + + + +[1] Tellwright: tile-wright, a name specially characteristic of, and +possibly originating in, this clay-manufacturing district. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE BIRTHDAY + +The next morning there was no outward sign that anything unusual had +occurred. As the clock in the kitchen struck eight Anna carried to the +back parlour a tray on which were a dish of bacon and a coffee-pot. +Breakfast was already laid for three. She threw a housekeeper's glance +over the table, and called: 'Father!' Mr. Tellwright was re-setting +some encaustic tiles in the lobby. He came in, coatless, and, dropping +a trowel on the hearth, sat down at the end of the table nearest the +fireplace. Anna sat opposite to him, and poured out the coffee. + +On the dish were six pieces of bacon. He put one piece on a plate, and +set it carefully in front of Agnes's vacant chair, two he passed to +Anna, three he kept for himself. + +'Where's Agnes?' he inquired. + +'Coming--she's finishing her arithmetic.' + +In the middle of the table was an unaccustomed small jug containing +gilly-flowers. Mr. Tellwright noticed it instantly. + +'What an we gotten here?' he said, indicating the jug. + +'Agnes gave me them first thing when she got up. She's grown them +herself, you know,' Anna said, and then added: 'It's my birthday.' + +'Ay!' he exclaimed, with a trace of satire in his voice. 'Thou'rt a +woman now, lass.' + +No further remark on that matter was made during the meal. + +Agnes ran in, all pinafore and legs. With a toss backwards of her +light golden hair she slipped silently into her seat, cautiously +glancing at the master of the house. Then she began to stir her coffee. + +'Now, young woman,' Tellwright said curtly. + +She looked a startled interrogative. + +'We're waiting,' he explained. + +'Oh!' said Agnes, confused. 'I thought you'd said it. "God sanctify +this food to our use and us to His service for Christ's sake, Amen."' + +The breakfast proceeded in silence. Breakfast at eight, dinner at +noon, tea at four, supper at eight: all the meals in this house +occurred with absolute precision and sameness. Mr. Tellwright seldom +spoke, and his example imposed silence on the girls, who felt as nuns +feel when assisting at some grave but monotonous and perfunctory rite. +The room was not a cheerful one in the morning, since the window was +small and the aspect westerly. Besides the table and three horse-hair +chairs, the furniture consisted of an arm-chair, a bent-wood rocking +chair, and a sewing-machine. A fatigued Brussels carpet covered the +floor. Over the mantelpiece was an engraving of 'The Light of the +World,' in a frame of polished brown wood. On the other walls were +some family photographs in black frames. A two-light chandelier hung +from the ceiling, weighed down on one side by a patent gas-saving +mantle and a glass shade; over this the ceiling was deeply discoloured. +On either side of the chimney-breast were cupboards about three feet +high; some cardboard boxes, a work-basket, and Agnes's school books lay +on the tops of these cupboards. On the window-sill was a pot of +mignonette in a saucer. The window was wide open, and flies buzzed to +and fro, constantly rebounding from the window panes with terrible +thuds. In the blue-paved yard beyond the cat was licking himself in +the sunlight with an air of being wholly absorbed in his task. + +Mr. Tellwright demanded a second and last cup of coffee, and having +drunk it pushed away his plate as a sign that he had finished. Then he +took from the mantelpiece at his right hand a bundle of letters and +opened them methodically. When he had arranged the correspondence in a +flattened pile, he put on his steel-rimmed spectacles and began to read. + +'Can I return thanks, father?' Agnes asked, and he nodded, looking at +her fixedly over his spectacles. + +'Thank God for our good breakfast, Amen.' + +In two minutes the table was cleared, and Mr. Tellwright was alone. As +he read laboriously through communications from solicitors, secretaries +of companies, and tenants, he could hear his daughters talking together +in the kitchen. Anna was washing the breakfast things while Agnes +wiped. Then there were flying steps across the yard: Agnes had gone to +school. + +After he had mastered his correspondence, Mr. Tellwright took up the +trowel again and finished the tile-setting in the lobby. Then he +resumed his coat, and, gathering together the letters from the table in +the back parlour, went into the front parlour and shut the door. This +room was his office. The principal things in it were an old oak bureau +and an old oak desk-chair which had come to him from his first wife's +father; on the walls were some sombre landscapes in oil, received from +the same source; there was no carpet on the floor, and only one other +chair. A safe stood in the corner opposite the door. On the +mantelpiece were some books--Woodfall's 'Landlord and Tenant,' Jordan's +'Guide to Company Law,' Whitaker's Almanack, and a Gazetteer of the +Five Towns. Several wire files, loaded with papers, hung from the +mantelpiece. With the exception of a mahogany what-not with a Bible on +it, which stood in front of the window, there was nothing else whatever +in the room. He sat down to the bureau and opened it, and took from +one of the pigeon-holes a packet of various documents: these he +examined one by one, from time to time referring to a list. Then he +unlocked the safe and extracted from it another bundle of documents +which had evidently been placed ready. With these in his hand, he +opened the door, and called out: + +'Anna.' + +'Yes, father;' her voice came from the kitchen. + +'I want ye.' + +'In a minute. I'm peeling potatoes.' + +When she came in, she found him seated at the bureau as usual. He did +not look round. + +'Yes, father.' + +She stood there in her print dress and white apron, full in the eye of +the sun, waiting for him. She could not guess what she had been +summoned for. As a rule, she never saw her father between breakfast +and dinner. At length he turned. + +'Anna,' he said in his harsh, abrupt tones, and then stopped for a +moment before continuing. His thick, short fingers held the list which +he had previously been consulting. She waited in bewilderment. 'It's +your birthday, ye told me. I hadna' forgotten. Ye're of age to-day, +and there's summat for ye. Your mother had a fortune of her own, and +under your grandfeyther's will it comes to you when you're twenty-one. +I'm the trustee. Your mother had eighteen thousand pounds i' +Government stock.' He laid a slight sneering emphasis on the last two +words. 'That was near twenty-five year ago. I've nigh on trebled it +for ye, what wi' good investments and interest accumulating. Thou'rt +worth'--here he changed to the second personal singular, a habit with +him--'thou'rt worth this day as near fifty thousand as makes no matter, +Anna. And that's a tidy bit.' + +'Fifty thousand--_pounds_!' she exclaimed aghast. + +'Ay, lass.' + +She tried to speak calmly. 'Do you mean it's mine, father?' + +'It's thine, under thy grandfeyther's will--haven't I told thee? I'm +bound by law for to give it to thee this day, and thou mun give me a +receipt in due form for the securities. Here they are, and here's the +list. Tak' the list, Anna, and read it to me while I check off.' + +She mechanically took the blue paper and read: 'Toft End Colliery and +Brickworks Limited, five hundred shares of ten pounds.' + +'They paid ten per cent. last year,' he said, 'and with coal up as it +is they'll pay fiftane this. Let's see what thy arithmetic is worth, +lass. How much is fiftane per cent. on five thousand pun?' + +'Seven hundred and fifty pounds,' she said, getting the correct answer +by a superhuman effort worthy of that occasion. + +'Right,' said her father, pleased. 'Recollect that's more till two pun +a day. Go on.' + +'North Staffordshire Railway Company ordinary stock, ten thousand and +two hundred pounds.' + +'Right. Th' owd North Stafford's getting up i' th' world. It'll be a +five per cent. line yet. Then thou mun sell out.' + +She had only a vague idea of his meaning, and continued: 'Five Towns +Waterworks Company Limited consolidated stock, eight thousand five +hundred pounds.' + +'That's a tit-bit, lass,' he interjected, looking absently over his +spectacles at something outside in the road. 'You canna' pick that up +on shardrucks.' + +'Norris's Brewery Limited, six hundred ordinary shares of ten pounds.' + +'Twenty per cent.,' said the old man. 'Twenty per cent. regular.' He +made no attempt to conceal his pride in these investments. And he had +the right to be proud of them. They were the finest in the market, the +aristocracy of investments, based on commercial enterprises of which +every business man in the Five Towns knew the entire soundness. They +conferred distinction on the possessor, like a great picture or a rare +volume. They stifled all questions and insinuations. Put before any +jury of the Five Towns as evidence of character, they would almost have +exculpated a murderer. + +Anna continued reading the list, which seemed endless: long before she +had reached the last item her brain was a menagerie of monstrous +figures. The list included, besides all sorts of shares English and +American, sundry properties in the Five Towns, and among these was the +earthenware manufactory in Edward Street occupied by Titus Price, the +Sunday-school superintendent. Anna was a little alarmed to find +herself the owner of this works; she knew that her father had had some +difficult moments with Titus Price, and that the property was not +without grave disadvantages. + +'That all!' Tellwright asked, at length. + +'That's all.' + +'Total face value,' he went on, 'as I value it, forty-eight thousand +and fifty pounds, producing a net annual income of three thousand two +hundred and ninety pounds or thereabouts. There's not many in this +district as 'as gotten that to their names, Anna--no, nor half +that--let 'em be who they will.' + +Anna had sensations such as a child might have who has received a +traction-engine to play with in a back yard. 'What am I to do with +it?' she asked plaintively. + +'Do wi' it?' he repeated, and stood up and faced her, putting his lips +together: 'Do wi' it, did ye say?' + +'Yes.' + +'Tak' care on it, my girl. Tak' care on it. And remember it's thine. +Thou mun sign this list, and all these transfers and fal-lals, and then +thou mun go to th' Bank, and tell Mester Lovatt I've sent thee. +There's four hundred pound there. He'll give thee a cheque-book. I've +told him all about it. Thou'll have thy own account, and be sure thou +keeps it straight.' + +'I shan't know a bit what to do, father, and so it's no use talking,' +she said quietly. + +'I'll learn ye,' he replied. 'Here, tak' th' pen, and let's have thy +signature.' + +She signed her name many times and put her finger on many seals. Then +Tellwright gathered up everything into a bundle, and gave it to her to +hold. + +'That's the lot,' he said. 'Have ye gotten 'em?' + +'Yes,' she said. + +They both smiled, self-consciously. As for Tellwright, he was +evidently impressed by the grandeur of this superb renunciation on his +part. 'Shall I keep 'em for ye?' + +'Yes, please.' + +'Then give 'em me.' + +He took back all the documents. + +'When shall I call at the Bank, father?' + +'Better call this afternoon--afore three, mind ye.' + +'Very well. But I shan't know what to do.' + +'You've gotten a tongue in that noddle of yours, haven't ye?' he said. +'Now go and get along wi' them potatoes.' + +Anna returned to the kitchen. She felt no elation or ferment of any +kind; she had not begun to realise the significance of what had +occurred. Like the soldier whom a bullet has struck, she only knew +vaguely that something had occurred. She peeled the potatoes with more +than her usual thrifty care; the peel was so thin as to be almost +transparent. It seemed to her that she could not arrange or examine +her emotions until after she had met Henry Mynors again. More than +anything else she wished to see him: it was as if out of the mere sight +of him something definite might emerge, as if when her eyes had rested +on him, and not before, she might perceive some simple solution of the +problems which she had obscurely discerned ahead of her. + +During dinner a boy brought a note for her father. He read it, +snorted, and threw it across the table to Anna. + +'Here,' he said, 'that's your affair.' + +The letter was from Titus Price: it said that he was sorry to be +compelled to break his promise, but it was quite impossible for him to +pay twenty pounds on account of rent that day; he would endeavour to +pay at least twenty pounds in a week's time. + +'You'd better call there, after you've been to th' Bank,' said +Tellwright, 'and get summat out of him, if it's only ten pun.' + +'Must I go to Edward Street?' + +'Yes.' + +'What am I to say? I've never been there before.' + +'Well, it's high time as ye began to look after your own property. You +mun see owd Price, and tell him ye canna accept any excuses.' + +'How much does he owe?' + +'He owes ye a hundred and twenty-five pun altogether--he's five +quarters in arrear.' + +'A hundred and----! Well, I never!' Anna was aghast. The sum +appeared larger to her than all the thousands and tens of thousands +which she had received in the morning. She reflected that the weekly +bills of the household amounted to about a sovereign, and that the +total of this debt of Price's would therefore keep them in food for two +years. The idea of being in debt was abhorrent to her. She could not +conceive how a man who was in debt could sleep at nights. 'Mr. Price +ought to be ashamed of himself,' she said warmly. 'I'm sure he's quite +able to pay.' The image of the sleek and stout superintendent of the +Sunday-school, arrayed in his rich, almost voluptuous, broadcloth, +offended her profoundly. That he, debtor and promise-breaker, should +have the effrontery to pray for the souls of children, to chastise +their petty furtive crimes, was nearly incredible. + +'Oh! Price is all _right_,' her father remarked, with an apparent +benignity which surprised her. 'He'll pay when he can.' + +'I think it's a shame,' she repeated emphatically. + +Agnes looked with a mystified air from one to the other, instinctively +divining that something very extraordinary had happened during her +absence at school. + +'Ye mun'na be too hard, Anna,' said Tellwright. 'Supposing ye sold owd +Titus up? What then? D'ye reckon ye'd get a tenant for them +ramshackle works? A thousand pound spent wouldn't 'tice a tenant. +That Edward Street property was one o' ye grandfeyther's specs; 'twere +none o' mine. You'd best tak' what ye can get.' + +Anna felt a little ashamed of herself, not because of her bad policy, +but because she saw that Mr. Price might have been handicapped by the +faults of her property. + +That afternoon it was a shy and timid Anna who swung back the heavy +polished and glazed portals of the Bursley branch of the Birmingham, +Sheffield and district Bank, the opulent and spacious erection which +stands commandingly at the top of St. Luke's Square. She looked about +her, across broad counters, enormous ledgers, and rows of bent heads, +and wondered whom she should address. Then a bearded gentleman, who +was weighing gold in a balance, caught sight of her: he slid the gold +into a drawer, and whisked round the end of the counter with a celerity +which was, at any rate, not born of practice, for he, the cashier, had +not done such a thing for years. + +'Good afternoon, Miss Tellwright.' + +'Good afternoon. I----' + +'May I trouble you to step into the manager's room?' and he drew her +forward, while every clerk's eye watched. Anna tried not to blush, but +she could feel the red mounting even to her temples. + +'Delightful weather we're having. But of course we've the right to +expect it at this time of year.' He opened a door on the glass of +which was painted 'Manager,' and bowed. 'Mr. Lovatt--Miss Tellwright.' + +Mr. Lovatt greeted his new customer with a formal and rather fatigued +politeness, and invited her to sit in a large leather armchair in front +of a large table; on this table lay a large open book. Anna had once +in her life been to the dentist's; this interview reminded her of that +experience. + +'Your father told me I might expect you to-day,' said Mr. Lovatt in his +high-pitched, perfunctory tones. Richard Lovatt was probably the most +influential man in Bursley. Every Saturday morning he irrigated the +whole town with fertilising gold. By a single negative he could have +ruined scores of upright merchants and manufacturers. He had only to +stop a man in the street and murmur, 'By the way, your overdraft----,' +in order to spread discord and desolation through a refined and pious +home. His estimate of human nature was falsified by no common +illusions; he had the impassive and frosty gaze of a criminal judge. +Many men deemed they had cause to hate him, but no one did hate him: +all recognised that he was set far above hatred. + +'Kindly sign your full name here,' he said, pointing to a spot on the +large open page of the book, 'and your ordinary signature, which you +will attach to cheques, here.' + +Anna wrote, but in doing so she became aware that she had no ordinary +signature; she was obliged to invent one. + +'Do you wish to draw anything out now? There is already a credit of +four hundred and twenty pounds in your favour,' said Mr. Lovatt, after +he had handed her a cheque-book, a deposit-book, and a pass-book. + +'Oh, no, thank you,' Anna answered quickly. She keenly desired some +money, but she well knew that courage would fail her to demand it +without her father's consent; moreover, she was in a whirl of +uncertainty as to the uses of the three books, though Mr. Lovatt had +expounded them severally to her in simple language. + +'Good-day.' + +'Good-day, Miss Tellwright.' + +'My compliments to your father.' + +His final glance said half cynically, half in pity: 'You are naïve and +unspoilt now, but these eyes will see yours harden like the rest. +Wretched victim of gold, you are only one in a procession, after all.' + +Outside, Anna thought that everyone had been very agreeable to her. +Her complacency increased at a bound. She no longer felt ashamed of +her shabby cotton dress. She surmised that people would find it +convenient to ignore any difference which might exist between her +costume and that of other girls. + +She went on to Edward Street, a short steep thoroughfare at the eastern +extremity of the town, leading into a rough road across unoccupied land +dotted with the mouths of abandoned pits: this road climbed up to Toft +End, a mean annexe of the town about half a mile east of Bleakridge. +From Toft End, lying on the highest hill in the district, one had a +panoramic view of Hanbridge and Bursley, with Hillport to the west, and +all the moorland and mining villages to the north and north-east. +Titus Price and his son lived in what had once been a farm-house at +Toft End; every morning and evening they traversed the desolate and +featureless grey road between their dwelling and the works. + +Anna had never been in Edward Street before. It was a miserable +quarter--two rows of blackened infinitesimal cottages, and her +manufactory at the end--a frontier post of the town. Price's works was +small, old-fashioned, and out of repair--one of those properties which +are forlorn from the beginning, which bring despair into the hearts of +a succession of owners, and which, being ultimately deserted, seem to +stand for ever in pitiable ruin. The arched entrance for carts into +the yard was at the top of the steepest rise of the street, when it +might as well have been at the bottom; and this was but one example of +the architect's fine disregard for the principle of economy in +working--that principle to which in the scheming of manufactories +everything else is now so strictly subordinated. Ephraim Tellwright +used to say (but not to Titus Price) that the situation of that archway +cost five pounds a year in horseflesh, and that five pounds was the +interest on a hundred. The place was badly located, badly planned and +badly constructed. Its faults defied improvement. Titus Price +remained in it only because he was chained there by arrears of rent; +Tellwright hesitated to sell it only because the rent was a hundred a +year, and the whole freehold would not have fetched eight hundred. He +promised repairs in exchange for payment of arrears which he knew would +never be paid, and his policy was to squeeze the last penny out of +Price without forcing him into bankruptcy. Such was the predicament +when Anna assumed ownership. As she surveyed the irregular and huddled +frontage from the opposite side of the street, her first feeling was +one of depression at the broken and dirty panes of the windows. A man +in shirt-sleeves was standing on the weighing platform under the +archway; his back was towards her, but she could see the smoke issuing +in puffs from his pipe. She crossed the road. Hearing her footfalls, +the man turned round: it was Titus Price himself. He was wearing an +apron, but no cap; the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, exposing +forearms covered with auburn hair. His puffed, heavy face, and general +bigness and untidiness, gave the idea of a vast and torpid male +slattern. Anna was astounded by the contrast between the Titus of +Sunday and the Titus of Monday: a single glance compelled her to +readjust all her notions of the man. She stammered a greeting, and he +replied, and then they were both silent for a moment: in the pause Mr. +Price thrust his pipe between apron and waistcoat. + +'Come inside, Miss Tellwright,' he said, with a sickly, conciliatory +smile. 'Come into the office, will ye?' + +She followed him without a word through the archway. To the right was +an open door into the packing-house, where a man surrounded by straw +was packing basins in a crate: with swift, precise movements, twisting +straw between basin and basin, he forced piles of ware into a space +inconceivably small. Mr. Price lingered to watch him for a few +seconds, and passed on. They were in the yard, a small quadrangle +paved with black, greasy mud. In one corner a load of coal had been +cast; in another lay a heap of broken saggars. Decrepit doorways led +to the various 'shops' on the ground floor; those on the upper floor +were reached by narrow wooden stairs, which seemed to cling insecurely +to the exterior walls. Up one of these stairways Mr. Price climbed +with heavy, elephantine movements: Anna prudently waited till he had +reached the top before beginning to ascend. He pushed open a flimsy +door, and with a nod bade her enter. The office was a long narrow +room, the dirtiest that Anna had ever seen. If such was the condition +of the master's quarters, she thought, what must the workshops be like? +The ceiling, which bulged downwards, was as black as the floor, which +sank away in the middle till it was hollow like a saucer. The +revolution of an engine somewhere below shook everything with a +periodic muffled thud. A greyish light came through one small window. +By the window was a large double desk, with chairs facing each other. +One of these chairs was occupied by Willie Price. The youth did not +observe at first that another person had come in with his father. He +was casting up figures in an account book, and murmuring numbers to +himself. He wore an office coat, short at the wrists and torn at the +elbows, and a battered felt hat was thrust far back over his head so +that the brim rested on his dirty collar. He turned round at length, +and, on seeing Anna, blushed brilliant crimson, and rose, scraping the +legs of his chair horribly across the floor. Tall, thin, and ungainly +in every motion, he had the look of a ninny: it was the fact that at +school all the boys by a common instinct had combined to tease him, and +that on the works the young paintresses continually made private sport +of him. Anna, however, had not the least impulse to mock him in her +thoughts. For her there was nothing in his blue eyes but simplicity +and good intentions. Beside him she felt old, sagacious, crafty: it +seemed to her that some one ought to shield that transparent and +confiding soul from his father and the intriguing world. + +He spoke to her and lifted his hat, holding it afterwards in his great +bony hand. + +'Get down to th' entry, Will,' said his father, and Willie, with an +apologetic sort of cough, slipped silently away through the door. + +'Sit down, Miss Tellwright,' said old Price, and she took the Windsor +chair that had been occupied by Willie. Her tenant fell into the seat +opposite--a leathern chair from which the stuffing had exuded, and with +one of its arms broken. 'I hear as ye father is going into partnership +with young Mynors--Henry Mynors.' + +Anna started at this surprising item of news, which was entirely fresh +to her. 'Father has said nothing to me about it,' she replied, coldly. + +'Oh! Happen I've said too much. If so, you'll excuse me, Miss. A +smart fellow, Mynors. Now you should see _his_ little works: not very +much bigger than this, but there's everything you can think of +there--all the latest machinery and dodges, and not over-rented, I'm +told. The biggest fool i' Bursley couldn't help but make money there. +This 'ere works 'ere, Miss Tellwright, wants mendin' with a new 'un.' + +'It looks very dirty, I must say,' said Anna. + +'Dirty!' he laughed--a short, acrid laugh--'I suppose you've called +about the rent.' + +'Yes, father asked me to call.' + +'Let me see, this place belongs to you i' your own right, doesn't it, +Miss?' + +'Yes,' said Anna. 'It's mine--from my grandfather, you know.' + +'Ah! Well, I'm sorry for to tell ye as I can't pay anything now--no, +not a cent. But I'll pay twenty pounds in a week. Tell ye father I'll +pay twenty pound in a week.' + +'That's what you said last week,' Anna remarked, with more brusqueness +than she had intended. At first she was fearful at her own temerity in +thus addressing a superintendent of the Sunday-school; then, as nothing +happened, she felt reassured, and strong in the justice of her position. + +'Yes,' he admitted obsequiously. 'But I've been disappointed. One of +our best customers put us off, to tell ye the truth. Money's tight, +very tight. It's got to be give and take in these days, as ye father +knows. And I may as well speak plain to ye, Miss Tellwright. We +canna' stay here; we shall be compelled to give ye notice. What's +amiss with this bank[1] is that it wants pullin' down.' He went off +into a rapid enumeration of ninety-and-nine alterations and repairs +that must be done without the loss of a moment, and concluded: 'You +tell ye father what I've told ye, and say as I'll send up twenty pounds +next week. I can't pay anything now; I've nothing by me at all.' + +'Father said particularly I was to be sure and get something on +account.' There was a flinty hardness in her tone which astonished +herself perhaps more than Titus Price. A long pause followed, and then +Mr. Price drew a breath, seeming to nerve himself to a tremendous +sacrificial deed. + +'I tell ye what I'll do. I'll give ye ten pounds now, and I'll do what +I can next week. I'll do what I can. There!' + +'Thank you,' said Anna. She was amazed at her success. + +He unlocked the desk, and his head disappeared under the lifted lid. +Anna gazed through the window. Like many women, and not a few men, in +the Five Towns, she was wholly ignorant of the staple manufacture. The +interior of a works was almost as strange to her as it would have been +to a farm-hand from Sussex. A girl came out of a door on the opposite +side of the quadrangle: the creature was clothed in clayey rags, and +carried on her right shoulder a board laden with biscuit[2] cups. She +began to mount one of the wooden stairways, and as she did so the +board, six feet in length, swayed alarmingly to and fro. Anna expected +to see it fall with a destructive crash, but the girl went up in +safety, and with a nonchalant jerk of the shoulder aimed the end of the +board through another door and vanished from sight. To Anna it was a +thrilling feat, but she noticed that a man who stood in the yard did +not even turn his head to watch it. Mr. Price recalled her to the +business of her errand. + +'Here's two fives,' he said, shutting down the desk with the sigh of a +crocodile. + +'Liar! You said you had nothing!' her unspoken thought ran, and at the +same instant the Sunday-school and everything connected with it +grievously sank in her estimation; she contrasted this scene with that +on the previous day with the peccant schoolgirl: it was an hour of +disillusion. Taking the notes, she gave a receipt and rose to go. + +'Tell ye father'--it seemed to Anna that this phrase was always on his +lips--'tell ye father he must come down and look at the state this +place is in,' said Mr. Price, enheartened by the heroic payment of ten +pounds. Anna said nothing; she thought a fire would do more good than +anything else to the foul, squalid buildings: the passing fancy +coincided with Mr. Price's secret and most intense desire. + +Outside she saw Willie Price superintending the lifting of a crate on +to a railway lorry. After twirling in the air, the crate sank safely +into the waggon. Young Price was perspiring. + +'Warm afternoon, Miss Tellwright,' he called to her as she passed, with +his pleasant bashful smile. She gave an affirmative. Then he came to +her, still smiling, his face full of an intention to say something, +however insignificant. + +'I suppose you'll be at the Special Teachers' Meeting to-morrow night,' +he remarked. + +'I hope to be,' she said. That was all: William had achieved his +small-talk: they parted. + +'So father and Mr. Mynors are going into partnership,' she kept saying +to herself on the way home. + + + +[1] Bank: manufactory. + +[2] Biscuit: a term applied to ware which has been fired only once. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +A VISIT + +The Special Teachers' Meeting to which Willie Price had referred was +one of the final preliminaries to a Revival--that is, a revival of +godliness and Christian grace--about to be undertaken by the Wesleyan +Methodist Society in Bursley. Its object was to arrange for a personal +visitation of the parents of Sunday-school scholars in their homes. +Hitherto Anna had felt but little interest in the Revival: it had +several times been brought indirectly before her notice, but she had +regarded it as a phenomenon which recurred at intervals in the cycle of +religious activity, and as not in any way affecting herself. The +gradual centring of public interest, however--that mysterious movement +which, defying analysis, gathers force as it proceeds, and ends by +coercing the most indifferent--had already modified her attitude +towards this forthcoming event. It got about that the preacher who had +been engaged, a specialist in revivals, was a man of miraculous powers: +the number of souls which he had snatched from eternal torment was +precisely stated, and it amounted to tens of thousands. He played the +cornet to the glory of God, and his cornet was of silver: his more +distant past had been ineffably wicked, and the faint rumour of that +dead wickedness clung to his name like a piquant odour. As Anna walked +up Trafalgar Road from Price's she observed that the hoardings had been +billed with great posters announcing the Revival and the revivalist, +who was to commence his work on Friday night. + +During tea Mr. Tellwright interrupted his perusal of the evening +'Signal' to give utterance to a rather remarkable speech. + +'Bless us!' he said. 'Th' old trumpeter 'll turn the town upside down!' + +'Do you mean the revivalist, father?' Anna asked. + +'Ay!' + +'He's a beautiful man,' Agnes exclaimed with enthusiasm. 'Our teacher +showed us his portrait after school this afternoon. I never saw such a +beautiful man.' + +Her father gazed hard at the child for an instant, cup in hand, and +then turned to Anna with a slightly sardonic air. + +'What are you doing i' this Revival, Anna?' + +'Nothing,' she said. 'Only there's a teachers' meeting about it +to-morrow night, and I have to go to that. Young Mr. Price mentioned +it to me specially to-day.' + +A pause followed. + +'Didst get anything out o' Price?' Tellwright asked. + +'Yes; he gave me ten pounds. He wants you to go and look over the +works--says they're falling to pieces.' + +'Cheque, I reckon?' + +She corrected the surmise. + +'Better give me them notes, Anna,' he said after tea. 'I'm going to +th' Bank i' th' morning, and I'll pay 'em in to your account.' + +There was no reason why she should not have suggested the propriety of +keeping at least one of the notes for her private use. But she dared +not. She had never any money of her own, not a penny; and the +effective possession of five pounds seemed far too audacious a dream. +She hesitated to imagine her father's reply to such a request, even to +frame the request to herself. The thing, viewed close, was utterly +impossible. And when she relinquished the notes she also, without +being asked, gave up her cheque-book, deposit-book, and pass-book. She +did this while ardently desiring to refrain from doing it, as it were +under the compulsion of an invincible instinct. Afterwards she felt +more at ease, as though some disturbing question had been settled once +and for all. + +During the whole of that evening she timorously expected Mynors, saying +to herself however that he certainly would not call before Thursday. +On Tuesday evening she started early for the teachers' meeting. Her +intention was to arrive among the first and to choose a seat in +obscurity, since she knew well that every eye would be upon her. She +was divided between the desire to see Mynors and the desire to avoid +the ordeal of being seen by her colleagues in his presence. She +trembled lest she should be incapable of commanding her mien so as to +appear unconscious of this inspection by curious eyes. + +The meeting was held in a large class-room, furnished with wooden +seats, a chair and a small table. On the grey distempered walls hung a +few Biblical cartoons depicting scenes in the life of Joseph and his +brethren--but without reference to Potiphar's wife. From the +whitewashed ceiling depended a T-shaped gas-fitting, one burner of +which showed a glimmer, though the sun had not yet set. The evening +was oppressively warm, and through the wide-open window came the faint +effluvium of populous cottages and the distant but raucous cries of +children at play. When Anna entered a group of young men were talking +eagerly round the table; among these was Willie Price, who greeted her. +No others had come: she sat down in a corner by the door, invisible +except from within the room. Gradually the place began to fill. Then +at last Mynors entered: Anna recognised his authoritative step before +she saw him. He walked quickly to the chair in front of the table, +and, including all in a friendly and generous smile, said that in the +absence of Mr. Titus Price it fell to him to take the chair; he was +glad that so many had made a point of being present. Everyone sat +down. He gave out a hymn, and led the singing himself, attacking the +first note with an assurance born of practice. Then he prayed, and as +he prayed Anna gazed at him intently. He was standing up, the ends of +his fingers pressed against the top of the table. Very carefully +dressed as usual, he wore a brilliant new red necktie, and a gardenia +in his button-hole. He seemed happy, wholesome, earnest, and +unaffected. He had the elasticity of youth with the firm wisdom of +age. And it was as if he had never been younger and would never grow +older, remaining always at just thirty and in his prime. Incomparable +to the rest, he was clearly born to lead. He fulfilled his functions +with tact, grace, and dignity. In such an affair as this present he +disclosed the attributes of the skilled workman, whose easy and exact +movements are a joy and wonder to the beholder. And behind all was the +man, his excellent and strong nature, his kindliness, his sincerity. +Yes, to Anna, Mynors was perfect that night; the reality of him +exceeded her dreamy meditations. Fearful on the brink of an ecstatic +bliss, she could scarcely believe that from the enticements of a +thousand women this paragon had been preserved for her. Like most of +us, she lacked the high courage to grasp happiness boldly and without +apprehension; she had not learnt that nothing is too good to be true. + +Mynors' prayer was a cogent appeal for the success of the Revival. He +knew what he wanted, and confidently asked for it, approaching God with +humility but with self-respect. The prayer was punctuated by Amens +from various parts of the room. The atmosphere became suddenly +fervent, emotional and devout. Here was lofty endeavour, idealism, a +burning spirituality; and not all the pettinesses unavoidable in such +an organisation as a Sunday-school could hide the difference between +this impassioned altruism and the ignoble selfishness of the worldly. +Anna felt, as she had often felt before, but more acutely now, that she +existed only on the fringe of the Methodist society. She had not been +converted; technically she was a lost creature: the converted knew it, +and in some subtle way their bearing towards her, and others in her +case, always showed that they knew it. Why did she teach? Not from +the impulse of religious zeal. Why was she allowed to have charge of a +class of immortal souls? The blind could not lead the blind, nor the +lost save the lost. These considerations troubled her. Conscience +pricked, accusing her of a continual pretence. The _rôle_ of +professing Christian, through false shame, had seemed distasteful to +her: she had said that she could never stand up and say, 'I am for +Christ,' without being uncomfortable. But now she was ashamed of her +inability to profess Christ. She could conceive herself proud and +happy in the very part which formerly she had despised. It was these +believers, workers, exhorters, wrestlers with Satan, who had the right +to disdain; not she. At that moment, as if divining her thoughts, +Mynors prayed for those among them who were not converted. She +blushed, and when the prayer was finished she feared lest every eye +might seek hers in inquiry; but no one seemed to notice her. + +Mynors sat down, and, seated, began to explain the arrangements for the +Revival. He made it plain that prayers without industry would not +achieve success. His remarks revealed the fact that underneath the +broad religious structure of the enterprise, and supporting it, there +was a basis of individual diplomacy and solicitation. The town had +been mapped out into districts, and each of these was being importuned, +as at an election: by the thoroughness and instancy of this canvass, +quite as much as by the intensity of prayerful desire, would Christ +conquer. The affair was a campaign before it was a prostration at the +Throne of Grace. He spoke of the children, saying that in connection +with these they, the teachers, had at once the highest privilege and +the most sacred responsibility. He told of a special service for the +children, and the need of visiting them in their homes and inviting the +parents also to this feast of God. He wished every teacher during +to-morrow and the next day and the next day to go through the list of +his or her scholars' names, and call if possible at every house. There +must be no shirking. 'Will you ladies do that?' he exclaimed with an +appealing, serious smile. 'Will you, Miss Dickinson? Will you, Miss +Machin? Will you, Mrs. Salt? Will you, Miss Sutton? Will you----' +Until at last it came: 'Will you, Miss Tellwright?' 'I will,' she +answered, with averted eyes. 'Thank you. Thank you all.' + +Some others spoke, hopefully, enthusiastically, and one or two prayed. +Then Mynors rose: 'May the blessing of God the Father, the Son, and the +Holy Ghost rest upon us now and for ever.' 'Amen,' someone ejaculated. +The meeting was over. + +Anna passed rapidly out of he door, down the Quadrangle, and into +Trafalgar Road. She was the first to leave, daring not to stay in the +room a moment. She had seen him; he had not altered since Sunday; +there was no disillusion, but a deepening of the original impression. +Caught up by the soaring of his spirit, her spirit lifted, and she was +conscious of vague but intense longing skyward. She could not reason +or think in that dizzying hour, but she made resolutions which had no +verbal form, yielding eagerly to his influence and his appeal. Not +till she had reached the bottom of Duck Bank and was breasting the +first rise towards Bleakridge did her pace slacken. Then a voice +called to her from behind. She recognised it, and turned sharply +beneath the shock. Mynors raised his hat and greeted her. + +'I'm coming to see your father,' he said. + +'Yes?' she said, and gave him her hand. + +'It was a very satisfactory meeting to-night,' he began, and in a +moment they were talking seriously of the Revival. With the most +oblique delicacy, the most perfect assumption of equality between them, +he allowed her to perceive his genuine and profound anxiety for her +spiritual welfare. The atmosphere of the meeting was still round about +him, the divine fire still uncooled. 'I hope you will come to the +first service on Friday night,' he pleaded. + +'I must,' she replied. 'Oh, yes. I shall come.' + +'That is good,' he said. 'I particularly wanted your promise.' + +They were at the door of the house. Agnes, obviously expectant and +excited, answered the bell. With an effort Anna and Mynors passed into +a lighter mood. + +'Father said you were coming, Mr. Mynors,' said Agnes, and, turning to +Anna, 'I've set supper all myself.' + +'Have you?' Mynors laughed. 'Capital! You must let me give you a +kiss for that.' He bent down and kissed her, she holding up her face +to his with no reluctance. Anna looked on, smiling. + +Mr. Tellwright sat near the window of the back parlour, reading the +paper. Twilight was at hand. He lowered his head as Mynors entered +with Agnes in train, so as to see over his spectacles, which were +half-way down his nose. + +'How d'ye do, Mr. Mynors? I was just going to begin my supper. I +don't wait, you know,' and he glanced at the table. + +'Quite right,' said Mynors, 'so long as you wouldn't eat it all. Would +he have eaten it all, Agnes, do you think?' Agnes pressed her head +against Mynors' arm and laughed shyly. The old man sardonically +chuckled. + +Anna, who was still in the passage, wondered what could be on the +table. If it was only the usual morsel of cheese she felt that she +should expire of mortification. She peeped: the cheese was at one end, +and at the other a joint of beef, scarcely touched. + +'Nay, nay,' said Tellwright, as if he had been engaged some seconds +upon the joke, 'I'd have saved ye the bone.' + +Anna went upstairs to take off her hat, and immediately Agnes flew +after her. The child was breathless with news. + +'Oh, Anna! As soon as you'd gone out father told me that Mr. Mynors +was coming for supper. Did you know before?' + +'Not till Mr. Mynors told me, dear.' It was characteristic of her +father to say nothing until the last moment. + +'Yes, and he told me to put an extra plate, and I asked him if I had +better put the beef on the table, and first he said "No," cross--you +know--and then he said I could please myself, so I put it on. Why has +Mr. Mynors come, Anna?' + +'How should I know? Some business between him and father, I expect.' + +'It's very _queer_,' said Agnes positively, with the child's aptitude +for looking a fact squarely in the face. + +'Why "queer"?' + +'You know it is, Anna,' she frowned, and then breaking into a joyous +anile: 'But isn't he nice? I think he's lovely.' + +'Yes,' Anna assented coldly. + +'But really?' Agnes persisted. + +Anna brushed her hair and determined not to put on the apron which she +usually wore in the house. + +'Am I tidy, Anna?' + +'Yes. Run downstairs now. I am coming directly.' + +'I want to wait for you,' Agnes pouted. + +'Very well, dear.' + +They entered the parlour together, and Henry Mynors jumped up from his +chair, and would not sit at table until they were seated. Then Mr. +Tellwright carved the beef, giving each of them a very small piece, and +taking only cheese for himself. Agnes handed the water-jug and the +bread. Mynors talked about nothing in especial, but he talked and +laughed the whole time; he even made the old man laugh, by a comical +phrase aimed at Agnes's mad passion for gilly-flowers. He seemed not +to have detected any shortcomings in the table appointments--the coarse +cloth and plates, the chipped tumblers, the pewter cruet, and the +stumpy knives--which caused anguish in the heart of the housewife. He +might have sat at such a table every night of his life. + +'May I trouble you for a little more beef?' he asked presently, and +Anna fancied a shade of mischief in his tone as he thus forced the old +man into a tardy hospitality. 'Thanks. _And_ a morsel of fat.' + +She wondered whether he guessed that she was worth fifty thousand +pounds, and her father worth perhaps more. + +But on the whole Anna enjoyed the meal. She was sorry when they had +finished and Agnes had thanked God for the beef. It was not without +considerable reluctance that she rose and left the side of the man +whose arm she could have touched at any time during the previous twenty +minutes. She had felt happy and perturbed in being so near to him, so +intimate and free; already she knew his face by heart. The two girls +carried the plates and dishes into the kitchen, Agnes making the last +journey with the tablecloth, which Mynors had assisted her to fold. + +'Shut the door, Agnes,' said the old man, getting up to light the gas. +It was an order of dismissal to both his daughters. 'Let me light +that,' Mynors exclaimed, and the gas was lighted before Mr. Tellwright +had struck a match. Mynors turned on the full force of gas. Then Mr. +Tellwright carefully lowered it. The summer quarter's gas-bill at that +house did not exceed five shillings. + +Through the open windows of the kitchen and parlour, Anna could hear +the voices of the two men in conversation, Mynors' vivacious and +changeful, her father's monotonous, curt, and heavy. Once she caught +the old man's hard dry chuckle. The washing-up was done, Agnes had +accomplished her home-lessons; the grandfather's clock chimed the +half-hour after nine. + +'You must go to bed, Agnes.' + +'Mustn't I say good-night to him?' + +'No, I will say good-night for you.' + +'Don't forget to. I shall ask you in the morning.' + +The regular sound of talk still came from the parlour. A full moon +passed along the cloudless sky. By its light and that of a glimmer of +gas, Anna sat cleaning silver, or rather nickel, at the kitchen table. +The spoons and forks were already clean, but she felt compelled to busy +herself with something. At length the talk stopped and she heard the +scraping of chair-legs. Should she return to the parlour? Or should +she----? Even while she hesitated, the kitchen door opened. + +'Excuse me coming in here,' said Mynors. 'I wanted to say good-night +to you.' + +She sprang up and he took her hand. Could he feel the agitation of +that hand? + +'Good-night.' + +'Good-night.' He said it again. + +'And Agnes wished me to say good-night to you for her.' + +'Did she?' He smiled; till then his face had been serious. 'You won't +forget Friday?' + +'As if I could!' she murmured after he had gone. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE REVIVAL + +Anna spent the two following afternoons in visiting the houses of her +school-children. She had no talent for such work, which demands the +vocal rather than the meditative temperament, and the apparent futility +of her labours would have disgusted and disheartened her had she not +been sustained and urged forward by the still active influence of +Mynors and the teachers' meeting. There were fifteen names in her +class-book, and she went to each house, except four whose tenants were +impeccable Wesleyan families and would have considered themselves +insulted by a quasi-didactic visit from an upstart like Anna. Of the +eleven, some parents were rude to her; others begged, and she had +nothing to give; others made perfunctory promises; only two seemed to +regard her as anything but a somewhat tiresome impertinence. The fault +was doubtless her own. Nevertheless she found joy in the uncongenial +and ill-performed task--the cold, fierce joy of the nun in her penance. +When it was done she said 'I have done it,' as one who has sworn to do +it come what might, yet without quite expecting to succeed. + +On the Friday afternoon, during tea, a boy brought up a large foolscap +packet addressed to Mr. Tellwright. 'From Mr. Mynors,' the boy said. +Tellwright opened it leisurely after the boy had gone, and took out +some sheets covered with figures which he carefully examined. 'Anna,' +he said, as she was clearing away the tea things, 'I understand thou'rt +going to the Revival meeting to-night. I shall have a message as thou +mun give to Mr. Mynors.' + +When she went upstairs to dress, she saw the Suttons' landau standing +outside their house on the opposite side of the road. Mrs. Sutton came +down the front steps and got into the carriage, and was followed by a +little restless, nervous, alert man who carried in his hand a black +case of peculiar form. 'The Revivalist!' Anna exclaimed, remembering +that he was to stay with the Suttons during the Revival week. Then +this was the renowned crusader, and the case held his renowned cornet! +The carriage drove off down Trafalgar Road, and Anna could see that the +little man was talking vehemently and incessantly to Mrs. Sutton, who +listened with evident interest; at the same time the man's eyes were +everywhere, absorbing all details of the street and houses with +unquenchable curiosity. + +'What is the message for Mr. Mynors, father?' she asked in the parlour, +putting on her cotton gloves. + +'Oh!' he said, and then paused. 'Shut th' door, lass.' + +She shut it, not knowing what this cautiousness foreshadowed. Agnes +was in the kitchen. + +'It's o' this'n,' Tellwright began. 'Young Mynors wants a partner wi' +a couple o' thousand pounds, and he come to me. Ye understand; 'tis +what they call a sleeping partner he's after. He'll give a third share +in his concern for two thousand pound now. I've looked into it and +there's money in it. He's no fool and he's gotten hold of a good +thing. He sent me up his stock-taking and balance sheet to-day, and +I've been o'er the place mysen. I'm telling thee this, lass, because I +have na' two thousand o' my own idle just now, and I thought as thou +might happen like th' investment.' + +'But father----' + +'Listen. I know as there's only four hundred o' thine in th' Bank now, +but next week 'll see the beginning o' July and dividends coming in. +I've reckoned as ye'll have nigh on fourteen hundred i' dividends and +interests, and I can lend ye a couple o' hundred in case o' necessity. +It's a rare chance; thou's best tak' it.' + +'Of course, if you think it's all right, father, that's enough,' she +said without animation. + +'Am' na I telling thee I think it's all right?' he remarked sharply. +'You mun tell Mynors as I say it's satisfactory. Tell him that, see? +I say it's satisfactory. I shall want for to see him later on. He +told me he couldna' come up any night next week, so ask him to make it +the week after. There's no hurry. Dunna' forget.' + +What surprised Anna most in the affair was that Henry Mynors should +have been able to tempt her father into a speculation. Ephraim +Tellwright the investor was usually as shy as a well-fed trout, and +this capture of him by a youngster only two years established in +business might fairly be regarded as a prodigious feat. It was indeed +the highest distinction of Mynors' commercial career. Henry was so +prominently active in the Wesleyan Society that the members of that +society, especially the women, were apt to ignore the other side of his +individuality. They knew him supreme as a religious worker; they did +not realise the likelihood of his becoming supreme in the staple +manufacture. Left an orphan at seventeen, Mynors belonged to a family +now otherwise extinct in the Five Towns--one of those families which by +virtue of numbers, variety, and personal force seem to permeate a whole +district, to be a calculable item of it, an essential part of its +identity. The elders of the Mynors blood had once occupied the red +house opposite Tellwright's, now used as a school, and had there reared +many children: the school building was still known as 'Mynors's' by +old-fashioned people. Then the parents died in middle age: one +daughter married in the North, another in the South; a third went to +China as a missionary and died of fever; the eldest son died; the +second had vanished into Canada and was reported a scapegrace; the +third was a sea-captain. Henry (the youngest) alone was left, and of +all the family Henry was the only one to be connected with the +earthenware trade. There was no inherited money, and during ten years +he had worked for a large firm in Turnhill, as clerk, as traveller, and +last as manager, living always quietly in lodgings. In the fullness of +time he gave notice to leave, was offered a partnership, and refused +it. Taking a newly erected manufactory in Bursley near the canal, he +started in business for himself, and it became known that, at the age +of twenty-eight, he had saved fifteen hundred pounds. Equally expert +in the labyrinths of manufacture and in the niceties of the markets (he +was reckoned a peerless traveller), Mynors inevitably flourished. His +order-books were filled and flowing over at remunerative prices, and +insufficiency of capital was the sole peril to which he was exposed. +By the raising of a finger he could have had a dozen working and +moneyed partners, but he had no desire for a working partner. What he +wanted was a capitalist who had confidence in him, Mynors. In Ephraim +Tellwright he found the man. Whether it was by instinct, good luck, or +skilful diplomacy that Mynors secured this invaluable prize no one +could positively say, and perhaps even he himself could not have +catalogued all the obscure motives that had guided him to the shrewd +miser of Manor Terrace. + +Anna had meant to reach chapel before the commencement of the meeting, +but the interview with her father threw her late. As she entered the +porch an officer told her that the body of the chapel was quite full +and that she should go into the gallery, where a few seats were left +near the choir. She obeyed: pew-holders had no rights at that service. +The scene in the auditorium astonished her, effectually putting an end +to the worldly preoccupation caused by her father's news. The historic +chapel was crowded almost in every part, and the +congregation--impressed, excited, eager--sang the opening hymn with +unprecedented vigour and sincerity; above the rest could be heard the +trained voices of a large choir, and even the choir, usually +perfunctory, seemed to share the general fervour. In the vast mahogany +pulpit the Reverend Reginald Banks, the superintendent minister, a +stout pale-faced man with pendent cheeks and cold grey eyes, stood +impassively regarding the assemblage, and by his side was the +revivalist, a manikin in comparison with his colleague; on the broad +balustrade of the pulpit lay the cornet. The fiery and inquisitive +eyes of the revivalist probed into the furthest corners of the chapel; +apparently no detail of any single face or of the florid decoration +escaped him, and as Anna crept into a small empty pew next to the east +wall she felt that she too had been separately observed. Mr. Banks +gave out the last verse of the hymn, and simultaneously with the +leading chord from the organ the revivalist seized his cornet and +joined the melody. Massive yet exultant, the tones rose clear over the +mighty volume of vocal sound, an incitement to victorious effort. The +effect was instant: an ecstatic tremor seemed to pass through the +congregation, like wind through ripe corn, and at the close of the hymn +it was not until the revivalist had put down his cornet that the people +resumed their seats. Amid the _frou-frou_ of dresses and subdued +clearing of throats, Mr. Banks retired softly to the back of the +pulpit, and the revivalist, mounting a stool, suddenly dominated the +congregation. His glance swept masterfully across the chapel and round +the gallery. He raised one hand with the stilling action of a +mesmerist, and the people, either kneeling or inclined against the +front of the pews, hid their faces from those eyes. It was as though +the man had in a moment measured their iniquities, and had courageously +resolved to intercede for them with God, but was not very sanguine as +to the result. Everyone except the organist, who was searching his +tune-book for the next tune, seemed to feel humbled, bitterly ashamed, +as it were caught in the act of sin. There was a solemn and terrible +pause. + +Then the revivalist began: + +'Behold us, O dread God, suppliants for Thy mercy--' + +His voice was rich and full, but at the same time sharp and decisive. +The burning eyes were shut tight, and Anna, who had a profile view of +his face, saw that every muscle of it was drawn tense. The man +possessed an extraordinary histrionic gift, and he used it with +imagination. He had two audiences, God and the congregation. God was +not more distant from him than the congregation, or less real to him, +or less a heart to be influenced. Declamatory and full of effects +carefully calculated--a work of art, in fact--his appeal showed no +error of discretion in its approach to the Eternal. There was no +minimising of committed sin, nor yet an insincere and grovelling +self-accusation. A tyrant could not have taken offence at its tone, +which seemed to pacify God while rendering the human audience still +more contrite. The conclusion of the catalogue of wickedness and swift +confident turn to Christ's Cross was marvellously impressive. The +congregation burst out into sighs, groans, blessings, and Amens; and +the pillars of distant rural conventicles who had travelled from the +confines of the circuit to its centre in order to partake of this +spiritual excitation began to feel that they would not be disappointed. + +'Let the Holy Ghost descend upon us now,' the revivalist pleaded with +restrained passion; and then, opening his eyes and looking at the clock +in front of the gallery, he repeated, 'Now, now, at twenty-one minutes +past seven.' Then his eyes, without shifting, seemed to ignore the +clock, to gaze through it into some unworldly dimension, and he +murmured in a soft dramatic whisper: 'I see the Divine Dove!----' + +The doors, closed during prayer, were opened, and more people entered. +A youth came into Anna's pew. + +The superintendent minister gave out another hymn, and when this was +finished the revivalist, who had been resting in a chair, came forward +again. 'Friends and fellow-sinners,' he said, 'a lot of you, fools +that you are, have come here to-night to hear me play my cornet. Well, +you have heard me. I have played the cornet, and I will play it again. +I would play it on my head if by so doing I could bring sinners to +Christ. I have been called a mountebank. I am one. I glory in it. I +am God's mountebank, doing God's precious business in my own way. But +God's precious business cannot be carried on, even by a mountebank, +without money, and there will be a collection towards the expenses of +the Revival. During the collection we will sing "Rock of Ages," and +you shall hear my cornet again. If you feel willing to give us your +sixpences, give; but if you resent a collection,' here he adopted a +tone of ferocious sarcasm, 'keep your miserable sixpences and get +sixpenny-worth of miserable enjoyment out of them elsewhere.' + +As the meeting proceeded, submitting itself more and more to the +imperious hypnotism of the revivalist, Anna gradually became oppressed +by a vague sensation which was partly sorrow and partly an inexplicable +dull anger--anger at her own penitence. She felt as if everything was +wrong and could never by any possibility be righted. After two +exhortations, from the minister and the revivalist, and another hymn, +the revivalist once more prayed, and as he did so Anna looked +stealthily about in a sick, preoccupied way. The youth at her side +stared glumly in front of him. In the orchestra Henry Mynors was +whispering to the organist. Down in the body of the chapel the +atmosphere was electric, perilous, overcharged with spiritual emotion. +She was glad she was not down there. The voice of the revivalist +ceased, but he kept the attitude of supplication. Sobs were heard in +various quarters, and here and there an elder of the chapel could be +seen talking quietly to some convicted sinner. The revivalist began +softly to sing 'Jesu, lover of my soul,' and most of the congregation, +standing up, joined him; but the sinners stricken of the Spirit +remained abjectly bent, tortured by conscience, pulled this way by +Christ and that by Satan. A few rose and went to the Communion rails, +there to kneel in the sight of all. Mr. Banks descended from the +pulpit and opening the wicket which led to the Communion table spoke to +these over the rails, reassuringly, as a nurse to a child. Other +sinners, desirous of fuller and more intimate guidance, passed down the +aisles and so into the preacher's vestry at the eastern end of the +chapel, and were followed thither by class-leaders and other proved +servants of God: among these last were Titus Price and Mr. Sutton. + +'The blood of Christ atones,' said the revivalist solemnly at the end +of the hymn. 'The spirit of Christ is working among us. Let us engage +in private prayer. Let us drive the devil out of this chapel.' + +More sighs and groans followed. Then someone cried out in sharp, +shrill tones, 'Praise Him;' and another cried, 'Praise Him;' and an old +woman's quavering voice sang the words, 'I know that my Redeemer +liveth.' Anna was in despair at her own predicament, and the sense of +sin was not more strong than the sense of being confused and publicly +shamed. A man opened the pew-door, and sitting down by the youth's +side began to talk with him. It was Henry Mynors. Anna looked +steadily away, at the wall, fearful lest he should address her too. +Presently the youth got up with a frenzied gesture and walked out of +the gallery, followed by Mynors. In a moment she saw the youth +stepping awkwardly along the aisle beneath, towards the inquiry room, +his head forward, and the lower lip hanging as though he were sulky. + +Anna was now in the profoundest misery. The weight of her sins, of her +ingratitude to God, lay on her like a physical and intolerable load, +and she lost all feeling of shame, as a sea-sick voyager loses shame +after an hour of nausea. She knew then that she could no longer go on +living as aforetime. She shuddered at the thought of her tremendous +responsibility to Agnes--Agnes who took her for perfection. She +recollected all her sins individually--lies, sloth, envy, vanity, even +theft in her infancy. She heaped up all the wickedness of a lifetime, +hysterically augmented it, and found a horrid pleasure in the +exaggeration. Her virtuous acts shrank into nothingness. + +A man, and then another, emerged from the vestry door with beaming, +happy face. These were saved; they had yielded to Christ's persuasive +invitation. Anna tried to imagine herself converted, or in the process +of being converted. She could not. She could only sit moveless, dull, +and abject. She did not stir, even when the congregation rose for +another hymn. In what did conversion consist? Was it to say the +words, 'I believe'? She repeated to herself softly, 'I believe; I +believe.' But nothing happened. Of course she believed. She had +never doubted, or dreamed of doubting, that Jesus died on the Cross to +save her soul--_her_ soul--from eternal damnation. She was probably +unaware that any person in Christendom had doubted that fact so +fundamental to her. What, then, was lacking? What was belief? What +was faith? + +A venerable class-leader came from the vestry, and, slowly climbing the +pulpit stairs, whispered in the ear of the revivalist. The latter +faced the congregation with a cry of joy. 'Lord,' he exclaimed, 'we +bless Thee that seventeen souls have found Thee! Lord, let the full +crop be gathered, for the fields are white unto harvest.' There was an +exuberant chorus of praise to God. + +The door of the pew was opened gently, and Anna started to see Mrs. +Sutton at her side. She at once guessed that Mynors had sent to her +this angel of consolation. + +'Are you near the light, dear Anna?' Mrs. Sutton began. + +Anna searched for an answer. She now sat huddled up in the corner of +the pew, her face partially turned towards Mrs. Sutton, who looked +mildly into her eyes. 'I don't know,' Anna stammered, feeling like a +naughty school-girl. A doubt whether the whole affair was not after +all absurd flashed through her, and was gone. + +'But it is quite simple,' said Mrs. Sutton. 'I cannot tell you +anything that you do not know. Cast out pride. Cast out pride--that +is it. Nothing but earthly pride prevents you from realising the +saving power of Christ. You are afraid, Anna, afraid to be humble. Be +brave. It is so simple, so easy. If one will but submit.' + +Anna said nothing, had nothing to say, was conscious of nothing save +excessive discomfort. + +'Where do you feel your difficulty to be?' asked Mrs. Sutton. + +'I don't know,' she answered wearily. + +'The happiness that awaits you is unspeakable. I have followed Christ +for nearly fifty years, and my happiness increases daily. Sometimes I +do not know how to contain it all. It surges above all the trials and +disappointments of this world. Oh, Anna, if you will but believe!' + +The ageing woman's thin, distinguished face, crowned with abundant grey +hair, glistened with love and compassion, and as Anna's eyes rested +upon it Anna felt that here was something tangible, something to lay +hold on. + +'I think I do believe,' she said weakly. + +'You "think"? Are you sure? Are you not deceiving yourself? Belief +is not with the lips: it is with the heart.' + +There was a pause. Mr. Banks could be heard praying. + +'I will go home,' Anna whispered at length, 'and think it out for +myself.' + +'Do, my dear girl, and God will help you.' + +Mrs. Sutton bent and kissed Anna affectionately, and then hurried away +to offer her ministrations elsewhere. As Anna left the chapel, she +encountered the chapel-keeper pacing regularly to and fro across the +length of the broad steps. In the porch was a notice that cabinet +photographs of the revivalist could be purchased on application, at one +shilling each. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +WILLIE + +Anna closed the bedroom door softly; through the open window came the +tones of Cauldon Church clock, famous for their sonority, and richness, +announcing eleven. Agnes lay asleep under the blue-and-white +counterpane, on the side of the bed next the wall, the bed-clothes +pushed down and disclosing the upper half of her night-gowned figure. +She slept in absolute repose, with flushed cheek and every muscle lax, +her hair by some chance drawn in a perfect straight line diagonally +across the pillow. Anna glanced at her sister, the image of physical +innocence and childish security, and then, depositing the candle, went +to the window and looked out. + +The bedroom was over the kitchen and faced south. The moon was hidden +by clouds, but clear stretches of sky showed thick-studded clusters of +stars brightly winking. To the far right across the fields the +silhouette of Hillport Church could just be discerned on the ridge. In +front, several miles away, the blast-furnaces of Cauldon Bar Ironworks +shot up vast wreaths of yellow flame with canopies of tinted smoke. +Still more distant were a thousand other lights crowning chimney and +kiln, and nearer, on the waste lands west of Bleakridge, long fields of +burning ironstone glowed with all the strange colours of decadence. +The entire landscape was illuminated and transformed by these unique +pyrotechnics of labour atoning for its grime, and dull, weird sounds, +as of the breathings and sighings of gigantic nocturnal creatures, +filled the enchanted air. It was a romantic scene, a romantic summer +night, balmy, delicate, and wrapped in meditation. But Anna saw +nothing there save the repulsive evidences of manufacture, had never +seen anything else. + +She was still horribly, acutely miserable, exhausted by the fruitless +search for some solution of the enigma of sin--her sin in +particular--and of redemption. She had cogitated in a vain circle +until she was no longer capable of reasoned ideas. She gazed at the +stars and into the illimitable spaces beyond them, and thought of life +and its inconceivable littleness, as millions had done before in the +presence of that same firmament. Then, after a time, her brain resumed +its nightmare-like task. She began to probe herself anew. Would it +have availed if she had walked publicly to the penitential form at the +Communion rail, and, ranging herself with the working men and women, +proved by that overt deed the sincerity of her contrition? She wished +ardently that she had done so, yet knew well that such an act would +always be impossible for her, even though the evasion of it meant +eternal torture. Undoubtedly, as Mrs. Sutton had implied, she was +proud, stiff-necked, obstinate in iniquity. + +Agnes stirred slightly in her sleep, and Anna, aroused, dropped the +blind, turned towards the room and began to undress, slowly, with +reflective pauses. Her melancholy became grim, sardonic; if she was +doomed to destruction, so let it be. Suddenly, half-glad, she knelt +down and prayed, prayed that pride might be cast out, burying her face +in the coverlet and caging the passionate effusion in a whisper lest +Agnes should be disturbed. Having prayed, she still knelt quiescent; +her eyes were dry and burning. The last car thundered up the road, +shaking the house, and she rose, finished undressing, blew out the +candle, and slipped into bed by Agnes's side. + +She could not sleep, did not attempt to sleep, but abandoned herself +meekly to despair. Her thoughts covered again the interminable round, +and again, and yet again. In the twilight of the brief summer night +her accustomed eyes could distinguish every object in the room, all the +bits of furniture which had been bought from Hanbridge and with which +she had been familiar since her memory began: everything appeared mean, +despicable, cheerless; there was nothing to inspire. She dreamed +impossibly of a high spirituality which should metamorphose all, change +her life, lend glamour to the most pitiful surroundings, ennoble the +most ignominious burdens--a spirituality never to be hers. + +At any rate she would tell her father in the morning that she was +convicted of sin, and, however hopelessly, seeking salvation; she would +tell both her father and Agnes at breakfast. The task would be +difficult, but she swore to do it. She resolved, she endeavoured to +sleep, and did sleep uneasily for a short period. When she woke the +great business of the dawn had begun. She left the bed, and drawing up +the blind looked forth. The furnace fires were paling; a few milky +clouds sailed in the vast pallid blue. It was cool just then, and she +shivered. She went to the glass, and examined her face carefully, but +it gave no signs whatever of the inward warfare. She saw her plain and +mended night-gown. Suppose she were married to Mynors! Suppose he lay +asleep in the bed where Agnes lay asleep! Involuntarily she glanced at +Agnes to certify that the child and none else was indeed there, and got +into bed hurriedly and hid herself because she was ashamed to have had +such a fancy. But she continued to think of Mynors. She envied him +for his cheerfulness, his joy, his goodness, his dignity, his tact, his +sex. She envied every man. Even in the sphere of religion, men were +not fettered like women. No man, she thought, would acquiesce in the +futility to which she was already half resigned; a man would either +wring salvation from the heavenly powers or race gloriously to hell. +Mynors--Mynors was a god! + +She recollected her resolution to speak to her father and Agnes at +breakfast, and shudderingly confirmed it, but less stoutly than before. +Then an announcement made by Mr. Banks in chapel on the previous +evening presented itself, as though she was listening to it for the +first time. It was the announcement of a prayer-meeting for workers in +the Revival, to be held that (Saturday) morning at seven o'clock. She +instantly decided to go to the meeting, and the decision seemed to give +her new hope. Perhaps there she might find peace. On that faint +expectancy she fell asleep again and did not wake till half-past six, +after her usual hour. She heard noises in the yard; it was her father +going towards the garden with a wheelbarrow. She dressed quickly, and +when she had pinned on her hat she woke Agnes. + +'Going out, Sis?' the child asked sleepily, seeing her attire. + +'Yes, dear. I am going to the seven o'clock prayer-meeting. And you +must get breakfast. You can--can't you?' + +The child assented, glad of the chance. + +'But what are you going to the prayer-meeting for?' + +Anna hesitated. Why not confess? No. 'I must go,' she said quietly +at length. 'I shall be back before eight.' + +'Does father know?' Agnes enquired apprehensively. + +'No, dear.' + +Anna shut the door quickly, went softly downstairs and along the +passage, and crept into the street like a thief. + +Men and women and boys and girls were on their way to work, with +hurried clattering steps, some munching thick pieces of bread as they +went, all self-centred, apparently morose and not quite awake. The +dust lay thick in the arid gutters, and in drifts across the pavement; +as the night-wind had blown it. Vehicular traffic had not begun, and +blinds were still drawn; and though the footpaths were busy the street +had a deserted and forlorn aspect. Anna walked hastily down the road, +avoiding the glances of such as looked at her, but peering furtively at +the faces of those who ignored her. All seemed callous--hoggishly +careless of the everlasting verities. At first it appeared strange to +her that the potent revival in the Wesleyan chapel had produced no +effect on these preoccupied people. Bursley, then, continued its dull +and even course. She wondered whether any of them guessed that she was +going to the prayer-meeting and secretly sneered at her therefore. + +When she had climbed Duck Bank she found to her surprise that the doors +of the chapel were fast closed, though it was ten minutes past seven. +Was there to be no prayer-meeting? A momentary sensation of relief +flashed through her, and then she saw that the gate of the school-yard +was open. She should have known that early morning prayers were never +offered up in the chapel, but in the lecture-hall. She crossed the +quadrangle with beating heart, feeling now that she had embarked on a +frightful enterprise. The door of the lecture-hall was ajar; she +pushed it and went in. At the other end of the hall a meagre handful +of worshippers were collected, and on the raised platform stood Mr. +Banks, vapid, perfunctory and fatigued. He gave out a verse, and +pitched the tune--too high, but the singers with a heroic effect +accomplished the verse without breaking down. The singing was thin and +feeble, and the eagerness of one or two voices seemed strained, as +though with a determination to make the best of things. Mynors was not +present, and Anna did not know whether to be sorry or glad at this. +She recognised that save herself all present were old believers, tried +warriors of the Lord. There was only one other woman, Miss Sarah +Vodrey, an aged spinster who kept house for Titus Price and his son, +and found her sole diversion in the variety of her religious +experiences. Before the hymn was finished a young man joined the +assembly; it was the youth who had sat near Anna on the previous night, +an ecstatic and naïve bliss shone from his face. In his prayer the +minister drew the attention of the Deity to the fact that although a +score or more of souls had been ingathered at the first service, the +Methodists of Bursley were by no means satisfied. They wanted more; +they wanted the whole of Bursley; and they would be content with no +less. He begged that their earnest work might not be shamed before the +world by a partial success. In conclusion he sought the blessing of +God on the revivalist and asked that this tireless enthusiast might be +led to husband his strength: at which there was a fervent Amen. + +Several men prayed, and a pause ensued, all still kneeling. + +Then the minister said in a tone of oily politeness: + +'Will a sister pray?' + +Another pause followed. + +'Sister Tellwright?' + +Anna would have welcomed death and damnation. She clasped her hands +tightly, and longed for the endless moment to pass. At last Sarah +Vodrey gave a preliminary cough. Miss Vodrey was always happy to pray +aloud, and her invocations usually began with the same phrase: 'Lord, +we thank Thee that this day finds us with our bodies out of the grave +and our souls out of hell.' + +Afterwards the minister gave out another hymn, and as soon as the +singing commenced Anna slipped away. Once in the yard, she breathed a +sigh of relief. Peace at the prayer-meeting? It was like coming out +of prison. Peace was farther off than ever. Nay, she had actually +forgotten her soul in the sensations of shame and discomfort. She had +contrived only to make herself ridiculous, and perhaps the pious at +their breakfast-tables would discuss her and her father, and their +money, and the queer life they led. + +If Mynors had but been present! + +She walked out into the street. It was twenty minutes to eight by the +town-hall clock. The last workmen's car of the morning was just +leaving Bursley: it was packed inside and outside, and the conductor +hung insecurely on the step. At the gates of the manufactory opposite +the chapel, a man in a white smock stood placidly smoking a pipe. A +prayer-meeting was a little thing, a trifle in the immense and regular +activity of the town: this thought necessarily occurred to Anna. She +hurried homewards, wondering what her father would say about that +morning's unusual excursion. A couple of hundred yards distant from +home she saw, to her astonishment, Agnes emerging from the front-door +of the house. The child ran rapidly down the street, not observing +Anna till they were close upon each other. + +'Oh, Anna! You forgot to buy the bacon yesterday. There isn't a +_scrap_, and father's fearfully angry. He gave me sixpence, and I'm +going down to Leal's to get some as quick as ever I can.' + +It was a thunderbolt to Anna, this seemingly petty misadventure. As +she entered the house she felt a tear on her cheek. She was ashamed to +weep, but she wept. This, after the fiasco of the prayer-meeting, was +a climax of woe; it overtopped and extinguished all the rest; her soul +was nothing to her now. She quickly took off her hat and ran to the +kitchen. Agnes had put the breakfast-things on the tray ready for +setting; the bread was cut, the coffee portioned into the jug; the fire +burned bright, and the kettle sang. Anna took the cloth from the +drawer in the oak dresser, and went to the parlour to lay the table. +Mr. Tellwright was at the end of the garden, pointing the wall, his +back to the house. The table set, Anna observed that the room was only +partly dusted: there was a duster on the mantelpiece; she seized it to +finish, and at that moment the kitchen clock struck eight. +Simultaneously Mr. Tellwright dropped his trowel, and came towards the +house. She doggedly dusted one chair, and then, turning coward, flew +away upstairs; the kitchen was barred to her since her father would +enter by the kitchen door. + +She had forgotten to buy bacon, and breakfast would be late: it was a +calamity unique in her experience! She stood at the door of her +bedroom, and waited, vehemently, for Agnes's return. At last the child +raced breathlessly in; Anna flew to meet her. With incredible speed +the bacon was whipped out of its wrapper, and Anna picked up the knife. +At the first stroke she cut herself, and Agnes was obliged to bind the +finger with rag. The clock struck the half-hour like a knell. It was +twenty minutes to nine, forty minutes behind time, when the two girls +hurried into the parlour, Anna bearing the bacon and hot plates, Agnes +the bread and coffee. Mr. Tellwright sat upright and ferocious in his +chair, the image of offence and wrath. Instead of reading his letters +he had fed full of this ineffable grievance. The meal began in a +desolating silence. The male creature's terrible displeasure permeated +the whole room like an ether, invisible but carrying vibrations to the +heart. Then, when he had eaten one piece of bacon, and cut his +envelopes, the miser began to empty himself of some of his anger in +stormy tones that might have uprooted trees. Anna ought to feel +thoroughly ashamed. He could not imagine what she had been thinking +of. Why didn't she tell him she was going to the prayer-meeting? Why +did she go to the prayer-meeting, disarranging the whole household? +How came she to forget the bacon? It was gross carelessness. A pretty +example to her little sister! The fact was that _since her birthday_ +she had gotten above hersen. She was careless and extravagant. Look +how thick the bacon was cut. He should not stand it much longer. And +her finger all red, and the blood dropping on the cloth: a nice sight +at a meal! Go and tie it up again. + +Without a word she left the room to obey. Of course she had no +defence. Agnes, her tears falling, pecked her food timidly like a +bird, not daring to stir from her chair, even to assist at the finger. + +'What did Mr. Mynors say?' Tellwright inquired fiercely when Anna had +come back into the room. + +'Mr. Mynors?' she murmured, at a loss, but vaguely apprehending further +trouble. + +'Did ye see him?' + +'Yes, father.' + +'Did ye give him my message?' + +'I forgot it.' God in heaven! She had forgotten the message! + +With a devastating grunt Mr. Tellwright walked speechless out of the +room. The girls cleared the table, exchanging sympathy with a single +mute glance. Anna's one satisfaction was that, even if she had +remembered the message, she could not possibly have delivered it. + +Ephraim Tellwright stayed in the front parlour till half-past ten +o'clock, unseen but felt, like an angry god behind a cloud. The +consciousness that he was there, unappeased and dangerous, remained +uppermost in the minds of the two girls during the morning. At +half-past ten he opened the door. + +'Agnes!' he commanded, and Agnes ran to him from the kitchen with the +speed of propitiation. + +'Yes, father.' + +'Take this note down to Price's, and don't wait for an answer.' + +'Yes, father.' + +She was back in twenty minutes. Anna was sweeping the lobby. + +'If Mr. Mynors calls while I'm out, you mun tell him to wait,' Mr. +Tellwright said to Agnes, pointedly ignoring Anna's presence. Then, +having brushed his greenish hat on his sleeve he went off towards town +to buy meat and vegetables. He always did Saturday's marketing +himself. At the butcher's and in the St. Luke's covered market he was +a familiar and redoubtable figure. Among the salespeople who stood the +market was a wrinkled, hardy old potato-woman from the other side of +Moorthorne: every Saturday the miser bested her in their +higgling-match, and nearly every Saturday she scornfully threw at him +the same joke: 'Get thee along to th' post-office, Master Terrick:[1] +happen they'll give thee sixpenn'orth o' stamps for fivepence +ha'penny.' He seldom failed to laugh heartily at this. + +At dinner the girls could perceive that the shadow of his displeasure +had slightly lifted, though he kept a frowning silence. Expert in all +the symptoms of his moods, they knew that in a few hours he would begin +to talk again, at first in monosyllables, and then in short detached +sentences. An intimation of relief diffused itself through the house +like a hint of spring in February. + +These domestic upheavals followed always the same course, and Anna had +learnt to suffer the later stages of them with calmness and even with +impassivity. Henry Mynors had not called. She supposed that her +father had expected him to call for the answer which she had forgotten +to give him, and she had a hope that he would come in the afternoon: +once again she had the idea that something definite and satisfactory +might result if she could only see him--that she might, as it were, +gather inspiration from the mere sight of his face. After dinner, +while the girls were washing the dinner things in the scullery, Agnes's +quick ear caught the sound of voices in the parlour. They listened. +Mynors had come. Mr. Tellwright must have seen him from the front +window and opened the door to him before he could ring. + +'It's him,' said Agnes, excited. + +'Who?' Anna asked, self-consciously. + +'Mr. Mynors, of course,' said the child sharply, making it quite plain +that this affectation could not impose on her for a single instant. + +'Anna!' It was Mr. Tellwright's summons, through the parlour window. +She dried her hands, doffed her apron, and went to the parlour, +animated by a thousand fears and expectations. Why was she to be +included in the colloquy? + +Mynors rose at her entrance and greeted her with conspicuous deference, +a deference which made her feel ashamed. + +'Hum!' the old man growled, but he was obviously content. 'I gave Anna +a message for ye yesterday, Mr. Mynors, but her forgot to deliver it, +wench-like. Ye might ha' been saved th' trouble o' calling. Now as +ye're here, I've summat for tell ye. It 'll be Anna's money as 'll go +into that concern o' yours. I've none by me; in fact, I'm a'most fast +for brass, but her 'll have as near two thousand as makes no matter in +a month's time, and her says her 'll go in wi' you on th' strength o' +my recommendation.' + +This speech was evidently a perfect surprise for Henry Mynors. For a +moment he seemed to be at a loss; then his face gave candid expression +to a feeling of intense pleasure. + +'You know all about this business then, Miss Tellwright?' + +She blushed. 'Father has told me something about it.' + +'And are you willing to be my partner?' + +'Nay, I did na' say that,' Tellwright interrupted. 'It 'll be Anna's +money, but i' my name.' + +'I see,' said Mynors gravely. 'But if it is Miss Anna's money, why +should not she be the partner?' He offered one of his courtly +diplomatic smiles. + +'Oh--but----' Anna began in deprecation. + +Tellwright laughed. 'Ay!' he said, 'why not? It 'll be experience for +th' lass.' + +'Just so,' said Mynors. + +Anna stood silent, like a child who is being talked about. There was a +pause. + +'Would you care for that arrangement, Miss Tellwright?' + +'Oh, yes,' she said. + +'I shall try to justify your confidence. I needn't say that I think +you and your father will have no reason to be disappointed. Two +thousand pounds is of course only a trifle to you, but it is a great +deal to me, and--and----' He hesitated. Anna did not surmise that he +was too much moved by the sight of her, and the situation, to continue, +but this was the fact. + +'There's nobbut one point, Mr. Mynors,' Tellwright said bluntly, 'and +that's the interest on th' capital, as must be deducted before +reckoning profits. Us must have six per cent.' + +'But I thought we had settled it at five,' said Mynors with sudden +firmness. + +'We 'n settled as you shall have five on your fifteen hundred,' the +miser replied with imperturbable audacity, 'but us mun have our six.' + +'I certainly thought we had thrashed that out fully, and agreed that +the interest should be the same on each side.' Mynors was alert and +defensive. + +'Nay, young man. Us mun have our six. We're takkin' a risk.' + +Mynors pressed his lips together. He was taken at a disadvantage. Mr. +Tellwright, with unscrupulous cleverness, had utilized the effect on +Mynors of his daughter's presence to regain a position from which the +younger man had definitely ousted him a few days before. Mynors was +annoyed, but he gave no sign of his annoyance. + +'Very well,' he said at length, with a private smile at Anna to +indicate that it was out of regard for her that he yielded. + +Mr. Tellwright made no pretence of concealing his satisfaction. He, +too, smiled at Anna, sardonically: the last vestige of the morning's +irritation vanished in a glow of triumph. + +'I'm afraid I must go,' said Mynors, looking at his watch. 'There is a +service at chapel at three. Our Revivalist came down with Mrs. Sutton +to look over the works this morning, and I told him I should be at the +service. So I must. You coming, Mr. Tellwright?' + +'Nay, my lad. I'm owd enough to leave it to young uns.' + +Anna forced her courage to the verge of rashness, moved by a swift +impulse. + +'Will you wait one minute?' she said to Mynors. 'I am going to the +service. If I'm late back, father, Agnes will see to the tea. Don't +wait for me.' She looked him straight in the face. It was one of the +bravest acts of her life. After the episode of breakfast, to suggest a +procedure which might entail any risk upon another meal was absolutely +heroic. Tellwright glanced away from his daughter, and at Mynors. +Anna hurried upstairs. + +'Who's thy lawyer, Mr. Mynors?' Tellwright asked. + +'Dane,' said Mynors. + +'That 'll be convenient. Dane does my bit o' business, too. I'll see +him, and make a bargain wi' him for th' partnership deed. He always +works by contract for me. I've no patience wi' six-and-eight-pences.' + +Mynors assented. + +'You must come down some afternoon and look over the works,' he said to +Anna as they were walking down Trafalgar Road towards chapel. + +'I should like to,' Anna replied. 'I've never been over a works in my +life.' + +'No? You are going to be a partner in the best works of its size in +Bursley,' Mynors said enthusiastically. + +'I'm glad of that,' she smiled, 'for I do believe I own the worst.' + +'What--Price's do you mean?' + +She nodded. + +'Ah!' he exclaimed, and seemed to be thinking. 'I wasn't sure whether +that belonged to you or your father. I'm afraid it isn't quite the +best of properties. But perhaps I'd better say nothing about that. We +had a grand meeting last night. Our little cornet-player quite lived +up to his reputation, don't you think?' + +'Quite,' she said faintly. + +'You enjoyed the meeting?' + +'No,' she blurted out, dismayed but resolute to be honest. + +There was a silence. + +'But you were at the early prayer-meeting this morning, I hear.' + +She said nothing while they took a dozen paces, and then murmured, +'Yes.' + +Their eyes met for a second, hers full of trouble. + +'Perhaps,' he said at length, 'perhaps--excuse me saying this--but you +may be expecting too much----' + +'Well?' she encouraged him, prepared now to finish what had been begun. + +'I mean,' he said, earnestly, 'that I--we--cannot promise you any +sudden change of feeling, any sudden relief and certainty, such as some +people experience. At least, I never had it. What is called +conversion can happen in various ways. It is a question of living, of +constant endeavour, with the example of Christ always before us. It +need not always be a sudden wrench, you know, from the world. Perhaps +you have been expecting too much,' he repeated, as though offering balm +with that phrase. + +She thanked him sincerely, but not with her lips, only with the heart. +He had revealed to her an avenue of release from a situation which had +seemed on all sides fatally closed. She sprang eagerly towards it. +She realised afresh how frightful was the dilemma from which there was +now a hope of escape, and she was grateful accordingly. Before, she +had not dared steadily to face its terrors. She wondered that even her +father's displeasure or the project of the partnership had been able to +divert her from the plight of her soul. Putting these mundane things +firmly behind her, she concentrated the activities of her brain on that +idea of Christ-like living, day by day, hour by hour, of a gradual +aspiration towards Christ and thereby an ultimate arrival at the state +of being saved. This she thought she might accomplish; this gave +opportunity of immediate effort, dispensing with the necessity of an +impossible violent spiritual metamorphosis. They did not speak again +until they had reached the gates of the chapel, when Mynors, who had to +enter the choir from the back, bade her a quiet adieu. Anna enjoyed +the service, which passed smoothly and uneventfully. At a Revival, +night is the time of ecstasy and fervour and salvation; in the +afternoon one must be content with preparatory praise and prayer. + +That evening, while father and daughters sat in the parlour after +supper, there was a ring at the door. Agnes ran to open, and found +Willie Price. It had begun to rain, and the visitor, his jacket-collar +turned up, was wet and draggled. Agnes left him on the mat and ran +back to the parlour. + +'Young Mr. Price wants to see you, father.' + +Tellwright motioned to her to shut the door. + +'You'd best see him, Anna,' he said. 'It's none my business.' + +'But what has he come about, father?' + +'That note as I sent down this morning. I told owd Titus as he mun pay +us twenty pun' on Monday morning certain, or us should distrain. Them +as can pay ten pun, especially in bank notes, can pay twenty pun, and +thirty.' + +'And suppose he says he can't?' + +'Tell him he must. I've figured it out and changed my mind about that +works. Owd Titus isna' done for yet, though he's getting on that road. +Us can screw another fifty out o' him, that 'll only leave six months +rent owing; then us can turn him out. He'll go bankrupt; us can claim +for our rent afore th' other creditors, and us 'll have a hundred or a +hundred and twenty in hand towards doing the owd place up a bit for a +new tenant.' + +'Make him bankrupt, father?' Anna exclaimed. It was the only part of +the ingenious scheme which she had understood. + +'Ay!' he said laconically. + +'But----' (Would Christ have driven Titus Price into the bankruptcy +court?) + +'If he pays, well and good.' + +'Hadn't you better see Mr. William, father?' + +'Whose property is it, mine or thine?' Tellwright growled. His good +humour was still precarious, insecurely re-established, and Anna +obediently left the room. After all, she said to herself, a debt is a +debt, and honest people pay what they owe. + +It was in an uncomplaisant tone that Anna invited Willie Price to the +front parlour: nervousness always made her seem harsh and moreover she +had not the trick of hiding firmness under suavity. + +'Will you come this way, Mr. Price?' + +'Yes,' he said with ingratiating, eager compliance. Dusk was falling, +and the room in shadow. She forgot to ask him to take a chair, so they +both stood up during the interview. + +'A grand meeting we had last night,' he began, twisting his hat. 'I +saw you there, Miss Tellwright.' + +'Yes.' + +'Yes. There was a splendid muster of teachers. I wanted to be at the +prayer-meeting this morning, but couldn't get away. Did you happen to +go, Miss Tellwright?' + +She saw that he knew that she had been present, and gave him another +curt monosyllable. She would have liked to be kind to him, to reassure +him, to make him happy and comfortable, so ludicrous and touching were +his efforts after a social urbanity which should appease; but, just as +much as he, she was unskilled in the subtle arts of converse. + +'Yes,' he continued, 'and I was anxious to be at to-night's meeting, +but the dad asked me to come up here. He said I'd better.' That term, +'the dad,' uttered in William's slow, drawling voice, seemed to show +Titus Price in a new light to Anna, as a human creature loved, not as a +mere gross physical organism: the effect was quite surprising. William +went on: 'Can I see your father, Miss Tellwright?' + +'Is it about the rent?' + +'Yes,' he said. + +'Well, if you will tell me----' + +'Oh! I beg pardon,' he said quickly. 'Of course I know it's your +property, but I thought Mr. Tellwright always saw after it for you. It +was he that wrote that letter this morning, wasn't it?' + +'Yes,' Anna replied. She did not explain the situation. + +'You insist on another twenty pounds on Monday?' + +'Yes,' she said. + +'We paid ten last Monday.' + +'But there is still over a hundred owing.' + +'I know, but--oh, Miss Tellwright, you mustn't be hard on us. Trade's +bad.' + +'It says in the "Signal" that trade is improving,' she interrupted +sharply. + +'Does it?' he said. 'But look at prices; they're cut till there's no +profit left. I assure you, Miss Tellwright, my father and me are +having a hard struggle. Everything's against us, and the works in +particular, as you know.' + +His tone was so earnest, so pathetic, that tears of compassion almost +rose to her eyes as she looked at those simple naïve blue eyes of his. +His lanky figure and clumsily-fitting clothes, his feeble placatory +smile, the twitching movements of his long red hands, all contributed +to the effect of his defencelessness. She thought of the test: +'Blessed are the meek,' and saw in a flash the deep truth of it. Here +were she and her father, rich, powerful, autocratic; and there were +Willie Price and his father, commercial hares hunted by hounds of +creditors, hares that turned in plaintive appeal to those greedy jaws +for mercy. And yet, she, a hound, envied at that moment the hares. +Blessed are the meek, blessed are the failures, blessed are the stupid, +for they, unknown to themselves, have a grace which is denied to the +haughty, the successful, and the wise. The very repulsiveness of old +Titus, his underhand methods, his insincerities, only served to +increase her sympathy for the pair. How could Titus help being himself +any more than Henry Mynors could help being himself? And that idea led +her to think of the prospective partnership, destined by every +favourable sign to brilliant success, and to contrast it with the +ignoble and forlorn undertaking in Edward Street. + +She tried to discover some method of soothing the young man's fears, of +being considerate to him without injuring her father's scheme. + +'If you will pay what you owe,' she said, 'we will spend it all, every +penny, on improving the works.' + +'Miss Tellwright,' he answered with fatal emphasis, 'we cannot pay.' + +Ah! She wished to follow Christ day by day, hour by hour--constantly +to endeavour after saintliness. What was she to do now? Left to +herself, she might have said in a burst of impulsive generosity, 'I +forgive you all arrears. Start afresh.' But her father had to be +reckoned with....... + +'How much do you think you can pay on Monday?' she asked coldly. + +At that moment her father entered the room. His first act was to light +the gas. Willie Price's eyes blinked at the glare, as though he were +trembling before the anticipated decree of this implacable old man. +Anna's heart beat with sympathetic apprehension. Tellwright shook +hands grimly with the youth, who re-stated hurriedly what he had said +to Anna. + +'It's o' this'n,' the old man began with finality, and stopped. Anna +caught a glance from him dismissing her. She went out in silence. On +the Monday Titus Price paid another twenty pounds. + + + +[1] _Terrick_: a corruption of Tellwright. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE SEWING MEETING + +On an afternoon ten days later, Mr. Sutton's coachman, Barrett by name, +arrived at Ephraim Tellwright's back-door with a note. The Tellwrights +were having tea. The note could be seen in his enormous hand, and +Agnes went out. + +'An answer, if you please, Miss,' he said to her, touching his hat, and +giving a pull to the leathern belt which, surrounding his waist, alone +seemed to hold his frame together. Agnes, much impressed, took the +note. She had never before seen that resplendent automaton apart from +the equipage which he directed. Always afterwards, Barrett formally +saluted her in the streets, affording her thus, every time, a thrilling +moment of delicious joy. + +'A letter, and there's an answer, and he's waiting,' she cried, running +into the parlour. + +'Less row!' said her father. 'Here, give it me.' + +'It's for Miss Tellwright--that's Anna, isn't it? Oh! Scent!' She +put the grey envelope to her nose like a flower. + +Anna, secretly as excited as her sister, opened the note and +read:--'Lansdowne House, Wednesday. Dear Miss Tellwright,--Mother +gives tea to the Sunday-school Sewing Meeting here _to-morrow_. Will +you give us the pleasure of your company? I do not think you have been +to any of the S.S.S. meetings yet, but we should all be glad to see you +and have your assistance. Everyone is working very hard for the Autumn +Bazaar, and mother has set her mind on the Sunday-school stall being +the best. Do come, will you? Excuse this short notice. Yours +sincerely, BEATRICE SUTTON. P.S.--We begin at 3.30.' + +'They want me to go to their sewing meeting to-morrow,' she exclaimed +timidly to her father, pushing the note towards him across the table. +'Must I go, father?' + +'What dost ask me for? Please thysen. I've nowt do wi' it.' + +'I don't want to go----' + +'Oh! Sis, _do_ go,' Agnes pleaded. + +'Perhaps I'd better,' she agreed, but with the misgivings of +diffidence. 'I haven't a rag to wear. I really must have a new dress, +father, at once.' + +'Hast forgotten as that there coachman's waiting?' he remarked curtly. + +'Shall I run and tell him you'll go?' Agnes suggested. 'It 'll be +splendid for you.' + +'Don't be silly, dear. I must write.' + +'Well, write then,' said the child energetically. 'I'll get you the +ink and paper.' She flew about and hovered over Anna while the answer +to the invitation was being written. Anna made her reply as short and +simple as possible, and then tendered it for her father's inspection. +'Will that do?' + +He pretended to be nonchalant, but in fact he was somewhat interested. + +'Thou's forgotten to put th' date in,' was all his comment, and he +threw the note back. + +'I've put Wednesday.' + +'That's not the date.' + +'Does it matter? Beatrice Sutton only puts Wednesday.' + +His response was to walk out of the room. + +'Is he vexed?' Agnes asked anxiously. There had been a whole week of +almost perfect amenity. + + +The next day at half-past three Anna, having put on her best clothes, +was ready to start. She had seen almost nothing of social life, and +the prospect of taking part in this entertainment of the Suttons filled +her with trepidation. Should she arrive early, in which case she would +have to talk more, or late, in which case there would be the ordeal of +entering a crowded room? She could not decide. She went into her +father's bedroom, whose window overlooked Trafalgar Road, and saw from +behind a curtain that small groups of ladies were continually passing +up the street to disappear into Alderman Sutton's house. Most of the +women she recognised; others she knew but vaguely by sight. Then the +stream ceased, and suddenly she heard the kitchen clock strike four. +She ran downstairs--Agnes, swollen by importance, was carrying her +father's tea into the parlour--and hastened out the back way. In +another moment she was at the Suttons' front-door. A servant in black +alpaca, with white wristbands, cap, streams, and embroidered apron +(each article a _dernier cri_ from Bostock's great shop at Hanbridge), +asked her in a subdued and respectful tone to step within. Externally +there had been no sign of the unusual, but once inside the house Anna +found it a humming hive of activity. Women laden with stuffs and +implements were crossing the picture-hung hall, their footsteps +noiseless on the thick rugs which lay about in rich confusion. On +either hand was an open door, and from each door came the sound of many +eager voices. Beyond these doors a broad staircase rose majestically +to unseen heights, closing the vista of the hall. As the servant was +demanding Anna's name, Beatrice Sutton, radiant and gorgeous, came with +a rush out of the room to the left, the dining-room, and, taking her by +both hands, kissed her. + +'My dear, we thought you were never coming. Everyone's here, except +the men, of course. Come along upstairs and take your things off. I'm +so glad you've kept your promise.' + +'Did you think I should break it?' said Anna, as they ascended the easy +gradient of the stairs. + +'Oh, no, my dear. But you're such a shy little bird.' + +The conception of herself as a shy little bird amused Anna. By a +curious chain of ideas she came to wonder who could clean those stairs +the better, she or this gay and flitting butterfly in a pale green +tea-gown. Beatrice led the way to a large bedroom, crammed with +furniture and knick-knacks. There were three mirrors in this spacious +apartment--one in the wardrobe, a cheval-glass, and a third over the +mantelpiece; the frame of the last was bordered with photographs. + +'This is my room,' said Beatrice. 'Will you put your things on the +bed?' The bed was already laden with hats, bonnets, jackets, and wraps. + +'I hope your mother won't give me anything fancy to do,' Anna said. +'I'm no good at anything except plain sewing.' + +'Oh, that's all right,' Beatrice answered carelessly. 'It's all plain +sewing.' She drew a cardboard box from her pocket, and offered it to +Anna. 'Here, have one.' They were chocolate creams. + +'Thanks,' said Anna, taking one. 'Aren't they very expensive? I've +never seen any like these before.' + +'Oh! Just ordinary. Four shillings a pound. Papa buys them for me: I +simply dote on them. I love to eat them in bed, if I can't sleep.' +Beatrice made these statements with her mouth full. 'Don't you adore +chocolates?' she added. + +'I don't know,' Anna lamely replied. 'Yes, I like them.' She only +adored her sister, and perhaps God; and this was the first time she had +tasted chocolate. + +'I couldn't _live_ without them,' said Beatrice. 'Your hair is lovely. +I never saw such a brown. What wash do you use?' + +'Wash?' Anna repeated. + +'Yes, don't you put anything on it?' + +'No, never.' + +'Well! Take care you don't lose it, that's all. Now, will you come +and have just a peep at my studio--where I paint, you know? I'd like +you to see it before we go down.' + +They proceeded to a small room on the second floor, with a sloping +ceiling and a dormer window. + +'I'm obliged to have this room,' Beatrice explained, 'because it's the +only one in the house with a north light, and of course you can't do +without that. How do you like it?' + +Anna said that she liked it very much. + +The walls of the room were hung with various odd curtains of Eastern +design. Attached somehow to these curtains some coloured plates, bits +of pewter, and a few fans were hung high in apparently precarious +suspense. Lower down on the walls were pictures and sketches, chiefly +unframed, of flowers, fishes, loaves of bread, candlesticks, mugs, +oranges and tea-trays. On an immense easel in the middle of the room +was an unfinished portrait of a man. + +'Who's that?' Anna asked, ignorant of those rules of caution which are +observed by the practised frequenter of studios. + +'Don't you know?' Beatrice exclaimed, shocked. 'That's papa; I'm doing +his portrait; he sits in that chair there. The silly old master at the +school won't let me draw from life yet--he keeps me to the antique--so +I said to myself I would study the living model at home. I'm +dreadfully in earnest about it, you know--I really am. Mother says I +work far too long up here.' + +Anna was unable to perceive that the picture bore any resemblance to +Alderman Sutton, except in the matter of the aldermanic robe, which she +could now trace beneath the portrait's neck. The studies on the walls +pleased her much better. Their realism amazed her. One could make out +not only that here for instance, was a fish--there was no doubt that it +was a hallibut; the solid roundness of the oranges and the glitter on +the tea-trays seemed miraculously achieved. 'Have you actually done +all these?' she asked, in genuine admiration. 'I think they're +splendid.' + +'Oh, yes, they're all mine; they're only still-life studies,' Beatrice +said contemptuously of them, but she was nevertheless flattered. + +'I see now that that _is_ Mr. Sutton,' Anna said, pointing to the easel +picture. + +'Yes, it's pa right enough. But I'm sure I'm boring you. Let's go +down now, or perhaps we shall catch it from mother.' + +As Anna, in the wake of Beatrice, entered the drawing-room, a dozen or +more women glanced at her with keen curiosity, and the even flow of +conversation ceased for a moment, to be immediately resumed. In the +centre of the room, with her back to the fire-place, Mrs. Sutton was +seated at a square table, cutting out. Although the afternoon was warm +she had a white woollen wrap over her shoulders; for the rest she was +attired in plain black silk, with a large stuff apron containing a +pocket for scissors and chalk. She jumped up with the activity of +which Beatrice had inherited a part, and greeted Anna, kissing her +heartily. + +'How are you, my dear? So pleased you have come.' The time-worn +phrases came from her thin, nervous lips full of sincere and kindly +welcome. Her wrinkled face broke into a warm, life-giving smile. +'Beatrice, find Miss Anna a chair.' There were two chairs in the bay +of the window, and one of them was occupied by Miss Dickinson, whom +Anna slightly knew. The other, being empty, was assigned to the +late-comer. + +'Now you want something to do, I suppose,' said Beatrice. + +'Please.' + +'Mother, let Miss Tellwright have something to get on with at once. +She has a lot of time to make up.' + +Mrs. Sutton, who had sat down again, smiled across at Anna. 'Let me +see, now, what can we give her?' + +'There's several of those boys' nightgowns ready tacked,' said Miss +Dickinson, who was stitching at a boy's nightgown. 'Here's one +half-finished,' and she picked up an inchoate garment from the floor. +'Perhaps Miss Tellwright wouldn't mind finishing it.' + +'Yes, I will do my best at it,' said Anna. + +The thoughtless girl had arrived at the sewing meeting without needles +or thimble or scissors, but one lady or another supplied these +deficiencies, and soon she was at work. She stitched her best and her +hardest, with head bent, and all her wits concentrated on the task. +Most of the others seemed to be doing likewise, though not to the +detriment of conversation. Beatrice sank down on a stool near her +mother, and, threading a needle with coloured silk, took up a long +piece of elaborate embroidery. + +The general subjects of talk were the Revival, now over, with a superb +record of seventy saved souls, the school-treat shortly to occur, the +summer holidays, the fashions, and the change of ministers which would +take place in August. The talkers were the wives and daughters of +tradesmen and small manufacturers, together with a few girls of a +somewhat lower status, employed in shops: it was for the sake of these +latter that the sewing meeting was always fixed for the weekly +half-holiday. The splendour of Mrs. Sutton's drawing-room was a little +dazzling to most of the guests, and Mrs. Sutton herself seemed scarcely +of a piece with it. The fact was that the luxury of the abode was +mainly due to Alderman Sutton's inability to refuse anything to his +daughter, whose tastes lay in the direction of rich draperies, large or +quaint chairs, occasional tables, dwarf screens, hand-painted mirrors, +and an opulence of bric-à-brac. The hand of Beatrice might be +perceived everywhere, even in the position of the piano, whose back, +adorned with carelessly-flung silks and photographs, was turned away +from the wall. The pictures on the walls had been acquired gradually +by Mr. Sutton at auction sales: it was commonly held that he had an +excellent taste in pictures, and that his daughter's aptitude for the +arts came from him, and not from her mother. The gilt clock and side +pieces on the mantelpiece were also peculiarly Mr. Sutton's, having +been publicly presented to him by the directors of a local building +society of which he had been chairman for many years. + +Less intimidated by all this unexampled luxury than she was reassured +by the atmosphere of combined and homely effort, the lowliness of +several of her companions, and the kind, simple face of Mrs. Sutton, +Anna quickly began to feel at ease. She paused in her work, and, +glancing around her, happened to catch the eye of Miss Dickinson, who +offered a remark about the weather. Miss Dickinson was head-assistant +at a draper's in St. Luke's Square, and a pillar of the Sunday-school, +which Sunday by Sunday and year by year had watched her develop from a +rosy-cheeked girl into a confirmed spinster with sallow and warted +face. Miss Dickinson supported her mother, and was a pattern to her +sex. She was lovable, but had never been loved. She would have made +an admirable wife and mother, but fate had decided that this material +was to be wasted. Miss Dickinson found compensation for the rigour of +destiny in gossip, as innocent as indiscreet. It was said that she had +a tongue. + +'I hear,' said Miss Dickinson, lowering her contralto voice to a +confidential tone, 'that you are going into partnership with Mr. +Mynors, Miss Tellwright.' + +The suddenness of the attack took Anna by surprise. Her first +defensive impulse was boldly to deny the statement, or at the least to +say that it was premature. A fortnight ago, under similar +circumstances, she would not have hesitated to do so. But for more +than a week Anna had been 'leading a new life,' which chiefly meant a +meticulous avoidance of the sins of speech. Never to deviate from the +truth, never to utter an unkind or a thoughtless word, under whatever +provocation: these were two of her self-imposed rules. 'Yes,' she +answered Miss Dickinson, 'I am.' + +'Rather a novelty, isn't it?' Miss Dickinson smiled amiably. + +'I don't know,' said Anna. 'It's only a business arrangement; father +arranged it. Really I have nothing to do with it, and I had no idea +that people were talking about it.' + +'Oh! Of course _I_ should never breathe a syllable,' Miss Dickinson +said with emphasis. 'I make a practice of never talking about other +people's affairs. I always find that best, don't you? But I happened +to hear it mentioned in the shop.' + +'It's very funny how things get abroad, isn't it?' said Anna. + +'Yes, indeed,' Miss Dickinson concurred. 'Mr. Mynors hasn't been to +our sewing meetings for quite a long time, but I expect he'll turn up +to-day.' + +Anna took thought. 'Is this a sort of special meeting, then?' + +'Oh, not at all. But we all of us said just now, while you were +upstairs, that he would be sure to come,' Miss Dickinson's features, +skilled in innuendo, conveyed that which was too delicate for +utterance. Anna said nothing. + +'You see a good deal of him at your house, don't you?' Miss Dickinson +continued. + +'He comes sometimes to see father on business,' Anna replied sharply, +breaking one of her rules. + +'Oh! Of course I meant that. You didn't suppose I meant anything +else, did you?' Miss Dickinson smiled pleasantly. She was thirty-five +years of age. Twenty of those years she had passed in a desolating +routine; she had existed in the midst of life and never lived; she knew +no finer joy than that which she at that moment experienced. + +Again Anna offered no reply. The door opened, and every eye was +centred on the stately Mrs. Clayton Vernon, who, with Mrs. Banks, the +minister's wife, was in charge of the other half of the sewing party in +the dining-room. Mrs. Clayton Vernon had heroic proportions, a nose +which everyone admitted to be aristocratic, exquisite tact, and the +calm consciousness of social superiority. In Bursley she was a great +lady: her instincts were those of a great lady; and she would have been +a great lady no matter to what sphere her God had called her. She had +abundant white hair, and wore a flowered purple silk, in the antique +taste. + +'Beatrice, my dear,' she began, 'you have deserted us.' + +'Have I, Mrs. Vernon?' the girl answered with involuntary deference. +'I was just coming in.' + +'Well, I am sent as a deputation from the other room to ask you to sing +something.' + +'I'm very busy, Mrs. Vernon. I shall never get this mantel-cloth +finished in time.' + +'We shall all work better for a little music,' Mrs. Clayton Vernon +urged. 'Your voice is a precious gift, and should be used for the +benefit of all. We entreat, my dear girl.' + +Beatrice arose from the footstool and dropped her embroidery. + +'Thank you,' said Mrs. Clayton Vernon. 'If both doors are left open we +shall hear nicely.' + +'What would you like?' Beatrice asked. + +'I once heard you sing "Nazareth," and I shall never forget it. Sing +that. It will do us all good.' + +Mrs. Clayton Vernon departed with the large movement of an argosy, and +Beatrice sat down to the piano and removed her bracelets. 'The +accompaniment is simply frightful towards the end,' she said, looking +at Anna with a grimace. 'Excuse mistakes.' + +During the song, Mrs. Sutton beckoned with her finger to Anna to come +and occupy the stool vacated by Beatrice. Glad to leave the vicinity +of Miss Dickinson, Anna obeyed, creeping on tiptoe across the +intervening space. 'I thought I would like to have you near me, my +dear,' she whispered maternally. When Beatrice had sung the song and +somehow executed that accompaniment which has terrorised whole +multitudes of drawing-room pianists, there was a great deal of applause +from both rooms. Mrs. Sutton bent down and whispered in Anna's ear: +'Her voice has been very well trained, has it not?' 'Yes, very,' Anna +replied. But, though 'Nazareth' had seemed to her wonderful, she had +neither understood it nor enjoyed it. She tried to like it, but the +effect of it on her was bizarre rather than pleasing. + +Shortly after half-past five the gong sounded for tea, and the ladies, +bidden by Mrs. Sutton, unanimously thronged into the hall and towards a +room at the back of the house. Beatrice came and took Anna by the arm. +As they were crossing the hall there was a ring at the door. 'There's +father--and Mr. Banks, too,' Beatrice exclaimed, opening to them. +Everyone in the vicinity, animated suddenly by this appearance of the +male sex, turned with welcoming smiles. 'A greeting to you all,' the +minister ejaculated with formal suavity as he removed his low hat. The +Alderman beamed a rather absent-minded goodwill on the entire company, +and said: 'Well! I see we're just in time for tea.' Then he kissed +his daughter, and she accepted from him his hat and stick. 'Miss +Tellwright, pa,' Beatrice said, drawing Anna forward: he shook hands +with her heartily, emerging for a moment from the benignant dream in +which he seemed usually to exist. + +That air of being rapt by some inward vision, common in very old men, +probably signified nothing in the case of William Sutton: it was a +habitual pose into which he had perhaps unconsciously fallen. But +people connected it with his humble archæological, geological, and +zoological hobbies, which had sprung from his membership of the Five +Towns Field Club, and which most of his acquaintances regarded with +amiable secret disdain. At a school-treat once, held at a popular +rural resort, he had taken some of the teachers to a cave, and pointing +out the wave-like formation of its roof had told them that this +peculiar phenomenon had actually been caused by waves of the sea. The +discovery, valid enough and perfectly substantiated by an inquiry into +the levels, was extremely creditable to the amateur geologist, but it +seriously impaired his reputation among the Wesleyan community as a +shrewd man of the world. Few believed the statement, or even tried to +believe it, and nearly all thenceforth looked on him as a man who must +be humoured in his harmless hallucinations and inexplicable +curiosities. On the other hand, the collection of arrowheads, Roman +pottery, fossils and birds' eggs which he had given to the Museum in +the Wedgwood Institution was always viewed with municipal pride. + +The tea-room opened by a large French window into a conservatory, and a +table was laid down the whole length of the room and the conservatory. +Mr. Sutton sat at one end and the minister at the other, but neither +Mrs. Sutton nor Beatrice occupied a distinctive place. The ancient +clumsy custom of having tea-urns on the table itself had been abolished +by Beatrice, who had read in a paper that carving was now never done at +table, but by a neatly-dressed parlour-maid at the sideboard. +Consequently the tea-urns were exiled to the sideboard, and the tea +dispensed by a couple of maids. Thus, as Beatrice had explained to her +mother, the hostess was left free to devote herself to the social arts. +The board was richly spread with fancy breads and cakes, jams of Mrs. +Sutton's own celebrated preserving, diverse sandwiches compiled by +Beatrice, and one or two large examples of the famous Bursley pork-pie. +Numerous as the company was, several chairs remained empty after +everyone was seated. Anna found herself again next to Miss Dickinson, +and five places from the minister, in the conservatory. Beatrice and +her mother were higher up, in the room. Grace was sung, by request of +Mrs. Sutton. At first, silence prevailed among the guests, and the +inquiries of the maids about milk and sugar were almost painfully +audible. Then Mr. Banks, glancing up the long vista of the table and +pretending to descry some object in the distance, called out: + +'Worthy host, I doubt not you are there, but I can only see you with +the eye of faith.' + +At this all laughed, and a natural ease was established. The minister +and Mrs. Clayton Vernon, who sat on his right, exchanged badinage on +the merits and demerits of pork-pies, and their neighbours formed an +appreciative audience. Then there was a sharp ring at the front door, +and one of the maids went out. + +'Didn't I tell you?' Miss Dickinson whispered to Anna. + +'What?' asked Anna. + +'That he would come to-day--Mr. Mynors, I mean.' + +'Who can that be?' Mrs. Sutton's voice was heard from the room. + +'I dare say it's Henry, mother,' Beatrice answered. + +Mynors entered, joyous and self-possessed, a white rose in his coat: he +shook hands with Mr. and Mrs. Sutton, sent a greeting down the table to +Mr. Banks and Mrs. Clayton Vernon, and offered a general apology for +being late. + +'Sit here,' said Beatrice to him, sharply, indicating a chair between +Mrs. Banks and herself. 'Mrs. Banks has a word to say to you about the +singing of that anthem last Sunday.' + +Mynors made some laughing rejoinder, and the voices sank so that Anna +could not catch what was said. + +'That's a new frock that Miss Sutton is wearing to-day,' Miss Dickinson +remarked in an undertone. + +'It looks new,' Anna agreed. + +'Do you like it?' + +'Yes. Don't you?' + +'Hum! Yes. It was made at Brunt's at Hanbridge. It's quite the +fashion to go there now,' said Miss Dickinson, and added, almost +inaudibly, 'She's put it on for Mr. Mynors. You saw how she saved that +chair for him.' + +Anna made no reply. + +'Did you know they were engaged once?' Miss Dickinson resumed. + +'No,' said Anna. + +'At least people said they were. It was all over the town--oh! let me +see, three years ago.' + +'I had not heard,' said Anna. + +During the rest of the meal she said little. On some natures Miss +Dickinson's gossip had the effect of bringing them to silence. Anna +had not seen Mynors since the previous Sunday, and now she was +apparently unperceived by him. He talked gaily with Beatrice and Mrs. +Banks: that group was a centre of animation. Anna envied their ease of +manner, their smooth and sparkling flow of conversation. She had the +sensation of feeling vulgar, clumsy, tongue-tied; Mynors and Beatrice +possessed something which she would never possess. So they had been +engaged! But had they? Or was it an idle rumour, manufactured by one +who spent her life in such creations? Anna was conscious of +misgivings. She had despised Beatrice once, but now it seemed that +after all Beatrice was the natural equal of Henry Mynors. Was it more +likely that Mynors or she, Anna, should be mistaken in Beatrice? That +Beatrice had generous instincts she was sure. Anna lost confidence in +herself; she felt humbled, out-of-place, and shamed. + +'If our hostess and the company will kindly excuse me,' said the +minister with a pompous air, looking at his watch, 'I must go. I have +an important appointment, or an appointment which some people think is +important.' + +He got up and made various adieux. The elaborate meal, complex with +fifty dainties each of which had to be savoured, was not nearly over. +The parson stopped in his course up the room to speak with Mrs. Sutton. +After he had shaken hands with her, he caught the admired violet eyes +of his slim wife, a lady of independent fortune whom the wives of +circuit stewards found it difficult to please in the matter of +furniture, and who despite her forty years still kept something of the +pose of a spoiled beauty. As a minister's spouse this languishing but +impeccable and invariably correct dame was unique even in the +experience of Mrs. Clayton Vernon. + +'Shall you not be home early, Rex?' she asked in the tone of a young +wife lounging amid the delicate odours of a boudoir. + +'My love,' he replied with the stern fixity of a histrionic martyr, +'did you ever know me have a free evening?' + +The Alderman accompanied his pastor to the door. + +After tea, Mynors was one of the first to leave the room, and Anna one +of the last, but he accosted her in the hall, on the way back to the +drawing-room, and asked how she was, and how Agnes was, with such +deference and sincerity of regard for herself and everything that was +hers that she could not fail to be impressed. Her sense of humiliation +and of uncertainty was effaced by a single word, a single glance. +Uplifted by a delicious reassurance, she passed into the drawing-room, +expecting him to follow: strange to say, he did not do so. Work was +resumed, but with less ardour than before. It was in fact impossible +to be strenuously diligent after one of Mrs. Sutton's teas, and in +every heart, save those which beat over the most perfect and vigorous +digestive organs, there was a feeling of repentance. The +building-society's clock on the mantel-piece intoned seven: all +expressed surprise at the lateness of the hour, and Mrs. Clayton +Vernon, pleading fatigue after her recent indisposition, quietly +departed. As soon as she was gone, Anna said to Mrs. Sutton that she +too must go. + +'Why, my dear?' Mrs. Sutton asked. + +'I shall be needed at home,' Anna replied. + +'Ah! In that case---- I will come upstairs with you, my dear,' said +Mrs. Sutton. + +When they were in the bedroom, Mrs. Sutton suddenly clasped her hand. +'How is it with you, dear Anna?' she said, gazing anxiously into the +girl's eyes. Anna knew what she meant, but made no answer. 'Is it +well?' the earnest old woman asked. + +'I hope so,' said Anna, averting her eyes, 'I am trying.' + +Mrs. Sutton kissed her almost passionately. 'Ah! my dear,' she +exclaimed with an impulsive gesture, 'I am glad, so glad. I did so +want to have a word with you. You must "lean hard," as Miss Havergal +says. "Lean hard" on Him. Do not be afraid.' And then, changing her +tone: 'You are looking pale, Anna. You want a holiday. We shall be +going to the Isle of Man in August or September. Would your father let +you come with us?' + +'I don't know,' said Anna. She knew, however, that he would not. +Nevertheless the suggestion gave her much pleasure. + +'We must see about that later,' said Mrs. Sutton, and they went +downstairs. + +'I must say good-bye to Beatrice. Where is she?' Anna said in the +hall. One of the servants directed them to the dining-room. The +Alderman and Henry Mynors were looking together at a large photogravure +of Sant's 'The Soul's Awakening,' which Mr. Sutton had recently bought, +and Beatrice was exhibiting her embroidery to a group of ladies: sundry +stitchers were scattered about, including Miss Dickinson. + +'It is a great picture--a picture that makes you think,' Henry was +saying, seriously, and the Alderman, feeling as the artist might have +felt, was obviously flattered by this sagacious praise. + +Anna said good-night to Miss Dickinson and then to Beatrice. Mynors, +hearing the words, turned round. 'Well, I must go. Good evening,' he +said suddenly to the astonished Alderman. + +'What? Now?' the latter inquired, scarcely pleased to find that Mynors +could tear himself away from the picture with so little difficulty. + +'Yes.' + +'Good-night, Mr. Mynors,' said Anna. + +'If I may I will walk down with you,' Mynors imperturbably answered. + +It was one of those dramatic moments which arrive without the slightest +warning. The gleam of joyous satisfaction in Miss Dickinson's eyes +showed that she alone had foreseen this declaration. For a declaration +it was, and a formal declaration. Mynors stood there calm, confident +with masculine superiority, and his glance seemed to say to those +swiftly alert women, whose faces could not disguise a thrilling +excitation: 'Yes. Let all know that I, Henry Mynors, the desired of +all, am honourably captive to this shy and perfect creature who is +blushing because I have said what I have said.' Even the Alderman +forgot his photogravure. Beatrice hurriedly resumed her explanation of +the embroidery. + +'How did you like the sewing meeting?' Mynors asked Anna when they were +on the pavement. + +Anna paused. 'I think Mrs. Sutton is simply a splendid woman,' she +said enthusiastically. + +When, in a moment far too short, they reached Tellwright's house, +Mynors, obeying a mutual wish to which neither had given expression, +followed Anna up the side entry, and so into the yard, where they +lingered for a few seconds. Old Tellwright could be seen at the +extremity of the long narrow garden--a garden which consisted chiefly +of a grass-plot sown with clothes-props and a narrow bordering of +flower beds without flowers. Agnes was invisible. The kitchen-door +stood ajar, and as this was the sole means of ingress from the yard +Anna, humming an air, pushed it open and entered, Mynors in her wake. +They stood on the threshold, happy, hesitating, confused, and looked at +the kitchen as at something which they had not seen before. Anna's +kitchen was the only satisfactory apartment in the house. Its +furniture included a dresser of the simple and dignified kind which is +now assiduously collected by amateurs of old oak. It had four long +narrow shelves holding plates and saucers; the cups were hung in a row +on small brass hooks screwed into the fronts of the shelves. Below the +shelves were three drawers in a line, with brass handles, and below the +drawers was a large recess which held stone jars, a copper +preserving-saucepan, and other receptacles. Seventy years of +continuous polishing by a dynasty of priestesses of cleanliness had +given to this dresser a rich ripe tone which the cleverest +trade-trickster could not have imitated. In it was reflected the +conscientious labour of generations. It had a soft and assuaged +appearance, as though it had never been new and could never have been +new. All its corners and edges had long lost the asperities of +manufacture, and its smooth surfaces were marked by slight hollows +similar in spirit to those worn by the naked feet of pilgrims into the +marble steps of a shrine. The flat portion over the drawers was +scarred with hundreds of scratches, and yet even all these seemed to be +incredibly ancient, and in some distant past to have partaken of the +mellowness of the whole. The dark woodwork formed an admirable +background for the crockery on the shelves, and a few of the old +plates, hand-painted according to some vanished secret in pigments +which time could only improve, had the look of relationship by birth to +the dresser. There must still be thousands of exactly similar dressers +in the kitchens of the people, but they are gradually being transferred +to the dining rooms of curiosity-hunters. To Anna this piece of +furniture, which would have made the most taciturn collector vocal with +joy, was merely 'the dresser.' She had always lamented that it +contained no cupboard. In front of the fireless range was an old steel +kitchen fender with heavy fire-irons. It had in the middle of its flat +top a circular lodgment for saucepans, but on this polished disc no +saucepan was ever placed. The fender was perhaps as old as the +dresser, and the profound depths of its polish served to mitigate +somewhat the newness of the patent coal-economising range which +Tellwright had had put in when he took the house. On the high +mantelpiece were four tall brass candlesticks which, like the dresser, +were silently awaiting their apotheosis at the hands of some collector. +Beside these were two or three common mustard tins, polished to +counterfeit silver, containing spices; also an abandoned coffee-mill +and two flat-irons. A grandfather's clock of oak to match the dresser +stood to the left of the fireplace; it had a very large white dial with +a grinning face in the centre. Though it would only run for +twenty-four hours, its leisured movement seemed to have the certainty +of a natural law, especially to Agnes, for Mr. Tellwright never forgot +to wind it before going to bed. Under the window was a plain deal +table, with white top and stained legs. Two Windsor chairs completed +the catalogue of furniture. The glistening floor was of red and black +tiles, and in front of the fender lay a list hearthrug made by +attaching innumerable bits of black cloth to a canvas base. On the +painted walls were several grocers' almanacs, depicting sailors in the +arms of lovers, children crossing brooks, or monks swelling themselves +with Gargantuan repasts. Everything in this kitchen was absolutely +bright and spotless, as clean as a cat in pattens, except the ceiling, +darkened by fumes of gas. Everything was in perfect order, and had the +humanised air of use and occupation which nothing but use and +occupation can impart to senseless objects. It was a kitchen where, in +the housewife's phrase, you might eat off the floor, and to any Bursley +matron it would have constituted the highest possible certificate of +Anna's character, not only as housewife but as elder sister--for in her +absence Agnes had washed the tea-things and put them away. + +'This is the nicest room, I know,' said Mynors at length. + +'Whatever do you mean?' Anna smiled, incapable of course of seeing the +place with his eye. + +'I mean there is nothing to beat a clean, straight kitchen,' Mynors +replied, 'and there never will be. It wants only the mistress in a +white apron to make it complete. Do you know, when I came in here the +other night, and you were sitting at the table there, I thought the +place was like a picture.' + +'How funny!' said Anna, puzzled but well satisfied. 'But won't you +come into the parlour?' + +The Persian with one ear met them in the lobby, his tail flying, but +cautiously sidled upstairs at sight of Mynors. When Anna opened the +door of the parlour she saw Agnes seated at the table over her lessons, +frowning and preoccupied. Tears were in her eyes. + +'Why, what's the matter, Agnes?' she exclaimed. + +'Oh! Go away,' said the child crossly. 'Don't bother.' + +'But what's the matter? You're crying.' + +'No, I'm not. I'm doing my sums, and I can't get it--can't---' The +child burst into tears just as Mynors entered. His presence was a +complete surprise to her. She hid her face in her pinafore, ashamed to +be thus caught. + +'Where is it?' said Mynors. 'Where is this sum that won't come right?' +He picked up the slate and examined it while Agnes was finding herself +again. 'Practice!' he exclaimed. 'Has Agnes got as far as practice?' +She gave him an instant's glance and murmured 'Yes.' Before she could +shelter her face he had kissed her. Anna was enchanted by his manner, +and as for Agnes, she surrendered happily to him at once. He worked +the sum, and she copied the figures into her exercise-book. Anna sat +and watched. + +'Now I must go,' said Mynors. + +'But surely you'll stay and see father,' Anna urged. + +'No. I really had not meant to call. Good-night, Agnes.' In a moment +he was gone out of the room and the house. It was as if, in obedience +to a sudden impulse, he had forcibly torn himself away. + +'Was _he_ at the sewing meeting?' Agnes asked, adding in parenthesis, +'I never dreamt he was here, and I was frightfully vexed. I felt such +a baby.' + +'Yes. At least, he came for tea.' + +'Why did he call here like that?' + +'How can I tell?' Anna said. The child looked at her. + +'It's awfully queer, isn't it?' she said slowly. 'Tell me all about +the sewing meeting. Did they have cakes or was it a plain tea? And +did you go into Beatrice Sutton's bedroom?' + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +ON THE BANK + +Anna began to receive her July interest and dividends. During a +fortnight remittances, varying from a few pounds to a few hundred of +pounds, arrived by post almost daily. They were all addressed to her, +since the securities now stood in her own name; and upon her, under the +miser's superintendence, fell the new task of entering them in a book +and paying them into the Bank. This mysterious begetting of money by +money--a strange process continually going forward for her benefit, in +various parts of the world, far and near, by means of activities of +which she was completely ignorant and would always be completely +ignorant--bewildered her and gave her a feeling of its unreality. The +elaborate mechanism by which capital yields interest without suffering +diminution from its original bulk is one of the commonest phenomena of +modern life, and one of the least understood. Many capitalists never +grasp it, nor experience the slightest curiosity about it until the +mechanism through some defect ceases to revolve. Tellwright was of +these; for him the interval between the outlay of capital and the +receipt of interest was nothing but an efflux of time: he planted +capital as a gardener plants rhubarb, tolerably certain of a particular +result, but not dwelling even in thought on that which is hidden. The +productivity of capital was to him the greatest achievement of social +progress--indeed, the social organism justified its existence by that +achievement; nothing could be more equitable than this productivity, +nothing more natural. He would as soon have inquired into it as Agnes +would have inquired into the ticking of the grandfather's clock. But +to Anna, who had some imagination, and whose imagination had been +stirred by recent events, the arrival of moneys out of space, unearned, +unasked, was a disturbing experience, affecting her as a conjuring +trick affects a child, whose sensations hesitate between pleasure and +apprehension. Practically, Anna could not believe that she was rich; +and in fact she was not rich--she was merely a fixed point through +which moneys that she was unable to arrest passed with the rapidity of +trains. If money is a token, Anna was denied the satisfaction of +fingering even the token: drafts and cheques were all that she touched +(touched only to abandon)--the doubly tantalising and insubstantial +tokens of a token. She wanted to test the actuality of this apparent +dream by handling coin and causing it to vanish over counters and into +the palms of the necessitous. And moreover, quite apart from this +curiosity, she really needed money for pressing requirements of Agnes +and herself. They had yet had no new summer clothes, and Whitsuntide, +the time prescribed by custom for the refurnishing of wardrobes, was +long since past. The intercourse with Henry Mynors, the visit to the +Suttons, had revealed to her more plainly than ever the intolerable +shortcomings of her wardrobe, and similar imperfections. She was more +painfully awake to these, and yet, by an unhappy paradox, she was even +less in a position to remedy them, than in previous years. For now, +she possessed her own fortune; to ask her father's bounty was +therefore, she divined, a sure way of inviting a rebuff. But, even if +she had dared, she might not use the income that was privately hers, +for was not every penny of it already allocated to the partnership with +Mynors! So it happened that she never once mentioned the matter to her +father; she lacked the courage, since by whatever avenue she approached +it circumstances would add an illogical and adventitious force to the +brutal snubs which he invariably dealt out when petitioned for money. +To demand his money, having fifty thousand of her own! To spend her +own in the face of that agreement with Mynors! She could too easily +guess his bitter and humiliating retorts to either proposition, and she +kept silence, comforting herself with timid visions of a far distant +future. The balance at the bank crept up to sixteen hundred pounds. +The deed of partnership was drawn; her father pored over the blue +draft, and several times Mynors called and the two men discussed it +together. Then one morning her father summoned her into the front +parlour, and handed to her a piece of parchment on which she dimly +deciphered her own name coupled with that of Henry Mynors, in large +letters. + +'You mun sign, seal, and deliver this,' he said, putting a pen in her +hand. + +She sat down obediently to write, but he stopped her with a scornful +gesture. + +'Thou 'lt sign blind then, eh? Just like a woman!' + +'I left it to you,' she said. + +'Left it to me! Read it.' + +She read through the deed, and after she had accomplished the feat one +fact only stood clear in her mind, that the partnership was for seven +years, a period extensible by consent of both parties to fourteen or +twenty-one years. Then she affixed her signature, the pen moving +awkwardly over the rough surface of the parchment. + +'Now put thy finger on that bit o' wax, and say; "I deliver this as my +act and deed."' + +'I deliver this as my act and deed.' + +The old man signed as witness. 'Soon as I give this to Lawyer Dane,' +he remarked, 'thou'rt bound, willy-nilly. Law's law, and thou'rt +bound.' + +On the following day she had to sign a cheque which reduced her +bank-balance to about three pounds. Perhaps it was the knowledge of +this reduction that led Ephraim Tellwright to resume at once and with +fresh rigour his new policy of 'squeezing the last penny' out of Titus +Price (despite the fact that the latter had already achieved the +incredible by paying thirty pounds in little more than a month), thus +causing the catastrophe which soon afterwards befell. What methods her +father was adopting Anna did not know, since he said no word to her +about the matter: she only knew that Agnes had twice been dispatched +with notes to Edward Street. One day, about noon, a clay-soiled urchin +brought a letter addressed to herself: she guessed that it was some +appeal for mercy from the Prices, and wished that her father had been +at home. The old man was away for the whole day, attending a sale of +property at Axe, the agricultural town in the north of the county, +locally styled 'the metropolis of the moorlands.' Anna read:--'My dear +Miss Tellwright,--Now that our partnership is an accomplished fact, +will you not come and look over the works? I should much like you to +do so. I shall be passing your house this afternoon about two, and +will call on the chance of being able to take you down with me to the +works. If you are unable to come no harm will be done, and some other +day can be arranged; but of course I shall be disappointed.--Believe +me, yours most sincerely, HY. MYNORS.' + +She was charmed with the idea--to her so audacious--and relieved that +the note was not after all from Titus or Willie Price: but again she +had to regret that her father was not at home. He would be capable of +thinking and saying that the projected expedition was a truancy, +contrived to occur in his absence. He might grumble at the house being +left without a keeper. Moreover, according to a tacit law, she never +departed from the fixed routine of her existence without first +obtaining Ephraim's approval, or at least being sure that such a +departure would not make him violently angry. She wondered whether +Mynors knew that her father was away, and, if so, whether he had chosen +that afternoon purposely. She did not care that Mynors should call for +her--it made the visit seem so formal; and as in order to reach the +works, down at Shawport by the canal-side, they would necessarily go +through the middle of the town, she foresaw infinite gossip and rumour +as one result. Already, she knew, the names of herself and Mynors were +everywhere coupled, and she could not even enter a shop without being +made aware, more or less delicately, that she was an object of piquant +curiosity. A woman is profoundly interesting to women at two periods +only--before she is betrothed and before she becomes the mother of her +firstborn. Anna was in the first period; her life did not comprise the +second. When Agnes came home to dinner from school, Anna said nothing +of Mynors' note until they had begun to wash up the dinner-things, when +she suggested that Agnes should finish this operation alone. + +'Yes,' said Agnes, ever compliant. 'But why?' + +'I'm going out, and I must get ready.' + +'Going out? And shall you leave the house all empty? What will father +say? Where are you going to?' + +Agnes's tendency to anticipate the worst, and never to blink their +father's tyranny, always annoyed Anna, and she answered rather curtly: +'I'm going to the works--Mr. Mynors' works. He's sent word he wants me +to.' She despised herself for wishing to hide anything, and added, 'He +will call here for me about two o'clock.' + +'Mr. Mynors! How splendid!' And then Agnes's face fell somewhat. 'I +suppose he won't call before two? If he doesn't, I shall be gone to +school.' + +'Do you want to see him?' + +'Oh, no! I don't want to see him. But--I suppose you'll be out a long +time, and he'll bring you back.' + +'Of course he won't, you silly girl. And I shan't be out long. I +shall be back for tea.' + +Anna ran upstairs to dress. At ten minutes to two she was ready. +Agnes usually left at a quarter to two, but the child had not yet gone. +At five minutes to two, Anna called downstairs to her to ask her when +she meant to depart. + +'I'm just going now,' Agnes shouted back. She opened the front door +and then returned to the foot of the stairs. 'Anna, if I meet him down +the road shall I tell him you're ready waiting for him?' + +'Certainly not. Whatever are you dreaming of?' the elder sister +reproved. 'Besides, he isn't coming from the town.' + +'Oh! All right. Good-bye.' And the child at last went. + +It was something after two--every siren and hooter had long since +finished the summons to work--when Mynors rang the bell. Anna was +still upstairs. She examined herself in the glass, and then descended +slowly. + +'Good afternoon,' he said. 'I see you are ready to come. I'm very +glad. I hope I haven't inconvenienced you, but just this afternoon +seemed to be a good opportunity for you to see the works, and, you +know, you ought to see it. Father in?' + +'No,' she said. 'I shall leave the house to take care of itself. Do +you want to see him?' + +'Not specially,' he replied. 'I think we have settled everything.' + +She banged the door behind her, and they started. As he held open the +gate for her exit, she could not ignore the look of passionate +admiration on his face. It was a look disconcerting by its mere +intensity. The man could control his tongue, but not his eyes. His +demeanour, as she viewed it, aggravated her self-consciousness as they +braved the streets. But she was happy in her perturbation. When they +reached Duck Bank, Mynors asked her whether they should go through the +market-place or along King Street, by the bottom of St. Luke's Square. +'By the market-place,' she said. The shop where Miss Dickinson was +employed was at the bottom of St. Luke's Square, and all the eyes of +the marketplace was preferable to the chance of those eyes. + + +Probably no one in the Five Towns takes a conscious pride in the +antiquity of the potter's craft, nor in its unique and intimate +relation to human life, alike civilised and uncivilised. Man hardened +clay into a bowl before he spun flax and made a garment, and the last +lone man will want an earthen vessel after he has abandoned his ruined +house for a cave, and his woven rags for an animal's skin. This +supremacy of the most ancient of crafts is in the secret nature of +things, and cannot be explained. History begins long after the period +when Bursley was first the central seat of that honoured manufacture: +it is the central seat still--'the mother of the Five Towns,' in our +local phrase--and though the townsmen, absorbed in a strenuous daily +struggle, may forget their heirship to an unbroken tradition of +countless centuries, the seal of their venerable calling is upon their +foreheads. If no other relic of an immemorial past is to be seen in +these modernised sordid streets, there is at least the living legacy of +that extraordinary kinship between workman and work, that instinctive +mastery of clay which the past has bestowed upon the present. The +horse is less to the Arab than clay is to the Bursley man. He exists +in it and by it; it fills his lungs and blanches his cheek; it keeps +him alive and it kills him. His fingers close round it as round the +hand of a friend. He knows all its tricks and aptitudes; when to coax +and when to force it, when to rely on it and when to distrust it. The +weavers of Lancashire have dubbed him with an obscene epithet on +account of it, an epithet whose hasty use has led to many a fight, but +nothing could be more illuminatively descriptive than that epithet, +which names his vocation in terms of another vocation. A dozen decades +of applied science have of course resulted in the interposition of +elaborate machinery between the clay and the man; but no great vulgar +handicraft has lost less of the human than potting. Clay is always +clay, and the steam-driven contrivance that will mould a basin while a +man sits and watches has yet to be invented. Moreover, if in some +coarser process the hands are superseded, the number of processes has +been multiplied tenfold: the ware in which six men formerly +collaborated is now produced by sixty; and thus, in one sense, the +touch of finger on clay is more pervasive than ever before. + +Mynors' works was acknowledged to be one of the best, of its size, in +the district--a model three-oven bank, and it must be remembered that +of the hundreds of banks in the Five Towns the vast majority are small, +like this: the large manufactory with its corps of jacket-men,[1] one +of whom is detached to show visitors round so much of the works as is +deemed advisable for them to see, is the exception. Mynors paid three +hundred pounds a year in rent, and produced nearly three hundred pounds +worth of work a week. He was his own manager, and there was only one +jacket-man on the place, a clerk at eighteen shillings. He employed +about a hundred hands, and devoted all his ingenuity to prevent that +wastage which is at once the easiest to overlook and the most difficult +to check, the wastage of labour. No pains were spared to keep all +departments in full and regular activity, and owing to his judicious +firmness the feast of St. Monday, that canker eternally eating at the +root of the prosperity of the Five Towns, was less religiously observed +on his bank than perhaps anywhere else in Bursley. He had realised +that when a workshop stands empty the employer has not only ceased to +make money, but has begun to lose it. The architect of 'Providence +Works' (Providence stands godfather to many commercial enterprises in +the Five Towns) knew his business and the business of the potter, and +he had designed the works with a view to the strictest economy of +labour. The various shops were so arranged that in the course of its +metamorphosis the clay travelled naturally in a circle from the +slip-house by the canal to the packing-house by the canal: there was no +carrying to and fro. The steam installation was complete: steam once +generated had no respite; after it had exhausted itself in vitalising +fifty machines, it was killed by inches in order to dry the unfired +ware and warm the dinners of the workpeople. + +Henry took Anna to the canal-entrance, because the buildings looked +best from that side. + +'Now how much is a crate worth?' she asked, pointing to a crate which +was being swung on a crane direct from the packing-house into a boat. + +'That?' Mynors answered. 'A crateful of ware may be worth anything. +At Minton's I have seen a crate worth three hundred pounds. But that +one there is only worth eight or nine pounds. You see you and I make +cheap stuff.' + +'But don't you make any really good pots--are they all cheap?' + +'All cheap,' he said. + +'I suppose that's business?' He detected a note of regret in her voice. + +'I don't know,' he said, with the slightest impatient warmth. 'We make +the stuff as good as we can for the money. We supply what everyone +wants. Don't you think it's better to please a thousand folks than to +please ten? I like to feel that my ware is used all over the country +and the colonies. I would sooner do as I do than make swagger ware for +a handful of rich people.' + +'Oh, yes,' she exclaimed, eagerly accepting the point of view, 'I quite +agree with you.' She had never heard him in that vein before, and was +struck by his enthusiasm. And Mynors was in fact always very +enthusiastic concerning the virtues of the general markets. He had no +sympathy with specialities, artistic or otherwise. He found his +satisfaction in honestly meeting the public taste. He was born to be a +manufacturer of cheap goods on a colossal scale. He could dream of +fifty ovens, and his ambition blinded him to the present absurdity of +talking about a three-oven bank spreading its productions all over the +country and the colonies; it did not occur to him that there were yet +scarcely enough plates to go round. + +'I suppose we had better start at the start,' he said, leading the way +to the slip-house. He did not need to be told that Anna was perfectly +ignorant of the craft of pottery, and that every detail of it, so stale +to him, would acquire freshness under her naïve and inquiring gaze. + +In the slip-house begins the long manipulation which transforms raw +porous friable clay into the moulded, decorated and glazed vessel. The +large whitewashed place was occupied by ungainly machines and +receptacles through which the four sorts of clay used in the common +'body'--ball clay, China clay, flint clay and stone clay--were +compelled to pass before they became a white putty-like mixture meet +for shaping by human hands. The blunger crushed the clay, the sifter +extracted the iron from it by means of a magnet, the press expelled the +water, and the pug-mill expelled the air. From the last reluctant +mouth slowly emerged a solid stream nearly a foot in diameter, like a +huge white snake. Already the clay had acquired the uniformity +characteristic of a manufactured product. + +Anna moved to touch the bolts of the enormous twenty-four-chambered +press. + +'Don't stand there,' said Mynors. 'The pressure is tremendous, and if +the thing were to burst----' + +She fled hastily. 'But isn't it dangerous for the workmen?' she asked. + +Eli Machin, the engineman, the oldest employee on the works, a moneyed +man and the pattern of reliability, allowed a vague smile to flit +across his face at this remark. He had ascended from the engine-house +below in order to exhibit the tricks of the various machines, and that +done he disappeared. Anna was awed by the sensation of being +surrounded by terrific forces always straining for release and held in +check by the power of a single wall. + +'Come and see a plate made: that is one of the simplest things, and the +batting-machine is worth looking at,' said Mynors, and they went into +the nearest shop, a hot interior in the shape of four corridors round a +solid square middle. Here men and women were working side by side, the +women subordinate to the men. All were preoccupied, wrapped up in +their respective operations, and there was the sound of irregular +whirring movements from every part of the big room. The air was laden +with whitish dust, and clay was omnipresent--on the floor, the walls, +the benches, the windows, on clothes, hands and faces. It was in this +shop, where both hollow-ware pressers and flat pressers were busy as +only craftsmen on piecework can be busy, that more than anywhere else +clay was to be seen 'in the hand of the potter.' Near the door a stout +man with a good-humoured face flung some clay on to a revolving disc, +and even as Anna passed a jar sprang into existence. One instant the +clay was an amorphous mass, the next it was a vessel perfectly +circular, of a prescribed width and a prescribed depth; the flat and +apparently clumsy fingers of the craftsman had seemed to lose +themselves in the clay for a fraction of time, and the miracle was +accomplished. The man threw these vessels with the rapidity of a Roman +candle throwing off coloured stars, and one woman was kept busy in +supplying him with material and relieving his bench of the finished +articles. Mynors drew Anna along to the batting-machines for plate +makers, at that period rather a novelty and the latest invention of the +dead genius whose brain has reconstituted a whole industry on new +lines. Confronted with a piece of clay, the batting-machine descended +upon it with the ferocity of a wild animal, worried it, stretched it, +smoothed it into the width and thickness of a plate, and then desisted +of itself and waited inactive for the flat presser to remove its victim +to his more exact shaping machine. Several men were producing plates, +but their rapid labours seemed less astonishing than the preliminary +feat of the batting-machine. All the ware as it was moulded +disappeared into the vast cupboards occupying the centre of the shop, +where Mynors showed Anna innumerable rows of shelves full of pots in +process of steam-drying. Neither time nor space nor material was +wasted in this ant-heap of industry. In order to move to and fro, the +women were compelled to insinuate themselves past the stationary bodies +of the men. Anna marvelled at the careless accuracy with which they +fed the batting-machines with lumps precisely calculated to form a +plate of a given diameter. Everyone exerted himself as though the +salvation of the world hung on the production of so much stuff by a +certain hour; dust, heat, and the presence of a stranger were alike +unheeded in the mad creative passion. + +'Now,' said Mynors the cicerone, opening another door which gave into +the yard, 'when all that stuff is dried and fettled--smoothed, you +know--it goes into the biscuit oven: that's the first firing. There's +the biscuit oven, but we can't inspect it because it's just being +drawn.' + +He pointed to the oven near by, in whose dark interior the forms of +men, naked to the waist, could dimly be seen struggling with the weight +of saggars[2] full of ware. It seemed like some release of martyrs, +this unpacking of the immense oven, which, after being flooded with a +sea of flame for fifty-four hours, had cooled for two days, and was yet +hotter than the Equator. The inertness and pallor of the saggars +seemed to be the physical result of their fiery trial, and one wondered +that they should have survived the trial. Mynors went into the place +adjoining the oven and brought back a plate out of an open saggar; it +was still quite warm. It had the _matt_ surface of a biscuit, and +adhered slightly to the fingers: it was now a 'crook'; it had exchanged +malleability for brittleness, and nothing mortal could undo what the +fire had done. Mynors took the plate with him to the +biscuit-warehouse, a long room where one was forced to keep to narrow +alleys amid parterres of pots. A solitary biscuit-warehouseman was +examining the ware in order to determine the remuneration of the +pressers. + +They climbed a flight of steps to the printing-shop, where, by means of +copper-plates, printing-presses, mineral colours, and transfer-papers, +most of the decoration was done. The room was filled by a little crowd +of people--oldish men, women and girls, divided into printers, cutters, +transferors and apprentices. Each interminably repeated some trifling +process, and every article passed through a succession of hands until +at length it was washed in a tank and rose dripping therefrom with its +ornament of flowers and scrolls fully revealed. The room smelt of oil +and flannel and humanity; the atmosphere was more languid, more like +that of a family party, than in the pressers' shop: the old women +looked stern and shrewish, the pretty young women pert and defiant, the +younger girls meek. The few men seemed out of place. By what trick +had they crept into the very centre of that mass of femineity? It +seemed wrong, scandalous that they should remain. Contiguous with the +printing-shop was the painting-shop, in which the labours of the former +were taken to a finish by the brush of the paintress, who filled in +outlines with flat colour, and thus converted mechanical printing into +handiwork. The paintresses form the _noblesse_ of the banks. Their +task is a light one, demanding deftness first of all; they have +delicate fingers, and enjoy a general reputation for beauty: the wages +they earn may be estimated from their finery on Sundays. They come to +business in cloth jackets, carry dinner in little satchels; in the shop +they wear white aprons, and look startlingly neat and tidy. Across the +benches over which they bend their coquettish heads gossip flies and +returns like a shuttle; they are the source of a thousand intrigues, +and one or other of them is continually getting married or omitting to +get married. On the bank they constitute 'the sex.' An infinitesimal +proportion of them, from among the branch known as ground-layers, die +of lead-poisoning--a fact which adds pathos to their frivolous charm. +In a subsidiary room off the painting-shop a single girl was seated at +a revolving table actuated by a treadle. She was doing the +'band-and-line' on the rims of saucers. Mynors and Anna watched her as +with her left hand she flicked saucer after saucer into the exact +centre of the table, moved the treadle, and, holding a brush firmly +against the rim of the piece, produced with infallible exactitude the +band and the line. She was a brunette, about twenty-eight: she had a +calm, vacuously contemplative face; but God alone knew whether she +thought. Her work represented the summit of monotony; the regularity +of it hypnotised the observer, and Mynors himself was impressed by this +stupendous phenomenon of absolute sameness, involuntarily assuming +towards it the attitude of a showman. + +'She earns as much as eighteen shillings a week sometimes,' he +whispered. + +'May I try?' Anna timidly asked of a sudden, curious to experience what +the trick was like. + +'Certainly,' said Mynors, in eager assent. 'Priscilla, let this lady +have your seat a moment, please.' + +The girl got up, smiling politely. Anna took her place. + +'Here, try on this,' said Mynors, putting on the table the plate which +he still carried. + +'Take a full brush,' the paintress suggested, not attempting to hide +her amusement at Anna's unaccustomed efforts. 'Now push the treadle. +There! It isn't in the middle yet. Now!' + +Anna produced a most creditable band, and a trembling but passable +line, and rose flushed with the small triumph. + +'You have the gift,' said Mynors; and the paintress respectfully +applauded. + +'I felt I could do it,' Anna responded. 'My mother's mother was a +paintress, and it must be in the blood.' + +Mynors smiled indulgently. They descended again to the ground floor, +and following the course of manufacture came to the 'hardening-on' +kiln, a minor oven where for twelve hours the oil is burnt out of the +colour in decorated ware. A huge, jolly man in shirt and trousers, +with an enormous apron, was in the act of drawing the kiln, assisted by +two thin boys. He nodded a greeting to Mynors and exclaimed, 'Warm!' +The kiln was nearly emptied. As Anna stopped at the door, the man +addressed her. + +'Step inside, miss, and try it.' + +'No, thanks!' she laughed. + +'Come now,' he insisted, as if despising this hesitation. 'An ounce of +experience----' The two boys grinned and wiped their foreheads with +their bare skeleton-like arms. Anna, challenged by the man's look, +walked quickly into the kiln. A blasting heat seemed to assault her on +every side, driving her back; it was incredible that any human being +could support such a temperature. + +'There!' said the jovial man, apparently summing her up with his +bright, quizzical eyes. 'You know summat as you didn't know afore, +miss. Come along, lads,' he added with brisk heartiness to the boys, +and the drawing of the kiln proceeded. + +Next came the dipping-house, where a middle-aged woman, enveloped in a +protective garment from head to foot, was dipping jugs into a vat of +lead-glaze, a boy assisting her. The woman's hands were covered with +the grey, slimy glaze. She alone of all the employees appeared to be +cool. + +'That is the last stage but one,' said Mynors. 'There is only the +glost-firing,' and they passed out into the yard once more. One of the +glost-ovens was empty; they entered it and peered into the lofty inner +chamber, which seemed like the cold crater of an exhausted volcano, or +like a vault, or like the ruined seat of some forgotten activity. The +other oven was firing, and Anna could only look at its exterior, +catching glimpses of the red glow at its twelve mouths, and guess at +the Tophet, within, where the lead was being fused into glass. + +'Now for the glost-warehouse, and you will have seen all,' said Mynors, +'except the mould-shop, and that doesn't matter.' + +The warehouse was the largest place on the works, a room sixty-feet +long and twenty broad, low, whitewashed, bare and clean. Piles of ware +occupied the whole of the walls and of the immense floorspace, but +there was no trace here of the soilure and untidiness incident to +manufacture; all processes were at an end, clay had vanished into +crock: and the calmness and the whiteness atoned for the disorder, +noise and squalor which had preceded. Here was a sample of the total +and final achievement towards which the thousands of small, disjointed +efforts that Anna had witnessed, were directed. And it seemed a +miraculous, almost impossible, result; so definite, precise and regular +after a series of acts apparently variable, inexact and casual; so +inhuman after all that intensely inhuman labour; so vast in comparison +with the minuteness of the separate endeavours. As Anna looked, for +instance, at a pile of tea-sets, she found it difficult even to +conceive that, a fortnight or so before, they had been nothing but +lumps of dirty clay. No stage of the manufacture was incredible by +itself, but the result was incredible. It was the result that appealed +to the imagination, authenticating the adage that fools and children +should never see anything till it is done. + +Anna pondered over the organising power, the forethought, the wide +vision, and the sheer ingenuity and cleverness which were implied by +the contents of this warehouse. 'What brains!' she thought, of Mynors; +'what quantities of all sorts of things he must know!' It was a humble +and deeply-felt admiration. + +Her spoken words gave no clue to her thoughts. 'You seem to make a +fine lot of tea-sets,' she remarked. + +'Oh, no,' he said carelessly. 'These few that you see here are a +special order. I don't go in much for tea-sets: they don't pay; we +lose fifteen per cent. of the pieces in making. It's toilet-ware that +pays, and that is our leading line.' He waved an arm vaguely towards +rows and rows of ewers and basins in the distance. They walked to the +end of the warehouse, glancing at everything. + +'See here,' said Mynors, 'isn't that pretty?' He pointed through the +last window to a view of the canal, which could be seen thence in +perspective, finishing in a curve. On one side, close to the water's +edge, was a ruined and fragmentary building, its rich browns reflected +in the smooth surface of the canal. On the other side were a few grim, +grey trees bordering the towpath. Down the vista moved a boat steered +by a woman in a large mob-cap. 'Isn't that picturesque?' he said. + +'Very,' Anna assented willingly. 'It's really quite strange, such a +scene right in the middle of Bursley.' + +'Oh! There are others,' he said. 'But I always take a peep at that +whenever I come into the warehouse.' + +'I wonder you find time to notice it--with all this place to see +after,' she said. 'It's a splendid works!' + +'It will do--to be going on with,' he answered, satisfied. 'I'm very +glad you've been down. You must come again. I can see you would be +interested in it, and there are plenty of things you haven't looked at +yet, you know.' + +He smiled at her. They were alone in the warehouse. + +'Yes,' she said; 'I expect so. Well, I must go, at once; I'm afraid +it's very late now. Thank you for showing me round, and explaining, +and--I'm frightfully stupid and ignorant. Good-bye.' + +Vapid and trite phrases: what unimaginable messages the hearer heard in +you! + +Anna held out her hand, and he seized it almost convulsively, his +incendiary eyes fastened on her face. + +'I must see you out,' he said, dropping that ungloved hand. + +It was ten o'clock that night before Ephraim Tellwright returned home +from Axe. He appeared to be in a bad temper. Agnes had gone to bed. +His supper of bread-and-cheese and water was waiting for him, and Anna +sat at the table while he consumed it. He ate in silence, somewhat +hungrily, and she did not deem the moment propitious for telling him +about her visit to Mynors' works. + +'Has Titus Price sent up?' he asked at length, gulping down the last of +the water. + +'Sent up?' + +'Yes. Art fond, lass? I told him as he mun send up some more o' thy +rent to-day--twenty-five pun. He's not sent?' + +'I don't know,' she said timidly. 'I was out this afternoon.' + +'Out, wast?' + +'Mr. Mynors sent word to ask me to go down and look over the works; so +I went. I thought it would be all right.' + +'Well, it was'na all right. And I'd like to know what business thou +hast gadding out, as soon as my back's turned. How can I tell whether +Price sent up or not? And what's more, thou know's as th' house hadn't +ought to be left.' + +'I'm sorry,' she said pleasantly, with a determination to be meek and +dutiful. + +He grunted. 'Happen he didna' send. And if he did, and found th' +house locked up, he should ha' sent again. Bring me th' inkpot, and +I'll write a note as Agnes must take when her goes to school to-morrow +morning.' + +Anna obeyed. 'They'll never be able to pay twenty-five pounds, +father,' she ventured. 'They've paid thirty already, you know.' + +'Less gab,' he said shortly, taking up the pen. 'Here--write it +thysen.' He threw the pen towards her. 'Tell Titus if he doesn't pay +five-and-twenty this wik, us'll put bailiffs in.' + +'Won't it come better from you, father?' she pleaded. + +'Whose property is it?' The laconic question was final. She knew she +must obey, and began to write. But, realising that she would perforce +meet both Titus Price and Willie on Sunday, she merely demanded the +money, omitting the threat. Her hand trembled as she passed the note +to him to read. + +'Will that do?' + +His reply was to tear the paper across. 'Put down what I tell ye,' he +ordered, 'and don't let's have any more paper wasted.' Then he +dictated a letter which was an ultimatum in three lines. 'Sign it,' he +said. + +She signed it, weeping. She could see the wistful reproach in Willie +Price's eyes. + +'I suppose,' her father said, when she bade him 'Good-night,' 'I +suppose if I hadn't asked, I should ha' heard nowt o' this +gadding-about wi' Mynors?' + +'I was going to tell you I had been to the works, father,' she said. + +'Going to!' That was his final blow, and having delivered it, he +loosed the victim. 'Go to bed,' he said. + +She went upstairs, resolutely read her Bible, and resolutely prayed. + + + +[1] _Jacket-man_: the artisan's satiric term for anyone who does not +work in shirt-sleeves, who is not actually a producer, such as a clerk +or a pretentious foreman. + +[2] _Saggars_: large oval receptacles of coarse clay, in which the ware +is placed for firing. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE TREAT + +This surly and terrorising ferocity of Tellwright's was as instinctive +as the growl and spring of a beast of prey. He never considered his +attitude towards the women of his household as an unusual phenomenon +which needed justification, or as being in the least abnormal. The +women of a household were the natural victims of their master: in his +experience it had always been so. In his experience the master had +always, by universal consent, possessed certain rights over the +self-respect, the happiness and the peace of the defenceless souls set +under him--rights as unquestioned as those exercised by Ivan the +Terrible. Such rights were rooted in the secret nature of things. It +was futile to discuss them, because their necessity and their propriety +were equally obvious. Tellwright would not have been angry with any +man who impugned them: he would merely have regarded the fellow as a +crank and a born fool, on whom logic or indignation would be entirely +wasted. He did as his father and uncles had done. He still thought of +his father as a grim customer, infinitely more redoubtable than +himself. He really believed that parents spoiled their children +nowadays: to be knocked down by a single blow was one of the +punishments of his own generation. He could recall the fearful +timidity of his mother's eyes without a trace of compassion. His +treatment of his daughters was no part of a system, nor obedient to any +defined principles, nor the expression of a brutal disposition, nor the +result of gradually-acquired habit. It came to him like eating, and +like parsimony. He belonged to the great and powerful class of +house-tyrants, the backbone of the British nation, whose views on +income-tax cause ministries to tremble. If you had talked to him of +the domestic graces of life, your words would have conveyed to him no +meaning. If you had indicted him for simple unprovoked rudeness, he +would have grinned, well knowing that, as the King can do no wrong, so +a man cannot be rude in his own house. If you had told him that he +inflicted purposeless misery not only on others but on himself, he +would have grinned again, vaguely aware that he had not tried to be +happy, and rather despising happiness as a sort of childish gewgaw. He +had, in fact, never been happy at home: he had never known that +expansion of the spirit which is called joy; he existed continually +under a grievance. The atmosphere of Manor Terrace afflicted him, too, +with a melancholy gloom--him, who had created it. Had he been capable +of self-analysis, he would have discovered that his heart lightened +whenever he left the house, and grew dark whenever he returned; but he +was incapable of the feat. His case, like every similar case, was +irremediable. + +The next morning his preposterous displeasure lay like a curse on the +house; Anna was silent, and Agnes moved on timid feet. In the +afternoon Willie Price called in answer to the note. The miser was in +the garden, and Agnes at school. Willie's craven and fawning humility +was inexpressibly touching and shameful to Anna. She longed to say to +him, as he stood hesitant and confused in the parlour: 'Go in peace. +Forget this despicable rent. It sickens me to see you so.' She +foresaw, as the effect of her father's vindictive pursuit of her +tenants, an interminable succession of these mortifying interviews. + +'You're rather hard on us,' Willie Price began, using the old phrases, +but in a tone of forced and propitiatory cheerfulness, as though he +feared to bring down a storm of anger which should ruin all. 'You'll +not deny that we've been doing our best.' + +'The rent is due, you know, Mr. William,' she replied, blushing. + +'Oh, yes,' he said quickly. 'I don't deny that. I admit that. I--did +you happen to see Mr. Tellwright's postscript to your letter?' + +'No,' she answered, without thinking. + +He drew the letter, soiled and creased, from his pocket, and displayed +it to her. At the foot of the page she read, in Ephraim's thick and +clumsy characters: 'P.S. This is final.' + +'My father,' said Willie, 'was a little put about. He said he'd never +received such a letter before in the whole of his business career. It +isn't as if----' + +'I needn't tell you,' she interrupted, with a sudden determination to +get to the worst without more suspense, 'that of course I am in +father's hands.' + +'Oh! Of course, Miss Tellwright; we quite understand that--quite. +It's just a matter of business. We owe a debt and we must pay it. All +we want is time.' He smiled piteously at her, his blue eyes full of +appeal. She was obliged to gaze at the floor. + +'Yes,' she said, tapping her foot on the rug. 'But father means what +he says.' She looked up at him again, trying to soften her words by +means of something more subtle than a smile. + +'He means what he says,' Willie agreed; 'and I admire him for it.' + +The obsequious, truckling lie was odious to her. + +'Perhaps I could see him,' he ventured. + +'I wish you would,' Anna said, sincerely. 'Father, you're wanted,' she +called curtly through the window. + +'I've got a proposal to make to him,' Price continued, while they +awaited the presence of the miser, 'and I can't hardly think he'll +refuse it.' + +'Well, young sir,' Tellwright said blandly, with an air almost +insinuating, as he entered. Willie Price, the simpleton, was deceived +by it, and, taking courage, adopted another line of defence. He +thought the miser was a little ashamed of his postscript. + +'About your note, Mr. Tellwright; I was just telling Miss Tellwright +that my father said he had never received such a letter in the whole of +his business career.' The youth assumed a discreet indignation. + +'Thy feyther's had dozens o' such letters, lad,' the miser said with +cold emphasis, 'or my name's not Tellwright. Dunna tell me as Titus +Price's never heard of a bumbailiff afore.' + +Willie was crushed at a blow, and obliged to retreat. He smiled +painfully. 'Come, Mr. Tellwright. Don't talk like that. All we want +is time.' + +'Time is money,' said Tellwright, 'and if us give you time us give you +money. 'Stead o' that, it's you as mun give us money. That's right +reason.' + +Willie laughed with difficulty. 'See here, Mr. Tellwright. To cut a +long story short, it's like this. You ask for twenty-five pounds. +I've got in my pocket a bill of exchange drawn by us on Mr. Sutton and +endorsed by him, for thirty pounds, payable in three months. Will you +take that? Remember it's for thirty, and you only ask for twenty-five.' + +'So Mr. Sutton has dealings with ye, eh?' Tellwright remarked. + +'Oh, yes,' Willie answered proudly. 'He buys off us regularly. We've +done business for years.' + +'And pays i' bills at three months, eh?' The miser grinned. + +'Sometimes,' said Willie. + +'Let's see it,' said the miser. + +'What--the bill?' + +'Ay!' + +'Oh! The bill's all right.' Willie took it from his pocket, and +opening out the blue paper, gave it to old Tellwright. Anna perceived +the anxiety on the youth's face. He flushed and his hand trembled. +She dared not speak, but she wished to tell him to be at ease. She +knew from infallible signs that her father would take the bill. +Ephraim gazed at the stamped paper as at something strange and +unprecedented in his experience. + +'Father would want you not to negotiate that bill,' said Willie. 'The +fact is, we promised Mr. Sutton that that particular bill should not +leave our hands--unless it was absolutely necessary. So father would +like you not to discount it, and he will redeem it before it matures. +You quite understand--we don't care to offend an old customer like Mr. +Sutton.' + +'Then this bit o' paper's worth nowt for welly[1] three months?' the +old man said, with an affectation of bewildered simplicity. + +Happily inspired for once, Willie made no answer, but put the question: +'Will you take it?' + +'Ay! Us'll tak' it,' said Tellwright, 'though it is but a promise.' +He was well pleased. + +Young Price's face showed his relief. It was now evident that he had +been passing through an ordeal. Anna guessed that perhaps everything +had depended on the acceptance by Tellwright of that bill. Had he +refused it, Prices, she thought, might have come to sudden disaster. +She felt glad and disburdened for the moment; but immediately it +occurred to her that her father would not rest satisfied for long; a +few weeks, and he would give another turn to the screw. + + +The Tellwrights were destined to have other visitors that afternoon. +Agnes, coming from school, was accompanied by a lady. Anna, who was +setting the tea-table, saw a double shadow pass the window, and heard +voices. She ran into the kitchen, and found Mrs. Sutton seated on a +chair, breathing quickly. + +'You'll excuse me coming in so unceremoniously, Anna,' she said, after +having kissed her heartily. 'But Agnes said that she always came in by +the back way, so I came that way too. Now I'm resting a minute. I've +had to walk to-day. Our horse has gone lame.' + +This kind heart radiated a heavenly goodwill, even in the most ordinary +phrases. Anna began to expand at once. + +'Now do come into the parlour,' she said, 'and let me make you +comfortable.' + +'Just a minute, my dear,' Mrs. Sutton begged, fanning herself with her +handkerchief, 'Agnes's legs are so long.' + +'Oh, Mrs. Sutton,' Agnes protested, laughing, 'how can you? I could +scarcely keep up with you!' + +'Well, my dear, I never could walk slowly. I'm one of them that go +till they drop. It's very silly.' She smiled, and the two girls +smiled happily in return. + +'Agnes,' said the housewife, 'set another cup and saucer and plate.' +Agnes threw down her hat and satchel of books, eager to show +hospitality. + +'It still keeps very warm,' Anna remarked, as Mrs. Sutton was silent. + +'It's beautifully cool here,' said Mrs. Sutton. 'I see you've got your +kitchen like a new pin, Anna, if you'll excuse me saying so. Henry was +very enthusiastic about this kitchen the other night, at our house.' + +'What! Mr. Mynors?' Anna reddened to the eyes. + +'Yes, my dear; and he's a very particular young man, you know.' + +The kettle conveniently boiled at that moment, and Anna went to the +range to make the tea. + +'Tea is all ready, Mrs. Sutton,' she said at length. 'I'm sure you +could do with a cup.' + +'That I could,' said Mrs. Sutton. 'It's what I've come for.' + +'We have tea at four. Father will be glad to see you.' The clock +struck, and they went into the parlour, Anna carrying the tea-pot and +the hot-water jug. Agnes had preceded them. The old man was sitting +expectant in his chair. + +'Well, Mr. Tellwright,' said the visitor, 'you see I've called to see +you, and to beg a cup of tea. I overtook Agnes coming home from +school--overtook her, mind--me, at my age!' Ephraim rose slowly and +shook hands. + +'You're welcome,' he said curtly, but with a kindliness that amazed +Anna. She was unaware that in past days he had known Mrs. Sutton as a +young and charming girl, a vision that had stirred poetic ideas in +hundreds of prosaic breasts, Tellwright's included. There was scarcely +a middle-aged male Wesleyan in Bursley and Hanbridge who had not a +peculiar regard for Mrs. Sutton, and who did not think that he alone +truly appreciated her. + +'What an' you bin tiring yourself with this afternoon?' he asked, when +they had begun tea, and Mrs. Sutton had refused a second piece of +bread-and-butter. + +'What have I been doing? I've been seeing to some inside repairs to +the superintendent's house. Be thankful you aren't a circuit-steward's +wife, Anna.' + +'Why, does she have to see to the repairs of the minister's house?' +Anna asked, surprised. + +'I should just think she does. She has to stand between the minister's +wife and the funds of the society. And Mrs. Reginald Banks has been +used to the very best of everything. She's just a bit exacting, though +I must say she's willing enough to spend her own money too. She wants +a new boiler in the scullery now, and I'm sure her boiler is a great +deal better than ours. But we must try to please her. She isn't used +to us rough folks and our ways. Mr. Banks said to me this afternoon +that he tried always to shield her from the worries of this world.' +She smiled almost imperceptibly. + +There was a ring at the bell, and Agnes, much perturbed by the august +arrival, let in Mr. Banks himself. + +'Shall I enter, my little dear?' said Mr. Banks. 'Your father, your +sister, in?' + +'It ne'er rains but it pours,' said Tellwright, who had caught the +minister's voice. + +'Speak of angels----' said Mrs. Sutton, laughing quietly. + +The minister came grandly into the parlour. 'Ah! How do you do, +brother Tellwright, and you, Miss Tellwright? Mrs. Sutton, we two seem +happily fated to meet this afternoon. Don't let me disturb you, I +beg--I cannot stay. My time is very limited. I wish I could call +oftener, brother Tellwright; but really the new _régime_ leaves no time +for pastoral visits. I was saying to my wife only this morning that I +haven't had a free afternoon for a month.' He accepted a cup of tea. + +'Us'n have a tea-party this afternoon,' said Tellwright +_quasi_-privately to Mrs. Sutton. + +'And now,' the minister resumed, 'I've come to beg. The special fund, +you know, Mr. Tellwright, to clear off the debt on the new +school-buildings. I referred to it from the pulpit last Sabbath. It's +not in my province to go round begging, but someone must do it.' + +'Well, for me, I'm beforehand with you, Mr. Banks,' said Mrs. Sutton, +'for it's on that very errand I've called to see Mr. Tellwright this +afternoon. His name is on my list.' + +'Ah! Then I leave our brother to your superior persuasions.' + +'Come, Mr. Tellwright,' said Mrs. Sutton, 'you're between two fires, +and you'll get no mercy. What will you give?' + +The miser foresaw a probable discomfiture, and sought for some means of +escape. + +'What are others giving?' he asked. + +'My husband is giving fifty pounds, and you could buy him up, lock, +stock, and barrel.' + +'Nay, nay!' said Tellwright, aghast at this sum. He had underrated the +importance of the Building Fund. + +'And I,' said the parson solemnly, 'I have but fifty pounds in the +world, but I am giving twenty to this fund.' + +'Then you're giving too much,' said Tellwright with quick brusqueness. +'You canna' afford it.' + +'The Lord will provide,' said the parson. + +'Happen He will, happen not. It's as well you've gotten a rich wife, +Mr. Banks.' + +The parson's dignity was obviously wounded, and Anna wondered timidly +what would occur next. Mrs. Sutton interposed. 'Come now, Mr. +Tellwright,' she said again, 'to the point: what will you give?' + +'I'll think it over and let you hear,' said Ephraim. + +'Oh, no! That won't do at all, will it, Mr. Banks? I, at any rate, am +not going away without a definite promise. As an old and good +Wesleyan, of course you will feel it your duty to be generous with us.' + +'You used to be a pillar of the Hanbridge circuit--was it not so?' said +Mr. Banks to the miser, recovering himself. + +'So they used to say,' Tellwright replied grimly. 'That was because I +cleared 'em of debt in ten years. But they've slipped into th' ditch +again sin' I left 'em.' + +'But if I am right, you do not meet[2] with us,' the minister pursued +imperturbably. + +'No.' + +'My own class is at three on Saturdays,' said the minister. 'I should +be glad to see you.' + +'I tell you what I'll do,' said the miser to Mrs. Sutton. 'Titus Price +is a big man at th' Sunday-school. I'll give as much as he gives to +th' school buildings. That's fair.' + +'Do you know what Mr. Price is giving?' Mrs. Sutton asked the minister. + +'I saw Mr. Price yesterday. He is giving twenty-five pounds.' + +'Very well, that's a bargain,' said Mrs. Sutton, who had succeeded +beyond her expectations. + +Ephraim was the dupe of his own scheming. He had made sure that +Price's contribution would be a small one. This ostentatious +munificence on the part of the beggared Titus filled him with secret +anger. He determined to demand more rent at a very early date. + +'I'll put you down for twenty-five pounds as a first subscription,' +said the minister, taking out a pocket-book. Perhaps you will give +Mrs. Sutton or myself the cheque to-day?' + +'Has Mr. Price paid?' the miser asked, warily. + +'Not yet.' + +'Then come to me when he has.' Ephraim perceived the way of escape. + +When the minister was gone, as Mrs. Sutton seemed in no hurry to +depart, Anna and Agnes cleared the table. + +'I've just been telling your father, Anna,' said Mrs. Sutton, when Anna +returned to the room, 'that Mr. Sutton and myself and Beatrice are +going to the Isle of Man soon for a fortnight or so, and we should very +much like you to come with us.' + +Anna's heart began to beat violently, though she knew there was no hope +for her. This, then, doubtless, was the main object of Mrs. Sutton's +visit! 'Oh! But I couldn't, really!' said Anna, scarcely aware what +she did say. + +'Why not?' asked Mrs. Sutton. + +'Well--the house.' + +'The house? Agnes could see to what little housekeeping your father +would want. The schools will break up next week.' + +'What do these young folks want holidays for?' Tellwright inquired with +philosophic gruffness. 'I never had one. And what's more, I wouldn't +thank ye for one. I'll pig on at Bursley. When ye've gotten a roof of +your own, where's the sense o' going elsewhere and pigging?' + +'But we really want Anna to go,' Mrs. Sutton went on. 'Beatrice is +very anxious about it. Beatrice is very short of suitable friends.' + +'I should na' ha' thought it,' said Tellwright. 'Her seems to know +everyone.' + +'But she is,' Mrs. Sutton insisted. + +'I think as you'd better leave Anna out this year,' said the miser +stubbornly. + +Anna wished profoundly that Mrs. Sutton would abandon the futile +attempt. Then she perceived that the visitor was signalling to her to +leave the room. Anna obeyed, going into the kitchen to give an eye to +Agnes, who was washing up. + +'It's all right,' said Mrs. Sutton contentedly, when Anna returned to +the parlour. 'Your father has consented to your going with us. It is +very kind of him, for I'm sure he'll miss you.' + +Anna sat down, limp, speechless. She could not believe the news. + +'You are awfully good,' she said to Mrs. Sutton in the lobby, as the +latter was leaving the house. 'I'm ever so grateful--you can't think.' +And she threw her arms round Mrs. Sutton's neck. + +Agnes ran up to say good-bye. + +Mrs. Sutton kissed the child. 'Agnes will be the little housekeeper, +eh?' The little housekeeper was almost as pleased at the prospect of +housekeeping as if she too had been going to the Isle of Man. 'You'll +both be at the school-treat next Tuesday, I suppose,' Mrs. Sutton said, +holding Agnes by the hand. Agnes glanced at her sister in inquiry. + +'I don't know,' Anna replied. 'We shall see.' + +The truth was, that not caring to ask her father for the money for the +tickets, she had given no thought to the school-treat. + +'Did I tell you that Henry Mynors will most likely come with us to the +Isle of Man?' said Mrs. Sutton from the gate. + +Anna retired to her bedroom to savour an astounding happiness in +quietude. At supper the miser was in a mood not unbenevolent. She +expected a reaction the next morning, but Ephraim, strange to say, +remained innocuous. She ventured to ask him for the money for the +treat tickets, two shillings. He made no immediate reply. Half an +hour afterwards, he ejaculated: 'What i' th' name o' fortune dost thee +want wi' school-treats?' + +'It's Agnes,' she answered; 'of course Agnes can't go alone.' + +In the end he threw down a florin. He became perilous for the rest of +the day, but the florin was an indisputable fact in Anna's pocket. + +The school-treat was held in a twelve-acre field near Sneyd, the seat +of a marquis, and a Saturday afternoon resort very popular in the Five +Towns. The children were formed at noon on Duck Bank into a +procession, which marched to the railway station to the singing of +'Shall we gather at the river?' Thence a special train carried them, +in seething compartments, excited and strident, to Sneyd, where there +had been two sharp showers in the morning, the procession was reformed +along a country road, and the vacillating sky threatened more rain; but +because the sun had shone dazzlingly at eleven o'clock all the women +and girls, too easily tempted by the glory of the moment, blossomed +forth in pale blouses and parasols. The chattering crowd, bright and +defenceless as flowers, made at Sneyd a picture at once gay and +pathetic. It had rained there at half-past twelve; the roads were wet; +and among the two hundred and fifty children and thirty teachers there +were less than a score umbrellas. The excursion was theoretically in +charge of Titus Price, the Senior Superintendent, but this dignitary +had failed to arrive on Duck Bank, and Mynors had taken his place. In +the train Anna heard that some one had seen Mr. Price, wearing a large +grey wideawake, leap into the guard's van at the very instant of +departure. He had not been at school on the previous Sunday, and Anna +was somewhat perturbed at the prospect of meeting the man who had +defined her letter to him as unique in the whole of his business +career. She caught a glimpse of the grey wideawake on the platform at +Sneyd, and steered her own scholars so as to avoid its vicinity. But +on the march to the field Titus reviewed the procession, and she was +obliged to meet his eyes and return his salutation. The look of the +man was a shock to her. He seemed thinner, nervous, restless, +preoccupied, and terribly careworn; except the new brilliant hat, all +his summer clothes were soiled and shabby. It was as though he had +forced himself, out of regard for appearances, to attend the fête, but +had left his thoughts in Edward Street. His uneasy and hollow +cheerfulness was painful to watch. Anna realised the intensity of the +crisis through which Mr. Price was passing. She perceived in a single +glance, more clearly than she could have done after a hundred +interviews with the young and unresponsible William--however +distressing these might be--that Titus must for weeks have been engaged +in a truly frightful struggle. His face was a proof of the tragic +sincerity of William's appeals to herself and to her father. That +Price should have contrived to pay seventy pounds of rent in a little +more than a month seemed to her, imperfectly acquainted alike with +Ephraim's ruthless compulsions and with the financial jugglery often +practised by hard-pressed debtors, to be an almost miraculous effort +after honesty. Her conscience smote her for conniving at which she now +saw to be a persecution. She felt as sorry for Titus as she had felt +for his son. The obese man, with his reputation in rags about him, was +acutely wistful in her eyes, as a child might have been. + +A carriage rolled by, raising the dust in places where the strong sun +had already dried the road. It was Mr. Sutton's landau, driven by +Barrett. Beatrice, in white, sat solitary amid cushions, while two +large hampers occupied most of the coachman's box. The carriage seemed +to move with lordly ease and rapidity, and the teachers, already weary +and fretted by the endless pranks of the children, bitterly envied the +enthroned maid who nodded and smiled to them with such charming +condescension. It was a social triumph for Beatrice. She disappeared +ahead like a goddess in a cloud, and scarcely a woman who saw her from +the humble level of the roadway but would have married a satyr to be +able to do as Beatrice did. Later, when the field was reached, and the +children bursting through the gate had spread like a flood over the +daisied grass, the landau was to be seen drawn up near the refreshment +tent; Barrett was unpacking the hampers, which contained delicate +creamy confectionery for the teachers' tea; Beatrice explained that +these were her mother's gift, and that she had driven down in order to +preserve the fragile pasties from the risks of a railway journey. +Gratitude became vocal, and Beatrice's success was perfected. + +Then the more conscientious teachers set themselves seriously to the +task of amusing the smaller children, and the smaller children +consented to be amused according to the recipes appointed by long +custom for school-treats. Many round-games, which invariably comprised +singing or kissing, being thus annually resuscitated by elderly people +from the deeps of memory, were preserved for a posterity which +otherwise would never have known them. Among these was Bobby-Bingo. +For twenty-five years Titus Price had played at Bobby-Bingo with the +infant classes at the school-treat, and this year he was bound by the +expectations of all to continue the practice. Another diversion which +he always took care to organise was the three-legged race for boys. +Also, he usually joined in the tut-ball, a quaint game which owes its +surprising longevity to the fact that it is equally proper for both +sexes. Within half an hour the treat was in full career; football, +cricket, rounders, tick, leap-frog, prison-bars, and round-games, +transformed the field into a vast arena of complicated struggles and +emulations. All were occupied, except a few of the women and older +girls, who strolled languidly about in the _rôle_ of spectators. The +sun shone generously on scores of vivid and frail toilettes, and +parasols made slowly-moving hemispheres of glowing colour against the +rich green of the grass. All around were yellow cornfields, and +meadows where cows of a burnished brown indolently meditated upon the +phenomena of a school-treat. Every hedge and ditch and gate and stile +was in that ideal condition of plenary correctness which denotes that a +great landowner is exhibiting the beauties of scientific farming for +the behoof of his villagers. The sky, of an intense blue, was a sea in +which large white clouds sailed gently but capriciously; on the +northern horizon a low range of smoke marked the sinister region of the +Five Towns. + +'Will you come and help with the bags and cups?' Henry Mynors asked +Anna. She was standing by herself, watching Agnes at play with some +other girls. Mynors had evidently walked across to her from the +refreshment tent, which was at the opposite extremity of the field. In +her eyes he was once more the exemplar of style. His suit of grey +flannel, his white straw hat, became him to admiration. He stood at +ease with his hands in his coat-pockets, and smiled contentedly. + +'After all,' he said, 'the tea is the principal thing, and, although it +wants two hours to tea-time yet, it's as well to be beforehand.' + +'I should like something to do,' Anna replied. + +'How are you?' he said familiarly, after this abrupt opening, and then +shook hands. They traversed the field together, with many deviations +to avoid trespassing upon areas of play. + +The flapping refreshment tent seemed to be full of piles of baskets and +piles of bags and piles of cups, which the contractor had brought in a +waggon. Some teachers were already beginning to put the paper bags +into the baskets; each bag contained bread-and-butter, currant cake, an +Eccles-cake, and a Bath-bun. At the far end of the tent Beatrice +Sutton was arranging her dainties on a small trestle-table. + +'Come along quick, Anna,' she exclaimed, 'and taste my tarts, and tell +me what you think of them. I do hope the good people will enjoy them.' +And then, turning to Mynors, 'Hello! Are you seeing after the bags and +things? I thought that was always Willie Price's favourite job!' + +'So it is,' said Mynors. 'But, unfortunately, he isn't here to-day.' + +'How's that, pray? I never knew him miss a school-treat before.' + +'Mr. Price told me they couldn't both be away from the works just now. +Very busy, I suppose.' + +'Well, William would have been more use than his father, anyhow.' + +'Hush, hush!' Mynors murmured with a subdued laugh. + +Beatrice was in one of her 'downright' moods, as she herself called +them. + +Mynors's arrangements for the prompt distribution of tea at the +appointed hour were very minute, and involved a considerable amount of +back bending and manual labour. But, though they were enlivened by +frequent intervals of gossip, and by excursions into the field to +observe this and that amusing sight, all was finished half an hour +before time. + +'I will go and warn Mr. Price,' said Mynors. 'He is quite capable of +forgetting the clock.' Mynors left the tent, and proceeded to the +scene of an athletic meeting, at which Titus Price, in shirt-sleeves, +was distributing prizes of sixpences and pennies. The famous +three-legged race had just been run. Anna followed at a saunter, and +shortly afterwards Beatrice overtook her. + +'The great Titus looks better than he did when he came on the field,' +Beatrice remarked. And indeed the superintendent had put on quite a +merry appearance--flushed, excited, and jocular in his elephantine +way--it seemed as if he had not a care in the world. The boys crowded +appreciatively round him. But this was his last hour of joy. + +'Why! Willie Price _is_ here,' Anna exclaimed, perceiving William in +the fringe of the crowd. The lanky fellow stood hesitatingly, his left +hand busy with his moustache. + +'So he is,' said Beatrice. 'I wonder what that means.' + +Titus had not observed the newcomer, but Henry Mynors saw William, and +exchanged a few words with him. Then Mr. Mynors advanced into the +crowd and spoke to Mr. Price, who glanced quickly round at his son. +The girls, at a distance of forty yards, could discern the swift change +in the man's demeanour. In a second he had reverted to the deplorable +Titus of three hours ago. He elbowed his way roughly to William, +getting into his coat as he went. The pair talked, William glanced at +his watch, and in another moment they were leaving the field. Henry +Mynors had to finish the prize distribution. So much Anna and Beatrice +plainly saw. Others, too, had not been blind to this sudden and +dramatic departure. It aroused universal comment among the teachers. + +'Something must be wrong at Price's works,' Beatrice said, 'and Willie +has had to fetch his papa.' This was the conclusion of all the +gossips. Beatrice added: 'Dad has mentioned Price's several times +lately, now I think of it.' + +Anna grew extremely self-conscious and uncomfortable. She felt as +though all were saying of her: 'There goes the oppressor of the poor!' +She was fairly sure, however, that her father was not responsible for +this particular incident. There must, then, be other implacable +creditors. She had been thoroughly enjoying the afternoon, but now her +pleasure ceased. + +The treat ended disastrously. In the middle of the children's meal, +while yet the enormous double-handled tea-cans were being carried up +and down the thirsty rows, and the boys were causing their bags to +explode with appalling detonations, it began to rain sharply. The +fickle sun withdrew his splendour from the toilettes, and was seen no +more for a week afterwards. 'It's come at last,' ejaculated Mynors, +who had watched the sky with anxiety for an hour previously. He +mobilised the children and ranked them under a row of elms. The +teachers, running to the tent for their own tea, said to one another +that the shower could only be a brief one. The wish was father to the +thought, for they were a little ashamed to be under cover while their +charges precariously sheltered beneath dripping trees--yet there was +nothing else to be done; the men took turns in the rain to keep the +children in their places. The sky was completely overcast. 'It's set +in for a wet evening, and so we may as well make the best of it,' +Beatrice said grimly, and she sent the landau home empty. She was +right. A forlorn and disgusted snake of a procession crawled through +puddles to the station. The platform resounded with sneezes. None but +a dressmaker could have discovered a silver lining to the black and +all-pervading cloud which had ruined so many dozens of fair costumes. +Anna, melancholy and taciturn, exerted herself to minimise the +discomfort of her scholars. A word from Mynors would have been balm to +her; but Mynors, the general of a routed army, was parleying by +telephone with the traffic-manager of the railway for the expediting of +the special train. + + + +[1] _Welly_: nearly. + +[2] _Meet_: meet in class--a gathering for the exchange of religious +counsel and experience. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE ISLE + +About this time Anna was not seeing very much of Henry Mynors. At +twenty a man is rash in love, and again, perhaps, at fifty; a man of +middle-age enamoured of a young girl is capable of sublime follies. +But the man of thirty who loves for the first time is usually the +embodiment of cautious discretion. He does not fall in love with a +violent descent, but rather lets himself gently down, continually +testing the rope. His social value, especially if he have achieved +worldly success, is at its highest, and, without conceit, he is aware +of it. He has lost many illusions concerning women; he has seen more +than one friend wrecked in the sea of foolish marriage; he knows the +joys of a bachelor's freedom, without having wearied of them; he +perceives risks where the youth perceives only ecstasy, and the oldster +only a blissful release from solitude. Instead of searching, he is +sought for; accordingly he is selfish and exacting. All these things, +combine to tranquillize passion at thirty. Mynors was in love with +Anna, and his love had its ardent moments; but in the main it was a +temperate affection, an affection that walked circumspectly, with its +eyes open, careful of its dignity, too proud to seem in a hurry; if, by +impulse, it chanced now and then to leap forward, the involuntary +movement was mastered and checked. Mynors called at Manor Terrace once +a week, never on the same day of the week, nor without discussing +business with the miser. Occasionally he accompanied Anna from school +or chapel. Such methods were precisely to Anna's taste. Like him, she +loved prudence and decorum, preferring to make haste slowly. Since the +Revival, they had only once talked together intimately; on that sole +occasion Henry had suggested to her that she might care to join Mrs. +Sutton's class, which met on Monday nights; she accepted the hint with +pleasure, and found a well of spiritual inspiration in Mrs. Sutton's +modest and simple yet fervent homilies. Mynors was not guilty of +blowing both hot and cold. She was sure of him. She waited calmly for +events, existing, as her habit was, in the future. + +The future, then, meant the Isle of Man. Anna dreamed of an enchanted +isle and hours of unimaginable rapture. For a whole week after Mrs. +Sutton had won Ephraim's consent, her vision never stooped to practical +details. Then Beatrice called to see her; it was the morning after the +treat, and Anna was brushing her muddy frock; she wore a large white +apron, and held a cloth-brush in her hand as she opened the door. + +'You're busy?' said Beatrice. + +'Yes,' said Anna, 'but come in. Come into the kitchen--do you mind?' + +Beatrice was covered from neck to heel with a long mackintosh, which +she threw off when entering the kitchen. + +'Anyone else in the house?' she asked. + +'No,' said Anna, smiling, as Beatrice seated herself, with a sigh of +content, on the table. + +'Well, let's talk, then.' Beatrice drew from her pocket the +indispensable chocolates and offered them to Anna. 'I say, wasn't last +night perfectly awful? Henry got wet through in the end, and mother +made him stop at our house, as he was at the trouble to take me home. +Did you see him go down this morning?' + +'No; why?' said Anna, stiffly. + +'Oh--no reason. Only I thought perhaps you did. I simply can't tell +you how glad I am that you're coming with us to the Isle of Man; we +shall have rare fun. We go every year, you know--to Port Erin, a +lovely little fishing village. All the fishermen know us there. Last +year Henry hired a yacht for the fortnight, and we all went +mackerel-fishing, every day; except sometimes Pa. Now and then Pa had +a tendency to go fiddling in caves and things. I do hope it will be +fine weather again by then, don't you?' + +'I'm looking forward to it, I can tell you,' Anna said. 'What day are +we supposed to start?' + +'Saturday week.' + +'So soon?' Anna was surprised at the proximity of the event. + +'Yes; and quite late enough, too. We should start earlier, only the +Dad always makes out he can't. Men always pretend to be so frightfully +busy, and I believe it's all put on.' Beatrice continued to chat about +the holiday, and then of a sudden she asked: 'What are you going to +wear?' + +'Wear!' Anna repeated; and added, with hesitation: 'I suppose one will +want some new clothes?' + +'Well, just a few! Now let me advise you. Take a blue serge skirt. +Sea-water won't harm it, and if it's dark enough it will look well to +any mortal blouse. Secondly, you can't have too many blouses; they're +always useful at the seaside. Plain straw-hats are my tip. A coat for +nights, and thick boots. There! Of course no one ever _dresses_ at +Port Erin. It isn't like Llandudno, and all that sort of thing. You +don't have to meet your young man on the pier, because there isn't a +pier.' + +There was a pause. Anna did not know what to say. At length she +ventured: 'I'm not much for clothes, as I dare say you've noticed.' + +'I think you always look nice, my dear,' Beatrice responded. Nothing +was said as to Anna's wealth, no reference made as to the discrepancy +between that and the style of her garments. By a fiction, there was +supposed to be no discrepancy. + +'Do you make your own frocks?' Beatrice asked, later. + +'Yes.' + +'Do you know I thought you did. But they do you great credit. There's +few people can make a plain frock look decent.' + +This conversation brought Anna with a shock to the level of earth. She +perceived--only too well--a point which she had not hitherto fairly +faced in her idyllic meditations: that her father was still a factor in +the case. Since Mrs. Sutton's visit both Anna and the miser avoided +the subject of the holiday. 'You can't have too many blouses.' Did +Beatrice, then, have blouses by the dozen? A coat, a serge skirt, +straw hats (how many?)--the catalogue frightened her. She began to +suspect that she would not be able to go to the Isle of Man. + +'About me going with Suttons to the Isle of Man?' she accosted her +father, in the afternoon, outwardly calm, but with secret trembling. + +'Well?' he exclaimed savagely. + +'I shall want some money--a little.' She would have given much not to +have added that 'little,' but it came out of itself. + +'It's a waste o' time and money--that's what I call it. I can't think +why Suttons asked ye. Ye aren't ill, are ye?' His savagery changed to +sullenness. + +'No, father; but as it's arranged, I suppose I shall have to go.' + +'Well, I'm none so set up with the idea mysen.' + +'Shan't you be all right with Agnes?' + +'Oh, yes. _I_ shall be all right. _I_ don't want much. _I_'ve no +fads and fal-lals. How long art going to be away?' + +'I don't know. Didn't Mrs. Sutton tell you? You arranged it.' + +'That I didna'. Her said nowt to me.' + +'Well, anyhow I shall want some clothes.' + +'What for? Art naked?' + +'I must have some money.' Her voice shook. She was getting near tears. + +'Well, thou's gotten thy own money, hast na'?' + +'All I want is that you shall let me have some of my own money. +There's forty odd pounds now in the bank.' + +'Oh!' he repeated, sneering, 'all ye want is as I shall let thee have +some o' thy own money. And there's forty odd pound i' the bank. Oh!' + +'Will you give me my cheque-book out of the bureau? And I'll draw a +cheque; I know how to.' She had conquered the instinct to cry, and +unwillingly her tones became somewhat peremptory. Ephraim seized the +chance. + +'No, I won't give ye the cheque-book out o' th' bureau,' he said +flatly. 'And I'll thank ye for less sauce.' + +That finished the episode. Proudly she took an oath with herself not +to re-open the question, and resolved to write a note to Mrs. Sutton +saying that on consideration she found it impossible to go to the Isle +of Man. + +The next morning there came to Anna a letter from the secretary of a +limited company enclosing a post-office order for ten pounds. Some +weeks previously her father had discovered an error of that amount in +the deduction of income-tax from the dividend paid by this company, and +had instructed Anna to demand the sum. She had obeyed, and then +forgotten the affair. Here was the answer. Desperate at the thought +of missing the holiday, she cashed the order, bought and made her +clothes in secret, and then, two days before the arranged date of +departure told her father what she had done. He was enraged; but since +his anger was too illogical to be rendered effectively coherent in +words, he had the wit to keep silence. With bitterness Anna reflected +that she owed her holiday to the merest accident--for if the remittance +had arrived a little earlier or a little later, or in the form of a +cheque, she could not have utilised it. + + +It was an incredible day, the following Saturday, a warm and benign day +of earliest autumn. The Suttons, in a hired cab, called for Anna at +half-past eight, on the way to the main line station at Shawport. +Anna's tin box was flung on to the roof of the cab amid the trunks and +portmanteaux already there. + +'Why should not Agnes ride with us to the station?' Beatrice suggested. + +'Nay, nay; there's no room,' said Tellwright, who stood at the door, +impelled by an unacknowledged awe of Mrs. Sutton thus to give official +sanction to Anna's departure. + +'Yes, yes,' Mrs. Sutton exclaimed. 'Let the little thing come, Mr. +Tellwright.' + +Agnes, far more excited than any of the rest, seized her straw hat, and +slipping the elastic under her small chin, sprang into the cab, and +found a haven between Mr. Sutton's short, fat legs. The driver drew +his whip smartly across the aged neck of the cream mare. They were +off. What a rumbling, jolting, delicious journey, down the first hill, +up Duck Bank, through the market-place, and down the steep declivity of +Oldcastle Street! Silent and shy, Agnes smiled ecstatically at the +others. Anna answered remarks in a dream. She was conscious only of +present happiness and happy expectation. All bitterness had +disappeared. At least thirty thousand Bursley folk were not going to +the Isle of Man that day--their preoccupied and cheerless faces swam in +a continuous stream past the cab window--and Anna sympathised with +every unit of them. Her spirit overflowed with universal compassion. +What haste and exquisite confusion at the station! The train was +signalled, and the porter, crossing the line with the luggage, ran his +truck perilously under the very buffers of the incoming engine. Mynors +was awaiting them, admirably attired as a tourist. He had got the +tickets, and secured a private compartment in the through-coach for +Liverpool; and he found time to arrange with the cabman to drive Agnes +home on the box-seat. Certainly there was none like Mynors. From the +footboard of the carriage Anna bent down to kiss Agnes. The child had +been laughing and chattering. Suddenly, as Anna's lips touched hers, +she burst into tears, sobbed passionately as though overtaken by some +terrible and unexpected misfortune. Tears stood also in Anna's eyes. +The sisters had never been parted before. + +'Poor little thing!' Mrs. Sutton murmured; and Beatrice told her father +to give Agnes a shilling to buy chocolates at Stevenson's in St. Luke's +Square, that being the best shop. The shilling fell between the +footboard and the platform. A scream from Beatrice! The attendant +porter promised to rescue the shilling in due course. The engine +whistled, the silver-mounted guard asserted his authority, Mynors +leaped in, and amid laughter and tears the brief and unique joy of +Anna's life began. + +In a moment, so it seemed, the train was thundering through the mile of +solid rock which ends at Lime Street Station, Liverpool. +Thenceforward, till she fell asleep that night, Anna existed in a state +of blissful bewilderment, stupefied by an overdose of novel and +wondrous sensations. They lunched in amazing magnificence at the +Bear's Paw, and then walked through the crowded and prodigious streets +to Prince's landing-stage. The luggage had disappeared by some +mysterious agency--Mynors said that they would find it safe at Douglas; +but Anna could not banish the fear that her tin box had gone for ever. + +The great, wavy river, churned by thousands of keels; the monstrous +steamer--the 'Mona's Isle'--whose side rose like solid wall out of the +water; the vistas of its decks; its vast saloons, story under story, +solid and palatial (could all this float?); its high bridge; its +hawsers as thick as trees; its funnels like sloping towers; the +multitudes of passengers; the whistles, hoots, cries; the +far-stretching panorama of wharves and docks; the squat ferry-craft +carrying horses and carts, and no one looking twice at the feat--it was +all too much, too astonishing, too lovely. She had not guessed at this. + +'They call Liverpool the slum of Europe,' said Mynors. + +'How can you!' she exclaimed, shocked. + +Beatrice, seeing her radiant and rapt face, walked to and fro with +Anna, proud of the effect produced on her friend's inexperience by +these sights. One might have thought that Beatrice had built Liverpool +and created its trade by her own efforts. + +Suddenly the landing-stage and all the people on it moved away bodily +from the ship; there was green water between; a tremor like that of an +earthquake ran along the deck; handkerchiefs were waved. The voyage +had commenced. Mynors found chairs for all the Suttons, and tucked +them up on the lee-side of a deck-house; but Anna did not stir. They +passed New Brighton, Seaforth, and the Crosby and Formby lightships. + +'Come and view the ship,' said Mynors, at her side. 'Suppose we go +round and inspect things a bit?' + +'It's a very big one, isn't it?' she asked. + +'Pretty big,' he said; 'of course not as big as the Atlantic liners--I +wonder we didn't meet one in the river--but still pretty big. Three +hundred and twenty feet over all. I sailed on her last year on her +maiden voyage. She was packed, and the weather very bad.' + +'Will it be rough to-day?' Anna inquired timidly. + +'Not if it keeps like this,' he laughed. 'You don't feel queer, do +you?' + +'Oh, no. It's as firm as a house. No one could be ill with this?' + +'Couldn't they?' he exclaimed. 'Beatrice could be.' + +They descended into the ship, and he explained all its internal +economy, with a knowledge that seemed to her encyclopædic. They stayed +a long time watching the engines, so Titanic, ruthless, and deliberate; +even the smell of the oil was pleasant to Anna. When they came on deck +again the ship was at sea. For the first time Anna beheld the ocean. +A strong breeze blew from prow to stern, yet the sea was absolutely +calm, the unruffled mirror of effulgent sunlight. The steamer moved +alone on the waters, exultantly, leaving behind it an endless track of +white froth in the green, and the shadow of its smoke. The sun, the +salt breeze, the living water, the proud gaiety of the ship, produced a +feeling of intense, inexplicable joy, a profound satisfaction with the +present, and a negligence of past and future. To exist was enough, +then. As Anna and Henry leaned over the starboard quarter and watched +the torrent of foam rush madly and ceaselessly from under the +paddle-box to be swallowed up in the white wake, the spectacle of the +wild torrent almost hypnotised them, destroying thought and reason, and +all sense of their relation to other things. With difficulty Anna +raised her eyes, and perceived the dim receding line of the Lancashire +coast. + +'Shall we get quite out of sight of land?' she asked. + +'Yes, for a little while, about half an hour or so. Just as much out +of sight of land as if we were in the middle of the Atlantic.' + +'I can scarcely believe it.' + +'Believe what?' + +'Oh! The idea of that--of being out of sight of land--nothing but sea.' + +When at last it occurred to them to reconnoitre the Suttons, they found +all three still in their deck-chairs, enwrapped and languid. Mr. +Sutton and Beatrice were apparently dozing. This part of the deck was +occupied by somnolent, basking figures. + +'Don't wake them,' Mrs. Sutton enjoined, whispering out of her hood. +Anna glanced curiously at Beatrice's yellow face. + +'Go away, do,' Beatrice exclaimed, opening her eyes and shutting them +again, wearily. + +So they went away, and discovered two empty deck-chairs on the +fore-deck. Anna was innocently vain of her immunity from _malaise_. +Mynors appeared to appoint himself little errands about the deck, +returning frequently to his chair. 'Look over there. Can you see +anything?' + +Anna ran to the rail, with the infantile idea of getting nearer, and +Mynors followed, laughing. What looked like a small slate-coloured +cloud lay on the horizon. + +'I seem to see something,' she said. + +'That is the Isle of Man.' + +By insensible gradations the contours of the land grew clearer in the +afternoon haze. + +'How far are we off now?' + +'Perhaps twenty miles.' + +Twenty miles of uninterrupted flatness, and the ship steadily invading +that separating solitude, yard by yard, furlong by furlong! The +conception awed her. There, a morsel in the waste of the deep, a speck +under the infinite sunlight, lay the island, mysterious, enticing, +enchanted, a glinting jewel on, the sea's bosom, a remote entity +fraught with strange secrets. It was all unspeakable. + + +'Anna, you have covered yourself with glory,' said Mrs. Sutton, when +they were in the diminutive and absurd train which by breathless +plunges annihilates the sixteen miles between Douglas and Port Erin in +sixty-five minutes. + +'Have I?' she answered. 'How?' + +'By not being ill.' + +'That's always the beginner's luck,' said Beatrice, pale and +dishevelled. They all relapsed into the silence of fatigue. It was +growing dusk when the train stopped at the tiny terminus. The station +was a hive of bustling activity, the arrival of this train being the +daily event at that end of the world. Mynors and the Suttons were +greeted familiarly by several sailors, and one of these, Tom Kelly, a +tall, middle-aged man, with grey beard, small grey eyes, a wrinkled +skin of red mahogany, and an enormous fist, was introduced to Anna. He +raised his cap, and shook hands. She was touched by the sad, kind look +on his face, the melancholy impress of the sea. Then they drove to +their lodging, and here again the party was welcomed as being old and +tried friends. A fire was burning in the parlour. Throwing herself +down in front of it, Mrs. Sutton breathed, 'At last! Oh, for some +tea.' Through the window, Anna had a glimpse of a deeply indented bay +at the foot of cliffs below them, with a bold headland to the right. +Fishing vessels with flat red sails seemed to hang undecided just +outside the bay. From cottage chimneys beneath the road blue smoke +softly ascended. + +All went early to bed, for the weariness of Mr. and Mrs. Sutton seemed +to communicate itself to the three young people, who might otherwise +have gone forth into the village in search of adventures. Anna and +Beatrice shared a room. Each inspected the other's clothes, and +Beatrice made Anna try on the new serge skirt. Through the thin wall +came the sound of Mr. and Mrs. Sutton talking, a high voice, then a +bass reply, in continual alternation. Beatrice said that these two +always discussed the day's doings in such manner. In a few moments +Beatrice was snoring; she had the subdued but steady and serious snore +characteristic of some muscular men. Anna felt no inclination to +sleep. She lived again hour by hour through the day, and beneath +Beatrice's snore her ear caught the undertone of the sea. + +The next morning was as lovely as the last. It was Sunday, and every +activity of the village was stilled. Sea and land were equally folded +in a sunlit calm. During breakfast--a meal abundant in fresh herrings, +fresh eggs and fresh rolls, eaten with the window wide open--Anna was +puzzled by the singular amenity of her friends to one another and to +her. They were as polite as though they had been strangers; they +chatted amiably, were full of goodwill, and as anxious to give +happiness as to enjoy it. She thought at first, so unusual was it to +her as a feature of domestic privacy, that this demeanour was affected, +or at any rate a somewhat exaggerated punctilio due to her presence; +but she soon came to see that she was mistaken. After breakfast Mr. +Sutton suggested that they should attend the Wesleyan Chapel on the +hill leading to the Chasms. Here they met the sailors of the night +before, arrayed now in marvellous blue Melton coats with velveteen +collars. Tom Kelly walked back with them to the beach, and showed them +the yacht 'Fay' which Mynors had arranged to hire for mackerel-fishing; +it lay on the sands speckless in new white paint. All the afternoon +they dozed on the cliffs, doing nothing whatever, for this Sunday was +tacitly regarded, not as part of the holiday, but as a preparation for +the holiday; all felt that the holiday, with its proper exertions and +appointed delights, would really begin on Monday morning. + +'Let us go for a walk,' said Mynors, after tea, to Beatrice and Anna. +They stood at the gate of the lodging-house. The old people were +resting within. + +'You two go,' Beatrice replied, looking at Anna. 'You know I hate +walking, Henry. I'll stop with mother and dad.' + +Throughout the day Anna had been conscious of the fact that all the +Suttons showed a tendency, slight but perceptible, to treat Henry and +herself as a pair desirous of opportunities for being alone together. +She did not like it. She flushed under the passing glance with which +Beatrice accompanied the words: 'You two go.' Nevertheless, when +Mynors placidly remarked: 'Very well,' and his eyes sought hers for a +consent, she could not refuse it. One part of her nature would have +preferred to find an excuse for staying at home; but another, and a +stronger, part insisted on seizing this offered joy. + +They walked straight up out of the village toward the high coast-range +which stretches peak after peak from Port Erin to Peel. The stony and +devious lanes wound about the bleak hillside, passing here and there +small, solitary cottages of whitewashed stone, with children, fowls, +and dogs at the doors, all embowered in huge fuchsia trees. Presently +they had surmounted the limit of habitation and were on the naked flank +of Bradda, following a narrow track which crept upwards amid short +mossy turf of the most vivid green. Nothing seemed to flourish on this +exposed height except bracken, sheep, and boulders that, from a +distance, resembled sheep; there was no tree, scarcely a shrub; the +immense contours, stark, grim, and unrelieved, rose in melancholy and +defiant majesty against the sky: the hand of man could coax no harvest +from these smooth but obdurate slopes; they had never relented, and +they would never relent. The spirit was braced by the thought that +here, to the furthest eternity of civilisation more and more intricate, +simple and strong souls would always find solace and repose. + +Mynors bore to the left for a while, striking across the moor in the +direction of the sea. Then he said: + +'Look down, now.' + +The little bay lay like an oblong swimming-bath five hundred feet below +them. The surface of the water was like glass; the strand, with its +phalanx of boats drawn up in Sabbath tidiness, glittered like marble in +the living light, and over this marble black dots moved slowly to and +fro; behind the boats were the houses--dolls' houses--each with a +curling wisp of smoke; further away the railway and the high road ran +out in a black and white line to Port St. Mary; the sea, a pale grey, +encompassed all; the southern sky had a faint sapphire tinge, rising to +delicate azure. The sight of this haven at rest, shut in by the +restful sea and by great moveless hills, a calm within a calm, aroused +profound emotion. + +'It's lovely,' said Anna, as they stood gazing. Tears came to her eyes +and hung there. She wondered that scenery should cause tears, felt +ashamed, and turned her face so that Mynors should not see. But he had +seen. + +'Shall we go on to the top?' he suggested, and they set their faces +northwards to climb still higher. At length they stood on the rocky +summit of Bradda, seven hundred feet from the sea. The Hill of the +Night Watch lifted above them to the north, but on east, south, and +west, the prospect was bounded only by the ocean. The coast-line was +revealed for thirty miles, from Peel to Castletown. Far to the east +was Castletown Bay, large, shallow and inhospitable, its floor strewn +with a thousand unseen wrecks; the lighthouse at Scarlet Point flashed +dimly in the dusk; thence the beach curved nearer in an immense arc, +without a sign of life, to the little cove of Port St. Mary, and jutted +out again into a tongue of land at the end of which lay the Calf of Man +with its single white cottage and cart-track. The dangerous Calf +Sound, where the vexed tide is forced to run nine hours one way and +three the other, seemed like a grey ribbon, and the Chicken Rock like a +tiny pencil on a vast slate. Port Erin was hidden under their feet. +They looked westward. The darkening sky was a labyrinth of purple and +crimson scarves drawn pellucid, as though by the finger of God, across +a sheet of pure saffron. These decadent tints of the sunset faded in +every direction to the same soft azure which filled the south, and one +star twinkled in the illimitable field. Thirty miles off, on the +horizon, could be discerned the Mourne Mountains of Ireland. + +'See!' Mynors exclaimed, touching her arm. + +The huge disc of the moon was rising in the east, and as this mild lamp +passed up the sky, the sense of universal quiescence increased. +Lovely, Anna had said. It was the loveliest sight her eyes had ever +beheld, a panorama of pure beauty transcending all imagined visions. +It overwhelmed her, thrilled her to the heart, this revelation of the +loveliness of the world. Her thoughts went back to Hanbridge and +Bursley and her life there; and all the remembered scenes, bathed in +the glow of a new ideal, seemed to lose their pain. It was as if she +had never been really unhappy, as if there was no real unhappiness on +the whole earth. She perceived that the monotony, the austerity, the +melancholy of her existence had been sweet and beautiful of its kind, +and she recalled, with a sort of rapture, hours of companionship with +the beloved Agnes, when her father was equable and pacific. Nothing +was ugly nor mean. Beauty was everywhere, in everything. + +In silence they began to descend, perforce walking quickly because of +the steep gradient. At the first cottage they saw a little girl in a +mob-cap playing with two kittens. + +'How like Agnes!' Mynors said. + +'Yes. I was just thinking so,' Anna answered. + +'I thought of her up on the hill,' he continued. 'She will miss you, +won't she?' + +'I know she cried herself to sleep last night. You mightn't guess it, +but she is extremely sensitive.' + +'Not guess it? Why not? I am sure she is. Do you know--I am very +fond of your sister. She's a simply delightful child. And there's a +lot in her, too. She's so quick and bright, and somehow like a little +woman.' + +'She's exactly like a woman sometimes,' Anna agreed. 'Sometimes I +fancy she's a great deal older than I am.' + +'Older than any of us,' he corrected. + +'I'm glad you like her,' Anna said, content. 'She thinks all the world +of you.' And she added: 'My word, wouldn't she be vexed if she knew I +had told you that!' + +This appreciation of Agnes brought them into closer intimacy, and they +talked the more easily of other things. + +'It will freeze to-night,' Mynors said; and then, suddenly looking at +her in the twilight: 'You are feeling chill.' + +'Oh, no!' she protested. + +'But you are. Put this muffler round your neck.' He took a muffler +from his pocket. + +'Oh, no, really! You will need it yourself.' She drew a little away +from him, as if to avoid the muffler. + +'Please take it.' + +She did so, and thanked him, tying it loosely and untidily round her +throat. That feeling of the untidiness of the muffler, of its being +something strange to her skin, something with the rough virtue of +masculinity, which no one could detect in the gloom, was in itself +pleasant. + +'I wager Mrs. Sutton has a good fire burning when we get in,' he said. + +She thought with joyous anticipation of the warm, bright, sitting-room, +the supper, and the vivacious good-natured conversation. Though the +walk was nearly at an end, other delights were in store. Of the +holiday, thirteen complete days yet remained, each to be as happy as +the one now closing. It was an age! At last they entered the human +cosiness of the village. As they walked up the steps of their lodging +and he opened the door for her, she quickly drew off the muffler and +returned it to him with a word of thanks. + +On Monday morning, when Beatrice and Anna came downstairs, they found +the breakfast odorously cooling on the table, and nobody in the room. + +'Where are they all, I wonder. Any letters?' Beatrice said. + +'There's your mother, out on the front--and Mr. Mynors too.' + +Beatrice threw up the window, and called: 'Come along, Henry; come +along, mother. Everything's going cold.' + +'Is it?' Mynors cheerfully replied. 'Come out here, both of you, and +begin the day properly with a dose of ozone.' + +'I loathe cold bacon,' said Beatrice, glancing at the table, and they +went out into the road, where Mrs. Sutton kissed them with as much +fervour as if they had arrived from a long journey. + +'You look pale, Anna,' she remarked. + +'Do I?' said Anna, 'I don't feel pale.' + +'It's that long walk last night,' Beatrice put in. 'Henry always goes +too far.' + +'I don't----' Anna began; but at that moment Mr. Sutton, lumbering and +ponderous, joined the party. + +'Henry,' he said, without greeting anyone, 'hast noticed those +half-finished houses down the road yonder by the "Falcon"? I've been +having a chat with Kelly, and he tells me the fellow that was building +them has gone bankrupt, and they're at a stand-still. The Receiver +wants to sell 'em. In fact Kelly says they're going cheap. I believe +they'd be a good spec.' + +'Eh, dear!' Mrs. Sutton interrupted him. 'Father, I wish you would +leave your specs alone when you're on your holiday.' + +'Now, missis!' he affectionately protested, and continued: 'They're +fairly well built, seemingly, and the rafters are on the roof. Anna,' +he turned to her quickly, as if counting on her sympathy, 'you must +come with me and look at 'em after breakfast. Happen they might suit +your father--or you. I know your father's fond of a good spec.' + +She assented with a ready smile. This was the beginning of a fancy +which the Alderman always afterwards showed for Anna. + +After breakfast Mrs. Sutton, Beatrice, and Anna arranged to go shopping: + +'Father--brass,' Mrs. Sutton ejaculated in two monosyllables to her +husband. + +'How much will content ye?' he asked mildly. + +'Give me five or ten pounds to go on with.' + +He opened the left-hand front pocket of his trousers--a pocket which +fastened with a button; and leaning back in his chair drew out a fat +purse, and passed it to his wife with a preoccupied air. She helped +herself, and then Beatrice intercepted the purse and lightened it of +half a sovereign. + +'Pocket-money,' Beatrice said; 'I'm ruined.' + +The Alderman's eyes requested Anna to observe how he was robbed. At +last the purse was safely buttoned up again. + +Mrs. Sutton's purchases of food at the three principal shops of the +village seemed startlingly profuse to Anna, but gradually she became +accustomed to the scale, and to the amazing habit of always buying the +very best of everything, from beefsteak to grapes. Anna calculated +that the housekeeping could not cost less than six pounds a week for +the five. At Manor Terrace three people existed on a pound. With her +half-sovereign Beatrice bought a belt and a pair of sand-shoes, and +some cigarettes for Henry. Mrs. Sutton bought a pipe with a nickel +cap, such as is used by sailors. When they returned to the house, Mr. +Sutton and Henry were smoking on the front. All five walked in a row +down to the harbour, the Alderman giving an arm each to Beatrice and +Anna. Near the 'Falcon' the procession had to be stopped in order to +view the unfinished houses. Tom Kelly had a cabin partly excavated out +of the rock behind the little quay. Here they found him entangled amid +nets, sails, and oars. All crowded into the cabin and shook hands with +its owner, who remarked with severity on their pallid faces, and +insisted that a change of complexion must be brought about. Mynors +offered him his tobacco-pouch, but on seeing the light colour of the +tobacco he shook his head and refused it, at the same time taking from +within his jersey a lump of something that resembled leather. + +'Give him this, Henry,' Mrs. Sutton whispered, handing Mynors the pipe +which she had bought. + +'Mrs. Sutton wishes you to accept this,' said Mynors. + +'Eh, thank ye,' he exclaimed. 'There's a leddy that knows my taste.' +He cut some shreds from his plug with a clasp-knife and charged and +lighted the pipe, filling the cabin with asphyxiating fumes. + +'I don't know how you can smoke such horrid, nasty stuff,' said +Beatrice, coughing. + +He laughed condescendingly at Beatrice's petulant manner. 'That stuff +of Henry's is boy's tobacco,' he said shortly. + +It was decided that they should go fishing in the 'Fay.' There was a +light southerly breeze, a cloudy sky, and smooth water. Under charge +of young Tom Kelly, a sheepish lad of sixteen, with his father's smile, +they all got into an inconceivably small dinghy, loading it down till +it was almost awash. Old Tom himself helped Anna to embark, told her +where to tread, and forced her gently into a seat at the stern. No one +else seemed to be disturbed, but Anna was in a state of desperate fear. +She had never committed herself to a boat before, and the little waves +spat up against the sides in a most alarming way as young Tom jerked +the dinghy along with the short sculls. She went white, and clung in +silence fiercely to the gunwale. In a few moments they were tied up to +the 'Fay,' which seemed very big and safe in comparison with the +dinghy. They clambered on board, and in the deep well of the two-ton +yacht Anna contrived to collect her wits. She was reassured by the +painted legend in the well, 'Licensed to carry eleven.' Young Tom and +Henry busied themselves with ropes, and suddenly a huge white sail +began to ascend the mast; it flapped like thunder in the gentle breeze. +Tom pulled up the anchor, curling the chain round and round on the +forward deck, and then Anna noticed that, although the wind was +scarcely perceptible, they were gliding quickly past the embankment. +Henry was at the tiller. The next minute Tom had set the jib, and by +this time the 'Fay' was approaching the breakwater at a great pace. +There was no rolling or pitching, but simply a smooth, swift +progression over the calm surface. Anna thought it the ideal of +locomotion. As soon as they were beyond the breakwater and the sails +caught the breeze from the Sound, the 'Fay' lay over as if shot, and a +little column of green water flung itself on the lee coaming of the +well. Anna screamed as she saw the water and felt the angle of the +floor suddenly change, but when everyone laughed, she laughed too. +Henry, noticing the whiteness of her knuckles as she gripped the +coaming, explained the disconcerting phenomena. Anna tried to be at +ease, but she was not. She could not for a long time dismiss the +suspicion that all these people were foolishly blind to a peril which +she alone had the sagacity to perceive. + +They cruised about while Tom prepared the lines. The short waves +chopped cheerfully against the carvel sides of the yacht; the clouds +were breaking at a hundred points; the sea grew lighter in tone; gaiety +was in the air; no one could possibly be indisposed in that innocuous +weather. At length the lines were ready, but Tom said the yacht was +making at least a knot too much for serious fishing, so Henry took a +reef in the mainsail, showing Anna how to tie the short strings. The +Alderman, lying on the fore-deck, was placidly smoking. The lines were +thrown out astern, and Mrs. Sutton and Beatrice each took one. But +they had no success; young Tom said it was because the sun had appeared. + +'Caught anything?' Mr. Sutton inquired at intervals. After a time he +said: + +'Suppose Anna and I have a try?' + +It was agreed. + +'What must I do?' asked Anna, brave now. + +'You just hold the line--so. And if you feel a little jerk-jerk, +that's a mackerel.' These were the instructions of Beatrice. Anna was +becoming excited. She had not held the line ten seconds before she +cried out: + +'I've got one.' + +'Nonsense,' said Beatrice. 'Everyone thinks at first that the motion +of the waves against the line is a fish.' + +'Well,' said Henry, giving the tiller to young Tom. 'Let's haul in and +see, anyway.' Before doing so he held the line for a moment, testing +it, and winked at Anna. While Anna and Henry were hauling in, the +Alderman, dropping his pipe, began also to haul in his own line with +great fury. + +'Got one, father?' Mrs. Sutton asked. + +'Ay!' + +Both lines came in together, and on each was a pounder. Anna saw her +fish gleam and flash like silver in the clear water as it neared the +surface. Henry held the line short, letting the mackerel plunge and +jerk, and then seized and unhooked the catch. + +'How cruel!' Anna cried, startled at the nearness of the two fish as +they sprang about in an old sugar box at her feet. Young Tom laughed +loud at her exclamation. 'They cairn't feel, miss,' he sniggered. +Anna wondered that a mouth so soft and kind could utter such heartless +words. + +In an hour the united efforts of the party had caught nine mackerel; it +was not a multitude, but the sun, in perfecting the weather, had spoilt +the sport. Anna had ceased to commiserate the captured fish. She was +obliged, however, to avert her head when Tom cut some skin from the +side of one of the mackerel to provide fresh bait; this device seemed +to her the extremest refinement of cruelty. Beatrice grew ominously +silent and inert, and Mrs. Sutton glanced first at her daughter and +then at her husband; the latter nodded. + +'We'd happen better be getting back, Henry,' said the Alderman. + +The 'Fay' swept home like a bird. They were at the quay, and Kelly was +dragging them one by one from the black dinghy on to what the Alderman +called _terra-firma_. Henry had the fish on a string. + +'How many did ye catch, Miss Tellwright?' Kelly asked benevolently. + +'I caught four,' Anna replied. Never before had she felt so proud, +elated, and boisterous. Never had the blood so wildly danced in her +veins. She looked at her short blue skirt which showed three inches of +ankle, put forward her brown-shod foot like a vain coquette, and darted +a covert look at Henry. When he caught it she laughed instead of +blushing. + +'Ye're doing well,' Tom Kelly approved. 'Ye'll make a famous +mackerel-fisher.' + +Five of the mackerel were given to young Tom, the other four preceded a +fowl in the menu of dinner. They were called Anna's mackerel, and all +the diners agreed that better mackerel had never been lured out of the +Irish Sea. + +In the afternoon the Alderman and his wife slept as usual, Mr. Sutton +with a bandanna handkerchief over his face. The rest went out +immediately; the invitation of the sun and the sea was far too +persuasive to be resisted. + +'I'm going to paint,' said Beatrice, with a resolute mien. 'I want to +paint Bradda Head frightfully. I tried last year, but I got it too +dark, somehow. I've improved since then. What are you going to do?' + +'We'll come and watch you,' said Henry. + +'Oh, no, you won't. At least you won't; you're such a critic. Anna +can if she likes.' + +'What! And me be left all afternoon by myself?' + +'Well, suppose you go with him, Anna, just to keep him from being +bored?' + +Anna hesitated. Once more she had the uncomfortable suspicion that +Mynors and herself were being manoeuvred. + +'Look here,' said Mynors to Beatrice. 'Have you decided absolutely to +paint?' + +'Absolutely.' The finality of the answer seemed to have a touch of +resentment. + +'Then'--he turned to Anna--'let's go and get that dinghy and row about +the bay. Eh?' + +She could offer no rational objection, and they were soon putting off +from the jetty, impelled seaward by a mighty push from Kelly's arm. It +was very hot. Mynors wore white flannels. He removed his coat, and +turned up his sleeves, showing thick, hairy arms. He sculled in a +manner almost dramatic, and the dinghy shot about like a water-spider +on a brook. Anna had nothing to do except to sit still and enjoy. +Everything was drowned in dazzling sunlight, and both Henry and Anna +could feel the process of tanning on their faces. The bay shimmered +with a million diamond points; it was impossible to keep the eyes open +without frowning, and soon Anna could see the beads of sweat on Henry's +crimson brow. + +'Warm?' she said. This was the first word of conversation. He merely +smiled in reply. Presently they were at the other side of the bay, in +a cave whose sandy and rock-strewn floor trembled clear under a fathom +of blue water. They landed on a jutting rock; Henry pushed his straw +hat back, and wiped his forehead. 'Glorious! glorious!' he exclaimed. +'Do you swim? No? You should get Beatrice to teach you. I swam out +here this morning at seven o'clock. It was chilly enough then. Oh! I +forgot, I told you at breakfast.' + +She could see him in the translucent water, swimming with long, +powerful strokes. Dozens of boats were moving lazily in the bay, each +with a cargo of parasols. + +'There's a good deal of the sunshade afloat,' he remarked. 'Why +haven't you got one? You'll get as brown as Tom Kelly.' + +'That's what I want,' she said. + +'Look at yourself in the water there,' he said, pointing to a little +pool left on the top of the rock by the tide. She did so, and saw two +fiery cheeks, and a forehead divided by a horizontal line into halves +of white and crimson; the tip of the nose was blistered. + +'Isn't it disgraceful?' he suggested. + +'Why,' she exclaimed, 'they'll never know me when I get home!' + +It was in such wise that they talked, endlessly exchanging trifles of +comment. Anna thought to herself: 'Is this love-making?' It could not +be, she decided; but she infinitely preferred it so. She was content. +She wished for nothing better than this apparently frivolous and +irresponsible dalliance. She felt that if Mynors were to be tender, +sentimental, and serious, she would become wretchedly self-conscious. + +They re-embarked, and, skirting the shore, gradually came round to the +beach. Up above them, on the cliffs, they could discern the +industrious figure of Beatrice, with easel and sketching-umbrella, and +all the panoply of the earnest amateur. + +'Do you sketch?' she asked him. + +'Not I!' he said scornfully. + +'Don't you believe in that sort of thing, then?' + +'It's all right for professional artists,' he said; 'people who can +paint. But---- Well, I suppose it's harmless for the amateurs--finds +them something to do.' + +'I wish I could paint, anyway,' she retorted. + +'I'm glad you can't,' he insisted. + +When they got back to the cliffs, towards tea-time, Beatrice was still +painting, but in a new spot. She seemed entirely absorbed in her work, +and did not hear their approach. + +'Let's creep up and surprise her,' Mynors whispered. 'You go first, +and put your hands over her eyes.' + +'Oh!' exclaimed Beatrice, blindfolded; 'how horrid you are, Henry! I +know who it is--I know who it is.' + +'You just don't, then,' said Henry, now in front of her. Anna removed +her hands. + +'Well, you told her to do it, I'm sure of that. And I was getting on +so splendidly! I shan't do another stroke now.' + +'That's right,' said Henry. 'You've wasted quite enough time as it is.' + +Beatrice pouted. She was evidently annoyed with both of them. She +looked from one to the other, jealous of their mutual understanding and +agreement. Mr. and Mrs. Sutton issued from the house, and the five +stood chatting till tea was ready; but the shadow remained on +Beatrice's face. Mynors made several attempts to laugh it away, and at +dusk these two went for a stroll to Port St. Mary. They returned in a +state of deep intimacy. During supper Beatrice was consciously and +elaborately angelic, and there was that in her voice and eyes, when +sometimes she addressed Mynors, which almost persuaded Anna that he +might once have loved his cousin. At night, in the bedroom, Anna +imagined that she could detect in Beatrice's attitude the least shade +of condescension. She felt hurt, and despised herself for feeling hurt. + +So the days passed, without much variety, for the Suttons were not +addicted to excursions. Anna was profoundly happy; she had forgotten +care. She agreed to every suggestion for amusement; each moment had +its pleasure, and this pleasure was quite independent of the thing +done; it sprang from all activities and idlenesses. She was at special +pains to fraternise with Mr. Sutton. He made an interesting companion, +full of facts about strata, outcrops, and breaks, his sole weakness +being the habit of quoting extremely sentimental scraps of verse when +walking by the sea-shore. He frankly enjoyed Anna's attention to him, +and took pride in her society. Mrs. Sutton, that simple heart, devoted +herself to the attainment of absolute quiescence. She had come for a +rest, and she achieved her purpose. Her kindliness became for the time +passive instead of active. Beatrice was a changing quantity in the +domestic equation. Plainly her parents had spoiled their only child, +and she had frequent fits of petulance, particularly with Mynors; but +her energy and spirits atoned well for these. As for Mynors, he +behaved exactly as on the first Monday. He spent many hours alone with +Anna--(Beatrice appeared to insist on leaving them together, even while +showing a faint resentment at the loneliness thus entailed on +herself)--and his attitude was such as Anna, ignorant of the ways of +brothers, deemed a brother might adopt. + +On the second Monday an incident occurred. In the afternoon Mr. Sutton +had asked Beatrice to go with him to Port St. Mary, and she had refused +on the plea that the light was of a suitable grey for painting. Mr. +Sutton had slipped off alone, unseen by Anna and Henry, who had meant +to accompany him in place of Beatrice. Before tea, while Anna, +Beatrice and Henry were awaiting the meal in the parlour, Mynors +referred to the matter. + +'I hope you've done some decent work this afternoon,' he said to +Beatrice. + +'I haven't,' she replied shortly; 'I haven't done a stroke.' + +'But you said you were going to paint hard!' + +'Well, I didn't.' + +'Then why couldn't you have gone to Port St. Mary, instead of breaking +your fond father's heart by a refusal?' + +'He didn't want me, really.' + +Anna interjected: 'I think he did, Bee.' + +'You know you're very self-willed, not to say selfish,' Mynors said. + +'No, I'm not,' Beatrice protested seriously. 'Am I, Anna?' + +'Well----' Anna tried to think of a diplomatic pronouncement. +Beatrice took offence at the hesitation. + +'Oh! You two are bound to agree, of course. You're as thick as +thieves.' + +She gazed steadily out of the window, and there was a silence. Mynors' +lip curled. + +'Oh! There's the loveliest yacht just coming into the bay,' Beatrice +cried suddenly, in a tone of affected enthusiasm. 'I'm going out to +sketch it.' She snatched up her hat and sketching-block, and ran +hastily from the room. The other two saw her sitting on the grass, +sharpening a pencil. The yacht, a large and luxurious craft, had +evidently come to anchor for the night. + +Mrs. Sutton arrived from her bedroom, and then Mr. Sutton also came in. +Tea was served. Mynors called to Beatrice through the window and +received no reply. Then Mrs. Sutton summoned her. + +'Go on with your tea,' Beatrice shouted, without turning her head. +'Don't wait for me. I'm bound to finish this now.' + +'Fetch her, Anna dear,' said Mrs. Sutton after another interval. Anna +rose to obey, half-fearful. + +'Aren't you coming in, Bee?' She stood by the sketcher's side, and +observed nothing but a few meaningless lines on the block. + +'Didn't you hear what I said to mother?' + +Anna retired in discomfiture. + +Tea was finished. They went out, but kept at a discreet distance from +the artist, who continued to use her pencil until dusk had fallen. +Then they returned to the sitting-room, where a fire had been lighted, +and Beatrice at length followed. As the others sat in a circle round +the fire, Beatrice, who occupied the sofa in solitude, gave a shiver. + +'Beatrice, you've taken cold,' said her mother, sitting out there like +that.' + +'Oh, nonsense, mother--what a fidget you are!' + +'A fidget I certainly am not, my darling, and that you know very well. +As you've had no tea, you shall have some gruel at once, and go to bed +and get warm.' + +'Oh no, mother!' But Mrs. Sutton was resolved, and in half an hour she +had taken Beatrice to bed and tucked her up. + +When Anna went to the bedroom Beatrice was awake. + +'Can't you sleep?' she inquired kindly. + +'No,' said Beatrice, in a feeble voice, 'I'm restless, somehow.' + +'I wonder if it's influenza,' said Mrs. Sutton, on the following +morning, when she learnt from Anna that Beatrice had had a bad night, +and would take breakfast in bed. She carried the invalid's food +upstairs herself. 'I hope it isn't influenza,' she said later. 'The +girl is very hot.' + +'You haven't a clinical thermometer?' Mynors suggested. + +'Go, see if you can buy one at the little chemist's,' she replied +eagerly. In a few minutes he came back with the instrument. + +'She's at over a hundred,' Mrs. Sutton reported, having used the +thermometer. 'What do you say, father? Shall we send for a doctor? +I'm not so set up with doctors as a general rule,' she added, as if in +defence, to Anna. 'I brought Beatrice through measles and scarlet +fever without a doctor--we never used to think of having a doctor in +those days for ordinary ailments; but influenza--that's different. Eh, +I dread it; you never know how it will end. And poor Beatrice had such +a bad attack last Martinmas.' + +'If you like, I'll run for a doctor now,' said Mynors. + +'Let be till to-morrow,' the Alderman decided. 'We'll see how she goes +on. Happen it's nothing but a cold.' + +'Yes,' assented Mrs. Sutton; 'it's no use crying out before you're +hurt.' + +Anna was struck by the placidity with which they covered their +apprehension. Towards noon, Beatrice, who said that she felt better, +insisted on rising. A fire was lighted at once in the parlour, and she +sat in front of it till tea-time, when she was obliged to go to bed +again. On the Wednesday morning, after a night which had been almost +sleepless for both girls, her temperature stood at 103°, and Henry +fetched the doctor, who pronounced it a case of influenza, severe, +demanding very careful treatment. Instantly the normal movement of the +household was changed. The sickroom became a mysterious centre round +which everything revolved, and the parlour, without the alteration of a +single chair, took on a deserted, forlorn appearance. Meals were eaten +like the passover, with loins girded for any sudden summons. Mrs. +Sutton and Anna, as nurses, grew important in the eyes of the men, who +instinctively effaced themselves, existing only like messenger-boys +whose business it is to await a call. Yet there was no alarm, flurry, +nor excitement. In the evening the doctor returned. The patient's +temperature had not fallen. It was part of the treatment that a +medicine should be administered every two hours with absolute +regularity, and Mrs. Sutton said that she should sit up through the +night. + +'I shall do that,' said Anna. + +'Nay, I won't hear of it,' Mrs. Sutton replied, smiling. + +But the three men (the doctor had remained to chat in the parlour), +recognising Anna's capacity and reliability, and perhaps impressed also +by her business-like appearance as, arrayed in a white apron, she stood +with firm lips before them, gave a unanimous decision against Mrs. +Sutton. + +'We'st have you ill next, lass,' said the Alderman to his wife; 'and +that'll never do.' + +'Well,' Mrs. Sutton surrendered, 'if I can leave her to anyone, it's +Anna.' + +Mynors smiled appreciatively. + +On the Thursday morning there was still no sign of recovery. The +temperature was 104°, and the patient slightly delirious. Anna left +the sickroom at eight o'clock to preside at breakfast, and Mrs. Sutton +took her place. + +'You look tired, my dear,' said the Alderman affectionately. + +'I feel perfectly well,' she replied with cheerfulness. + +'And you aren't afraid of catching it?' Mynors asked. + +'Afraid?' she said; 'there's no fear of me catching it.' + +'How do you know?' + +'I know, that's all. I'm never ill.' + +'That's the right way to keep well,' the Alderman remarked. + +The quiet admiration of these two men was very pleasant to her. She +felt that she had established herself for ever in their esteem. After +breakfast, in obedience to them, she slept for several hours on Mrs. +Sutton's bed. In the afternoon Beatrice was worse. The doctor called, +and found her temperature at 105°. + +'This can't last,' he remarked briefly. + +'Well, Doctor,' Mr. Sutton said, 'it's i' your hands.' + +'Nay,' Mrs. Sutton murmured with a smile, 'I've left it with God. It's +with Him.' + +This was the first and only word of religion, except grace at table, +that Anna heard from the Suttons during her stay in the Isle of Man. +She had feared lest vocal piety might form a prominent feature of their +daily life, but her fear had proved groundless. She, too, from reason +rather than instinct, had tried to pray for Beatrice's recovery. She +had, however, found much more satisfaction in the activity of nursing. + +Again that night she sat up, and on the Friday morning Beatrice was +better. At noon all immediate danger was past; the patient slept; her +temperature was almost correct. Anna went to bed in the afternoon and +slept soundly till supper-time, when she awoke very hungry. For the +first time in three days Beatrice could be left alone. The other four +had supper together, cheerful and relieved after the tension. + +'She'll be as right as a trivet in a few days,' said the Alderman. + +'A few weeks,' said Mrs. Sutton. + +'Of course,' said Mynors, 'you'll stay on here, now?' + +'We shall stay until Beatrice is quite fit to travel,' Mr. Sutton +answered. 'I might have to run over to th' Five Towns for a day or two +middle of next week, but I can come back immediately.' + +'Well, I must go tomorrow,' Mynors sighed. + +'Surely you can stay over Sunday, Henry?' + +'No; I've no one to take my place at school.' + +'And I must go to-morrow, too,' said Anna suddenly. + +'Fiddle-de-dee, Anna!' the Alderman protested. + +'I must,' she insisted. 'Father will expect me. You know I came for a +fortnight. Besides, there's Agnes.' + +'Agnes will be all right.' + +'I must go.' They saw that she was fixed. + +'Won't a short walk do you good?' Mynors suggested to her, with +singular gravity, after supper. 'You've not been outside for two days.' + +She looked inquiringly at Mrs. Sutton. + +'Yes, take her, Henry; she'll sleep better for it. Eh, Anna, but it's +a shame to send you home with those rings round your eyes.' + +She went upstairs for a jacket. Beatrice was awake. 'Anna,' she +exclaimed in a weak voice, without any preface, 'I was awfully silly +and cross the other afternoon, before all this business. Just now, +when you came into the room, I was feeling quite ashamed.' + +'Oh! Bee!' she answered, bending over her, 'what nonsense! Now go off +to sleep at once.' She was very happy. Beatrice, victim of a +temperament which had the childishness and the impulsiveness of the +artist without his higher and sterner traits, sank back in facile +content. + +The night was still and very dark. When Anna and Mynors got outside +they could distinguish neither the sky nor the sea; but the faint, +restless murmur of the sea came up the cliffs. Only the lights of the +houses disclosed the direction of the road. + +'Suppose we go down to the jetty, and then along as far as the +breakwater?' he said, and she concurred. 'Won't you take my +muffler--again?' he added, pulling this ever-present article from his +pocket. + +'No, thanks,' she said, almost coldly, 'it's really quite warm.' She +regarded the offer of the muffler as an indiscretion--his sole +indiscretion during their acquaintance. As they walked down the hill +to the shore she though how Beatrice's illness had sharply interrupted +their relations. If she had come to the Isle of Man with a vague idea +that he would possibly propose to her, the expectation was +disappointed; but she felt no disappointment. She felt that events had +lifted her to a higher plane than that of love-making. She was filled +with the proud satisfaction of a duty accomplished. She did not seek +to minimise to herself the fact that she had been of real value to her +friends in the last few days, had probably saved Mrs. Sutton from +illness, had certainly laid them all under an obligation. Their +gratitude, unexpressed, but patent on each face, gave her infinite +pleasure. She had won their respect by the manner in which she had +risen to the height of an emergency that demanded more than devotion. +She had proved, not merely to them but to herself, that she could be +calm under stress, and could exert moral force when occasion needed. +Such were the joyous and exultant reflections which passed through her +brain--unnaturally active in the factitious wakefulness caused by +excessive fatigue. She was in an extremely nervous and excitable +condition--and never guessed it, fancying indeed that her emotions were +exceptionally tranquil that night. She had not begun to realise the +crisis through which she had just lived. + +The uneven road to the ruined breakwater was quite deserted. Having +reached the limit of the path, they stood side by side, solitary, +silent, gazing at the black and gently heaving surface of the sea. The +eye was foiled by the intense gloom; the ear could make nothing of the +strange night-noises of the bay and the ocean beyond; but the +imagination was stimulated by the appeal of all this mystery and +darkness. Never had the water seemed so wonderful, terrible, and +austere. + +'We are going away to-morrow,' he said at length. + +Anna started and shook with apprehension at the tremor in his voice. +She had read that a woman was always well warned by her instincts when +a man meant to propose to her. But here was the proposal imminent, and +she had not suspected. In a flash of insight she perceived that the +very event which had separated them for three days had also impelled +the lover forward in his course. It was the thought of her vigils, her +fortitude, her compassion, that had fanned the flame. She was not +surprised, only made uncomfortable, when he took her hand. + +'Anna,' he said, 'it's no use making a long story of it. I'm +tremendously in love with you; you know I am.' + +He stepped back, still holding her hand. She could say nothing. + +'Well?' he ventured. 'Didn't you know?' + +'I thought--I thought,' she murmured stupidly, 'I thought you liked me.' + +'I can't tell you how I admire you. I'm not going to praise you to +your face, but I simply never met anyone like you. From the very first +moment I saw you, it was the same. It's something in your face, +Anna---- Anna, will you be my wife?' + +The actual question was put in a precise, polite, somewhat conventional +tone. To Anna he was never more himself than at that moment. + +She could not speak; she could not analyse her feelings; she could not +even think. She was adrift. At last she stammered: 'We've only known +each other----' + +'Oh, dear,' he exclaimed masterfully, 'what does that matter? If it +had been a dozen years instead of one, that would have made no +difference.' She drew her hand timidly away, but he took it again. +She felt that he dominated her and would decide for her. 'Say yes.' + +'Yes,' she said. + +She saw pictures of her career as his wife, and resolved that one of +the first acts of her freedom should be to release Agnes from the more +ignominious of her father's tyrannies. + +They walked home almost in silence. She was engaged, then. Yet she +experienced no new sensation. She felt as she had felt on the way +down, except that she was sorely perturbed. There was no ineffable +rapture, no ecstatic bliss. Suddenly the prospect of happiness swept +over her like a flood. + +At the gate she wished to make a request to him, but hesitated, because +she could not bring herself to use his Christian name. It was proper +for her to use his Christian name, however, and she would do so, or +perish. + +'Henry,' she said, 'don't tell anyone here.' He merely kissed her once +more. She went straight upstairs. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE DOWNFALL + +In order to catch the Liverpool steamer at Douglas it was necessary to +leave Port Erin at half-past six in the morning. The freshness of the +morning, and the smiles of the Alderman and his wife as they waved +God-speed from the doorstep, filled Anna with a serene content which +she certainly had not felt during the wakeful night. She forgot, then, +the hours passed with her conscience in realising how serious and +solemn a thing was this engagement, made in an instant on the previous +evening. All that remained in her mind, as she and Henry walked +quickly down the road, was the tonic sensation of high resolves to be a +worthy wife. The duties, rather than the joys, of her condition, had +lain nearest her heart until that moment of setting out, giving her an +anxious and almost worried mien which at breakfast neither Henry nor +the Suttons could quite understand. But now the idea of duty ceased +for a time to be paramount, and she loosed herself to the pleasures of +the day in store. The harbour was full of low wandering mists, through +which the brown sails of the fishing-smacks played at hide-and-seek. +High above them the round forms of immense clouds were still carrying +the colours of sunrise. The gentle salt wind on the cheek was like the +touch of a life-giver. It was impossible, on such a morning, not to +exult in life, not to laugh childishly from irrational glee, not to +dismiss the memory of grief and the apprehension of grief as morbid +hallucinations. Mynor's face expressed the double happiness of present +and anticipated pleasure. He had once again succeeded, he who had +never failed; and the voyage back to England was for him a triumphal +progress. Anna responded eagerly to his mood. The day was an ecstasy, +a bright expanse unstained. To Anna in particular it was a unique day, +marking the apogee of her existence. In the years that followed she +could always return to it and say to herself: 'That day I was happy, +foolishly, ignorantly, but utterly. And all that I have since learnt +cannot alter it--I was happy.' + +When they reached Shawport Station a cab was waiting for Anna. Unknown +to her, Henry had ordered it by telegraph. This considerateness was of +a piece, she thought, with his masterly conduct of the entire +journey--on the steamer, at Liverpool, in the train; nothing that an +experienced traveller could devise had been lacking to her comfort. +She got into the cab alone, while Mynors, followed by a boy and his +bag, walked to his rooms in Mount Street. It had been arranged, at +Anna's wish, that he should not appear at Manor Terrace till +supper-time. Ephraim opened for her the door of her home. It seemed +to her that he was pleased. + +'Well, father, here I am again, you see.' + +'Ay, lass.' They shook hands, and she indicated to the cabman where to +deposit her tin-box. She was glad and relieved to be back. Nothing +had changed, except herself, and this absolute sameness was at once +pleasant and pathetic to her. + +'Where's Agnes?' she asked, smiling at her father. In the glow of +arrival she had a vague notion that her relations with him had been +permanently softened by absence. + +'I see thou's gotten into th' habit o' flitting about in cabs,' he +said, without answering her question. + +'Well, father,' she said, smiling yet, 'there was the box. I couldn't +carry the box.' + +'I reckon thou couldst ha' hired a lad to carry it for sixpence.' + +She did not reply. The cabman had gone to his vehicle. + +'Art'na going to pay th' cabby?' + +'I've paid him, father.' + +'How much?' + +She paused. 'Eighteen-pence, father.' It was a lie; she had paid two +shillings. + +She went eagerly into the kitchen, and then into the parlour, where tea +was set for one. Agnes was not there. 'Her's upstairs,' Ephraim said, +meeting Anna as she came into the lobby again. She ran softly +upstairs, and into the bedroom. Agnes was replacing ornaments on the +mantelpiece with mathematical exactitude; under her arm was a duster. +The child turned, startled, and gave a little shriek. + +'Eh, I didn't know you'd come. How early you are!' + +They rushed towards each other, embraced, and kissed. Anna was +overcome by the pathos of her sister's loneliness in that grim house +for fourteen days, while she, the elder, had been absorbed in selfish +gaiety. The pale face, large, melancholy eyes, and long, thin arms, +were a silent accusation. She wondered that she could ever have +brought herself to leave Agnes even for a day. Sitting down on the +bed, she drew the child on her knee in a fury of love, and kissed her +again, weeping. Agnes cried too, for sympathy. + +'Oh, my dear, dear Anna, I'm so glad you've come back!' She dried her +eyes, and in quite a different tone of voice asked: 'Has Mr. Mynors +proposed to you?' + +Anna could not avoid a blush at this simple and astounding query. She +said: 'Yes.' It was the one word of which she was capable, under the +circumstances. That was not the moment to tax Agnes with too much +precocity and abruptness. + +'You're engaged, then? Oh, Anna, does it feel nice? It must. I knew +you would be!' + +'How did you know, Agnes?' + +'I mean I knew he would ask you, some time. All the girls at school +knew too.' + +'I hope you didn't talk about it,' said the elder sister. + +'Oh, _no_! But they did; they were always talking about it.' + +'You never told me that.' + +'I--I didn't like to. Anna, shall I have to call him Henry now?' + +'Yes, of course. When we're married he will be your brother-in-law.' + +'Shall you be married soon, Anna?' + +'Not for a very long time.' + +'When you are--shall I keep house alone? I can, you know---- I shall +never _dare_ to call him Henry. But he's awfully nice; isn't he, Anna? +Yes, when you are married, I shall keep house here, but I shall come to +see you every day. Father will _have_ to let me do that. Does father +know you're engaged?' + +'Not yet. And you mustn't say anything. Henry is coming for supper. +And then father will be told.' + +'Did he kiss you, Anna?' + +'Who--father?' + +'No, silly! Henry, of course--I mean when he'd asked you?' + +'I think you are asking all the questions. Suppose I ask you some now. +How have you managed with father? Has he been nice?' + +'Some days--yes,' said Agnes, after thinking a moment. 'We have had +some new cups and saucers up from Mr. Mynors works. And father has +swept the kitchen chimney. And, oh Anna! I asked him to-day if I'd +kept house well, and he said "Pretty well," and he gave me a penny. +Look! It's the first money I've ever had, you know. I wanted you at +nights, Anna--and all the time, too. I've been frightfully busy. I +cleaned silvers all afternoon. Anna, I _have_ tried---- And I've got +some tea for you. I'll go down and make it. Now you mustn't come into +the kitchen. I'll bring it to you in the parlour.' + +'I had my tea at Crewe,' Anna was about to say, but refrained, in due +course drinking the cup prepared by Agnes. She felt passionately sorry +for Agnes, too young to feel the shadow which overhung her future. +Anna would marry into freedom, but Agnes would remain the serf. Would +Agnes marry? Could she? Would her father allow it? Anna had noticed +that in families the youngest, petted in childhood, was often +sacrificed in maturity. It was the last maid who must keep her +maidenhood, and, vicariously filial, pay out of her own life the debt +of all the rest. + +'Mr. Mynors is coming up for supper to-night. He wants to see you;' +Anna said to her father, as calmly as she could. The miser grunted. +But at eight o'clock, the hour immutably fixed for supper, Henry had +not arrived. The meal proceeded, of course, without him. To Anna his +absence was unaccountable and disturbing, for none could be more +punctilious than he in the matter of appointments. She expected him +every moment, but he did not appear. Agnes, filled full of the great +secret confided to her, was more openly impatient than her sister. +Neither of them could talk, and a heavy silence fell upon the family +group, a silence which her father, on that particular evening of Anna's +return, resented. + +'You dunna' tell us much,' he remarked, when the supper was finished. + +She felt that the complaint was a just one. Even before supper, when +nothing had occurred to preoccupy her, she had spoken little. There +had seemed so much to tell--at Port Erin, and now there seemed nothing +to tell. She ventured into a flaccid, perfunctory account of +Beatrice's illness, of the fishing, of the unfinished houses which had +caught the fancy of Mr. Sutton; she said the sea had been smooth, that +they had had something to eat at Liverpool, that the train for Crewe +was very prompt; and then she could think of no more. Silence fell +again. The supper-things were cleared away and washed up. At a +quarter-past nine, Agnes, vainly begging permission to stay up in order +to see Mr. Mynors, was sent to bed, only partially comforted by a +clothes-brush, long desired, which Anna had brought for her as a +present from the Isle of Man. + +'Shall you tell father yourself, now Henry hasn't come?' the child +asked Anna, who had gone upstairs to unpack her box. + +'Yes,' said Anna, briefly. + +'I wonder what he'll say,' Agnes reflected, with that habit, always +annoying to Anna, of meeting trouble half-way. + +At a quarter to ten Anna ceased to expect Mynors, and finally braced +herself to the ordeal of a solemn interview with her father, well +knowing that she dared not leave him any longer in ignorance of her +engagement. Already the old man was locking and bolting the door; he +had wound up the kitchen clock. When he came back to the parlour to +extinguish the gas she was standing by the mantelpiece. + +'Father,' she began, 'I've something I must tell you.' + +'Eh, what's that ye say?' his hand was on the gas-tap. He dropped it, +examining her face curiously. + +'Mr. Mynors has asked me to marry him; he asked me last night. We +settled he should come up to-night to see you--I can't think why he +hasn't. It must be something very unexpected and important, or he'd +have come.' She trembled, her heart beat violently; but the words were +out, and she thanked God. + +'Asked ye to marry him, did he?' The miser gazed at her quizzically +out of his small blue eyes. + +'Yes, father.' + +'And what didst say?' + +'I said I would.' + +'Oh! Thou saidst thou wouldst! I reckon it was for thatten as thou +must go gadding off to seaside, eh?' + +'Father, I never dreamt of such a thing when Suttons asked me to go. I +do wish Henry'--the cost of that Christian name!--'had come. He quite +meant to come to-night.' She could not help insisting on the propriety +of Henry's intentions. + +'Then I am for be consulted, eh?' + +'Of course, father.' + +'Ye've soon made it up, between ye.' + +His tone was, at the best, brusque; but she breathed more easily, +divining instantly from his manner that he meant to offer no violent +objection to the engagement. She knew that only tact was needed now. +The miser had, indeed, foreseen the possibility of this marriage for +months past, and had long since decided in his own mind that Henry +would make a satisfactory son-in-law. Ephraim had no social +ambitions--with all his meanness, he was above them; he had nothing but +contempt for rank, style, luxury, and 'the theory of what it is to be a +lady and a gentleman.' Yet, by a curious contradiction, Henry's +smartness of appearance--the smartness of an unrivalled commercial +traveller--pleased him. He saw in Henry a young and sedate man of +remarkable shrewdness, a man who had saved money, had made money for +others, and was now making it for himself; a man who could be trusted +absolutely to perform that feat of 'getting on'; a 'safe' and +profoundly respectable man, at the same time audacious and +imperturbable. He was well aware that Henry had really fallen in love +with Anna, but nothing would have convinced him that Anna's money was +not the primal cause of Henry's genuine passion for Anna's self. + +'You like Henry, don't you, father?' Anna said. It was a failure in +the desired tact, for Ephraim had never been known to admit that he +liked anyone or anything. Such natures are capable of nothing more +positive than toleration. + +'He's a hard-headed chap, and he knows the value o' money. Ay! that he +does; he knows which side his bread's buttered on.' A sinister +emphasis marked the last sentence. + +Instead of remaining silent, Anna, in her nervousness, committed +another imprudence. 'What do you mean, father?' she asked, pretending +that she thought it impossible he could mean what he obviously did mean. + +'Thou knows what I'm at, lass. Dost think he isna' marrying thee for +thy brass? Dost think as he canna' make a fine guess what thou'rt +worth? But that wunna' bother thee as long as thou'st hooked a +good-looking chap.' + +'Father!' + +'Ay! thou mayst bridle; but it's true. Dunna' tell me.' + +Securely conscious of the perfect purity of Mynors' affection, she was +not in the least hurt. She even thought that her father's attitude was +not quite sincere, an attitude partially due to mere wilful +churlishness. 'Henry has never even mentioned money to me,' she said +mildly. + +'Happen not; he isna' such a fool as that.' He paused, and continued: +'Thou'rt free to wed, for me. Lasses will do it, I reckon, and thee +among th' rest.' She smiled, and on that smile he suddenly turned out +the gas. Anna was glad that the colloquy had ended so well. +Congratulations, endearments, loving regard for her welfare: she had +not expected these things, and was in no wise grieved by their absence. +Groping her way towards the lobby, she considered herself lucky, and +only wished that nothing had happened to keep Mynors away. She wanted +to tell him at once that her father had proved tractable. + + +The next morning, Tellwright, whose attendance at chapel was losing the +strictness of its old regularity, announced that he should stay at +home. Sunday's dinner was to be a cold repast, and so Anna and Agnes +went to chapel. Anna's thoughts were wholly occupied with the prospect +of seeing Mynors, and hearing the explanation of his absence on +Saturday night. + +'There he is!' Agnes exclaimed loudly, as they were approaching the +chapel. + +'Agnes,' said Anna, 'when will you learn to behave in the street?' + +Mynors stood at the chapel-gates; he was evidently awaiting them. He +looked grave, almost sad. He raised his hat and shook hands, with a +particular friendliness for Agnes, who was speculating whether he would +kiss Anna, as his betrothed, or herself, as being only a little girl, +or both or neither of them. Her eyes already expressed a sort of +ownership in him. + +'I should like to speak to you a moment,' Henry said. 'Will you come +into the school-yard?' + +'Agnes, you had better go straight into chapel,' said Anna. It was an +ignominious disaster to the child, but she obeyed. + +'I didn't give you up last night till nearly ten o'clock,' Anna +remarked as they passed into the school-yard. She was astonished to +discover in herself an inclination to pout, to play the offended fair +one, because Mynors had failed in his appointment. Contemptuously she +crushed it. + +'Have you heard about Mr. Price?' Mynors began. + +'No. What about him? Has anything happened?' + +'A very sad thing has happened. Yes----' He stopped, from emotion. +'Our superintendent has committed suicide!' + +'Killed himself?' Anna gasped. + +'He hanged himself yesterday afternoon at Edward Street, in the +slip-house after the works were closed. Willie had gone home, but he +came back, when his father didn't turn up for dinner, and found him. +Mr. Price was quite dead. He ran in to my place to fetch me just as I +was getting my tea. That was why I never came last night.' + +Anna was speechless. + +'I thought I would tell you myself,' Henry resumed. 'It's an awful +thing for the Sunday-school, and the whole society, too. He, a +prominent Wesleyan, a worker among us! An awful thing!' he repeated, +dominated by the idea of the blow thus dealt to the Methodist connexion +by the man now dead. + +'Why did he do it?' Anna demanded, curtly. + +Mynors shrugged his shoulders, and ejaculated: 'Business troubles, I +suppose; it couldn't be anything else. At school this morning I simply +announced that he was dead.' Henry's voice broke, but he added, after +a pause: 'Young Price bore himself splendidly last night.' + +Anna turned away in silence. 'I shall come up for tea, if I may,' +Henry said, and then they parted, he to the singing-seat, she to the +portico of the chapel. People were talking in groups on the broad +steps and in the vestibule. All knew of the calamity, and had received +from it a new interest in life. The town was aroused as if from a +lethargy. Consternation and eager curiosity were on every face. Those +who arrived in ignorance of the event were informed of it in impressive +tones, and with intense satisfaction to the informer; nothing of equal +importance had happened in the society for decades. Anna walked up the +aisle to her pew, filled with one thought: + +'We drove him to it, father and I.' + +Her fear was that the miser had renewed his terrible insistence during +the previous fortnight. She forgot that she had disliked the dead man, +that he had always seemed to her mean, pietistic, and two-faced. She +forgot that in pressing him for rent many months overdue she and her +father had acted within their just rights--acted as Price himself would +have acted in their place. She could think only of the strain, the +agony, the despair that must have preceded the miserable tragedy. Old +Price had atoned for all in one sublime sin, the sole deed that could +lend dignity and repose to such a figure as his. Anna's feverish +imagination reconstituted the scene in the slip-house: she saw it as +something grand, accusing, and unanswerable; and she could not dismiss +a feeling of acute remorse that she should have been engaged in +pleasure at that very hour of death. Surely some instinct should have +warned her that the hare which she had helped to hunt was at its last +gasp! + +Mr. Sargent, the newly-appointed second minister, was in the pulpit--a +little, earnest bachelor, who emphasised every sentence with a +continual tremor of the voice. 'Brethren,' he said, after the second +hymn--and his tones vibrated with a singular effect through the +half-empty building: 'Before I proceed to my sermon I have one word to +say in reference to the awful event which is doubtless uppermost in the +minds of all of you. It is not for us to judge the man who is now gone +from us, ushered into the dread presence of his Maker with the crime of +self-murder upon his soul. I say it is not for us to judge him. The +ways of the Almighty are past finding out. Therefore at such a moment +we may fitly humble ourselves before the Throne, and while prostrate +there let us intercede for the poor young man who is left behind, +bereft, and full of grief and shame. We will engage in silent prayer.' +He lifted his hand, and closed his eyes, and the congregation leaned +forward against the fronts of the pews. The appealing face of Willie +presented itself vividly to Anna. + +'Who is it?' Agnes asked, in a whisper of appalling distinctness. Anna +frowned angrily, and gave no reply. + +While the last hymn was being sung, Anna signed to Agnes that she +wished to leave the chapel. Everyone would be aware that she was among +Price's creditors, and she feared that if she stayed till the end of +the service some chatterer might draw her into a distressing +conversation. The sisters went out, and Agnes's burning curiosity was +at length relieved. + +'Mr. Price has hanged himself,' Anna said to her father when they +reached home. + +The miser looked through the window for a moment. 'I am na' +surprised,' he said. 'Suicide's i' that blood. Titus's uncle 'Lijah +tried to kill himself twice afore he died o' gravel. Us'n have to do +summat wi' Edward Street at last.' + +She wanted to ask Ephraim if he had been demanding more rent lately, +but she could not find courage to do so. + +Agnes had to go to Sunday-school alone that afternoon. Without saying +anything to her father, Anna decided to stay at home. She spent the +time in her bedroom, idle, preoccupied; and did not come downstairs +till half-past three. Ephraim had gone out. Agnes presently returned, +and then Henry came in with Mr. Tellwright. They were conversing +amicably, and Anna knew that her engagement was finally and +satisfactorily settled. During tea no reference was made to it, nor to +the suicide. Mynors' demeanour was quiet but cheerful. He had partly +recovered from the morning's agitation, and gave Ephraim and Agnes a +vivacious account of the attractions of Port Erin. Anna noticed the +amusement in his eyes when Agnes, reddening, said to him: 'Will you +have some more bread-and-butter, Henry?' It seemed to be tacitly +understood afterwards that Agnes and her father would attend chapel, +while Henry and Anna kept house. No one was ingenious enough to detect +an impropriety in the arrangement. For some obscure reason, +immediately upon the departure of the chapel-goers, Anna went into the +kitchen, rattled some plates, stroked her hair mechanically, and then +stole back again to the parlour. It was a chilly evening, and instead +of walking up and down the strip of garden the betrothed lovers sat +together under the window. Anna wondered whether or not she was happy. +The presence of Mynors was, at any rate, marvellously soothing. + +'Did your father say anything about the Price affair?' he began, +yielding at once to the powerful hypnotism of the subject which +fascinated the whole town that night, and which Anna could bear neither +to discuss nor to ignore. + +'Not much,' she said, and repeated to him her father's remark. + +Mynors told her all he knew; how Willie had discovered his father with +his toes actually touching the floor, leaning slightly forward, quite +dead; how he had then cut the rope and fetched Mynors, who went with +him to the police-station; how they had tied up the head of the corpse, +and then waited till night to wheel the body on a hand-cart from Edward +Street to the mortuary chamber at the police-station; how the police +had telephoned to the coroner, and settled at once that the inquest +should be held on Tuesday in the court-room at the town-hall; and how +quiet, self-contained, and dignified Willie had been, surprising +everyone by this new-found manliness. It all seemed hideously real to +Anna, as Henry added detail to detail. + +'I think I ought to tell you,' she said very calmly, when he had +finished the recital, 'that I--I'm dreadfully upset over it. I can't +help thinking that I--that father and I, I mean--are somehow partly +responsible for this.' + +'For Price's death? How?' + +'We have been so hard on him for his rent lately, you know.' + +'My dearest girl! What next?' He took her hand in his. 'I assure you +the idea is absurd. You've only got it because you're so sensitive and +high-strung. I undertake to say Price was stuck fast +everywhere--everywhere--hadn't a chance.' + +'Me high-strung!' she exclaimed. He kissed her lovingly. But, beneath +the feeling of reassurance, which by superior force he had imposed on +her, there lay a feeling that she was treated like a frightened child +who must be tranquillized in the night. Nevertheless, she was grateful +for his kindness, and when she went to bed she obtained relief from the +returning obsession of the suicide by making anew her vows to him. + +As a theatrical effect the death of Titus Price could scarcely have +been surpassed. The town was profoundly moved by the spectacle of this +abject yet heroic surrender of all those pretences by which society +contrives to tolerate itself. Here was a man whom no one respected, +but everyone pretended to respect--who knew that he was respected by +none, but pretended that he was respected by all; whose whole career +was made up of dissimulations: religious, moral, and social. If any +man could have been trusted to continue the decent sham to the end, and +so preserve the general self-esteem, surely it was this man. But no! +Suddenly abandoning all imposture, he transgresses openly, brazenly; +and, snatching a bit of hemp cries: 'Behold me; this is real human +nature. This is the truth; the rest was lies. I lied; you lied. I +confess it, and you shall confess it.' Such a thunderclap shakes the +very base of the microcosm. The young folk in particular could with +difficulty believe their ears. It seemed incredible to them that Titus +Price, the Methodist, the Sunday-school superintendent, the loud +champion of the highest virtues, should commit the sin of all +sins--murder. They were dazed. The remembrance of his insincerity did +nothing to mitigate the blow. In their view it was perhaps even worse +that he had played false to his own falsity. The elders were a little +less disturbed. The event was not unique in their experience. They +had lived longer and felt these seismic shocks before. They could go +back into the past and find other cases where a swift impulse had +shattered the edifice of a lifetime. They knew that the history of +families and of communities is crowded with disillusion. They had +discovered that character is changeless, irrepressible, incurable. +They were aware of the astonishing fact, which takes at least thirty +years to learn, that a Sunday-school superintendent is a man. And the +suicide of Titus Price, when they had realised it, served but to +confirm their most secret and honest estimate of humanity, that +estimate which they never confided to a soul. The young folk thought +the Methodist Society shamed and branded by the tragic incident, and +imagined that years must elapse before it could again hold up its head +in the town. The old folk were wiser, foreseeing with certainty that +in only a few days this all-engrossing phenomenon would lose its +significance, and be as though it had never been. Even in two days, +time had already begun its work, for by Tuesday morning the interest of +the affair--on Sunday at the highest pitch--had waned so much that the +thought of the inquest was capable of reviving it. Although everyone +knew that the case presented no unusual features, and that the +coroner's inquiry would be nothing more than a formal ceremony, the +almost greedy curiosity of Methodist circles lifted it to the level of +a _cause célèbre_. The court was filled with irreproachable +respectability when the coroner drove into the town, and each animated +face said to its fellow: 'So you're here, are you?' Late comers of the +official world--councillors, guardians of the poor, members of the +school board, and one or two of their ladies, were forced to intrigue +for room with the police and the town-hall keeper, and, having +succeeded, sank into their narrow seats with a sigh of expectancy and +triumph. Late comers with less influence had to retire, and by a kind +of sinister fascination were kept wandering about the corridor before +they could decide to go home. The market-place was occupied by +hundreds of loafers, who seemed to find a mystic satisfaction in +beholding the coroner's dogcart and the exterior of the building which +now held the corpse. + +It was by accident that Anna was in the town. She knew that the +inquest was to occur that morning, but had not dreamed of attending it. +When, however, she saw the stir of excitement in the market-place, and +the police guarding the entrances of the town-hall, she walked directly +across the road, past the two officers at the east door, and into the +dark main corridor of the building, which was dotted with small groups +idly conversing. She was conscious of two things: a vehement +curiosity, and the existence somewhere in the precincts of a dead body, +unsightly, monstrous, calm, silent, careless--the insensible origin of +all this simmering ferment which disgusted her even while she shared in +it. At a small door, half hidden by a curtain, she was startled to see +Mynors. + +'You here!' he exclaimed, as if painfully surprised, and shook hands +with a preoccupied air. 'They are examining Willie. I came outside +while he was in the witness-box.' + +'Is the inquest going on in there?' she asked, pointing to the door. +Each appeared to be concealing a certain resentment against the other; +but this appearance was due only to nervous agitation. + +A policeman down the corridor called: 'Mr. Mynors, a moment.' Henry +hurried away, answering Anna's question as he went: 'Yes, in there. +That's the witnesses' and jurors' door; but please don't go in. I +don't like you to, and it is sure to upset you.' + +She opened the door and went in. None said nay, and she found a few +inches of standing-room behind the jury-box. A terrible stench +nauseated her; the chamber was crammed, and not a window open. There +was silence in the court--no one seemed to be doing anything; but at +last she perceived that the coroner, enthroned on the bench justice was +writing in a book with blue leaves. In the witness-box stood William +Price, dressed in black, with kid gloves, not lounging in an ungainly +attitude, as might have been expected, but perfectly erect; he kept his +eyes fixed on the coroner's head. Sarah Vodrey, Price's aged +housekeeper, sat on a chair near the witness-box, weeping into a +black-bordered handkerchief; at intervals she raised her small, +wrinkled, red face, with its glistening, inflamed eyes, and then buried +it again in the handkerchief. The members of the jury, whom Anna could +see only in profile, shuffled to and fro on their long, pew-like +seats--they were mostly working men, shabbily clothed; but the foreman +was Mr. Leal, the provision dealer, a freemason, and a sidesman at the +parish church. The general public sat intent and vacuous; their minds +gaped, if not their mouths; occasionally one whispered inaudibly to +another; the jury, conscious of an official status, exchanged remarks +in a whisper courageously loud. Several tall policemen, helmet in +hand, stood in various corners of the room, and the coroner's officer +sat near the witness-box to administer the oath. At length the coroner +lifted his head. He was rather a young man, with a large, intelligent +face; he wore eyeglasses, and his chin was covered with a short, wavy +beard. His manner showed that, while secretly proud of his supreme +position in that assemblage, he was deliberately trying to make it +appear that this exercise of judicial authority was nothing to him, +that in truth these eternal inquiries, which interested others so +deeply, were to him a weariness conscientiously endured. + +'Now, Mr. Price,' the coroner said blandly, and it was plain that he +was being ceremoniously polite to an inferior, in obedience to the +rules of good form, 'I must ask you some more questions. They may be +inconvenient, even painful; but I am here simply as the instrument of +the law, and I must do my duty. And these gentlemen here,' he waved a +hand in the direction of the jury, 'must be told the whole facts of the +case. We know, of course, that the deceased committed suicide--that +has been proved beyond doubt; but, as I say, we have the right to know +more.' He paused, well satisfied with the sound of his voice, and +evidently thinking that he had said something very weighty and +impressive. + +'What do you want to know?' Willie Price demanded, his broad Five Towns +speech contrasting with the Kensingtonian accents of the coroner. The +latter, who came originally from Manchester, was irritated by the +brusque interruption; but he controlled his annoyance, at the same time +glancing at the public as if to signify to them that he had learnt not +to take too seriously the unintentional rudeness characteristic of +their district. + +'You say it was probably business troubles that caused your late father +to commit the rash act?' + +'Yes.' + +'You are sure there was nothing else?' + +'What else could there be?' + +'Your late father was a widower?' + +'Yes.' + +'Now as to these business troubles--what were they?' + +'We were being pressed by creditors.' + +'Were you a partner with your late father?' + +'Yes.' + +'Oh! You were a partner with him!' + +The jury seemed surprised, and the coroner wrote again: 'What was your +share in the business?' + +'I don't know.' + +'You don't know? Surely that is rather singular?' + +'My father took me in Co. not long since. We signed a deed, but I +forget what was in it. My place was principally on the bank, not in +the office.' + +'And so you were being pressed by creditors?' + +'Yes. And we were behind with the rent.' + +'Was the landlord pressing you, too?' + +Anna lowered her eyes, fearful lest every head had turned towards her. + +'Not then; he had been--she, I mean.' + +'The landlord is a lady?' Here the coroner faintly smiled. 'Then, as +regards the landlord, the pressure was less than it had been?' + +'Yes; we had paid some rent, and settled some other claims.' + +'Does it not seem strange----?' the coroner began, with a suave air of +suggesting an idea. + +'If you must know,' Willie surprisingly burst out, 'I believe it was +the failure of a firm in London that owed us money that caused father +to hang himself.' + +'Ah!' exclaimed the coroner. 'When did you hear of that failure?' + +'By second post on Friday. Eleven in the morning.' + +'I think we have heard enough, Mr. Coroner,' said Leal, standing up in +the jury-box. 'We have decided on our verdict.' + +'Thank you, Mr. Price,' said the coroner, dismissing Willie. He added, +in a tone of icy severity to the foreman: 'I had concluded my +examination of the witness.' Then he wrote further in his book. + +'Now, gentlemen of the jury,' the coroner resumed, having first cleared +his throat; 'I think you will agree with me that this is a peculiarly +painful case. Yet at the same time----' + +Anna hastened from the court as impulsively as she had entered it. She +could think of nothing but the quiet, silent, pitiful corpse; and all +this vapid mouthing exasperated her beyond sufferance. + + +On the Thursday afternoon, Anna was sitting alone in the house, with +the Persian cat and a pile of stockings on her knee, darning. Agnes +had with sorrow returned to school; Ephraim was out. The bell sounded +violently, and Anna, thinking that perhaps for some reason her father +had chosen to enter by the front door, ran to open it. The visitor was +Willie Price; he wore the new black suit which had figured in the +coroner's court. She invited him to the parlour and they both sat +down, tongue-tied. Now that she had learnt from his evidence given at +the inquest that Ephraim had not been pressing for rent during her +absence in the Isle of Man, she felt less like a criminal before Willie +than she would have felt without that assurance. But at the best she +was nervous, self-conscious, and shamed. She supposed that he had +called to make some arrangement with reference to the tenure of the +works, or, more probably, to announce a bankruptcy and stoppage. + +'Well, Miss Tellwright,' Willie began, 'I've buried him. He's gone.' + +The simple and profound grief, and the restrained bitterness against +all the world, which were expressed in these words--the sole epitaph of +Titus Price--nearly made Anna cry. She would have cried, if the cat +had not opportunely jumped on her knee again; she controlled herself by +dint of stroking it. She sympathised with him more intensely in that +first moment of his loneliness than she had ever sympathised with +anyone, even Agnes. She wished passionately to shield, shelter, and +comfort him, to do something, however small, to diminish his sorrow and +humiliation; and this despite his size, his ungainliness, his coarse +features, his rough voice, his lack of all the conventional +refinements. A single look from his guileless and timid eyes atoned +for every shortcoming. Yet she could scarcely open her mouth. She +knew not what to say. She had no phrases to soften the frightful blow +which Providence had dealt him. + +'I'm very sorry,' she said. 'You must be relieved it's all over.' + +If she could have been Mrs. Sutton for half an hour! But she was Anna, +and her feelings could only find outlet in her eyes. Happily young +Price was of those meek ones who know by instinct the language of the +eyes. + +'You've come about the works, I suppose?' she went on. + +'Yes,' he said. 'Is your father in? I want to see him very +particular.' + +'He isn't in now,' she replied: 'but he will be back by four o'clock.' + +'That's an hour. You don't know where he is?' + +She shook her head. 'Well,' he continued, 'I must tell you, then. +I've come up to do it, and do it I must. I can't come up again; +neither can I wait. You remember that bill of exchange as we gave you +some weeks back towards rent?' + +'Yes,' she said. There was a pause. He stood up, and moved to the +mantelpiece. Her gaze followed him intently, but she had no idea what +he was about to say. + +'It's forged, Miss Tellwright.' He sat down again, and seemed calmer, +braver, ready to meet any conceivable set of consequences. + +'Forged!' she repeated, not immediately grasping the significance of +the avowal. + +'Mr. Sutton's name is forged on it. So I came to tell your father; but +you'll do as well. I feel as if I should like to tell you all about +it,' he said, smiling sadly. 'Mr. Sutton had really given us a bill +for thirty pounds, but we'd paid that away when Mr. Tellwright sent +word down--you remember--that he should put bailiffs in if he didn't +have twenty-five pounds next day. We were just turning the corner +then, father said to me. There was a goodish sum due to us from a +London firm in a month's time, and if we could only hold out till then, +father said he could see daylight for us. But he knew as there'd be no +getting round Mr. Tellwright. So he had the idea of using Mr. Sutton's +name--just temporary like. He sent me to the post-office to buy a bill +stamp, and he wrote out the bill all but the name. "You take this up +to Tellwright's," he says, "and ask 'em to take it and hold it, and +we'll redeem it, and that'll be all right. No harm done there, Will!" +he says. Then he tries Sutton's name on the back of an envelope. It's +an easy signature, as you know; but he couldn't do it. "Here, Will," +he says, "my old hand shakes; you have a go," and he gives me a letter +of Sutton's to copy from. I did it easy enough after a try or two. +"That'll be all right, Will," he says, and I put my hat on and brought +the bill up here. That's the truth, Miss Tellwright. It was the smash +of that London firm that finished my poor old father off.' + +Her one feeling was the sense of being herself a culprit. After all, +it was her father's action, more than anything else, that had led to +the suicide, and he was her agent. + +'Oh, Mr. Price,' she said foolishly, 'whatever shall you do?' + +'There's nothing to be done,' he replied. 'It was bound to be. It's +our luck. We'd no thought but what we should bring you thirty pound in +cash and get that bit of paper back, and rip it up, and no one the +worse. But we were always unlucky, me and him. All you've got to do +is just to tell your father, and say I'm ready to go to the +police-station when he gives the word. It's a bad business, but I'm +ready for it.' + +'Can't we do something?' she naïvely inquired, with a vision of a trial +and sentence, and years of prison. + +'Your father keeps the bill, doesn't he? Not you?' + +'I could ask him to destroy it.' + +'He wouldn't,' said Willie. 'You'll excuse me saying that, Miss +Tellwright, but he wouldn't.' + +He rose as if to go, bitterly. As for Anna, she knew well that her +father would never permit the bill to be destroyed. But at any cost +she meant to comfort him then, to ease his lot, to send him away less +grievous than he came. + +'Listen!' she said, standing up, and abandoning the cat, 'I will see +what can be done. Yes. Something _shall_ be done--something or other. +I will come and see you at the works to-morrow afternoon. You may rely +on me.' + +She saw hope brighten his eyes at the earnestness and resolution of her +tone, and she felt richly rewarded. He never said another word, but +gripped her hand with such force that she flinched in pain. When he +had gone, she perceived clearly the dire dilemma; but cared nothing, in +the first bliss of having reassured him. + +During tea it occurred to her that as soon as Agnes had gone to bed she +would put the situation plainly before her father, and, for the first +and last time in her life, assert herself. She would tell him that the +affair was, after all, entirely her own, she would firmly demand +possession of the bill of exchange, and she would insist on it being +destroyed. She would point out to the old man that, her promise having +been given to Willie Price, no other course than this was possible. In +planning this night-surprise on her father's obstinacy, she found +argument after argument auspicious of its success. The formidable +tyrant was at last to meet his equal, in force, in resolution, and in +pugnacity. The swiftness of her onrush would sweep him, for once, off +his feet. At whatever cost, she was bound to win, even though victory +resulted in eternal enmity between father and daughter. She saw +herself towering over him, morally, with blazing eye and scornful +nostril. And, thus meditating on the grandeur of her adventure, she +fed her courage with indignation. By the act of death, Titus Price had +put her father for ever in the wrong. His corpse accused the miser, +and Anna, incapable now of seeing aught save the pathos of suicide, +acquiesced in the accusation with all the strength of her remorse. She +did not reason--she felt; reason was shrivelled up in the fire of +emotion. She almost trembled with the urgency of her desire to protect +from further shame the figure of Willie Price, so frank, simple, +innocent, and big; and to protect also the lifeless and dishonoured +body of his parent. She reviewed the whole circumstances again and +again, each time finding less excuse for her father's implacable and +fatal cruelty. + +So her thoughts ran until the appointed hour of Agnes's bedtime. It +was always necessary to remind Agnes of that hour; left to herself, the +child would have stayed up till the very Day of Judgment. The clock +struck, but Anna kept silence. To utter the word 'bedtime' to Agnes +was to open the attack on her father, and she felt as the conductor of +an opera feels before setting in motion a complicated activity which +may end in either triumph or an unspeakable fiasco. The child was +reading; Anna looked and looked at her, and at length her lips were set +for the phrase, 'Now Agnes,' when, suddenly, the old man forestalled +her: + +'Is that wench going for sit here all night?' he asked of Anna, +menacingly. + +Agnes shut her book and crept away. + +This accident was the ruin of Anna's scheme. Her father, always the +favourite of circumstance, had by chance struck the first blow; +ignorant of the battle that awaited him, he had unwittingly won it by +putting her in the wrong, as Titus Price had put him in the wrong. She +knew in a flash that her enterprise was hopeless; she knew that her +father's position in regard to her was impregnable, that no moral +force, no consciousness of right, would avail to overthrow that +authority which she had herself made absolute by a life-long +submission; she knew that face to face with her father she was, and +always would be, a coward. And now, instead of finding arguments for +success, she found arguments for failure. She divined all the retorts +that he would fling at her. What about Mr. Sutton--in a sense the +victim of this fraud? It was not merely a matter of thirty pounds. A +man's name had been used. Was he, Ephraim Tellwright, and she, his +daughter, to connive at a felony? The felony was done, and could not +be undone. Were they to render themselves liable, even in theory, to a +criminal prosecution? If Titus Price had killed himself, what of that? +If Willie Price was threatened with ruin, what of that? Them as made +the bed must lie on it. At the best, and apart from any forgery, the +Prices had swindled their creditors; even in dying, old Price had been +guilty of a commercial swindle. And was the fact that father and son +between them had committed a direct and flagrant crime to serve as an +excuse for sympathising with the survivor? Why was Anna so anxious to +shield the forger? What claim had he? A forger was a forger, and that +was the end of it. + +She went to bed without opening her mouth. Irresolute, shamed, and +despairing, she tried to pray for guidance, but she could bring no +sincerity of appeal into this prayer; it seemed an empty form. Where, +indeed, was her religion? She was obliged to acknowledge that the +fervour of her aspirations had been steadily cooling for weeks. She +was not a whit more a true Christian now than she had been before the +Revival; it appeared that she was incapable of real religion, possibly +one of those souls foreordained to damnation. This admission added to +the general sense of futility, and increased her misery. She lay awake +for hours, confronting her deliberate promise to Willie Price. +_Something shall be done_. _Rely on me_. He was relying on her, then. +But on whom could she rely? To whom could she turn? It is significant +that the idea of confiding in Henry Mynors did not present itself for a +single moment as practical. Mynors had been kind to Willie in his +trouble, but Anna almost resented this kindness on account of the +condescending superiority which she thought she detected therein. It +was as though she had overheard Mynors saying to himself: 'Here is this +poor, crushed worm. It is my duty as a Christian to pity and succour +him. I will do so. I am a righteous man.' The thought of anyone +stooping to Willie was hateful to her. She felt equal with him, as a +mother feels equal with her child when it cries and she soothes it. +And she felt, in another way, that he was equal with her, as she +thought of his sturdy and simple confession, and of the loyal love in +his voice when he spoke of his father. She liked him for hurting her +hand, and for refusing to snatch at the slender chance of her father's +clemency. She could never reveal Willie's sin, if it was a sin, to +Henry Mynors--that symbol of correctness and of success. She had +fraternised with sinners, like Christ; and, with amazing injustice, she +was capable of deeming Mynors a Pharisee because she could not find +fault with him, because he lived and loved so impeccably and so +triumphantly. There was only one person from whom she could have asked +advice and help, and that wise and consoling heart was far away in the +Isle of Man. + +'Why won't father give up the bill?' she demanded, half aloud, in +sullen wrath. She could not frame the answer in words, but +nevertheless she knew it and felt it. Such an act of grace would have +been impossible to her father's nature--that was all. + +Suddenly the expression of her face changed from utter disgust into a +bitter and proud smile. Without thinking further, without daring to +think, she rose out of bed and, night-gowned and bare-footed, crept +with infinite precaution downstairs. The oilcloth on the stairs froze +her feet; a cold, grey light issuing through the glass square over the +front door showed that dawn was beginning. The door of the +front-parlour was shut; she opened it gently, and went within. Every +object in the room was faintly visible, the bureau, the chair, the +files of papers, the pictures, the books on the mantelshelf, and the +safe in the corner. The bureau, she knew, was never locked; fear of +their father had always kept its privacy inviolate from Anna and Agnes, +without the aid of a key. As Anna stood in front of it, a shaking +figure with hair hanging loose, she dimly remembered having one day +seen a blue paper among white in the pigeon-holes. But if the bill was +not there she vowed that she would steal her father's keys while he +slept, and force the safe. She opened the bureau, and at once saw the +edge of a blue paper corresponding with her recollection. She pulled +it forth and scanned it. 'Three months after date pay to our order ... +Accepted payable, _William Sutton_.' So here was the forgery, here the +two words for which Willie Price might have gone to prison! What a +trifle! She tore the flimsy document to bits, and crumpled the bits +into a little ball. How should she dispose of the ball? After a +moment's reflection she went into the kitchen, stretched on tiptoe to +reach the match-box from the high mantelpiece, struck a match, and +burnt the ball in the grate. Then, with a restrained and sinister +laugh, she ran softly upstairs. + +'What's the matter, Anna?' Agnes was sitting up in bed, wide awake. + +'Nothing; go to sleep, and don't bother,' Anna angrily whispered. + +Had she closed the lid of the bureau? She was compelled to return in +order to make sure. Yes, it was closed. When at length she lay in +bed, breathless, her heart violently beating, her feet like icicles, +she realised what she had done. She had saved Willie Price, but she +had ruined herself with her father. She knew well that he would never +forgive her. + +On the following afternoon she planned to hurry to Edward Street and +back while Ephraim and Agnes were both out of the house. But for some +reason her father sat persistently after dinner, conning a sale +catalogue. At a quarter to three he had not moved. She decided to go +at any risks. She put on her hat and jacket, and opened the front +door. He heard her. + +'Anna!' he called sharply. She obeyed the summons in terror. 'Art +going out?' + +'Yes, father.' + +'Where to?' + +'Down town to buy some things.' + +'Seems thou'rt always buying.' + +That was all; he let her free. In an unworthy attempt to appease her +conscience she did in fact go first into the town; she bought some +wool; the trick was despicable. Then she hastened to Edward Street. +The decrepit works seemed to have undergone no change. She had +expected the business would be suspended, and Willie Price alone on the +bank; but manufacture was proceeding as usual. She went direct to the +office, fancying, as she climbed the stairs, that every window of all +the workshops was full of eyes to discern her purpose. Without +knocking, she pushed against the unlatched door and entered. Willie +was lolling in his father's chair, gloomy, meditative, apparently idle. +He was coatless, and wore a dirty apron; a battered hat was at the back +of his head, and his great hands which lay on the desk in front of him, +were soiled. He sprang up, flushing red, and she shut the door; they +were alone together. + +'I'm all in my dirt,' he murmured apologetically. Simple and silly +creature, to imagine that she cared for his dirt! + +'It's all right,' she said; 'you needn't worry any more. It's all +right.' They were glorious words for her, and her face shone. + +'What do you mean?' he asked gruffly. + +'Why,' she smiled, full of happiness, 'I got that paper and burnt it!' + +He looked at her exactly as if he had not understood. 'Does your +father know?' + +She still smiled at him happily. 'No; but I shall tell him this +afternoon. It's all right. I've burnt it.' + +He sank down in the chair, and, laying his head on the desk, burst into +sobbing tears. She stood over him, and put a hand on the sleeve of his +shirt. At that touch he sobbed more violently. + +'Mr. Price, what is it?' She asked the question in a calm, soothing +tone. + +He glanced up at her, his face wet, yet apparently not shamed by the +tears. She could not meet his gaze without herself crying, and so she +turned her head. 'I was only thinking,' he stammered, 'only +thinking--what an angel you are.' + +Only the meek, the timid, the silent, can, in moments of deep feeling, +use this language of hyperbole without seeming ridiculous. + +He was her great child, and she knew that he worshipped her. Oh, +ineffable power, that out of misfortune canst create divine happiness! + +Later, he remarked in his ordinary tone: 'I was expecting your father +here this afternoon about the lease. There is to be a deed of +arrangement with the creditors.' + +'My father!' she exclaimed, and she bade him good-bye. + +As she passed under the archway she heard a familiar voice: 'I reckon I +shall find young Mester Price in th' office?' Ephraim, who had +wandered into the packing-house, turned and saw her through the +doorway; a second's delay, and she would have escaped. She stood +waiting the storm, and then they walked out into the road together. + +'Anna, what art doing here?' + +She did not know what to say. + +'What art doing here?' he repeated coldly. + +'Father, I--was just going back home.' + +He hesitated an instant. 'I'll go with thee,' he said. They walked +back to Manor Terrace in silence. They had tea in silence; except that +Agnes, with dreadful inopportuneness, continually worried her father +for a definite promise that she might leave school at Christmas. The +idea was preposterous; but Agnes, fired by her recent success as a +housekeeper, clung to it. Ignorant of her imminent danger, and +misinterpreting the signs of his face, she at last pushed her +insistence too far. + +'Get to bed, this minute,' he said, in a voice suddenly terrible. She +perceived her error then, but it was too late. Looking wistfully at +Anna, the child fled. + +'I was told this morning, miss,' Ephraim began, as soon as Agnes was +gone, 'that young Price had bin seen coming to this house 'ere +yesterday afternoon. I thought as it was strange as thoud'st said nowt +about it to thy feyther; but I never suspected as a daughter o' mine +was up to any tricks. There was a hang-dog look on thy face this +afternoon when I asked where thou wast going, but I didna' think thou +wast lying to me.' + +'I wasn't,' she began, and stopped. + +'Thou wast! Now, what is it? What's this carrying-on between thee and +Will Price? I'll have it out of thee.' + +'There is no carrying-on, father.' + +'Then why hast thou gotten secrets? Why dost go sneaking about to see +him--sneaking, creeping, like any brazen moll?' + +The miser was wounded in the one spot where there remained to him any +sentiment capable of being wounded: his faith in the irreproachable, +absolute chastity, in thought and deed, of his womankind. + +'Willie Price came in here yesterday,' Anna began, white and calm, 'to +see you. But you weren't in. So he saw me. He told me that bill of +exchange, that blue paper, for thirty pounds, was forged. He said he +had forged Mr. Sutton's name on it.' She stopped, expecting the +thunder. + +'Get on with thy tale,' said Ephraim, breathing loudly. + +'He said he was ready to go to prison as soon as you gave the word. +But I told him, "No such thing!" I said it must be settled quietly. I +told him to leave it to me. He was driven to the forgery, and I +thought----' + +'Dost mean to say,' the miser shouted, 'as that blasted scoundrel came +here and told thee he'd forged a bill, and thou told him to leave it to +thee to settle?' Without waiting for an answer, he jumped up and +strode to the door, evidently with the intention of examining the +forged document for himself. + +'It isn't there--it isn't there!' Anna called to him wildly. + +'What isna' there?' + +'The paper. I may as well tell you, father. I got up early this +morning and burnt it.' + +The man was staggered at this audacious and astounding impiety. + +'It was mine, really,' she continued; 'and I thought----' + +'Thou thought!' + +Agnes, upstairs, heard that passionate and consuming roar. 'Shame on +thee, Anna Tellwright! Shame on thee for a shameless hussy! A +daughter o' mine, and just promised to another man! Thou'rt an +accomplice in forgery. Thou sees the scamp on the sly! Thou----' He +paused, and then added, with furious scorn: 'Shalt speak o' this to +Henry Mynors?' + +'I will tell him if you like,' she said proudly. + +'Look thee here!' he hissed, 'if thou breathes a word o' this to Henry +Mynors, or any other man, I'll cut thy tongue out. A daughter o' mine! +If thou breathes a word----' + +'I shall not, father.' + +It was finished; grey with frightful anger, Ephraim left the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +AT THE PRIORY + +She was not to be pardoned: the offence was too monstrous, daring, and +final. At the same time, the unappeasable ire of the old man tended to +weaken his power over her. All her life she had been terrorised by the +fear of a wrath which had never reached the superlative degree until +that day. Now that she had seen and felt the limit of his anger, she +became aware that she could endure it; the curse was heavy, and perhaps +more irksome than heavy, but she survived; she continued to breathe, +eat, drink, and sleep; her father's power stopped short of +annihilation. Here, too, was a satisfaction: that things could not be +worse. And still greater comfort lay in the fact that she had not only +accomplished the deliverance of Willie Price, but had secured absolute +secrecy concerning the episode. + +The next day was Saturday, when, after breakfast, it was Ephraim's +custom to give Anna the weekly sovereign for housekeeping. + +'Here, Agnes,' he said, turning in his armchair to face the child, and +drawing a sovereign from his waistcoat-pocket, 'take charge o' this, +and mind ye make it go as far as ye can.' His tone conveyed a +subsidiary message: 'I am terribly angry, but I am not angry with you. +However, behave yourself.' + +The child mechanically took the coin, scared by this proof of an +unprecedented domestic convulsion. Anna, with a tightening of the +lips, rose and went into the kitchen. Agnes followed, after a discreet +interval, and in silence gave up the sovereign. + +'What is it all about, Anna?' she ventured to ask that night. + +'Never mind,' said Anna curtly. + +The question had needed some courage, for, at certain times, Agnes +would as easily have trifled with her father as with Anna. From that +moment, with the passive fatalism characteristic of her years, Agnes' +spirits began to rise again to the normal level. She accepted the new +situation, and fitted herself into it with a child's adaptability. If +Anna naturally felt a slight resentment against this too impartial and +apparently callous attitude on the part of the child, she never showed +it. + +Nearly a week later, Anna received a postcard from Beatrice announcing +her complete recovery, and the immediate return of her parents and +herself to Bursley. That same afternoon, a cab encumbered with much +luggage passed up the street as Anna was fixing clean curtains in her +father's bedroom. Beatrice, on the look-out, waved a hand and smiled, +and Anna responded to the signals. She was glad now that the Suttons +had come back, though for several days she had almost forgotten their +existence. On the Saturday afternoon, Mynors called. Anna was in the +kitchen; she heard him scuffling with Agnes in the lobby, and then +talking to her father. Three times she had seen him since her +disgrace, and each time the secret bitterness of her soul, despite +conscientious effort to repress it, had marred the meeting--it had been +plain, indeed, that she was profoundly disturbed; he had affected at +first not to observe the change in her, and she, anticipating his +questions, hinted briefly that the trouble was with her father, and had +no reference to himself, and that she preferred not to discuss it at +all; reassured, and too young in courtship yet to presume on a lover's +rights, he respected her wish, and endeavoured by every art to restore +her to equanimity. This time, as she went to greet him in the parlour, +she resolved that he should see no more of the shadow. He noticed +instantly the difference in her face. + +'I've come to take you into Sutton's for tea--and for the evening,' he +said eagerly. 'You must come. They are very anxious to see you. I've +told your father,' he added. Ephraim had vanished into his office. + +'What did he say, Henry?' she asked timidly. + +'He said you must please yourself, of course. Come along, love. +Mustn't she, Agnes?' + +Agnes concurred, and said that she would get her father's tea, and his +supper too. + +'You will come,' he urged. She nodded, smiling thoughtfully, and he +kissed her, for the first time in front of Agnes, who was filled with +pride at this proof of their confidence in her. + +'I'm ready, Henry,' Anna said, a quarter of an hour later, and they +went across to Sutton's. + +'Anna, tell me all about it,' Beatrice burst out when she and Anna had +fled to her bedroom. 'I'm so glad. Do you love him really--truly? +He's dreadfully fond of you. He told me so this morning; we had quite +a long chat in the market. I think you're both very lucky, you know.' +She kissed Anna effusively for the third time. Anna looked at her +smiling but silent. + +'Well?' Beatrice said. + +'What do you want me to say?' + +'Oh! You are the funniest girl, Anna, I ever met. "What do you want +me to say," indeed!' Beatrice added in a different tone: 'Don't +imagine this affair was the least bit of a surprise to us. It wasn't. +The fact is, Henry had--oh! well, never mind. Do you know, mother and +dad used to think there was something between Henry and me. But there +wasn't, you know--not really. I tell you that, so that you won't be +able to say you were kept in the dark. When shall you be married, +Anna?' + +'I haven't the least idea,' Anna replied, and began to question +Beatrice about her convalescence. + +'I'm perfectly well,' Beatrice said. 'It's always the same. If I +catch anything I catch it bad and get it over quickly.' + +'Now, how long are you two chatterboxes going to stay here?' It was +Mrs. Sutton who came into the room. 'Bee, you've got those +sewing-meeting letters to write. Eh, Anna, but I'm glad of this. +You'll make him a good wife. You two'll just suit each other.' + +Anna could not but be impressed by this unaffected joy of her friends +in the engagement. Her spirits rose, and once more she saw visions of +future happiness. At tea, Alderman Sutton added his felicitations to +the rest, with that flattering air of intimate sympathy and +comprehension which some middle-aged men can adopt towards young girls. +The tea, made specially magnificent in honour of the betrothal, was +such a meal as could only have been compassed in Staffordshire or +Yorkshire--a high tea of the last richness and excellence, exquisitely +gracious to the palate, but ruthless in its demands on the stomach. At +one end of the table, which glittered with silver, glass, and Longshaw +china, was a fowl which had been boiled for four hours; at the other, a +hot pork-pie, islanded in liquor, which might have satisfied a +regiment. Between these two dishes were all the delicacies which +differentiate high tea from tea, and on the quality of which the +success of the meal really depends; hot pikelets, hot crumpets, hot +toast, sardines with tomatoes, raisin-bread, current-bread, seed-cake, +lettuce, home-made marmalade and home-made jams. The repast occupied +over an hour, and even then not a quarter of the food was consumed. +Surrounded by all that good fare and good-will, with the Alderman on +her left, Henry on her right, and a bright fire in front of her, Anna +quickly caught the gaiety of the others. She forgot everything but the +gladness of reunion, the joy of the moment, the luxurious comfort of +the house. Conversation was busy with the doings of the Suttons at +Port Erin after Anna and Henry had left. A listener would have caught +fragments like this:--'You know such-and-such a point.... No, not +there, over the hill. Well, we hired a carriage and drove.... The +weather was simply.... Tom Kelly said he'd never.... And that little +guard on the railway came all the way down to the steamer.... Did you +see anything in the "Signal" about the actress being drowned? Oh! It +was awfully sad. We saw the corpse just after.... Beatrice, will you +hush?' + +'Wasn't it terrible about Titus Price?' Beatrice exclaimed. + +'Eh, my!' sighed Mrs. Sutton, glancing at Anna. 'You can never tell +what's going to happen next. I'm always afraid to go away for fear of +something happening.' + +A silence followed. When tea was finished Beatrice was taken away by +her mother to write the letters concerning the immediate resumption of +sewing-meetings, and for a little time Anna was left in the +drawing-room alone with the two men, who began to talk about the +affairs of the Prices. It appeared that Mr. Sutton had been asked to +become trustee for the creditors under a deed of arrangement, and that +he had hopes of being able to sell the business as a going concern. In +the meantime it would need careful management. + +'Will Willie Price manage it?' Anna inquired. The question seemed to +divert Henry and the Alderman, to afford them a contemptuous and +somewhat inimical amusement at the expense of Willie. + +'No,' said the Alderman, quietly, but emphatically. + +'Master William is fairly good on the works,' said Henry; 'but in the +office, I imagine, he is worse than useless.' + +Grieved and confused, Anna bent down and moved a hassock in order to +hide her face. The attitude of these men to Willie Price, that victim +of circumstances and of his own simplicity, wounded Anna inexpressibly. +She perceived that they could see in him only a defaulting debtor, that +his misfortune made no appeal to their charity. She wondered that men +so warm-hearted and kind in some relations could be so hard in others. + +'I had a talk with your father at the creditors' meeting yesterday,' +said the Alderman. 'You won't lose much. Of course you've got a +preferential claim for six months' rent.' He said this reassuringly, +as though it would give satisfaction. Anna did not know what a +preferential claim might be, nor was she aware of any creditors' +meeting. She wished ardently that she might lose as much as +possible--hundreds of pounds. She was relieved when Beatrice swept in, +her mother following. + +'Now, your worship,' said Beatrice to her father, 'seven stamps for +these letters, please.' Anna glanced up inquiringly on hearing the +form of address. 'You don't mean to say that you didn't know that +father is going to be mayor this year?' Beatrice asked, as if shocked +at this ignorance of affairs. 'Yes, it was all settled rather late, +wasn't it, dad? And the mayor-elect pretends not to care much, but +actually he is filled with pride, isn't he, dad? As for the +mayoress----?' + +'Eh, Bee!' Mrs. Sutton stopped her, smiling; 'you'll tumble over that +tongue of yours some day.' + +'Mother said I wasn't to mention it,' said Beatrice, 'lest you should +think we were putting on airs.' + +'Nay, not I!' Mrs. Sutton protested. 'I said no such thing. Anna +knows us too well for that. But I'm not so set up with this mayor +business as some people will think I am.' + +'Or as Beatrice is,' Mynors added. + +At half-past eight, and again at nine, Anna said that she must go home; +but the Suttons, now frankly absorbed in the topic of the mayoralty, +their secret preoccupation, would not spoil the confidential talk which +had ensued by letting the lovers depart. It was nearly half-past nine +before Anna and Henry stood on the pavement outside, and Beatrice, +after facetious farewells, had shut the door. + +'Let us just walk round by the Manor Farm,' Henry pleaded. 'It won't +take more than a quarter of an hour or so.' + +She agreed dutifully. The footpath ran at right angles to Trafalgar +Road, past a colliery whose engine-fires glowed in the dark, moonless, +autumn night, and then across a field. They stood on a knoll near the +old farmstead, that extraordinary and pathetic survival of a vanished +agriculture. Immediately in front of them stretched acres of burning +ironstone--a vast tremulous carpet of flame woven in red, purple, and +strange greens. Beyond were the skeleton-like silhouettes of +pit-heads, and the solid forms of furnace and chimney-shaft. In the +distance a canal reflected the gigantic illuminations of Cauldon Bar +Ironworks. It was a scene mysterious and romantic enough to kindle the +raptures of love, but Anna felt cold, melancholy, and apprehensive of +vague sorrows. 'Why am I so?' she asked herself, and tried in vain to +shake off the mood. + +'What will Willie Price do if the business is sold?' she questioned +Mynors suddenly. + +'Surely,' he said to soothe her, 'you aren't still worrying about that +misfortune. I wish you had never gone near the inquest; the thing +seems to have got on your mind.' + +'Oh, no!' she protested, with an air of cheerfulness. 'But I was just +wondering.' + +'Well, Willie will have to do the best he can. Get a place somewhere, +I suppose. It won't be much, at the best.' + +Had he guessed what perhaps hung on that answer, Mynors might have +given it in a tone less callous and perfunctory. Could he have seen +the tightening of her lips, he might even afterwards have repaired his +error by some voluntary assurance that Willie Price should be watched +over with a benevolent eye and protected with a strong arm. But how +was he to know that in misprizing Willie Price before her, he was +misprizing a child to its mother? He had done something for Willie +Price, and considered that he had done enough. His thoughts, moreover, +were on other matters. + +'Do you remember that day we went up to the park?' he murmured fondly; +'that Sunday? I have never told you that that evening I came out of +chapel after the first hymn, when I noticed you weren't there, and +walked up past your house. I couldn't help it. Something drew me. I +nearly called in to see you. Then I thought I had better not.' + +'I saw you,' she said calmly. His warmth made her feel sad. 'I saw +you stop at the gate.' + +'You did? But you weren't at the window?' + +'I saw you through the glass of the front-door.' Her voice grew +fainter, more reluctant. + +'Then you were watching?' In the dark he seized her with such +violence, and kissed her so vehemently, that she was startled out of +herself. + +'Oh! Henry!' she exclaimed. + +'Call me Harry,' he entreated, his arm still round her waist; 'I want +you to call me Harry. No one else does or ever has done, and no one +shall, now.' + +'Harry,' she said deliberately, bracing her mind to a positive +determination. She must please him, and she said it again: 'Harry; +yes, it has a nice sound.' + +Ephraim sat reading the 'Signal' in the parlour when she arrived home +at five minutes to ten. Imbued then with ideas of duty, submission, +and systematic kindliness, she had an impulse to attempt a +reconciliation with her father. + +'Good-night, father,' she said, 'I hope I've not kept you up.' + +He was deaf. + +She went to bed resigned; sad, but not gloomy. It was not for nothing +that during all her life she had been accustomed to infelicity. +Experience had taught her this: to be the mistress of herself. She +knew that she could face any fact--even the fact of her dispassionate +frigidity under Mynors' caresses. It was on the firm, almost rapturous +resolve to succour Willie Price, if need be, that she fell asleep. + +The engagement, which had hitherto been kept private, became the theme +of universal gossip immediately upon the return of the Suttons from the +Isle of Man. Two words let fall by Beatrice in the St. Luke's covered +market on Saturday morning had increased and multiplied till the whole +town echoed with the news. Anna's private fortune rose as high as a +quarter of a million. As for Henry Mynors, it was said that Henry +Mynors knew what he was about. After all, he was like the rest. +Money, money! Of course it was inconceivable that a fine, prosperous +figure of a man, such as Mynors, would have made up to _her_, if she +had not been simply rolling in money. Well, there was one thing to be +said for young Mynors, he would put money to good use; you might rely +he would not hoard it up same as it had been hoarded up. However, the +more saved, the more for young Mynors, so he needn't grumble. It was +to be hoped he would make her dress herself a bit better--though indeed +it hadn't been her fault she went about so shabby; the old skinflint +would never allow her a penny of her own. So tongues wagged. + +The first Sunday was a tiresome ordeal for Anna, both at school and at +chapel. 'Well, I never!' seemed to be written like a note of +exclamation on every brow; the monotony of the congratulations fatigued +her as much as her involuntary efforts to grasp what each speaker had +left unsaid of innuendo, malice, envy or sycophancy. Even the people +in the shops, during the next few days, could not serve her without +direct and curious reference to her private affairs. The general +opinion that she was a cold and bloodless creature was strengthened by +her attitude at this period. But the apathy which she displayed was +neither affected nor due to an excessive diffidence. As she seemed, so +she felt. She often wondered what would have happened to her if that +vague 'something' between Henry and Beatrice, to which Beatrice had +confessed, had ever taken definite shape. + +'Hancock came back from Lancashire last night,' said Mynors, when he +arrived at Manor Terrace on the next Saturday afternoon. Ephraim was +in the room, and Henry, evidently joyous and triumphant, addressed both +him and Anna. + +'Is Hancock the commercial traveller?' Anna asked. She knew that +Hancock was the commercial traveller, but she experienced a nervous +compulsion to make idle remarks in order to hide the breach of +intercourse between her father and herself. + +'Yes,' said Mynors; 'he's had a magnificent journey.' + +'How much?' asked the miser. + +Henry named the amount of orders taken in a fortnight's journey. + +'Humph!' the miser ejaculated. 'That's better than a bat in the eye +with a burnt stick.' From him, this was the superlative of praise. +'You're making good money at any rate?' + +'We are,' said Mynors. + +'That reminds me,' Ephraim remarked gruffly. 'When dost think o' +getting wed? I'm not much for long engagements, and so I tell ye.' He +threw a cold glance sideways at Anna. The idea penetrated her heart +like a stab: 'He wants to get me out of the house!' + +'Well,' said Mynors, surprised at the question and the tone, and, +looking at Anna as if for an explanation: 'I had scarcely thought of +that. What does Anna say?' + +'I don't know,' she murmured; and then, more bravely, in a louder +voice, and with a smile: 'The sooner the better.' She thought, in her +bitter and painful resentment: 'If he wants me to go, go I will.' + +Henry tactfully passed on to another phase of the subject: 'I met Mr. +Sutton yesterday, and he was telling me of Price's house up at Toft +End. It belonged to Mr. Price, but of course it was mortgaged up to +the hilt. The mortgagees have taken possession, and Mr. Sutton said it +would be to let cheap at Christmas. Of course Willie and old Sarah +Vodrey, the housekeeper, will clear out. I was thinking it might do +for us. It's not a bad sort of house, or, rather, it won't be when +it's repaired.' + +'What will they ask for it?' Ephraim inquired. + +'Twenty-five or twenty-eight. It's a nice large house--four bedrooms, +and a very good garden.' + +'Four bedrooms!' the miser exclaimed. 'What dost want wi' four +bedrooms? You'd have for keep a servant.' + +'Naturally we should keep a servant,' Mynors said, with calm politeness. + +'You could get one o' them new houses up by th' park for fifteen pounds +as would do you well enough'; the miser protested against these dreams +of extravagance. + +'I don't care for that part of the town,' said Mynors. 'It's too new +for my taste.' + +After tea, when Henry and Anna went out for the Saturday evening +stroll, Mynors suddenly suggested: 'Why not go up and look through that +house of Price's?' + +'Won't it seem like turning them out if we happen to take it?' she +asked. + +'Turning them out! Willie is bound to leave it. What use is it to +him? Besides, it's in the hands of the mortgagees now. Why shouldn't +we take it just as well as anybody else, if it suits us?' + +Anna had no reply, and she surrendered herself placidly enough to his +will; nevertheless she could not entirely banish a misgiving that +Willie Price was again to be victimised. Infinitely more disturbing +than this illogical sensation, however, was the instinctive and sure +knowledge, revealed in a flash, that her father wished to be rid of +her. So implacable, then, was his animosity against her! Never, never +had she been so deeply hurt. The wound, in fact, was so severe that at +first she felt only a numbness that reduced everything to unimportance, +robbing her of volition. She walked up to Toft End as if walking in +her sleep. + +Price's house, sometimes called Priory House, in accordance with a +legend that a priory had once occupied the site, stood in the middle of +the mean and struggling suburb of Toft End, which was flung up the +hillside like a ragged scarf. Built of red brick, towards the end of +the eighteenth century, double-fronted, with small, evenly disposed +windows, and a chimney stack at either side, it looked westward over +the town smoke towards a horizon of hills. It had a long, narrow +garden, which ran parallel with the road. Behind it, adjoining, was a +small, disused potworks, already advanced in decay. On the north side, +and enclosed by a brick wall which surrounded also the garden, was a +small orchard of sterile and withered fruit trees. In parts the wall +had crumpled under the assaults of generations of boys, and from the +orchard, through the gaps, could be seen an expanse of grey-green +field, with a few abandoned pit-shafts scattered over it. These +shafts, imperfectly protected by ruinous masonry, presented an +appearance strangely sinister and forlorn, raising visions in the mind +of dark and mysterious depths peopled with miserable ghosts of those +who had toiled there in the days when to be a miner was to be a slave. +The whole place, house and garden, looked ashamed and sad, with a +shabby mournfulness acquired gradually from its inmates during many +years. But, nevertheless, the house was substantial, and the air on +that height fresh and pure. + +Mynors rang in vain at the front door, and then they walked round the +house to the orchard, and discovered Sarah Vodrey taking in clothes +from a line--a diminutive and wasted figure, with scanty, grey hair, a +tiny face permanently soured, and bony hands contorted by rheumatism. + +'My rheumatism's that bad,' she said in response to greetings, 'I can +scarce move about, and this house is a regular barracks to keep clean. +No; Willie's not in. He's at th' works, as usual--Saturday like any +other day. I'm by myself here all day and every day. But I reckon +us'n be flitting soon, and me lived here eight-and-twenty year! Praise +God, there's a mansion up there for me at last. And not sorry shall I +be when He calls.' + +'It must be very lonely for you, Miss Vodrey,' said Mynors. He knew +exactly how to speak to this dame who lived her life like a fly between +two panes of glass, and who could find room in her head for only three +ideas, namely: that God and herself were on terms of intimacy; that she +was, and had always been, indispensable to the Price family; and that +her social status was far above that of a servant. 'It's a pity you +never married,' Mynors added. + +'Me, marry! What would _they_ ha' done without me? No, I'm none for +marriage and never was. I'd be shamed to be like some o' them +spinsters down at chapel, always hanging round chapel-yard on the +off-chance of a service, to catch that there young Mr. Sargent, the new +minister. It's a sign of a hard winter, Miss Terrick, when the hay +runs after the horse, that's what I say.' + +'Miss Tellwright and myself are in search of a house,' Mynors gently +interrupted the flow, and gave her a peculiar glance which she +appreciated. 'We heard you and Willie were going to leave here, and so +we came up just to look over the place, if it's quite convenient to +you.' + +'Eh, I understand ye,' she said; 'come in. But ye mun tak' things as +ye find 'em, Miss Terrick.' + +Dismal and unkempt, the interior of the house matched the exterior. +The carpets were threadbare, the discoloured wall-papers hung loose on +the walls, the ceilings were almost black, the paint had nearly been +rubbed away from the woodwork; the exhausted furniture looked as if it +would fall to pieces in despair if compelled to face the threatened +ordeal of an auction-sale. But to Anna the rooms were surprisingly +large, and there seemed so many of them! It was as if she were +exploring an immense abode, like a castle, with odd chambers +continually showing themselves in unexpected places. The upper story +was even less inviting than the ground-floor--barer, more chill, +utterly comfortless. + +'This is the best bedroom,' said Miss Vodrey. 'And a rare big room +too! It's not used now. _He_ slept here. Willie sleeps at back.' + +'A very nice room,' Mynors agreed blandly, and measured it, as he had +done all the others, with a two-foot, entering the figures in his +pocket-book. + +Anna's eye wandered uneasily across the room, with its dismantled bed +and decrepit mahogany suite. + +'I'm glad he hanged himself at the works, and not here,' she thought. +Then she looked out at the window. 'What a splendid view!' she +remarked to Mynors. + +She saw that he had taken a fancy to the house. The sagacious fellow +esteemed it, not as it was, but as it would be, re-papered, re-painted, +re-furnished, the outer walls pointed, the garden stocked; everything +cleansed, brightened, renewed. And there was indeed much to be said +for his fancy. The house was large, with plenty of ground; the +boundary wall secured that privacy which young husbands and young wives +instinctively demand; the outlook was unlimited, the air the purest in +the Five Towns. And the rent was low, because the great majority of +those who could afford such a house would never deign to exist in a +quarter so poverty-stricken and unfashionable. + +After leaving the house they continued their walk up the hill, and then +turned off to the left on the high road from Hanbridge to Moorthorne. +The venerable but not dignified town lay below them, a huddled medley +of brown brick under a thick black cloud of smoke. The gold angel of +the town-hall gleamed in the evening light, and the dark, squat tower +of the parish church, sole relic of the past stood out grim and +obdurate amid the featureless buildings which surrounded it. To the +north and east miles of moorland, defaced by collieries and murky +hamlets, ran to the horizon. Across the great field at their feet a +figure slouched along, past the abandoned pit-shafts. They both +recognised the man. + +'There's Willie Price going home!' said Mynors. + +'He looks tired,' she said. She was relieved that they had not met him +at the house. + +'I say,' Mynors began earnestly, after a pause, 'why shouldn't we get +married soon, since the old gentleman seems rather to expect it? He's +been rather awkward lately, hasn't he?' + +This was the only reference made by Mynors to her father's temper. She +nodded. 'How soon?' she asked. + +'Well, I was just thinking. Suppose, for the sake of argument, this +house turns out all right. I couldn't get it thoroughly done up much +before the middle of January--couldn't begin till these people had +moved. Suppose we said early in February?' + +'Yes!' + +'Could you be ready by that time?' + +'Oh, yes,' she answered, 'I could be ready.' + +'Well, why shouldn't we fix February, then?' + +'There's the question of Agnes,' she said. + +'Yes; and there will always be the question of Agnes. Your father will +have to get a housekeeper. You and I will be able to see after little +Agnes, never fear.' So, with tenderness in his voice, he reassured her +on that point. + +'Why not February?' she reflected. 'Why not to-morrow, as father wants +me out of the house?' + +It was agreed. + +'I've taken the Priory, subject to your approval,' Henry said, less +than a fortnight later. From that time he invariably referred to the +place as the Priory. + + +It was on the very night after this eager announcement that the +approaching tragedy came one step nearer. Beatrice, in a modest +evening-dress, with a white cloak--excited, hurried, and important--ran +in to speak to Anna. The carriage was waiting outside. She and her +father and mother had to attend a very important dinner at the mayor's +house at Hillport, in connection with Mr. Sutton's impending mayoralty. +Old Sarah Vodrey had just sent down a girl to say that she was unwell, +and would be grateful if Mrs. Sutton or Beatrice would visit her. It +was a most unreasonable time for such a summons, but Sarah was a +fidgety old crotchet, and knew how frightfully good-natured Mrs. Sutton +was. Would Anna mind going up to Toft End? And would Anna come out to +the carriage and personally assure Mrs. Sutton that old Sarah should be +attended to? If not, Beatrice was afraid her mother would take it into +her head to do something stupid. + +'It's very good of you, Anna,' said Mrs. Sutton, when Anna went outside +with Beatrice. 'But I think I'd better go myself. The poor old thing +may feel slighted if I don't, and Beatrice can well take my place at +this affair at Hillport, which I've no mind for.' She was already half +out of the carriage. + +'Nothing of the kind,' said Anna firmly, pushing her back. 'I shall be +delighted to go and do what I can.' + +'That's right, Anna,' said the Alderman from the darkness of the +carriage, where his shirt-front gleamed; 'Bee said you'd go, and we're +much obliged to ye.' + +'I expect it will be nothing,' said Beatrice, as the vehicle drove off; +'Sarah has served mother this trick before now.' + +As Anna opened the garden-gate of the Priory she discerned a figure +amid the rank bushes, which had been allowed to grow till they almost +met across the narrow path leading to the front door of the house. + +It was a thick and mysterious night--such a night as death chooses; and +Anna jumped in vague terror at the apparition. + +'Who's there?' said a voice sharply. + +'It's me,' said Anna. 'Miss Vodrey sent down to ask Mrs. Sutton to +come up and see her, but Mrs. Sutton had an engagement, so I came +instead.' + +The figure moved forward; it was Willie Price. + +He peered into her face, and she could see the mortal pallor of his +cheeks. + +'Oh!' he exclaimed, 'it's Miss Tellwright, is it? Will ye come in, +Miss Tellwright?' + +She followed him with beating heart, alarmed, apprehensive. The front +door stood wide open, and at the far end of the gloomy passage a faint +light shone from the open door of the kitchen. 'This way,' he said. +In the large, bare, stone-floored kitchen Sarah Vodrey sat limp and +with closed eyes in an old rocking-chair close to the fireless range. +The window, which gave on to the street, was open; through that window +Sarah, in her extremity, had called the child who ran down to Mrs. +Sutton's. On the deal table were a dirty cup and saucer, a tea-pot, +bread, butter, and a lighted candle--sole illumination of the chamber. + +'I come home, and I find this,' he said. + +Daunted for a moment by the scene of misery, Anna could say nothing. + +'I find this,' he repeated, as if accusing God of spitefulness; and he +lifted the candle to show the apparently insensible form of the woman. +Sarah's wrinkled and seamed face had the flush of fever, and the +features were drawn into the expression of a terrible anxiety; her +hands hung loose; she breathed like a dog after a run. + +'I wanted her to have the doctor yesterday,' he said, 'but she +wouldn't. Ever since you and Mr. Mynors called she's been cleaning the +house down. She said you'd happen be coming again soon, and the place +wasn't fit to be seen. No use me arguing with her.' + +'You had better run for a doctor,' Anna said. + +'I was just going off when you came. She's been complaining more of +her rheumatism, and pain in her hips, lately.' + +'Go now; fetch Mr. Macpherson, and call at our house and say I shall +stay here all night. Wait a moment.' Seeing that he was exhausted +from lack of food, she cut a thick piece of bread-and-butter. 'Eat +this as you go,' she said. + +'I can't eat; it'll choke me.' + +'Let it choke you,' she said. 'You've got to swallow it.' + +Child of a hundred sorrows, he must be treated as a child. As soon as +Willie was gone she took off her hat and jacket, and lit a lamp; there +was no gas in the kitchen. + +'What's that light?' the old woman asked peevishly, rousing herself and +sitting up. 'I doubt I'll be late with Willie's tea. Eh, Miss +Terrick, what's amiss?' + +'You're not quite well, Miss Vodrey,' Anna answered. 'If you'll show +me your room, I'll see you into bed.' Without giving her a moment for +hesitation, Anna seized the feeble creature under the arms, and so, +coaxing, supporting, carrying, got her to bed. At length she lay on +the narrow mattress, panting, exhausted. It was Sarah's final effort. + +Anna lit fires in the kitchen and in the bedroom, and when Willie +returned with Dr. Macpherson, water was boiling and tea made. + +'You'd better get a woman in,' said the doctor curtly, in the kitchen, +when he had finished his examination of Sarah. 'Some neighbour for +to-night, and I'll send a nurse up from the cottage-hospital early +to-morrow morning. Not that it will be the least use. She must have +been dying for the last two days at least. She's got pericarditis and +pleurisy. She's breathing I don't know how many to the minute, and her +temperature is just about as high as it can be. It all follows from +rheumatism, and then taking cold. Gross carelessness and neglect all +through! I've no patience with such work.' He turned angrily to +Willie. 'I don't know what on earth you were thinking of, Mr. Price, +not to send for me earlier.' + +Willie, abashed and guilty, found nothing to say. His eye had the meek +wistfulness of Holman Hunt's 'Scapegoat.' + +'Mr. Price wanted her to have the doctor,' said Anna, defending him +with warmth; 'but she wouldn't. He is out at the works all day till +late at night. How was he to know how she was? She could walk about.' + +The tall doctor glanced at Anna in surprise, and at once modified his +tone. 'Yes,' he said, 'that's the curious thing. It passes me how she +managed to get about. But there is no knowing what an obstinate woman +won't force herself to do. I'll send the medicine up to-night, and +come along myself with the nurse early to-morrow. Meantime, keep +carefully to my instructions.' + +That night remains for ever fixed in Anna's memory: the grim rooms, +echoing and shadowy; the countless journeys up and down dark stairs and +passages; Willie sitting always immovable in the kitchen, idle because +there was nothing for him to do; Sarah incessantly panting on the +truckle-bed; the hired woman from up the street, buxom, kindly, useful, +but fatuous in the endless monotony of her commiserations. + +Towards morning, Sarah Vodrey gave sign of a desire to talk. + +'I've fought the fight,' she murmured to Anna, who alone was in the +bedroom with her, 'I've fought the fight; I've kept the faith. In that +box there ye'll see a purse. There's seventeen pounds six in it. That +will pay for the funeral, and Willie must have what's over. There +would ha' been more for the lad, but he never paid me no wages this two +years past. I never troubled him.' + +'Don't tell Willie that,' Anna said impetuously. + +'Eh, bless ye, no!' said the dying drudge, and then seemed to doze. + +Anna went to the kitchen, and sent the woman upstairs. + +'How is she?' asked Willie, without stirring. Anna shook her head. +'Neither her nor me will be here much longer, I'm thinking,' he said, +smiling wearily. + +'What?' she exclaimed, startled. + +'Mr. Sutton has arranged to sell our business as a going-concern--some +people at Turnhill are buying it. I shall go to Australia; there's no +room for me here. The creditors have promised to allow me twenty-five +pounds, and I can get an assisted passage. Bursley'll know me no more. +But--but--I shall always remember you and what you've done.' + +She longed to kneel at his feet, and to comfort him, and to cry: 'It is +I who have ruined you--driven your father to cheating his servant, to +crime, to suicide; driven you to forgery, and turned you out of your +house which your old servant killed herself in making clean for me. I +have wronged you, and I love you like a mother because I have wronged +you and because I saved you from prison.' + +But she said nothing except: 'Some of us will miss you.' + +The next day Sarah Vodrey died--she who had never lived save in the +fetters of slavery and fanaticism. After fifty years of ceaseless +labour, she had gained the affection of one person, and enough money to +pay for her own funeral. Willie Price took a cheap lodging with the +woman who had been called in on the night of Sarah's collapse. Before +Christmas he was to sail for Melbourne. The Priory, deserted, gave up +its rickety furniture to a van from Hanbridge, where, in an +auction-room, the frail sticks lost their identity in a medley of other +sticks, and ceased to be. Then the bricklayer, the plasterer, the +painter, and the paper-hanger came to the Priory, and whistled and sang +in it. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE BAZAAR + +The Wesleyan Bazaar, the greatest undertaking of its kind ever known in +Bursley, gradually became a cloud which filled the entire social +horizon. Mrs. Sutton, organiser of the Sunday-school stall, pressed +all her friends into the service, and a fortnight after the death of +Sarah Vodrey, Anna and even Agnes gave much of their spare time to the +work, which was carried on under pressure increasing daily as the final +moments approached. This was well for Anna, in that it diverted her +thoughts by keeping her energies fully engaged. One morning, however, +it occurred to Mrs. Sutton to reflect that Anna, at such a period of +life, should be otherwise employed. Anna had called at the Suttons' to +deliver some finished garments. + +'My dear,' she said, 'I am very much obliged to you for all this +industry. But I've been thinking that as you are to be married in +February you ought to be preparing your things.' + +'My things!' Anna repeated idly; and then she remembered Mynors' +phrase, on the hill, 'Can you be ready by that time?' + +'Yes,' said Mrs. Sutton; 'but possibly you've been getting forward with +them on the quiet.' + +'Tell me,' said Anna, with an air of interest; 'I've meant to ask you +before: Is it the bride's place to provide all the house-linen, and +that sort of thing?' + +'It was in my day; but those things alter so. The bride took all the +house-linen to her husband, and as many clothes for herself as would +last a year; that was the rule. We used to stitch everything at home +in those days--everything; and we had what we called a "bottom drawer" +to store them in. As soon as a girl passed her fifteenth birthday, she +began to sew for the "bottom drawer." But all those things change so, +I dare say it's different now.' + +'How much will it cost to buy everything, do you think?' Anna asked. + +Just then Beatrice entered the room. + +'Beatrice, Anna is inquiring how much it will cost to buy her +trousseau, and the house-linen. What do you say?' + +'Oh!' Beatrice replied, without any hesitation, 'a couple of hundred at +least.' + +Mrs. Sutton, reading Anna's face, smiled reassuringly. 'Nonsense, Bee! +I dare say you could do it on a hundred with care, Anna.' + +'Why should Anna want to do it with care?' Beatrice asked curtly. + +Anna went straight across the road to her father, and asked him for a +hundred pounds of her own money. She had not spoken to him, save under +necessity, since the evening spent at the Suttons'. + +'What's afoot now?' he questioned savagely. + +'I must buy things for the wedding--clothes and things, father.' + +'Ay! clothes! clothes! What clothes dost want? A few pounds will +cover them.' + +'There'll be all the linen for the house.' + +'Linen for---- It's none thy place for buy that.' + +'Yes, father, it is.' + +'I say it isna',' he shouted. + +'But I've asked Mrs. Sutton, and she says it is.' + +'What business an' ye for go blabbing thy affairs all over Bosley? I +say it isna' thy place for buy linen, and let that be sufficient. Go +and get dinner. It's nigh on twelve now.' + +That evening, when Agnes had gone to bed, she resumed the struggle. + +'Father, I must have that hundred pounds. I really must. I mean it.' + +'_Thou means it_! What?' + +'I mean I must have a hundred pounds.' + +'I'd advise thee to tak' care o' thy tongue, my lass. _Thou means it_!' + +'But you needn't give it me all at once,' she pursued. + +He gazed at her, glowering. + +'I shanna' give it thee. It's Henry's place for buy th' house-linen.' + +'Father, it isn't.' Her voice broke, but only for an instant. 'I'm +asking you for my own money. You seem to want to make me miserable +just before my wedding.' + +'I wish to God thou 'dst never seen Henry Mynors. It's given thee +pride and made thee undutiful.' + +'I'm only asking you for my own money.' + +Her calm insistence maddened him. Jumping up from his chair, he +stamped out of the room, and she heard him strike a match in his +office. Presently he returned, and threw angrily on to the table in +front of her a cheque-book and pass-book. The deposit-book she had +always kept herself for convenience of paying into the bank. + +'Here,' he said scornfully, 'tak' thy traps and ne'er speak to me +again. I wash my hands of ye. Tak' 'em and do what ye'n a mind. +Chuck thy money into th' cut[1] for aught I care.' + +The next evening Henry came up. She observed that his face had a grave +look, but intent on her own difficulties she did not remark on it, and +proceeded at once to do what she resolved to do. It was a cold night +in November, yet the miser, wrathfully sullen, chose to sit in his +office without a fire. Agnes was working sums in the kitchen. + +'Henry,' Anna began, 'I've had a difficulty with father, and I must +tell you.' + +'Not about the wedding, I hope,' he said. + +'It was about money. Of course, Henry, I can't get married without a +lot of money.' + +'Why not?' he inquired. + +'I've my own things to get,' she said, 'and I've all the house-linen to +buy.' + +'Oh! You buy the house-linen, do you?' She saw that he was relieved +by that information. + +'Of course. Well, I told father I must have a hundred pounds, and he +wouldn't give it me. And when I stuck to him he got angry--you know he +can't bear to see money spent--and at last he get a little savage and +gave me my bank-books, and said he'd have nothing more to do with my +money.' + +Henry's face broke into a laugh, and Anna was obliged to smile. +'Capital!' he said. 'Couldn't be better.' + +'I want you to tell me how much I've got in the bank,' she said. 'I +only know I'm always paying in odd cheques.' + +He examined the three books. 'A very tidy bit,' he said; 'something +over two hundred and fifty pounds. So you can draw cheques at your +ease.' + +'Draw me a cheque for twenty pounds,' she said; and then, while he +wrote: 'Henry, after we're married, I shall want you to take charge of +all this.' + +'Yes, of course; I will do that, dear. But your money will be yours. +There ought to be a settlement on you. Still, if your father says +nothing, it is not for me to say anything.' + +'Father will say nothing--now,' she said. 'You've never shown any +interest in it, Henry; but as we're talking of money, I may as well +tell you that father says I'm worth fifty thousand pounds.' + +The man of business was astonished and enraptured beyond measure. His +countenance shone with delight. + +'Surely not!' he protested formally. + +'That's what father told me, and he made me read a list of shares, and +so on.' + +'We will go slow, to begin with,' said Mynors solemnly. He had not +expected more than fifteen, or twenty thousand pounds, and even this +sum had dazzled his imagination. He was glad that he had only taken +the house at Toft End on a yearly tenancy. He now saw himself the +dominant figure in all the Five Towns. + +Later in the evening he disclosed, perfunctorily, the matter which had +been a serious weight on his mind when he entered the house, but which +this revelation of vast wealth had diminished to a trifle. Titus Price +had been the treasurer of the building fund which the bazaar was +designed to assist. Mynors had assumed the position of the dead man, +and that day, in going through the accounts, he had discovered that a +sum of fifty pounds was missing. + +'It's a dreadful thing for Willie, if it gets about,' he said; 'a tale +of that sort would follow him to Australia.' + +'Oh, Henry, it is!' she exclaimed, sorrow-stricken, 'but we mustn't let +it get about. Let us pay the money ourselves. You must enter it in +the books and say nothing.' + +'That is impossible,' he said firmly. 'I can't alter the accounts. At +least I can't alter the bank-book and the vouchers. The auditor would +detect it in a minute. Besides, I should not be doing my duty if I +kept a thing like this from the Superintendent-minister. He, at any +rate, must know, and perhaps the stewards.' + +'But you can urge them to say nothing. Tell them that you will make it +good. I will write a cheque at once.' + +'I had meant to find the fifty myself,' he said. It was a peddling sum +to him now. + +'Let me pay half, then,' she asked. + +'If you like,' he urged, smiling faintly at her eagerness. 'The thing +is bound to be kept quiet--it would create such a frightful scandal. +Poor old chap!' he added, carelessly, 'I suppose he was hard run, and +meant to put it back--as they all do mean.' + +But it was useless for Mynors to affect depression of spirits, or +mournful sympathy with the errors of a dead sinner. The fifty thousand +danced a jig in his brain that night. + +Anna was absorbed in contemplating the misfortune of Willie Price. She +prayed wildly that he might never learn the full depth of his father's +fall. The miserable robbery of Sarah's wages was buried for evermore, +and this new delinquency, which all would regard as flagrant sacrilege, +must be buried also. A soul less loyal than Anna's might have feared +that Willie, a self-convicted forger, had been a party to the +embezzlement; but Anna knew that it could not be so. + +It was characteristic of Mynors' cautious prudence that, the first +intoxication having passed, he made no further reference of any kind to +Anna's fortune. The arrangements for their married life were planned +on a scale which ignored the fifty thousand pounds. For both their +sakes he wished to avoid all friction with the miser, at any rate until +his status as Anna's husband would enable him to enforce her rights, if +that should be necessary, with dignity and effectiveness. He did not +precisely anticipate trouble, but the fact had not escaped him that +Ephraim still held the whole of Anna's securities. He was in no hurry +to enlarge his borders. He knew that there were twenty-four hours in +every day, three hundred and sixty-five days in every year, and thirty +good years in life still left to him; and therefore that there would be +ample time, after the wedding, for the execution of his purposes in +regard to that fifty thousand pounds. Meanwhile, he told Anna that he +had set aside two hundred pounds for the purchase of furniture for the +Priory--a modest sum; but he judged it sufficient. His method was to +buy a piece at a time, always second-hand, but always good. The +bargain-hunt was up, and Anna soon yielded to its mild satisfactions. +In the matter of her trousseau and the house-linen, Anna, having +obtained the needed money--at so dear a cost--found yet another +obstacle in the imminent bazaar, which occupied Mrs. Sutton and +Beatrice so completely that they could not contrive any opportunity to +assist her in shopping. It was decided between them that every article +should be bought ready-made and seamed, and that the first week of the +New Year, if indeed Mrs. Sutton survived the bazaar, should be entirely +and absolutely devoted to Anna's business. + +At nights, when she had leisure to think, Anna was astonished how +during the day she had forgotten her preoccupations in the activities +precendent to the bazaar, or in choosing furniture with Mynors. But +she never slept without thinking of Willie Price, and hoping that no +further disaster might overtake him. The incident of the embezzled +fifty pounds had been closed, and she had given a cheque for +twenty-five pounds to Mynors. He had acquainted the minister with the +facts, and Mr. Banks had decided that the two circuit stewards must be +informed. Beyond these the scandalous secret was not to go. But Anna +wondered whether a secret shared by five persons could long remain a +secret. + +The bazaar was a triumphant and unparalleled success, and, of the seven +stalls, the Sunday-school stall stood first each night in the nightly +returns. The scene in the town-hall, on the fourth and final night, a +Saturday, was as delirious and gay as a carnival. Four hundred and +twenty pounds had been raised up to tea-time, and it was the +impassioned desire of everyone to achieve five hundred. The price of +admission had been reduced to threepence, in order that the artisan +might enter and spend his wages in an excellent cause. The seven +stalls, ranged round the room like so many bowers of beauty, draped and +frilled and floriated, and still laden with countless articles of use +and ornament, were continually reinforced with purchasers by emissaries +canvassing the crowd which filled the middle of the paper-strewn floor. +The horse was not only taken to the water, but compelled to drink; and +many a man who, outside, would have laughed at the risk of being +robbed, was robbed openly, shamelessly, under the gaze of ministers and +class-leaders. Bouquets were sold at a shilling each, and at the +refreshment stall a glass of milk cost sixpence. The noise rivalled +that of a fair; there was no quiet anywhere, save in the farthest +recess of each stall, where the lady in supreme charge of it, like a +spider in the middle of its web, watched customers and cash-box with +equal cupidity. + +Mrs. Sutton, at seven o'clock, had not returned from tea, and Anna and +Beatrice, who managed the Sunday-school stall in her absence, feared +that she had at last succumbed under the strain. But shortly +afterwards she hurried back breathless to her place. + +'See that, Anna? It will be reckoned in our returns,' she said, +exhibiting a piece of paper. It was Ephraim's cheque for twenty-five +pounds promised months ago, but on a condition which had not been +fulfilled. + +'She has the secret of persuading him,' thought Anna. 'Why have I +never found it?' + +Then Agnes, in a new white frock, came up with three shillings, +proceeds of bouquets. + +'But you must take that to the flower-stall, my pet,' said Mrs. Sutton. + +'Can't I give it to you?' the child pleaded. 'I want your stall to be +the best.' + +Mynors arrived next, with something concealed in tissue-paper. He +removed the paper, and showed, in a frame of crimson plush, a common +white plate decorated with a simple band and line, and a monogram in +the centre--'A.T.' Anna blushed, recognising the plate which she had +painted that afternoon in July at Mynors' works. + +'Can you sell this?' Mynors asked Mrs. Sutton. + +'I'll try to,' said Mrs. Sutton doubtfully--not in the secret. 'What's +it meant for?' + +'Try to sell it to me,' said Mynors. + +'Well,' she laughed, 'what will you give?' + +'A couple of sovereigns.' + +'Make it guineas.' + +He paid the money, and requested Anna to keep the plate for him. + +At nine o'clock it was announced that, though raffling was forbidden, +the bazaar would be enlivened by an auction. A licensed auctioneer was +brought, and the sale commenced. The auctioneer, however, failed to +attune himself to the wild spirit of the hour, and his professional +efforts would have resulted in a fiasco had not Mynors, perceiving the +danger, leaped to the platform and masterfully assumed the hammer. +Mynors surpassed himself in the kind of wit that amuses an excited +crowd, and the auction soon monopolised the attention of the room; it +was always afterwards remembered as the crowning success of the bazaar. +The incredible man took ten pounds in twenty minutes. During this +episode Anna, who had been left alone in the stall, first noticed +Willie Price in the room. His ship sailed on the Monday, but steerage +passengers had to be aboard on Sunday, and he was saying good-bye to a +few acquaintances. He seemed quite cheerful, as he walked about with +his hands in his pockets, chatting with this one and that; it was the +false and hysterical gaiety that precedes a final separation. As soon +as he saw Anna he came towards her. + +'Well, good-bye, Miss Tellwright,' he said jauntily. 'I leave for +Liverpool to-morrow morning. Wish me luck.' + +Nothing more; no word, no accent, to recall the terrible but sublime +past. + +'I do,' she answered. They shook hands. Others approaching, he +drifted away. Her glance followed him like a beneficent influence. + +For three days she had carried in her pocket an envelope containing a +bank-note for a hundred pounds, intending by some device to force it on +him as a parting gift. Now the last chance was lost, and she had not +even attempted this difficult feat of charity. Such futility, she +reflected, self-scorning, was of a piece with her life. 'He hasn't +really gone. He hasn't really gone,' she kept repeating, and yet knew +well that he had gone. + +'Do you know what they are saying, Anna?' said Beatrice, when, after +eleven o'clock, the bazaar was closed to the public, and the +stall-holders and their assistants were preparing to depart, their +movements hastened by the stern aspect of the town-hall keeper. + +'No. What?' said Anna; and in the same moment guessed. + +'They say old Titus Price embezzled fifty pounds from the building +fund, and Henry made it up, privately, so that there shouldn't be a +scandal. Just fancy! Do you believe it?' + +The secret was abroad. She looked round the room, and saw it in every +face. + +'Who says?' Anna demanded fiercely. + +'It's all over the place. Miss Dickinson told me.' + +'You will be glad to know, ladies,' Mynors' voice sang out from the +platform, 'that the total proceeds, so far as we can calculate them +now, exceed five hundred and twenty-five pounds.' + +There was clapping of hands, which died out suddenly. + +'Now Agnes,' Anna called, 'come along, quick; you're as white as a +sheet. Good-night, Mrs. Sutton; good-night, Bee.' + +Mynors was still occupied on the platform. + +The town-hall keeper extinguished some of the lights. The bazaar was +over. + + + +[1] _Cut_: canal. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +END OF A SIMPLE SOUL + +The next morning, at half-past seven, Anna was standing in the +garden-doorway of the Priory. The sun had just risen, the air was +cold; roof and pavement were damp; rain had fallen, and more was to +fall. A door opened higher up the street, and Willie Price came out, +carrying a small bag. He turned to speak to some person within the +house, and then stepped forward. As he passed Anna she sprang forth. + +'Oh!' she cried, 'I had just come up here to see if the workmen had +locked up properly. We have some of our new furniture in the house, +you know.' She was as red as the sun over Hillport. + +He glanced at her. 'Have _you_ heard?' he asked simply. + +'About what?' she whispered. + +'About my poor old father.' + +'Yes. I was hoping--hoping you would never know.' + +By a common impulse they went into the garden of the Priory, and he +shut the door. + +'Never know?' he repeated. 'Oh! they took care to tell me.' + +A silence followed. + +'Is that your luggage?' she inquired. He lifted up the handbag, and +nodded. + +'All of it?' + +'Yes,' he said. 'I'm only an emigrant.' + +'I've got a note here for you,' she said. 'I should have posted it to +the steamer; but now you can take it yourself. I want you not to read +it till you get to Melbourne.' + +'Very well,' he said, and crumpled the proffered envelope into his +pocket. He was not thinking of the note at all. Presently he asked: +'Why didn't you tell me about my father? If I had to hear it, I'd +sooner have heard it from you.' + +'You must try to forget it,' she urged him. 'You are not your father.' + +'I wish I had never been born,' he said. 'I wish I'd gone to prison.' + +Now was the moment when, if ever, the mother's influence should be +exerted. + +'Be a man,' she said softly. 'I did the best I could for you. I shall +always think of you, in Australia, getting on.' + +She put a hand on his shoulder. 'Yes,' she said again, passionately: +'I shall always remember you--always.' + +The hand with which he touched her arm shook like an old man's hand. +As their eyes met in an intense and painful gaze, to her, at least, it +was revealed that they were lovers. What he had learnt in that instant +can only be guessed from his next action.... + + +Anna ran out of the garden into the street, and so home, never looking +behind to see if he pursued his way to the station. + +Some may argue that Anna, knowing she loved another man, ought not to +have married Mynors. But she did not reason thus; such a notion never +even occurred to her. She had promised to marry Mynors, and she +married him. Nothing else was possible. She who had never failed in +duty did not fail then. She who had always submitted and bowed the +head, submitted and bowed the head then. She had sucked in with her +mother's milk the profound truth that a woman's life is always a +renunciation, greater or less. Hers by chance was greater. Facing the +future calmly and genially, she took oath with herself to be a good +wife to the man whom, with all his excellences, she had never loved. +Her thoughts often dwelt lovingly on Willie Price, whom she deemed to +be pursuing in Australia an honourable and successful career, quickened +at the outset by her hundred pounds. This vision of him was her stay. +But neither she nor anyone in the Five Towns or elsewhere ever heard of +Willie Price again. And well might none hear! The abandoned pitshaft +does not deliver up its secret. And so--the Bank of England is the +richer by a hundred pounds unclaimed, and the world the poorer by a +simple and meek soul stung to revolt only in its last hour. + + + + +_Jamieson & Munro, Ltd., Printers, Stirling._ + + + + + Uniform with this Volume + + + 36 De Profundis Oscar Wilde + 37 Lord Arthur Savile's Crime Oscar Wilde + 38 Selected Poems Oscar Wilde + 39 An Ideal Husband Oscar Wilde + 40 Intentions Oscar Wilde + 41 Lady Windermere's Fan Oscar Wilde + 42 Charmides and other Poems Oscar Wilde + 43 Harvest Home E. V. Lucas + 44 A Little of Everything E. V. Lucas + 45 Vallima Letters Robert Louis Stevenson + 46 Hills and the Sea Hilaire Belloc + 47 The Blue Bird Maurice Maeterlinck + 50 Charles Dickens G. K. Chesterton + 53 Letters from Self-Made Merchant to his Son George Horace Larimer + 54 The Life of John Ruskin W. G. Collingwood + 57 Sevastopol and other Stories Leo Tolstoy + 58 The Lore of the Honey-Bee Tickner Edwardes + 60 From Midshipman to Field Marshal Sir Evelyn Wood + 63 Oscar Wilde Arthur Ransome + 64 The Vicar of Morwenstow S. Baring-Gould + 65 Old Country Life S. Baring-Gould + 76 Home Life in France M. Betham-Edwards + 77 Selected Prose Oscar Wilde + 78 The Best of Lamb E. V. Lucas + 80 Selected Letters Robert Louis Stevenson + 83 Reason and Belief Sir Oliver Lodge + 85 The Importance of Being Earnest Oscar Wilde + 91 Social Evils and their Remedy Leo Tolstoy + 93 The Substance of Faith Sir Oliver Lodge + 94 All Things Considered G. K. Chesterton + 95 The Mirror of the Sea Joseph Conrad + 96 A Picked Company Hilaire Belloc + 116 The Survival of Man Sir Oliver Lodge + 126 Science from an Easy Chair Sir Ray Lankester + 141 Variety Lane E. V. Lucas + 144 A Shilling for my Thoughts G. K. Chesterton + 146 A Woman of No Importance Oscar Wilde + 149 A Shepherd's Life W. H. Hudson + 193 On Nothing Hilaire Belloc + 300 Jane Austen and her Times G. E. Mitton + 114 Select Essays Maurice Maeterlinck + 218 R. L. S. Francis Watt + 223 Two Generations Leo Tolstoy + 126 On Everything Hilaire Belloc + 934 Records and Reminiscences Sir Francis Burnand + 253 My Childhood and Boyhood Leo Tolstoy + 254 On Something Hilaire Belloc + + + A Selection only. + + + Uniform with this Volume + + + 1 The Mighty Atom Marie Corelli + 2 Jane Marie Corelli + 3 Boy Marie Corelli + 4 Spanish Gold G. A. Birmingham + 5 The Search Party G. A. Birmingham + 6 Teresa of Watling Street Arnold Bennett + 9 The Unofficial Honeymoon Dolf Wyllarde + 12 The Demon C. N. and A. M. Williamson + 17 Joseph Frank Danby + 18 Round the Red Lamp Sir A. Conan Doyle + 20 Light Freights W. W. Jacobs + 22 The Long Road John Oxenham + 71 The Gates of Wrath Arnold Bennett + 72 Short Cruises W. W. Jacobs + 81 The Card Arnold Bennett + 87 Lalage's Lovers G. A. Birmingham + 93 White Fang Jack London + 105 The Wallet of Kai Lung Ernest Bramah + 108 The Adventures of Dr. Whitty G. A. Birmingham + 113 Lavender and Old Lace Myrtle Reed + 115 Old Rose and Silver Myrtle Reed + 122 The Double Life of Mr. Alfred Burton E. Phillips Oppenheim + 125 The Regent Arnold Bennett + 127 Sally Dorothea Conyers + 129 The Lodger Mrs. Belloc Lowndes + 135 A Spinner In the Sun Myrtle Reed + 137 The Mystery of Dr. Fu-Manchu Sax Rohmer + 139 The Golden Centipede Louise Gerard + 140 The Love Pirate C. N. and A. M. Williamson + 143 The Way of these Women E. Phillips Oppenheim + 143 Sandy Married Dorothea Conyers + 145 Chance Joseph Conrad + 148 Flower of the Dusk Myrtle Reed + 150 The Gentleman Adventurer H. C. Bailey + 154 The Hyena of Kallu Louise Gerard + 190 The Happy Hunting Ground Mrs. Alice Perrin + 191 My Lady of Shadows John Oxenham + 211 Max Carrados Ernest Bramah + 212 Under Western Eyes Joseph Conrad + 213 The Kloof Bride Ernest Glanville + 215 Mr. Grex of Monte Carlo E. Phillips Oppenheim + 216 The Wonder of Love E. M. Albanesi + 217 A Weaver of Dreams Myrtle Reed + 219 The Family Elinor Mordaunt + 220 A Heritage of Peril A. W. Marchmont + 221 The Kinsman Mrs. Sidgwick + 222 Emmanuel Burden Hilaire Belloc + 224 Broken Shackles John Oxenham + 225 A Knight of Spain Marjorie Bowen + 227 Byeways Robert Hichens + 228 Gossamer G. A. Birmingham + 230 The Salving of a Derelict Maurice Drake + 231 Cameos Marie Corelli + 232 The Happy Valley B. M. Croker + 245 The Shop Girl C. N. and A. M. Williamson + 250 The Lost Regiment Ernest Glanville + 261 Tarzan of the Apes Edgar Rice Burroughs + + + + A Selection only. + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Anna of the Five Towns, by Arnold Bennett + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANNA OF THE FIVE TOWNS *** + +***** This file should be named 35505-8.txt or 35505-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/5/0/35505/ + +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. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Anna of the Five Towns + +Author: Arnold Bennett + +Release Date: March 6, 2011 [EBook #35505] +Last updated: November 25, 2014 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANNA OF THE FIVE TOWNS *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + +</pre> + + +<BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="t1"> +ANNA OF THE FIVE TOWNS +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3"> +BY +</P> + +<P CLASS="t2"> +ARNOLD BENNETT +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="t4"> +THIRTEENTH EDITION +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="t4"> +METHUEN & CO. LTD. +<BR> +36 ESSEX STREET W.C. +<BR> +LONDON +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<PRE STYLE="font-size: 70%; margin-left: 10%"> +First issued in this Cheap Form (Third Edition) - September 5th 1912 +Fourth Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - September 1912 +Fifth Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - February 1913 +Sixth Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - July 1913 +Seventh Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - April 1914 +Eighth Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - September 1914 +Ninth Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - November 1915 +Tenth Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - July 1916 +Eleventh Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - March 1917 +Twelfth Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - February 1918 +Thirteenth Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 1919 + + + +This Book was First Published by Messrs Chatto & + Windus - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - September 11th, 1902 +Second Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - November 1902 +</PRE> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="t4"> +I DEDICATE THIS BOOK +<BR> +WITH AFFECTION AND ADMIRATION +<BR> +TO +</P> + +<P CLASS="t3"> +HERBERT SHARPE +</P> + +<P CLASS="t4"> +AN ARTIST +<BR> +WHOSE INDIVIDUALITY AND ACHIEVEMENT +<BR> +HAVE CONTINUALLY INSPIRED ME +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +'Therefore, although it be a history<BR> +Homely and rude, I will relate the same<BR> +For the delight of a few natural hearts.'<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="t2"> +CONTENTS +</P> + +<TABLE ALIGN="center" WIDTH="80%"> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">CHAPTER</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> </TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">I. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap01">THE KINDLING OF LOVE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">II. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap02">THE MISER'S DAUGHTER</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">III. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap03">THE BIRTHDAY</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap04">A VISIT</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">V. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap05">THE REVIVAL</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap06">WILLIE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap07">THE SEWING MEETING</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap08">ON THE BANK</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap09">THE TREAT</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">X. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap10">THE ISLE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap11">THE DOWNFALL</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap12">AT THE PRIORY</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap13">THE BAZAAR</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap14">END OF A SIMPLE SOUL</A></TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap01"></A> + +<P CLASS="t2"> +ANNA OF THE FIVE TOWNS +</P> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER I +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE KINDLING OF LOVE +</H4> + +<P> +The yard was all silent and empty under the burning afternoon heat, +which had made its asphalt springy like turf, when suddenly the +children threw themselves out of the great doors at either end of the +Sunday-school—boys from the right, girls from the left—in two +howling, impetuous streams, that widened, eddied, intermingled and +formed backwaters until the whole quadrangle was full of clamour and +movement. Many of the scholars carried prize-books bound in vivid +tints, and proudly exhibited these volumes to their companions and to +the teachers, who, tall, languid, and condescending, soon began to +appear amid the restless throng. Near the left-hand door a little girl +of twelve years, dressed in a cream coloured frock, with a wide and +heavy straw hat, stood quietly kicking her foal-like legs against the +wall. She was one of those who had won a prize, and once or twice she +took the treasure from under her arm to glance at its frontispiece with +a vague smile of satisfaction. For a time her bright eyes were fixed +expectantly on the doorway; then they would wander, and she started to +count the windows of the various Connexional buildings which on three +sides enclosed the yard—chapel, school, lecture-hall, and +chapel-keeper's house. Most of the children had already squeezed +through the narrow iron gate into the street beyond, where a steam-car +was rumbling and clattering up Duck Bank, attended by its immense +shadow. The teachers remained a little behind. Gradually dropping the +pedagogic pose, and happy in the virtuous sensation of duty +accomplished, they forgot the frets and fatigues of the day, and grew +amiably vivacious among themselves. With an instinctive mutual +complacency the two sexes mixed again after separation. Greetings and +pleasantries were exchanged, and intimate conversations begun; and +then, dividing into small familiar groups, the young men and women +slowly followed their pupils out of the gate. The chapel-keeper, who +always had an injured expression, left the white step of his residence, +and, walking with official dignity across the yard, drew down the +side-windows of the chapel one after another. As he approached the +little solitary girl in his course he gave her a reluctant acid +recognition; then he returned to his hearth. Agnes was alone. +</P> + +<P> +'Well, young lady?' +</P> + +<P> +She looked round with a jump, and blushed, smiling and screwing up her +little shoulders, when she recognised the two men who were coming +towards her from the door of the lecture-hall. The one who had called +out was Henry Mynors, morning superintendent of the Sunday-school and +conductor of the men's Bible-class held in the lecture-hall on Sunday +afternoons. The other was William Price, usually styled Willie Price, +secretary of the same Bible-class, and son of Titus Price, the +afternoon superintendent. +</P> + +<P> +'I'm sure you don't deserve that prize. Let me see if it isn't too +good for you.' Mynors smiled playfully down upon Agnes Tellwright as +he idly turned the leaves of the book which she handed to him. 'Now, +do you deserve it? Tell me honestly.' +</P> + +<P> +She scrutinised those sparkling and vehement black eyes with the +fearless calm of infancy. 'Yes, I do,' she answered in her high, thin +voice, having at length decided within herself that Mr. Mynors was +joking. +</P> + +<P> +'Then I suppose you must have it,' he admitted, with a fine air of +giving way. +</P> + +<P> +As Agnes took the volume from him she thought how perfect a man Mr. +Mynors was. His eyes, so kind and sincere, and that mysterious, +delicious, inexpressible something which dwelt behind his eyes: these +constituted an ideal for her. +</P> + +<P> +Willie Price stood somewhat apart, grinning, and pulling a thin +honey-coloured moustache. He was at the uncouth, disjointed age, +twenty-one, and nine years younger than Henry Mynors. Despite a +continual effort after ease of manner, he was often sheepish and +self-conscious, even, as now, when he could discover no reason for such +a condition of mind. But Agnes liked him too. His simple, pale blue +eyes had a wistfulness which made her feel towards him as she felt +towards her doll when she happened to find it lying neglected on the +floor. +</P> + +<P> +'Your big sister isn't out of school yet?' Mynors remarked. +</P> + +<P> +Agnes shook her head. 'I've been waiting ever so long,' she said +plaintively. +</P> + +<P> +At that moment a grey-haired woman with a benevolent but rather pinched +face emerged with much briskness from the girls' door. This was Mrs. +Sutton, a distant relative of Mynors'—his mother had been her second +cousin. The men raised their hats. +</P> + +<P> +'I've just been down to make sure of some of you slippery folks for the +sewing-meeting,' she said, shaking hands with Mynors, and including +both him and Willie Price in an embracing maternal smile. She was +short-sighted and did not perceive Agnes, who had fallen back. +</P> + +<P> +'Had a good class this afternoon, Henry?' Mrs. Sutton's breathing was +short and quick. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, yes,' he said, 'very good indeed.' +</P> + +<P> +'You're doing a grand work.' +</P> + +<P> +'We had over seventy present,' he added. +</P> + +<P> +'Eh!' she said, 'I make nothing of numbers. Henry. I meant a <I>good</I> +class. Doesn't it say—Where <I>two or three</I> are gathered together...? +But I must be getting on. The horse will be restless. I've to go up +to Hillport before tea. Mrs. Clayton Vernon is ill.' +</P> + +<P> +Scarcely having stopped in her active course, Mrs. Sutton drew the men +along with her down the yard, she and Mynors in rapid talk: Willie +Price fell a little to the rear, his big hands half-way into his +pockets and his eyes diffidently roving. It appeared as though he +could not find courage to take a share in the conversation, yet was +anxious to convince himself of his right to do so. +</P> + +<P> +Mynors helped Mrs. Sutton into her carriage, which had been drawn up +outside the gate of the school yard. Only two families of the Bursley +Wesleyan Methodists kept a carriage, the Suttons and the Clayton +Vernons. The latter, boasting lineage and a large house in the +aristocratic suburb of Hillport, gave to the society monetary aid and a +gracious condescension. But though indubitably above the operation of +any unwritten sumptuary law, even the Clayton Vernons ventured only in +wet weather to bring their carriage to chapel. Yet Mrs. Sutton, who +was a plain woman, might with impunity use her equipage on Sundays. +This license granted by Connexional opinion was due to the fact that +she so obviously regarded her carriage, not as a carriage, but as a +contrivance on four wheels for enabling an infirm creature to move +rapidly from place to place. When she got into it she had exactly the +air of a doctor on his rounds. Mrs. Sutton's bodily frame had long ago +proved inadequate to the ceaseless demands of a spirit indefatigably +altruistic, and her continuance in activity was a notable illustration +of the dominion of mind over matter. Her husband, a potter's valuer +and commission agent, made money with facility in that lucrative +vocation, and his wife's charities were famous, notwithstanding her +attempts to hide them. Neither husband nor wife had allowed riches to +put a factitious gloss upon their primal simplicity. They were as they +were, save that Mr. Sutton had joined the Five Towns Field Club and +acquired some of the habits of an archaeologist. The influence of +wealth on manners was to be observed only in their daughter Beatrice, +who, while favouring her mother, dressed at considerable expense, and +at intervals gave much time to the arts of music and painting. Agnes +watched the carriage drive away, and then turned to look up the stairs +within the school doorway. She sighed, scowled, and sighed again, +murmured something to herself, and finally began to read her book. +</P> + +<P> +'Not come out yet?' Mynors was at her side once more, alone this time. +</P> + +<P> +'No, not yet,' said Agnes, wearied. 'Yes. Here she is. Anna, what +ages you've been!' +</P> + +<P> +Anna Tellwright stood motionless for a second in the shadow of the +doorway. She was tall, but not unusually so, and sturdily built up. +Her figure, though the bust was a little flat, had the lenient curves +of absolute maturity. Anna had been a woman since seventeen, and she +was now on the eve of her twenty-first birthday. She wore a plain, +home-made light frock checked with brown and edged with brown velvet, +thin cotton gloves of cream colour, and a broad straw hat like her +sister's. Her grave face, owing to the prominence of the cheekbones +and the width of the jaw, had a slight angularity; the lips were thin, +the brown eyes rather large, the eyebrows level, the nose fine and +delicate; the ears could scarcely be seen for the dark brown hair which +was brushed diagonally across the temples, leaving of the forehead only +a pale triangle. It seemed a face for the cloister, austere in +contour, fervent in expression, the severity of it mollified by that +resigned and spiritual melancholy peculiar to women who through the +error of destiny have been born into a wrong environment. +</P> + +<P> +As if charmed forward by Mynors' compelling eyes, Anna stepped into the +sunlight, at the same time putting up her parasol. 'How calm and +stately she is,' he thought, as she gave him her cool hand and murmured +a reply to his salutation. But even his aquiline gaze could not +surprise the secrets of that concealing breast: this was one of the +three great tumultuous moments of her life—she realised for the first +time that she was loved. +</P> + +<P> +'You are late this afternoon, Miss Tellwright,' Mynors began, with the +easy inflections of a man well accustomed to prominence in the society +of women. Little Agnes seized Anna's left arm, silently holding up the +prize, and Anna nodded appreciation. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' she said as they walked across the yard, 'one of my girls has +been doing wrong. She stole a Bible from another girl, so of course I +had to mention it to the superintendent. Mr. Price gave her a long +lecture, and now she is waiting upstairs till he is ready to go with +her to her home and talk to her parents. He says she must be +dismissed.' +</P> + +<P> +'Dismissed!' +</P> + +<P> +Anna's look flashed a grateful response to him. By the least possible +emphasis he had expressed a complete disagreement with his senior +colleague which etiquette forbade him to utter in words. +</P> + +<P> +'I think it's a very great pity,' Anna said firmly. 'I rather like the +girl,' she ventured in haste; 'you might speak to Mr. Price about it.' +</P> + +<P> +'If he mentions it to me.' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, I meant that. Mr. Price said—if it had been anything else but a +<I>Bible</I>——' +</P> + +<P> +'Um!' he murmured very low, but she caught the significance of his +intonation. They did not glance at each other: it was unnecessary. +Anna felt that comfortable easement of the spirit which springs from +the recognition of another spirit capable of understanding without +explanations and of sympathising without a phrase. Under that calm +mask a strange and sweet satisfaction thrilled through her as her +precious instinct of common sense—rarest of good qualities, and pining +always for fellowship—found a companion in his own. She had dreaded +the overtures which for a fortnight past she had foreseen were +inevitably to come from Mynors: he was a stranger, whom she merely +respected. Now in a sudden disclosure she knew him and liked him. The +dire apprehension of those formal 'advances' which she had watched +other men make to other women faded away. It was at once a release and +a reassurance. +</P> + +<P> +They were passing through the gate, Agnes skipping round her sister's +skirts, when Willie Price reappeared front the direction of the chapel. +</P> + +<P> +'Forgotten something?' Mynors inquired of him blandly. +</P> + +<P> +'Ye-es,' he stammered, clumsily raising his hat to Anna. She thought +of him exactly as Agnes had done. He hesitated for a fraction of time, +and then went up the yard towards the lecture-hall. +</P> + +<P> +'Agnes has been showing me her prize,' said Mynors, as the three stood +together outside the gate. 'I ask her if she thinks she really +deserves it, and she says she does. What do you think, Miss Big +Sister?' +</P> + +<P> +Anna gave the little girl an affectionate smile of comprehension. +'What is it called, dear?' +</P> + +<P> +'"Janey's Sacrifice or the Spool of Cotton, and other stories for +children,"' Agnes read out in a monotone: then she clutched Anna's +elbow and aimed a whisper at her ear. +</P> + +<P> +'Very well, dear,' Anna answered aloud, 'but we must be back by a +quarter-past four.' And turning to Mynors: 'Agnes wants to go up to +the Park to hear the band play.' +</P> + +<P> +'I'm going up there, too,' he said. 'Come along, Agnes, take my arm +and show me the way.' Shyly Agnes left her sister's side and put a +pink finger into Mynors' hand. +</P> + +<P> +Moor Road, which climbs over the ridge to the mining village of +Moorthorne and passes the new Park on its way, was crowded with people +going up to criticise and enjoy this latest outcome of municipal +enterprise in Bursley: sedate elders of the borough who smiled grimly +to see one another on Sunday afternoon in that undignified, idly +curious throng; white-skinned potters, and miners with the swarthy +pallor of subterranean toil; untidy Sabbath loafers whom neither church +nor chapel could entice, and the primly-clad respectable who had not +only clothes but a separate deportment for the seventh day; house-wives +whose pale faces, as of prisoners free only for a while, showed a naïve +and timorous pleasure in the unusual diversion; young women made +glorious by richly-coloured stuffs and carrying themselves with the +defiant independence of good wages earned in warehouse or +painting-shop; youths oppressed by stiff new clothes bought at +Whitsuntide, in which the bright necktie and the nosegay revealed a +thousand secret aspirations; young children running and yelling with +the marvellous energy of their years; here and there a small +well-dressed group whose studious repudiation of the crowd betrayed a +conscious eminence of rank; louts, drunkards, idiots, beggars, waifs, +outcasts, and every oddity of the town: all were more or less under the +influence of a new excitement, and all with the same face of pleased +expectancy looked towards the spot where, half-way up the hill, a +denser mass of sightseers indicated the grand entrance to the Park. +</P> + +<P> +'What stacks of folks!' Agnes exclaimed. 'It's like going to a +football match.' +</P> + +<P> +'Do you go to football matches, Agnes?' Mynors asked. The child gave a +giggle. +</P> + +<P> +Anna was relieved when these two began to chatter. She had at once, by +a firm natural impulse, subdued the agitation which seized her when she +found Mynors waiting with such an obvious intention at the school door; +she had conversed with him in tones of quiet ease; his attitude had +even enabled her in a few moments to establish a pleasant familiarity +with him. Nevertheless, as they joined the stream of people in Moor +Road, she longed to be at home, in her kitchen, in order to examine +herself and the new situation thus created by Mynors. And yet also she +was glad that she must remain at his side, but it was a fluttered joy +that his presence gave her, too strange for immediate appreciation. As +her eye, without directly looking at him, embraced the suave and +admirable male creature within its field of vision, she became aware +that he was quite inscrutable to her. What were his inmost thoughts, +his ideals, the histories of his heart? Surely it was impossible that +she should ever know these secrets! He—and she: they were utterly +foreign to each other. So the primary dissonances of sex vibrated +within her, and her own feelings puzzled her. Still, there was an +instant pleasure, delightful, if disturbing and inexplicable. And also +there was a sensation of triumph, which, though she tried to scorn it, +she could not banish. That a man and a woman should saunter together +on that road was nothing; but the circumstance acquired tremendous +importance when the man happened to be Henry Mynors and the woman Anna +Tellwright. Mynors—handsome, dark, accomplished, exemplary and +prosperous—had walked for ten years circumspect and unscathed amid the +glances of a whole legion of maids. As for Anna, the peculiarity of +her position had always marked her for special attention: ever since +her father settled in Bursley, she had felt herself to be the object of +an interest in which awe and pity were equally mingled. She guessed +that the fact of her going to the Park with Mynors that afternoon would +pass swiftly from mouth to mouth like the rumour of a decisive event. +She had no friends; her innate reserve had been misinterpreted, and she +was not popular among the Wesleyan community. Many people would say, +and more would think, that it was her money which was drawing Mynors +from the narrow path of his celibate discretion. She could imagine all +the innuendoes, the expressive nods, the pursing of lips, the lifting +of shoulders and of eyebrows. 'Money 'll do owt': that was the +proverb. But she cared not. She had the just and unshakable +self-esteem which is fundamental in all strong and righteous natures; +and she knew beyond the possibility of doubt that, though Mynors might +have no incurable aversion to a fortune, she herself, the spirit and +body of her, had been the sole awakener of his desire. +</P> + +<P> +By a common instinct, Mynors and Anna made little Agnes the centre of +attraction. Mynors continued to tease her, and Agnes growing +courageous, began to retort. She was now walking between them, and the +other two smiled to each other at the child's sayings over her head, +interchanging thus messages too subtle and delicate for the coarse +medium of words. +</P> + +<P> +As they approached the Park the bandstand came into sight over the +railway cutting, and they could hear the music of 'The Emperor's Hymn.' +The crude, brazen sounds were tempered in their passage through the +warm, still air, and fell gently on the ear in soft waves, quickening +every heart to unaccustomed emotions. Children leaped forward, and old +people unconsciously assumed a lightsome vigour. +</P> + +<P> +The Park rose in +terraces from the railway station to a street of small villas almost on +the ridge of the hill. From its gilded gates to its smallest +geranium-slips it was brand-new, and most of it was red. The keeper's +house, the bandstand, the kiosks, the balustrades, the shelters—all +these assailed the eye with a uniform redness of brick and tile which +nullified the pallid greens of the turf and the frail trees. The +immense crowd, in order to circulate, moved along in tight processions, +inspecting one after another the various features of which they had +read full descriptions in the 'Staffordshire Signal'—waterfall, +grotto, lake, swans, boat, seats, faïence, statues—and scanning with +interest the names of the donors so clearly inscribed on such objects +of art and craft as from divers motives had been presented to the town +by its citizens. Mynors, as he manoeuvred a way for the two girls +through the main avenue up to the topmost terrace, gravely judged each +thing upon its merits, approving this, condemning that. In deciding +that under all the circumstances the Park made a very creditable +appearance he only reflected the best local opinion. The town was +proud of its achievement, and it had the right to be; for, though this +narrow pleasaunce was in itself unlovely, it symbolised the first faint +renascence of the longing for beauty in a district long given up to +unredeemed ugliness. +</P> + +<P> +At length, Mynors having encountered many acquaintances, they got past +the bandstand and stood on the highest terrace, which was almost +deserted. Beneath them, in front, stretched a maze of roofs, dominated +by the gold angel of the Town Hall spire. Bursley, the ancient home of +the potter, has an antiquity of a thousand years. It lies towards the +north end of an extensive valley, which must have been one of the +fairest spots in Alfred's England, but which is now defaced by the +activities of a quarter of a million of people. Five contiguous +towns—Turnhill, Bursley, Hanbridge, Knype, and Longshaw—united by a +single winding thoroughfare some eight miles in length, have inundated +the valley like a succession of great lakes. Of these five Bursley is +the mother, but Hanbridge is the largest. They are mean and forbidding +of aspect—sombre, hard-featured, uncouth; and the vaporous poison of +their ovens and chimneys has soiled and shrivelled the surrounding +country till there is no village lane within a league but what offers a +gaunt and ludicrous travesty of rural charms. Nothing could be more +prosaic than the huddled, red-brown streets; nothing more seemingly +remote from romance. Yet be it said that romance is even here—the +romance which, for those who have an eye to perceive it, ever dwells +amid the seats of industrial manufacture, softening the coarseness, +transfiguring the squalor, of these mighty alchemic operations. Look +down into the valley from this terrace-height where love is kindling, +embrace the whole smoke-girt amphitheatre in a glance, and it may be +that you will suddenly comprehend the secret and superb significance of +the vast Doing which goes forward below. Because they seldom think, +the townsmen take shame when indicted for having disfigured half a +county in order to live. They have not understood that this +disfigurement is merely an episode in the unending warfare of man and +nature, and calls for no contrition. Here, indeed, is nature repaid +for some of her notorious cruelties. She imperiously bids man sustain +and reproduce himself, and this is one of the places where in the very +act of obedience he wounds and maltreats her. Out beyond the municipal +confines, where the subsidiary industries of coal and iron prosper amid +a wreck of verdure, the struggle is grim, appalling, heroic—so +ruthless is his havoc of her, so indomitable her ceaseless +recuperation. On the one side is a wresting from nature's own bowels +of the means to waste her; on the other, an undismayed, enduring +fortitude. The grass grows; though it is not green, it grows. In the +very heart of the valley, hedged about with furnaces, a farm still +stands, and at harvest-time the sooty sheaves are gathered in. +</P> + +<P> +The band stopped playing. A whole population was idle in the Park, and +it seemed, in the fierce calm of the sunlight, that of all the +strenuous weekday vitality of the district only a murmurous hush +remained. But everywhere on the horizon, and nearer, furnaces cast +their heavy smoke across the borders of the sky: the Doing was never +suspended. +</P> + +<P> +'Mr. Mynors,' said Agnes, still holding his hand, when they had been +silent a moment, 'when do those furnaces go out?' +</P> + +<P> +'They don't go out,' he answered, 'unless there is a strike. It costs +hundreds and hundreds of pounds to light them again.' +</P> + +<P> +'Does it?' she said vaguely. 'Father says it's the smoke that stops my +gilliflowers from growing.' +</P> + +<P> +Mynors turned to Anna. 'Your father seems the picture of health. I +saw him out this morning at a quarter to seven, as brisk as a boy. +What a constitution!' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' Anna replied, 'he is always up at six.' +</P> + +<P> +'But you aren't, I suppose?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, I too.' +</P> + +<P> +'And me too,' Agnes interjected. +</P> + +<P> +'And how does Bursley compare with Hanbridge?' Mynors continued. Anna +paused before replying. +</P> + +<P> +'I like it better,' she said. 'At first—last year—I thought I +shouldn't.' +</P> + +<P> +'By the way, your father used to preach in Hanbridge circuit——-' +</P> + +<P> +'That was years ago,' she said quickly. +</P> + +<P> +'But why won't he preach here? I dare say you know that we are rather +short of local preachers—good ones, that is.' +</P> + +<P> +'I can't say why father doesn't preach now:' Anna flushed as she spoke. +'You had better ask him that.' +</P> + +<P> +'Well, I will do,' he laughed. 'I am coming to see him soon—perhaps +one night next week.' +</P> + +<P> +Anna looked at Henry Mynors as he uttered the astonishing words. The +Tellwrights had been in Bursley a year, but no visitor had crossed +their doorsteps except the minister, once, and such poor defaulters as +came, full of excuse and obsequious conciliation, to pay rent overdue. +</P> + +<P> +'Business, I suppose?' she said, and prayed that he might not be +intending to make a mere call of ceremony. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, business,' he answered lightly. 'But you will be in?' +</P> + +<P> +'I am always in,' she said. She wondered what the business could be, +and felt relieved to know that his visit would have at least some +assigned pretext; but already her heart beat with apprehensive +perturbation at the thought of his presence in their household. +</P> + +<P> +'See!' said Agnes, whose eyes were everywhere, 'There's Miss Sutton.' +</P> + +<P> +Both Mynors and Anna looked sharply round. Beatrice Sutton was coming +towards them along the terrace. Stylishly clad in a dress of pink +muslin, with harmonious hat, gloves, and sunshade, she made an +agreeable and rather effective picture, despite her plain, round face +and stoutish figure. She had the air of being a leader. Grafted on to +the original simple honesty of her eyes there was the +unconsciously-acquired arrogance of one who had always been accustomed +to deference. Socially, Beatrice had no peer among the young women who +were active in the Wesleyan Sunday-school. Beatrice had been used to +teach in the afternoon school, but she had recently advanced her +labours from the afternoon to the morning in response to a hint that if +she did so the force of her influence and example might lessen the +chronic dearth of morning teachers. +</P> + +<P> +'Good afternoon, Miss Tellwright,' Beatrice said as she came up. 'So +you have come to look at the Park.' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' said Anna, and then stopped awkwardly. In the tone of each +there was an obscure constraint, and something in Mynors' smile of +salute to Beatrice showed that he too shared it. +</P> + +<P> +'Seen you before,' Beatrice said to him familiarly, without taking his +hand; then she bent down and kissed Agnes. +</P> + +<P> +'What are you doing here, mademoiselle?' Mynors asked her. +</P> + +<P> +'Father's just down below, near the lake. He caught sight of you, and +sent me up to say that you were to be sure to come in to supper +to-night. You will, won't you?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, thanks. I had meant to.' +</P> + +<P> +Anna knew that they were related, and also that Mynors was constantly +at the Suttons' house, but the close intimacy between these two came +nevertheless like a shock to her. She could not conquer a certain +resentment of it, however absurd such a feeling might seem to her +intelligence. And this attitude extended not only to the intimacy, but +to Beatrice's handsome clothes and facile urbanity, which by contrast +emphasised her own poor little frock and tongue-tied manner. The mere +existence of Beatrice so near to Mynors was like an affront to her. +Yet at heart, and even while admiring this shining daughter of success, +she was conscious within herself of a fundamental superiority. The +soul of her condescended to the soul of the other one. +</P> + +<P> +They began to discuss the Park. +</P> + +<P> +'Papa says it will send up the value of that land over there +enormously,' said Beatrice, pointing with her ribboned sunshade to some +building plots which lay to the north, high up the hill. 'Mr. +Tellwright owns most of that, doesn't he?' she added to Anna. +</P> + +<P> +'I dare say he does,' said Anna. It was torture to her to refer to her +father's possessions. +</P> + +<P> +'Of course it will be covered with streets in a few months. Will he +build himself, or will he sell it?' +</P> + +<P> +'I haven't the least idea,' Anna answered, with an effort after gaiety +of tone, and then turned aside to look at the crowd. There, close +against the bandstand, stood her father, a short, stout, ruddy, +middle-aged man in a shabby brown suit. He recognised her, stared +fixedly, and nodded with his grotesque and ambiguous grin. Then he +sidled off towards the entrance of the Park. None of the others had +seen him. 'Agnes dear,' she said abruptly, 'we must go now, or we +shall be late for tea.' +</P> + +<P> +As the two women said good-bye their eyes met, and in the brief second +of that encounter each tried to wring from the other the true answer to +a question which lay unuttered in her heart. Then, having bidden adieu +to Mynors, whose parting glance sang its own song to her, Anna took +Agnes by the hand and left him and Beatrice together. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap02"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER II +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE MISER'S DAUGHTER +</H4> + +<P> +Anna sat in the bay-window of the front parlour, her accustomed place +on Sunday evenings in summer, and watched Mr. Tellwright and Agnes +disappear down the slope of Trafalgar Road on their way to chapel. +Trafalgar Road is the long thoroughfare which, under many aliases, runs +through the Five Towns from end to end, uniting them as a river might +unite them. Ephraim Tellwright could remember the time when this part +of it was a country lane, flanked by meadows and market gardens. Now +it was a street of houses up to and beyond Bleakridge, where the +Tellwrights lived; on the other side of the hill the houses came only +in patches until the far-stretching borders of Hanbridge were reached. +Within the municipal limits Bleakridge was the pleasantest quarter of +Bursley—Hillport, abode of the highest fashion, had its own government +and authority—and to reside 'at the top of Trafalgar Road' was still +the final ambition of many citizens, though the natural growth of the +town had robbed Bleakridge of some of that exclusive distinction which +it once possessed. Trafalgar Road, in its journey to Bleakridge from +the centre of the town, underwent certain changes of character. First +came a succession of manufactories and small shops; then, at the +beginning of the rise, a quarter of a mile of superior cottages; and +lastly, on the brow, occurred the houses of the comfortable-detached, +semi-detached, and in terraces, with rentals from 25<I>l.</I> to 60<I>l.</I> a +year. The Tellwrights lived in Manor Terrace (the name being a last +reminder of the great farmstead which formerly occupied the western +hill side): their house, of light yellow brick, was two-storied, with a +long narrow garden behind, and the rent 30<I>l</I>. Exactly opposite was an +antique red mansion, standing back in its own ground—home of the +Mynors family for two generations, but now a school, the Mynors family +being extinct in the district save for one member. Somewhat higher up, +still on the opposite side to Manor Terrace, came an imposing row of +four new houses, said to be the best planned and best built in the +town, each erected separately and occupied by its owner. The nearest +of these four was Councillor Sutton's, valued at 60<I>l.</I> a year. Lower +down, below Manor Terrace and on the same side, lived the Wesleyan +superintendent minister, the vicar of St. Luke's Church, an alderman, +and a doctor. +</P> + +<P> +It was nearly six o'clock. The sun shone, but gentlier; and the earth +lay cooling in the mild, pensive effulgence of a summer evening. Even +the onrush of the steam-car, as it swept with a gay load of passengers +to Hanbridge, seemed to be chastened; the bell of the Roman Catholic +chapel sounded like the bell of some village church heard in the +distance; the quick but sober tramp of the chapel-goers fell peacefully +on the ear. The sense of calm increased, and, steeped in this +meditative calm, Anna from the open window gazed idly down the +perspective of the road, which ended a mile away in the dim concave +forms of ovens suffused in a pale mist. A book from the Free Library +lay on her lap; she could not read it. She was conscious of nothing +save the quiet enchantment of reverie. Her mind, stimulated by the +emotions of the afternoon, broke the fetters of habitual +self-discipline, and ranged voluptuously free over the whole field of +recollection and anticipation. To remember, to hope: that was +sufficient joy. +</P> + +<P> +In the dissolving views of her own past, from which the rigour and pain +seemed to have mysteriously departed, the chief figure was always her +father—that sinister and formidable individuality, whom her mind hated +but her heart disobediently loved. Ephraim Tellwright[<A NAME="chap02fn1text"></A><A HREF="#chap02fn1">1</A>] was one of +the most extraordinary and most mysterious men in the Five Towns. The +outer facts of his career were known to all, for his riches made him +notorious; but of the secret and intimate man none knew anything except +Anna, and what little Anna knew had come to her by divination rather +than discernment. A native of Hanbridge, he had inherited a small +fortune from his father, who was a prominent Wesleyan Methodist. At +thirty, owing mainly to investments in property which his calling of +potter's valuer had helped him to choose with advantage, he was worth +twenty thousand pounds, and he lived in lodgings on a total expenditure +of about a hundred a year. When he was thirty-five he suddenly +married, without any perceptible public wooing, the daughter of a wood +merchant at Oldcastle, and shortly after the marriage his wife +inherited from her father a sum of eighteen thousand pounds. The pair +lived narrowly in a small house up at Pireford, between Hanbridge and +Oldcastle. They visited no one, and were never seen together except on +Sundays. She was a rosy-cheeked, very unassuming and simple woman, who +smiled easily and talked with difficulty, and for the rest lived +apparently a servile life of satisfaction and content. After five +years Anna was born, and in another five years Mrs. Tellwright died of +erysipelas. The widower engaged a housekeeper: otherwise his existence +proceeded without change. No stranger visited the house, the +housekeeper never gossiped; but tales will spread, and people fell into +the habit of regarding Tellwright's child and his housekeeper with +commiseration. +</P> + +<P> +During all this period he was what is termed 'a good Wesleyan,' +preaching and teaching, and spending himself in the various activities +of Hanbridge chapel. For many years he had been circuit treasurer. +Among Anna's earliest memories was a picture of her father arriving +late for supper one Sunday night in autumn after an anniversary +service, and pouring out on the white tablecloth the contents of +numerous chamois-leather money-bags. She recalled the surprising +dexterity with which he counted the coins, the peculiar smell of the +bags, and her mother's bland exclamation, 'Eh, Ephraim!' Tellwright +belonged by birth to the Old Guard of Methodism; there was in his +family a tradition of holy valour for the pure doctrine: his father, a +Bursley man, had fought in the fight which preceded the famous +Primitive Methodist Secession of 1808 at Bursley, and had also borne a +notable part in the Warren affrays of '28, and the disastrous trouble +of the Fly-Sheets in '49, when Methodism lost a hundred thousand +members. As for Ephraim, he expounded the mystery of the Atonement in +village conventicles and grew garrulous with God at prayer-meetings in +the big Bethesda chapel; but he did these things as routine, without +skill and without enthusiasm, because they gave him an unassailable +position within the central group of the society. He was not, in fact, +much smitten with either the doctrinal or the spiritual side of +Methodism. His chief interest lay in those fiscal schemes of +organisation without whose aid no religious propaganda can possibly +succeed. It was in the finance of salvation that he rose supreme—the +interminable alternation of debt-raising and new liability which +provides a lasting excitement for Nonconformists. In the negotiation +of mortgages, the artful arrangement of appeals, the planning of +anniversaries and of mighty revivals, he was an undisputed leader. To +him the circuit was a 'going concern,' and he kept it in motion, +serving the Lord in committee and over statements of account. The +minister by his pleading might bring sinners to the penitent form, but +it was Ephraim Tellwright who reduced the cost per head of souls saved, +and so widened the frontiers of the Kingdom of Heaven. +</P> + +<P> +Three years after the death of his first wife it was rumoured that he +would marry again, and that his choice had fallen on a young orphan +girl, thirty years his junior, who 'assisted' at the stationer's shop +where he bought his daily newspaper. The rumour was well-founded. +Anna, then eight years of age, vividly remembered the home-coming of +the pale wife, and her own sturdy attempts to explain, excuse, or +assuage to this wistful and fragile creature the implacable harshness +of her father's temper. Agnes was born within a year, and the pale +girl died of puerperal fever. In that year lay a whole tragedy, which +could not have been more poignant in its perfection if the year had +been a thousand years. Ephraim promptly re-engaged the old +housekeeper, a course which filled Anna with secret childish revolt, +for Anna was now nine, and accomplished in all domesticity. In another +seven years the housekeeper died, a gaunt grey ruin, and Anna at +sixteen became mistress of the household, with a small sister to +cherish and control. About this time Anna began to perceive that her +father was generally regarded as a man of great wealth, having few +rivals in the entire region of the Five Towns, Definite knowledge, +however, she had none: he never spoke of his affairs; she knew only +that he possessed houses and other property in various places, that he +always turned first to the money article in the newspaper, and that +long envelopes arrived for him by post almost daily. But she had once +heard the surmise that he was worth sixty thousand of his own, apart +from the fortune of his first wife, Anna's mother. Nevertheless, it +did not occur to her to think of her father, in plain terms, as a +miser, until one day she happened to read in the 'Staffordshire Signal' +some particulars of the last will and testament of William Wilbraham, +J.P., who had just died. Mr. Wilbraham had been a famous magnate and +benefactor of the Five Towns; his revered name was in every mouth; he +had a fine seat, Hillport House, at Hillport; and his superb horses +were constantly seen, winged and nervous, in the streets of Bursley and +Hanbridge. The 'Signal' said that the net value of his estate was +sworn at fifty-nine thousand pounds. This single fact added a definite +and startling significance to figures which had previously conveyed +nothing to Anna except an idea of vastness. The crude contrast between +the things of Hillport House and the things of the six-roomed abode in +Manor Terrace gave food for reflection, silent but profound. +</P> + +<P> +Tellwright had long ago retired from business, and three years after +the housekeeper died he retired, practically, from religious work, to +the grave detriment of the Hanbridge circuit. In reply to sorrowful +questioners, he said merely that he was getting old and needed rest, +and that there ought to be plenty of younger men to fill his shoes. He +gave up everything except his pew in the chapel. The circuit was +astounded by this sudden defection of a class-leader, a local preacher, +and an officer. It was an inexplicable fall from grace. Yet the +solution of the problem was quite simple. Ephraim had lost interest in +his religious avocations; they had ceased to amuse him, the old ardour +had cooled. The phenomenon is a common enough experience with men who +have passed their fiftieth year—men, too, who began with the true and +sacred zeal, which Tellwright never felt. The difference in +Tellwright's case was that, characteristically, he at once yielded to +the new instinct, caring naught for public opinion. Soon afterwards, +having purchased a lot of cottage property in Bursley, he decided to +migrate to the town of his fathers. He had more than one reason for +doing so, but perhaps the chief was that he found the atmosphere of +Hanbridge Wesleyan chapel rather uncongenial. The exodus from it was +his silent and malicious retort to a silent rebuke. +</P> + +<P> +He appeared now to grow younger, discarding in some measure a certain +morose taciturnity which had hitherto marked his demeanour. He went +amiably about in the manner of a veteran determined to enjoy the brief +existence of life's winter. His stout, stiff, deliberate yet alert +figure became a familiar object to Bursley: that ruddy face, with its +small blue eyes, smooth upper lip, and short grey beard under the +smooth chin, seemed to pervade the streets, offering everywhere the +conundrum of its vague smile. Though no friend ever crossed his +doorstep, he had dozens of acquaintances of the footpath. He was not, +however, a facile talker, and he seldom gave an opinion; nor were his +remarks often noticeably shrewd. He existed within himself, +unrevealed. To the crowd, of course, he was a marvellous legend, and +moving always in the glory of that legend he received their wondering +awe—an awe tinged with contempt for his lack of ostentation and public +splendour. Commercial men with whom he had transacted business liked +to discuss his abilities, thus disseminating that solid respect for him +which had sprung from a personal experience of those abilities, and +which not even the shabbiness of his clothes could weaken. +</P> + +<P> +Anna was disturbed by the arrival at the front door of the milk-girl. +Alternately with her father, she stayed at home on Sunday evenings, +partly to receive the evening milk and partly to guard the house. The +Persian cat with one ear preceded her to the door as soon as he heard +the clatter of the can. The stout little milk-girl dispensed one pint +of milk into Anna's jug, and spilt an eleemosynary supply on the step +for the cat. 'He does like it fresh, Miss,' said the milk-girl, +smiling at the greedy cat, and then, with a 'Lovely evenin',' departed +down the street, one fat red arm stretched horizontally out to balance +the weight of the can in the other. Anna leaned idly against the +doorpost, waiting while the cat finished, until at length the swaying +figure of the milk-girl disappeared in the dip of the road. Suddenly +she darted within, shutting the door, and stood on the hall-mat in a +startled attitude of dismay. She had caught sight of Henry Mynors in +the distance, approaching the house. At that moment the kitchen clock +struck seven, and Mynors, according to the rule of a lifetime, should +have been in his place in the 'orchestra' (or, as some term it, the +'singing-seat') of the chapel, where he was an admired baritone. Anna +dared not conjecture what impulse had led him into this extraordinary, +incredible deviation. She dared not conjecture, but despite herself +she knew, and the knowledge shocked her sensitive and peremptory +conscience. Her heart began to beat rapidly; she was in distress. +Aware that her father and sister had left her alone, did he mean to +call? It was absolutely impossible, yet she feared it, and blushed, +all solitary there in the passage, for shame. Now she heard his sharp, +decided footsteps, and through the glazed panels of the door she could +see the outline of his form. He stopped; his hand was on the gate, and +she ceased to breathe. He pushed the gate open, and then, at the +whisper of some blessed angel, he closed it again and continued his way +up the street. After a few moments Anna carried the milk into the +kitchen, and stood by the dresser, moveless, each muscle braced in the +intensity of profound contemplation. Gradually the tears rose to her +eyes and fell; they were the tincture of a strange and mystic joy, too +poignant to be endured. As it were under compulsion she ran outside, +and down the garden path to the low wall which looked over the grey +fields of the valley up to Hillport. Exactly opposite, a mile and a +half away, on the ridge, was Hillport Church, dark and clear against +the orange sky. To the right, and nearer, lay the central masses of +the town, tier on tier of richly-coloured ovens and chimneys. Along +the field-paths couples moved slowly. All was quiescent, languorous, +beautiful in the glow of the sun's stately declension. Anna put her +arms on the wall. Far more impressively than in the afternoon she +realised that this was the end of one epoch in her career and the +beginning of another. Enthralled by austere traditions and that stern +conscience of hers, she had never permitted herself to dream of the +possibility of an escape from the parental servitude. She had never +looked beyond the horizons of her present world, but had sought +spiritual satisfaction in the ideas of duty and sacrifice. The worst +tyrannies of her father never dulled the sense of her duty to him; and, +without perhaps being aware of it, she had rather despised love and the +dalliance of the sexes. In her attitude towards such things there had +been not only a little contempt but also some disapproval, as though +man were destined for higher ends. Now she saw, in a quick revelation, +that it was the lovers, and not she, who had the right to scorn. She +saw how miserably narrow, tepid, and trickling the stream of her life +had been, and had threatened to be. Now it gushed forth warm, +impetuous, and full, opening out new and delicious vistas. She lived; +and she was finding the sight to see, the courage to enjoy. Now, as +she leaned over the wall, she would not have cared if Henry Mynors +indeed had called that night. She perceived something splendid and +free in his abandonment of habit and discretion at the bidding of a +desire. To be the magnet which could draw that pattern and exemplar of +seemliness from the strict orbit of virtuous custom! It was she, the +miser's shabby daughter, who had caused this amazing phenomenon. The +thought intoxicated her. Without the support of the wall she might +have fallen. In a sort of trance she murmured these words: 'He loves +me.' +</P> + +<P> +This was Anna Tellwright, the ascetic, the prosaic, the impassive. +</P> + +<P> +After an interval which to her was as much like a minute as a century, +she went back into the house. As she entered by the kitchen she heard +an impatient knocking at the front door. +</P> + +<P> +'At last,' said her father grimly, when she opened the door. In two +words he had resumed his terrible sway over her. Agnes looked timidly +from one to the other and slipped past them into the house. +</P> + +<P> +'I was in the garden,' Anna explained. 'Have you been here long?' She +tried to smile apologetically. +</P> + +<P> +'Only about a quarter of an hour,' he answered, with a grimness still +more portentous. +</P> + +<P> +'He won't speak again to-night,' she thought fearfully. But she was +mistaken. After he had carefully hung his best hat on the hat-rack, he +turned towards her, and said, with a queer smile: +</P> + +<P> +'Ye've been day-dreaming, eh, Sis?' +</P> + +<P> +'Sis' was her pet name, used often by Agnes, but by her father only at +the very rarest intervals. She was staggered at this change of front, +so unaccountable in this man, who, when she had unwittingly annoyed +him, was capable of keeping an awful silence for days together. What +did he know? What had those old eyes seen? +</P> + +<P> +'I forgot,' she stammered, gathering herself together happily, 'I +forgot the time.' She felt that after all there was a bond between +them which nothing could break—the tie of blood. They were father and +daughter, united by sympathies obscure but fundamental. Kissing was +not in the Tellwright blood, but she had a fleeting wish to hug the +tyrant. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="footnote"> +<A NAME="chap02fn1"></A> +[<A HREF="#chap02fn1text">1</A>] Tellwright: tile-wright, a name specially characteristic of, and +possibly originating in, this clay-manufacturing district. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap03"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER III +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE BIRTHDAY +</H4> + +<P> +The next morning there was no outward sign that anything unusual had +occurred. As the clock in the kitchen struck eight Anna carried to the +back parlour a tray on which were a dish of bacon and a coffee-pot. +Breakfast was already laid for three. She threw a housekeeper's glance +over the table, and called: 'Father!' Mr. Tellwright was re-setting +some encaustic tiles in the lobby. He came in, coatless, and, dropping +a trowel on the hearth, sat down at the end of the table nearest the +fireplace. Anna sat opposite to him, and poured out the coffee. +</P> + +<P> +On the dish were six pieces of bacon. He put one piece on a plate, and +set it carefully in front of Agnes's vacant chair, two he passed to +Anna, three he kept for himself. +</P> + +<P> +'Where's Agnes?' he inquired. +</P> + +<P> +'Coming—she's finishing her arithmetic.' +</P> + +<P> +In the middle of the table was an unaccustomed small jug containing +gilly-flowers. Mr. Tellwright noticed it instantly. +</P> + +<P> +'What an we gotten here?' he said, indicating the jug. +</P> + +<P> +'Agnes gave me them first thing when she got up. She's grown them +herself, you know,' Anna said, and then added: 'It's my birthday.' +</P> + +<P> +'Ay!' he exclaimed, with a trace of satire in his voice. 'Thou'rt a +woman now, lass.' +</P> + +<P> +No further remark on that matter was made during the meal. +</P> + +<P> +Agnes ran in, all pinafore and legs. With a toss backwards of her +light golden hair she slipped silently into her seat, cautiously +glancing at the master of the house. Then she began to stir her coffee. +</P> + +<P> +'Now, young woman,' Tellwright said curtly. +</P> + +<P> +She looked a startled interrogative. +</P> + +<P> +'We're waiting,' he explained. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh!' said Agnes, confused. 'I thought you'd said it. "God sanctify +this food to our use and us to His service for Christ's sake, Amen."' +</P> + +<P> +The breakfast proceeded in silence. Breakfast at eight, dinner at +noon, tea at four, supper at eight: all the meals in this house +occurred with absolute precision and sameness. Mr. Tellwright seldom +spoke, and his example imposed silence on the girls, who felt as nuns +feel when assisting at some grave but monotonous and perfunctory rite. +The room was not a cheerful one in the morning, since the window was +small and the aspect westerly. Besides the table and three horse-hair +chairs, the furniture consisted of an arm-chair, a bent-wood rocking +chair, and a sewing-machine. A fatigued Brussels carpet covered the +floor. Over the mantelpiece was an engraving of 'The Light of the +World,' in a frame of polished brown wood. On the other walls were +some family photographs in black frames. A two-light chandelier hung +from the ceiling, weighed down on one side by a patent gas-saving +mantle and a glass shade; over this the ceiling was deeply discoloured. +On either side of the chimney-breast were cupboards about three feet +high; some cardboard boxes, a work-basket, and Agnes's school books lay +on the tops of these cupboards. On the window-sill was a pot of +mignonette in a saucer. The window was wide open, and flies buzzed to +and fro, constantly rebounding from the window panes with terrible +thuds. In the blue-paved yard beyond the cat was licking himself in +the sunlight with an air of being wholly absorbed in his task. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Tellwright demanded a second and last cup of coffee, and having +drunk it pushed away his plate as a sign that he had finished. Then he +took from the mantelpiece at his right hand a bundle of letters and +opened them methodically. When he had arranged the correspondence in a +flattened pile, he put on his steel-rimmed spectacles and began to read. +</P> + +<P> +'Can I return thanks, father?' Agnes asked, and he nodded, looking at +her fixedly over his spectacles. +</P> + +<P> +'Thank God for our good breakfast, Amen.' +</P> + +<P> +In two minutes the table was cleared, and Mr. Tellwright was alone. As +he read laboriously through communications from solicitors, secretaries +of companies, and tenants, he could hear his daughters talking together +in the kitchen. Anna was washing the breakfast things while Agnes +wiped. Then there were flying steps across the yard: Agnes had gone to +school. +</P> + +<P> +After he had mastered his correspondence, Mr. Tellwright took up the +trowel again and finished the tile-setting in the lobby. Then he +resumed his coat, and, gathering together the letters from the table in +the back parlour, went into the front parlour and shut the door. This +room was his office. The principal things in it were an old oak bureau +and an old oak desk-chair which had come to him from his first wife's +father; on the walls were some sombre landscapes in oil, received from +the same source; there was no carpet on the floor, and only one other +chair. A safe stood in the corner opposite the door. On the +mantelpiece were some books—Woodfall's 'Landlord and Tenant,' Jordan's +'Guide to Company Law,' Whitaker's Almanack, and a Gazetteer of the +Five Towns. Several wire files, loaded with papers, hung from the +mantelpiece. With the exception of a mahogany what-not with a Bible on +it, which stood in front of the window, there was nothing else whatever +in the room. He sat down to the bureau and opened it, and took from +one of the pigeon-holes a packet of various documents: these he +examined one by one, from time to time referring to a list. Then he +unlocked the safe and extracted from it another bundle of documents +which had evidently been placed ready. With these in his hand, he +opened the door, and called out: +</P> + +<P> +'Anna.' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, father;' her voice came from the kitchen. +</P> + +<P> +'I want ye.' +</P> + +<P> +'In a minute. I'm peeling potatoes.' +</P> + +<P> +When she came in, she found him seated at the bureau as usual. He did +not look round. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, father.' +</P> + +<P> +She stood there in her print dress and white apron, full in the eye of +the sun, waiting for him. She could not guess what she had been +summoned for. As a rule, she never saw her father between breakfast +and dinner. At length he turned. +</P> + +<P> +'Anna,' he said in his harsh, abrupt tones, and then stopped for a +moment before continuing. His thick, short fingers held the list which +he had previously been consulting. She waited in bewilderment. 'It's +your birthday, ye told me. I hadna' forgotten. Ye're of age to-day, +and there's summat for ye. Your mother had a fortune of her own, and +under your grandfeyther's will it comes to you when you're twenty-one. +I'm the trustee. Your mother had eighteen thousand pounds i' +Government stock.' He laid a slight sneering emphasis on the last two +words. 'That was near twenty-five year ago. I've nigh on trebled it +for ye, what wi' good investments and interest accumulating. Thou'rt +worth'—here he changed to the second personal singular, a habit with +him—'thou'rt worth this day as near fifty thousand as makes no matter, +Anna. And that's a tidy bit.' +</P> + +<P> +'Fifty thousand—<I>pounds</I>!' she exclaimed aghast. +</P> + +<P> +'Ay, lass.' +</P> + +<P> +She tried to speak calmly. 'Do you mean it's mine, father?' +</P> + +<P> +'It's thine, under thy grandfeyther's will—haven't I told thee? I'm +bound by law for to give it to thee this day, and thou mun give me a +receipt in due form for the securities. Here they are, and here's the +list. Tak' the list, Anna, and read it to me while I check off.' +</P> + +<P> +She mechanically took the blue paper and read: 'Toft End Colliery and +Brickworks Limited, five hundred shares of ten pounds.' +</P> + +<P> +'They paid ten per cent. last year,' he said, 'and with coal up as it +is they'll pay fiftane this. Let's see what thy arithmetic is worth, +lass. How much is fiftane per cent. on five thousand pun?' +</P> + +<P> +'Seven hundred and fifty pounds,' she said, getting the correct answer +by a superhuman effort worthy of that occasion. +</P> + +<P> +'Right,' said her father, pleased. 'Recollect that's more till two pun +a day. Go on.' +</P> + +<P> +'North Staffordshire Railway Company ordinary stock, ten thousand and +two hundred pounds.' +</P> + +<P> +'Right. Th' owd North Stafford's getting up i' th' world. It'll be a +five per cent. line yet. Then thou mun sell out.' +</P> + +<P> +She had only a vague idea of his meaning, and continued: 'Five Towns +Waterworks Company Limited consolidated stock, eight thousand five +hundred pounds.' +</P> + +<P> +'That's a tit-bit, lass,' he interjected, looking absently over his +spectacles at something outside in the road. 'You canna' pick that up +on shardrucks.' +</P> + +<P> +'Norris's Brewery Limited, six hundred ordinary shares of ten pounds.' +</P> + +<P> +'Twenty per cent.,' said the old man. 'Twenty per cent. regular.' He +made no attempt to conceal his pride in these investments. And he had +the right to be proud of them. They were the finest in the market, the +aristocracy of investments, based on commercial enterprises of which +every business man in the Five Towns knew the entire soundness. They +conferred distinction on the possessor, like a great picture or a rare +volume. They stifled all questions and insinuations. Put before any +jury of the Five Towns as evidence of character, they would almost have +exculpated a murderer. +</P> + +<P> +Anna continued reading the list, which seemed endless: long before she +had reached the last item her brain was a menagerie of monstrous +figures. The list included, besides all sorts of shares English and +American, sundry properties in the Five Towns, and among these was the +earthenware manufactory in Edward Street occupied by Titus Price, the +Sunday-school superintendent. Anna was a little alarmed to find +herself the owner of this works; she knew that her father had had some +difficult moments with Titus Price, and that the property was not +without grave disadvantages. +</P> + +<P> +'That all!' Tellwright asked, at length. +</P> + +<P> +'That's all.' +</P> + +<P> +'Total face value,' he went on, 'as I value it, forty-eight thousand +and fifty pounds, producing a net annual income of three thousand two +hundred and ninety pounds or thereabouts. There's not many in this +district as 'as gotten that to their names, Anna—no, nor half +that—let 'em be who they will.' +</P> + +<P> +Anna had sensations such as a child might have who has received a +traction-engine to play with in a back yard. 'What am I to do with +it?' she asked plaintively. +</P> + +<P> +'Do wi' it?' he repeated, and stood up and faced her, putting his lips +together: 'Do wi' it, did ye say?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes.' +</P> + +<P> +'Tak' care on it, my girl. Tak' care on it. And remember it's thine. +Thou mun sign this list, and all these transfers and fal-lals, and then +thou mun go to th' Bank, and tell Mester Lovatt I've sent thee. +There's four hundred pound there. He'll give thee a cheque-book. I've +told him all about it. Thou'll have thy own account, and be sure thou +keeps it straight.' +</P> + +<P> +'I shan't know a bit what to do, father, and so it's no use talking,' +she said quietly. +</P> + +<P> +'I'll learn ye,' he replied. 'Here, tak' th' pen, and let's have thy +signature.' +</P> + +<P> +She signed her name many times and put her finger on many seals. Then +Tellwright gathered up everything into a bundle, and gave it to her to +hold. +</P> + +<P> +'That's the lot,' he said. 'Have ye gotten 'em?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' she said. +</P> + +<P> +They both smiled, self-consciously. As for Tellwright, he was +evidently impressed by the grandeur of this superb renunciation on his +part. 'Shall I keep 'em for ye?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, please.' +</P> + +<P> +'Then give 'em me.' +</P> + +<P> +He took back all the documents. +</P> + +<P> +'When shall I call at the Bank, father?' +</P> + +<P> +'Better call this afternoon—afore three, mind ye.' +</P> + +<P> +'Very well. But I shan't know what to do.' +</P> + +<P> +'You've gotten a tongue in that noddle of yours, haven't ye?' he said. +'Now go and get along wi' them potatoes.' +</P> + +<P> +Anna returned to the kitchen. She felt no elation or ferment of any +kind; she had not begun to realise the significance of what had +occurred. Like the soldier whom a bullet has struck, she only knew +vaguely that something had occurred. She peeled the potatoes with more +than her usual thrifty care; the peel was so thin as to be almost +transparent. It seemed to her that she could not arrange or examine +her emotions until after she had met Henry Mynors again. More than +anything else she wished to see him: it was as if out of the mere sight +of him something definite might emerge, as if when her eyes had rested +on him, and not before, she might perceive some simple solution of the +problems which she had obscurely discerned ahead of her. +</P> + +<P> +During dinner a boy brought a note for her father. He read it, +snorted, and threw it across the table to Anna. +</P> + +<P> +'Here,' he said, 'that's your affair.' +</P> + +<P> +The letter was from Titus Price: it said that he was sorry to be +compelled to break his promise, but it was quite impossible for him to +pay twenty pounds on account of rent that day; he would endeavour to +pay at least twenty pounds in a week's time. +</P> + +<P> +'You'd better call there, after you've been to th' Bank,' said +Tellwright, 'and get summat out of him, if it's only ten pun.' +</P> + +<P> +'Must I go to Edward Street?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes.' +</P> + +<P> +'What am I to say? I've never been there before.' +</P> + +<P> +'Well, it's high time as ye began to look after your own property. You +mun see owd Price, and tell him ye canna accept any excuses.' +</P> + +<P> +'How much does he owe?' +</P> + +<P> +'He owes ye a hundred and twenty-five pun altogether—he's five +quarters in arrear.' +</P> + +<P> +'A hundred and——! Well, I never!' Anna was aghast. The sum +appeared larger to her than all the thousands and tens of thousands +which she had received in the morning. She reflected that the weekly +bills of the household amounted to about a sovereign, and that the +total of this debt of Price's would therefore keep them in food for two +years. The idea of being in debt was abhorrent to her. She could not +conceive how a man who was in debt could sleep at nights. 'Mr. Price +ought to be ashamed of himself,' she said warmly. 'I'm sure he's quite +able to pay.' The image of the sleek and stout superintendent of the +Sunday-school, arrayed in his rich, almost voluptuous, broadcloth, +offended her profoundly. That he, debtor and promise-breaker, should +have the effrontery to pray for the souls of children, to chastise +their petty furtive crimes, was nearly incredible. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh! Price is all <I>right</I>,' her father remarked, with an apparent +benignity which surprised her. 'He'll pay when he can.' +</P> + +<P> +'I think it's a shame,' she repeated emphatically. +</P> + +<P> +Agnes looked with a mystified air from one to the other, instinctively +divining that something very extraordinary had happened during her +absence at school. +</P> + +<P> +'Ye mun'na be too hard, Anna,' said Tellwright. 'Supposing ye sold owd +Titus up? What then? D'ye reckon ye'd get a tenant for them +ramshackle works? A thousand pound spent wouldn't 'tice a tenant. +That Edward Street property was one o' ye grandfeyther's specs; 'twere +none o' mine. You'd best tak' what ye can get.' +</P> + +<P> +Anna felt a little ashamed of herself, not because of her bad policy, +but because she saw that Mr. Price might have been handicapped by the +faults of her property. +</P> + +<P> +That afternoon it was a shy and timid Anna who swung back the heavy +polished and glazed portals of the Bursley branch of the Birmingham, +Sheffield and district Bank, the opulent and spacious erection which +stands commandingly at the top of St. Luke's Square. She looked about +her, across broad counters, enormous ledgers, and rows of bent heads, +and wondered whom she should address. Then a bearded gentleman, who +was weighing gold in a balance, caught sight of her: he slid the gold +into a drawer, and whisked round the end of the counter with a celerity +which was, at any rate, not born of practice, for he, the cashier, had +not done such a thing for years. +</P> + +<P> +'Good afternoon, Miss Tellwright.' +</P> + +<P> +'Good afternoon. I——' +</P> + +<P> +'May I trouble you to step into the manager's room?' and he drew her +forward, while every clerk's eye watched. Anna tried not to blush, but +she could feel the red mounting even to her temples. +</P> + +<P> +'Delightful weather we're having. But of course we've the right to +expect it at this time of year.' He opened a door on the glass of +which was painted 'Manager,' and bowed. 'Mr. Lovatt—Miss Tellwright.' +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Lovatt greeted his new customer with a formal and rather fatigued +politeness, and invited her to sit in a large leather armchair in front +of a large table; on this table lay a large open book. Anna had once +in her life been to the dentist's; this interview reminded her of that +experience. +</P> + +<P> +'Your father told me I might expect you to-day,' said Mr. Lovatt in his +high-pitched, perfunctory tones. Richard Lovatt was probably the most +influential man in Bursley. Every Saturday morning he irrigated the +whole town with fertilising gold. By a single negative he could have +ruined scores of upright merchants and manufacturers. He had only to +stop a man in the street and murmur, 'By the way, your overdraft——,' +in order to spread discord and desolation through a refined and pious +home. His estimate of human nature was falsified by no common +illusions; he had the impassive and frosty gaze of a criminal judge. +Many men deemed they had cause to hate him, but no one did hate him: +all recognised that he was set far above hatred. +</P> + +<P> +'Kindly sign your full name here,' he said, pointing to a spot on the +large open page of the book, 'and your ordinary signature, which you +will attach to cheques, here.' +</P> + +<P> +Anna wrote, but in doing so she became aware that she had no ordinary +signature; she was obliged to invent one. +</P> + +<P> +'Do you wish to draw anything out now? There is already a credit of +four hundred and twenty pounds in your favour,' said Mr. Lovatt, after +he had handed her a cheque-book, a deposit-book, and a pass-book. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, no, thank you,' Anna answered quickly. She keenly desired some +money, but she well knew that courage would fail her to demand it +without her father's consent; moreover, she was in a whirl of +uncertainty as to the uses of the three books, though Mr. Lovatt had +expounded them severally to her in simple language. +</P> + +<P> +'Good-day.' +</P> + +<P> +'Good-day, Miss Tellwright.' +</P> + +<P> +'My compliments to your father.' +</P> + +<P> +His final glance said half cynically, half in pity: 'You are naïve and +unspoilt now, but these eyes will see yours harden like the rest. +Wretched victim of gold, you are only one in a procession, after all.' +</P> + +<P> +Outside, Anna thought that everyone had been very agreeable to her. +Her complacency increased at a bound. She no longer felt ashamed of +her shabby cotton dress. She surmised that people would find it +convenient to ignore any difference which might exist between her +costume and that of other girls. +</P> + +<P> +She went on to Edward Street, a short steep thoroughfare at the eastern +extremity of the town, leading into a rough road across unoccupied land +dotted with the mouths of abandoned pits: this road climbed up to Toft +End, a mean annexe of the town about half a mile east of Bleakridge. +From Toft End, lying on the highest hill in the district, one had a +panoramic view of Hanbridge and Bursley, with Hillport to the west, and +all the moorland and mining villages to the north and north-east. +Titus Price and his son lived in what had once been a farm-house at +Toft End; every morning and evening they traversed the desolate and +featureless grey road between their dwelling and the works. +</P> + +<P> +Anna had never been in Edward Street before. It was a miserable +quarter—two rows of blackened infinitesimal cottages, and her +manufactory at the end—a frontier post of the town. Price's works was +small, old-fashioned, and out of repair—one of those properties which +are forlorn from the beginning, which bring despair into the hearts of +a succession of owners, and which, being ultimately deserted, seem to +stand for ever in pitiable ruin. The arched entrance for carts into +the yard was at the top of the steepest rise of the street, when it +might as well have been at the bottom; and this was but one example of +the architect's fine disregard for the principle of economy in +working—that principle to which in the scheming of manufactories +everything else is now so strictly subordinated. Ephraim Tellwright +used to say (but not to Titus Price) that the situation of that archway +cost five pounds a year in horseflesh, and that five pounds was the +interest on a hundred. The place was badly located, badly planned and +badly constructed. Its faults defied improvement. Titus Price +remained in it only because he was chained there by arrears of rent; +Tellwright hesitated to sell it only because the rent was a hundred a +year, and the whole freehold would not have fetched eight hundred. He +promised repairs in exchange for payment of arrears which he knew would +never be paid, and his policy was to squeeze the last penny out of +Price without forcing him into bankruptcy. Such was the predicament +when Anna assumed ownership. As she surveyed the irregular and huddled +frontage from the opposite side of the street, her first feeling was +one of depression at the broken and dirty panes of the windows. A man +in shirt-sleeves was standing on the weighing platform under the +archway; his back was towards her, but she could see the smoke issuing +in puffs from his pipe. She crossed the road. Hearing her footfalls, +the man turned round: it was Titus Price himself. He was wearing an +apron, but no cap; the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, exposing +forearms covered with auburn hair. His puffed, heavy face, and general +bigness and untidiness, gave the idea of a vast and torpid male +slattern. Anna was astounded by the contrast between the Titus of +Sunday and the Titus of Monday: a single glance compelled her to +readjust all her notions of the man. She stammered a greeting, and he +replied, and then they were both silent for a moment: in the pause Mr. +Price thrust his pipe between apron and waistcoat. +</P> + +<P> +'Come inside, Miss Tellwright,' he said, with a sickly, conciliatory +smile. 'Come into the office, will ye?' +</P> + +<P> +She followed him without a word through the archway. To the right was +an open door into the packing-house, where a man surrounded by straw +was packing basins in a crate: with swift, precise movements, twisting +straw between basin and basin, he forced piles of ware into a space +inconceivably small. Mr. Price lingered to watch him for a few +seconds, and passed on. They were in the yard, a small quadrangle +paved with black, greasy mud. In one corner a load of coal had been +cast; in another lay a heap of broken saggars. Decrepit doorways led +to the various 'shops' on the ground floor; those on the upper floor +were reached by narrow wooden stairs, which seemed to cling insecurely +to the exterior walls. Up one of these stairways Mr. Price climbed +with heavy, elephantine movements: Anna prudently waited till he had +reached the top before beginning to ascend. He pushed open a flimsy +door, and with a nod bade her enter. The office was a long narrow +room, the dirtiest that Anna had ever seen. If such was the condition +of the master's quarters, she thought, what must the workshops be like? +The ceiling, which bulged downwards, was as black as the floor, which +sank away in the middle till it was hollow like a saucer. The +revolution of an engine somewhere below shook everything with a +periodic muffled thud. A greyish light came through one small window. +By the window was a large double desk, with chairs facing each other. +One of these chairs was occupied by Willie Price. The youth did not +observe at first that another person had come in with his father. He +was casting up figures in an account book, and murmuring numbers to +himself. He wore an office coat, short at the wrists and torn at the +elbows, and a battered felt hat was thrust far back over his head so +that the brim rested on his dirty collar. He turned round at length, +and, on seeing Anna, blushed brilliant crimson, and rose, scraping the +legs of his chair horribly across the floor. Tall, thin, and ungainly +in every motion, he had the look of a ninny: it was the fact that at +school all the boys by a common instinct had combined to tease him, and +that on the works the young paintresses continually made private sport +of him. Anna, however, had not the least impulse to mock him in her +thoughts. For her there was nothing in his blue eyes but simplicity +and good intentions. Beside him she felt old, sagacious, crafty: it +seemed to her that some one ought to shield that transparent and +confiding soul from his father and the intriguing world. +</P> + +<P> +He spoke to her and lifted his hat, holding it afterwards in his great +bony hand. +</P> + +<P> +'Get down to th' entry, Will,' said his father, and Willie, with an +apologetic sort of cough, slipped silently away through the door. +</P> + +<P> +'Sit down, Miss Tellwright,' said old Price, and she took the Windsor +chair that had been occupied by Willie. Her tenant fell into the seat +opposite—a leathern chair from which the stuffing had exuded, and with +one of its arms broken. 'I hear as ye father is going into partnership +with young Mynors—Henry Mynors.' +</P> + +<P> +Anna started at this surprising item of news, which was entirely fresh +to her. 'Father has said nothing to me about it,' she replied, coldly. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh! Happen I've said too much. If so, you'll excuse me, Miss. A +smart fellow, Mynors. Now you should see <I>his</I> little works: not very +much bigger than this, but there's everything you can think of +there—all the latest machinery and dodges, and not over-rented, I'm +told. The biggest fool i' Bursley couldn't help but make money there. +This 'ere works 'ere, Miss Tellwright, wants mendin' with a new 'un.' +</P> + +<P> +'It looks very dirty, I must say,' said Anna. +</P> + +<P> +'Dirty!' he laughed—a short, acrid laugh—'I suppose you've called +about the rent.' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, father asked me to call.' +</P> + +<P> +'Let me see, this place belongs to you i' your own right, doesn't it, +Miss?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' said Anna. 'It's mine—from my grandfather, you know.' +</P> + +<P> +'Ah! Well, I'm sorry for to tell ye as I can't pay anything now—no, +not a cent. But I'll pay twenty pounds in a week. Tell ye father I'll +pay twenty pound in a week.' +</P> + +<P> +'That's what you said last week,' Anna remarked, with more brusqueness +than she had intended. At first she was fearful at her own temerity in +thus addressing a superintendent of the Sunday-school; then, as nothing +happened, she felt reassured, and strong in the justice of her position. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' he admitted obsequiously. 'But I've been disappointed. One of +our best customers put us off, to tell ye the truth. Money's tight, +very tight. It's got to be give and take in these days, as ye father +knows. And I may as well speak plain to ye, Miss Tellwright. We +canna' stay here; we shall be compelled to give ye notice. What's +amiss with this bank[<A NAME="chap03fn1text"></A><A HREF="#chap03fn1">1</A>] is that it wants pullin' down.' He went off +into a rapid enumeration of ninety-and-nine alterations and repairs +that must be done without the loss of a moment, and concluded: 'You +tell ye father what I've told ye, and say as I'll send up twenty pounds +next week. I can't pay anything now; I've nothing by me at all.' +</P> + +<P> +'Father said particularly I was to be sure and get something on +account.' There was a flinty hardness in her tone which astonished +herself perhaps more than Titus Price. A long pause followed, and then +Mr. Price drew a breath, seeming to nerve himself to a tremendous +sacrificial deed. +</P> + +<P> +'I tell ye what I'll do. I'll give ye ten pounds now, and I'll do what +I can next week. I'll do what I can. There!' +</P> + +<P> +'Thank you,' said Anna. She was amazed at her success. +</P> + +<P> +He unlocked the desk, and his head disappeared under the lifted lid. +Anna gazed through the window. Like many women, and not a few men, in +the Five Towns, she was wholly ignorant of the staple manufacture. The +interior of a works was almost as strange to her as it would have been +to a farm-hand from Sussex. A girl came out of a door on the opposite +side of the quadrangle: the creature was clothed in clayey rags, and +carried on her right shoulder a board laden with biscuit[<A NAME="chap03fn2text"></A><A HREF="#chap03fn2">2</A>] cups. She +began to mount one of the wooden stairways, and as she did so the +board, six feet in length, swayed alarmingly to and fro. Anna expected +to see it fall with a destructive crash, but the girl went up in +safety, and with a nonchalant jerk of the shoulder aimed the end of the +board through another door and vanished from sight. To Anna it was a +thrilling feat, but she noticed that a man who stood in the yard did +not even turn his head to watch it. Mr. Price recalled her to the +business of her errand. +</P> + +<P> +'Here's two fives,' he said, shutting down the desk with the sigh of a +crocodile. +</P> + +<P> +'Liar! You said you had nothing!' her unspoken thought ran, and at the +same instant the Sunday-school and everything connected with it +grievously sank in her estimation; she contrasted this scene with that +on the previous day with the peccant schoolgirl: it was an hour of +disillusion. Taking the notes, she gave a receipt and rose to go. +</P> + +<P> +'Tell ye father'—it seemed to Anna that this phrase was always on his +lips—'tell ye father he must come down and look at the state this +place is in,' said Mr. Price, enheartened by the heroic payment of ten +pounds. Anna said nothing; she thought a fire would do more good than +anything else to the foul, squalid buildings: the passing fancy +coincided with Mr. Price's secret and most intense desire. +</P> + +<P> +Outside she saw Willie Price superintending the lifting of a crate on +to a railway lorry. After twirling in the air, the crate sank safely +into the waggon. Young Price was perspiring. +</P> + +<P> +'Warm afternoon, Miss Tellwright,' he called to her as she passed, with +his pleasant bashful smile. She gave an affirmative. Then he came to +her, still smiling, his face full of an intention to say something, +however insignificant. +</P> + +<P> +'I suppose you'll be at the Special Teachers' Meeting to-morrow night,' +he remarked. +</P> + +<P> +'I hope to be,' she said. That was all: William had achieved his +small-talk: they parted. +</P> + +<P> +'So father and Mr. Mynors are going into partnership,' she kept saying +to herself on the way home. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="footnote"> +<A NAME="chap03fn1"></A> +[<A HREF="#chap03fn1text">1</A>] Bank: manufactory. +</P> + +<P CLASS="footnote"> +<A NAME="chap03fn2"></A> +[<A HREF="#chap03fn2text">2</A>] Biscuit: a term applied to ware which has been fired only once. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap04"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IV +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +A VISIT +</H4> + +<P> +The Special Teachers' Meeting to which Willie Price had referred was +one of the final preliminaries to a Revival—that is, a revival of +godliness and Christian grace—about to be undertaken by the Wesleyan +Methodist Society in Bursley. Its object was to arrange for a personal +visitation of the parents of Sunday-school scholars in their homes. +Hitherto Anna had felt but little interest in the Revival: it had +several times been brought indirectly before her notice, but she had +regarded it as a phenomenon which recurred at intervals in the cycle of +religious activity, and as not in any way affecting herself. The +gradual centring of public interest, however—that mysterious movement +which, defying analysis, gathers force as it proceeds, and ends by +coercing the most indifferent—had already modified her attitude +towards this forthcoming event. It got about that the preacher who had +been engaged, a specialist in revivals, was a man of miraculous powers: +the number of souls which he had snatched from eternal torment was +precisely stated, and it amounted to tens of thousands. He played the +cornet to the glory of God, and his cornet was of silver: his more +distant past had been ineffably wicked, and the faint rumour of that +dead wickedness clung to his name like a piquant odour. As Anna walked +up Trafalgar Road from Price's she observed that the hoardings had been +billed with great posters announcing the Revival and the revivalist, +who was to commence his work on Friday night. +</P> + +<P> +During tea Mr. Tellwright interrupted his perusal of the evening +'Signal' to give utterance to a rather remarkable speech. +</P> + +<P> +'Bless us!' he said. 'Th' old trumpeter 'll turn the town upside down!' +</P> + +<P> +'Do you mean the revivalist, father?' Anna asked. +</P> + +<P> +'Ay!' +</P> + +<P> +'He's a beautiful man,' Agnes exclaimed with enthusiasm. 'Our teacher +showed us his portrait after school this afternoon. I never saw such a +beautiful man.' +</P> + +<P> +Her father gazed hard at the child for an instant, cup in hand, and +then turned to Anna with a slightly sardonic air. +</P> + +<P> +'What are you doing i' this Revival, Anna?' +</P> + +<P> +'Nothing,' she said. 'Only there's a teachers' meeting about it +to-morrow night, and I have to go to that. Young Mr. Price mentioned +it to me specially to-day.' +</P> + +<P> +A pause followed. +</P> + +<P> +'Didst get anything out o' Price?' Tellwright asked. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes; he gave me ten pounds. He wants you to go and look over the +works—says they're falling to pieces.' +</P> + +<P> +'Cheque, I reckon?' +</P> + +<P> +She corrected the surmise. +</P> + +<P> +'Better give me them notes, Anna,' he said after tea. 'I'm going to +th' Bank i' th' morning, and I'll pay 'em in to your account.' +</P> + +<P> +There was no reason why she should not have suggested the propriety of +keeping at least one of the notes for her private use. But she dared +not. She had never any money of her own, not a penny; and the +effective possession of five pounds seemed far too audacious a dream. +She hesitated to imagine her father's reply to such a request, even to +frame the request to herself. The thing, viewed close, was utterly +impossible. And when she relinquished the notes she also, without +being asked, gave up her cheque-book, deposit-book, and pass-book. She +did this while ardently desiring to refrain from doing it, as it were +under the compulsion of an invincible instinct. Afterwards she felt +more at ease, as though some disturbing question had been settled once +and for all. +</P> + +<P> +During the whole of that evening she timorously expected Mynors, saying +to herself however that he certainly would not call before Thursday. +On Tuesday evening she started early for the teachers' meeting. Her +intention was to arrive among the first and to choose a seat in +obscurity, since she knew well that every eye would be upon her. She +was divided between the desire to see Mynors and the desire to avoid +the ordeal of being seen by her colleagues in his presence. She +trembled lest she should be incapable of commanding her mien so as to +appear unconscious of this inspection by curious eyes. +</P> + +<P> +The meeting was held in a large class-room, furnished with wooden +seats, a chair and a small table. On the grey distempered walls hung a +few Biblical cartoons depicting scenes in the life of Joseph and his +brethren—but without reference to Potiphar's wife. From the +whitewashed ceiling depended a T-shaped gas-fitting, one burner of +which showed a glimmer, though the sun had not yet set. The evening +was oppressively warm, and through the wide-open window came the faint +effluvium of populous cottages and the distant but raucous cries of +children at play. When Anna entered a group of young men were talking +eagerly round the table; among these was Willie Price, who greeted her. +No others had come: she sat down in a corner by the door, invisible +except from within the room. Gradually the place began to fill. Then +at last Mynors entered: Anna recognised his authoritative step before +she saw him. He walked quickly to the chair in front of the table, +and, including all in a friendly and generous smile, said that in the +absence of Mr. Titus Price it fell to him to take the chair; he was +glad that so many had made a point of being present. Everyone sat +down. He gave out a hymn, and led the singing himself, attacking the +first note with an assurance born of practice. Then he prayed, and as +he prayed Anna gazed at him intently. He was standing up, the ends of +his fingers pressed against the top of the table. Very carefully +dressed as usual, he wore a brilliant new red necktie, and a gardenia +in his button-hole. He seemed happy, wholesome, earnest, and +unaffected. He had the elasticity of youth with the firm wisdom of +age. And it was as if he had never been younger and would never grow +older, remaining always at just thirty and in his prime. Incomparable +to the rest, he was clearly born to lead. He fulfilled his functions +with tact, grace, and dignity. In such an affair as this present he +disclosed the attributes of the skilled workman, whose easy and exact +movements are a joy and wonder to the beholder. And behind all was the +man, his excellent and strong nature, his kindliness, his sincerity. +Yes, to Anna, Mynors was perfect that night; the reality of him +exceeded her dreamy meditations. Fearful on the brink of an ecstatic +bliss, she could scarcely believe that from the enticements of a +thousand women this paragon had been preserved for her. Like most of +us, she lacked the high courage to grasp happiness boldly and without +apprehension; she had not learnt that nothing is too good to be true. +</P> + +<P> +Mynors' prayer was a cogent appeal for the success of the Revival. He +knew what he wanted, and confidently asked for it, approaching God with +humility but with self-respect. The prayer was punctuated by Amens +from various parts of the room. The atmosphere became suddenly +fervent, emotional and devout. Here was lofty endeavour, idealism, a +burning spirituality; and not all the pettinesses unavoidable in such +an organisation as a Sunday-school could hide the difference between +this impassioned altruism and the ignoble selfishness of the worldly. +Anna felt, as she had often felt before, but more acutely now, that she +existed only on the fringe of the Methodist society. She had not been +converted; technically she was a lost creature: the converted knew it, +and in some subtle way their bearing towards her, and others in her +case, always showed that they knew it. Why did she teach? Not from +the impulse of religious zeal. Why was she allowed to have charge of a +class of immortal souls? The blind could not lead the blind, nor the +lost save the lost. These considerations troubled her. Conscience +pricked, accusing her of a continual pretence. The <I>rôle</I> of +professing Christian, through false shame, had seemed distasteful to +her: she had said that she could never stand up and say, 'I am for +Christ,' without being uncomfortable. But now she was ashamed of her +inability to profess Christ. She could conceive herself proud and +happy in the very part which formerly she had despised. It was these +believers, workers, exhorters, wrestlers with Satan, who had the right +to disdain; not she. At that moment, as if divining her thoughts, +Mynors prayed for those among them who were not converted. She +blushed, and when the prayer was finished she feared lest every eye +might seek hers in inquiry; but no one seemed to notice her. +</P> + +<P> +Mynors sat down, and, seated, began to explain the arrangements for the +Revival. He made it plain that prayers without industry would not +achieve success. His remarks revealed the fact that underneath the +broad religious structure of the enterprise, and supporting it, there +was a basis of individual diplomacy and solicitation. The town had +been mapped out into districts, and each of these was being importuned, +as at an election: by the thoroughness and instancy of this canvass, +quite as much as by the intensity of prayerful desire, would Christ +conquer. The affair was a campaign before it was a prostration at the +Throne of Grace. He spoke of the children, saying that in connection +with these they, the teachers, had at once the highest privilege and +the most sacred responsibility. He told of a special service for the +children, and the need of visiting them in their homes and inviting the +parents also to this feast of God. He wished every teacher during +to-morrow and the next day and the next day to go through the list of +his or her scholars' names, and call if possible at every house. There +must be no shirking. 'Will you ladies do that?' he exclaimed with an +appealing, serious smile. 'Will you, Miss Dickinson? Will you, Miss +Machin? Will you, Mrs. Salt? Will you, Miss Sutton? Will you——' +Until at last it came: 'Will you, Miss Tellwright?' 'I will,' she +answered, with averted eyes. 'Thank you. Thank you all.' +</P> + +<P> +Some others spoke, hopefully, enthusiastically, and one or two prayed. +Then Mynors rose: 'May the blessing of God the Father, the Son, and the +Holy Ghost rest upon us now and for ever.' 'Amen,' someone ejaculated. +The meeting was over. +</P> + +<P> +Anna passed rapidly out of he door, down the Quadrangle, and into +Trafalgar Road. She was the first to leave, daring not to stay in the +room a moment. She had seen him; he had not altered since Sunday; +there was no disillusion, but a deepening of the original impression. +Caught up by the soaring of his spirit, her spirit lifted, and she was +conscious of vague but intense longing skyward. She could not reason +or think in that dizzying hour, but she made resolutions which had no +verbal form, yielding eagerly to his influence and his appeal. Not +till she had reached the bottom of Duck Bank and was breasting the +first rise towards Bleakridge did her pace slacken. Then a voice +called to her from behind. She recognised it, and turned sharply +beneath the shock. Mynors raised his hat and greeted her. +</P> + +<P> +'I'm coming to see your father,' he said. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes?' she said, and gave him her hand. +</P> + +<P> +'It was a very satisfactory meeting to-night,' he began, and in a +moment they were talking seriously of the Revival. With the most +oblique delicacy, the most perfect assumption of equality between them, +he allowed her to perceive his genuine and profound anxiety for her +spiritual welfare. The atmosphere of the meeting was still round about +him, the divine fire still uncooled. 'I hope you will come to the +first service on Friday night,' he pleaded. +</P> + +<P> +'I must,' she replied. 'Oh, yes. I shall come.' +</P> + +<P> +'That is good,' he said. 'I particularly wanted your promise.' +</P> + +<P> +They were at the door of the house. Agnes, obviously expectant and +excited, answered the bell. With an effort Anna and Mynors passed into +a lighter mood. +</P> + +<P> +'Father said you were coming, Mr. Mynors,' said Agnes, and, turning to +Anna, 'I've set supper all myself.' +</P> + +<P> +'Have you?' Mynors laughed. 'Capital! You must let me give you a +kiss for that.' He bent down and kissed her, she holding up her face +to his with no reluctance. Anna looked on, smiling. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Tellwright sat near the window of the back parlour, reading the +paper. Twilight was at hand. He lowered his head as Mynors entered +with Agnes in train, so as to see over his spectacles, which were +half-way down his nose. +</P> + +<P> +'How d'ye do, Mr. Mynors? I was just going to begin my supper. I +don't wait, you know,' and he glanced at the table. +</P> + +<P> +'Quite right,' said Mynors, 'so long as you wouldn't eat it all. Would +he have eaten it all, Agnes, do you think?' Agnes pressed her head +against Mynors' arm and laughed shyly. The old man sardonically +chuckled. +</P> + +<P> +Anna, who was still in the passage, wondered what could be on the +table. If it was only the usual morsel of cheese she felt that she +should expire of mortification. She peeped: the cheese was at one end, +and at the other a joint of beef, scarcely touched. +</P> + +<P> +'Nay, nay,' said Tellwright, as if he had been engaged some seconds +upon the joke, 'I'd have saved ye the bone.' +</P> + +<P> +Anna went upstairs to take off her hat, and immediately Agnes flew +after her. The child was breathless with news. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, Anna! As soon as you'd gone out father told me that Mr. Mynors +was coming for supper. Did you know before?' +</P> + +<P> +'Not till Mr. Mynors told me, dear.' It was characteristic of her +father to say nothing until the last moment. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, and he told me to put an extra plate, and I asked him if I had +better put the beef on the table, and first he said "No," cross—you +know—and then he said I could please myself, so I put it on. Why has +Mr. Mynors come, Anna?' +</P> + +<P> +'How should I know? Some business between him and father, I expect.' +</P> + +<P> +'It's very <I>queer</I>,' said Agnes positively, with the child's aptitude +for looking a fact squarely in the face. +</P> + +<P> +'Why "queer"?' +</P> + +<P> +'You know it is, Anna,' she frowned, and then breaking into a joyous +anile: 'But isn't he nice? I think he's lovely.' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' Anna assented coldly. +</P> + +<P> +'But really?' Agnes persisted. +</P> + +<P> +Anna brushed her hair and determined not to put on the apron which she +usually wore in the house. +</P> + +<P> +'Am I tidy, Anna?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes. Run downstairs now. I am coming directly.' +</P> + +<P> +'I want to wait for you,' Agnes pouted. +</P> + +<P> +'Very well, dear.' +</P> + +<P> +They entered the parlour together, and Henry Mynors jumped up from his +chair, and would not sit at table until they were seated. Then Mr. +Tellwright carved the beef, giving each of them a very small piece, and +taking only cheese for himself. Agnes handed the water-jug and the +bread. Mynors talked about nothing in especial, but he talked and +laughed the whole time; he even made the old man laugh, by a comical +phrase aimed at Agnes's mad passion for gilly-flowers. He seemed not +to have detected any shortcomings in the table appointments—the coarse +cloth and plates, the chipped tumblers, the pewter cruet, and the +stumpy knives—which caused anguish in the heart of the housewife. He +might have sat at such a table every night of his life. +</P> + +<P> +'May I trouble you for a little more beef?' he asked presently, and +Anna fancied a shade of mischief in his tone as he thus forced the old +man into a tardy hospitality. 'Thanks. <I>And</I> a morsel of fat.' +</P> + +<P> +She wondered whether he guessed that she was worth fifty thousand +pounds, and her father worth perhaps more. +</P> + +<P> +But on the whole Anna enjoyed the meal. She was sorry when they had +finished and Agnes had thanked God for the beef. It was not without +considerable reluctance that she rose and left the side of the man +whose arm she could have touched at any time during the previous twenty +minutes. She had felt happy and perturbed in being so near to him, so +intimate and free; already she knew his face by heart. The two girls +carried the plates and dishes into the kitchen, Agnes making the last +journey with the tablecloth, which Mynors had assisted her to fold. +</P> + +<P> +'Shut the door, Agnes,' said the old man, getting up to light the gas. +It was an order of dismissal to both his daughters. 'Let me light +that,' Mynors exclaimed, and the gas was lighted before Mr. Tellwright +had struck a match. Mynors turned on the full force of gas. Then Mr. +Tellwright carefully lowered it. The summer quarter's gas-bill at that +house did not exceed five shillings. +</P> + +<P> +Through the open windows of the kitchen and parlour, Anna could hear +the voices of the two men in conversation, Mynors' vivacious and +changeful, her father's monotonous, curt, and heavy. Once she caught +the old man's hard dry chuckle. The washing-up was done, Agnes had +accomplished her home-lessons; the grandfather's clock chimed the +half-hour after nine. +</P> + +<P> +'You must go to bed, Agnes.' +</P> + +<P> +'Mustn't I say good-night to him?' +</P> + +<P> +'No, I will say good-night for you.' +</P> + +<P> +'Don't forget to. I shall ask you in the morning.' +</P> + +<P> +The regular sound of talk still came from the parlour. A full moon +passed along the cloudless sky. By its light and that of a glimmer of +gas, Anna sat cleaning silver, or rather nickel, at the kitchen table. +The spoons and forks were already clean, but she felt compelled to busy +herself with something. At length the talk stopped and she heard the +scraping of chair-legs. Should she return to the parlour? Or should +she——? Even while she hesitated, the kitchen door opened. +</P> + +<P> +'Excuse me coming in here,' said Mynors. 'I wanted to say good-night +to you.' +</P> + +<P> +She sprang up and he took her hand. Could he feel the agitation of +that hand? +</P> + +<P> +'Good-night.' +</P> + +<P> +'Good-night.' He said it again. +</P> + +<P> +'And Agnes wished me to say good-night to you for her.' +</P> + +<P> +'Did she?' He smiled; till then his face had been serious. 'You won't +forget Friday?' +</P> + +<P> +'As if I could!' she murmured after he had gone. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap05"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER V +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE REVIVAL +</H4> + +<P> +Anna spent the two following afternoons in visiting the houses of her +school-children. She had no talent for such work, which demands the +vocal rather than the meditative temperament, and the apparent futility +of her labours would have disgusted and disheartened her had she not +been sustained and urged forward by the still active influence of +Mynors and the teachers' meeting. There were fifteen names in her +class-book, and she went to each house, except four whose tenants were +impeccable Wesleyan families and would have considered themselves +insulted by a quasi-didactic visit from an upstart like Anna. Of the +eleven, some parents were rude to her; others begged, and she had +nothing to give; others made perfunctory promises; only two seemed to +regard her as anything but a somewhat tiresome impertinence. The fault +was doubtless her own. Nevertheless she found joy in the uncongenial +and ill-performed task—the cold, fierce joy of the nun in her penance. +When it was done she said 'I have done it,' as one who has sworn to do +it come what might, yet without quite expecting to succeed. +</P> + +<P> +On the Friday afternoon, during tea, a boy brought up a large foolscap +packet addressed to Mr. Tellwright. 'From Mr. Mynors,' the boy said. +Tellwright opened it leisurely after the boy had gone, and took out +some sheets covered with figures which he carefully examined. 'Anna,' +he said, as she was clearing away the tea things, 'I understand thou'rt +going to the Revival meeting to-night. I shall have a message as thou +mun give to Mr. Mynors.' +</P> + +<P> +When she went upstairs to dress, she saw the Suttons' landau standing +outside their house on the opposite side of the road. Mrs. Sutton came +down the front steps and got into the carriage, and was followed by a +little restless, nervous, alert man who carried in his hand a black +case of peculiar form. 'The Revivalist!' Anna exclaimed, remembering +that he was to stay with the Suttons during the Revival week. Then +this was the renowned crusader, and the case held his renowned cornet! +The carriage drove off down Trafalgar Road, and Anna could see that the +little man was talking vehemently and incessantly to Mrs. Sutton, who +listened with evident interest; at the same time the man's eyes were +everywhere, absorbing all details of the street and houses with +unquenchable curiosity. +</P> + +<P> +'What is the message for Mr. Mynors, father?' she asked in the parlour, +putting on her cotton gloves. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh!' he said, and then paused. 'Shut th' door, lass.' +</P> + +<P> +She shut it, not knowing what this cautiousness foreshadowed. Agnes +was in the kitchen. +</P> + +<P> +'It's o' this'n,' Tellwright began. 'Young Mynors wants a partner wi' +a couple o' thousand pounds, and he come to me. Ye understand; 'tis +what they call a sleeping partner he's after. He'll give a third share +in his concern for two thousand pound now. I've looked into it and +there's money in it. He's no fool and he's gotten hold of a good +thing. He sent me up his stock-taking and balance sheet to-day, and +I've been o'er the place mysen. I'm telling thee this, lass, because I +have na' two thousand o' my own idle just now, and I thought as thou +might happen like th' investment.' +</P> + +<P> +'But father——' +</P> + +<P> +'Listen. I know as there's only four hundred o' thine in th' Bank now, +but next week 'll see the beginning o' July and dividends coming in. +I've reckoned as ye'll have nigh on fourteen hundred i' dividends and +interests, and I can lend ye a couple o' hundred in case o' necessity. +It's a rare chance; thou's best tak' it.' +</P> + +<P> +'Of course, if you think it's all right, father, that's enough,' she +said without animation. +</P> + +<P> +'Am' na I telling thee I think it's all right?' he remarked sharply. +'You mun tell Mynors as I say it's satisfactory. Tell him that, see? +I say it's satisfactory. I shall want for to see him later on. He +told me he couldna' come up any night next week, so ask him to make it +the week after. There's no hurry. Dunna' forget.' +</P> + +<P> +What surprised Anna most in the affair was that Henry Mynors should +have been able to tempt her father into a speculation. Ephraim +Tellwright the investor was usually as shy as a well-fed trout, and +this capture of him by a youngster only two years established in +business might fairly be regarded as a prodigious feat. It was indeed +the highest distinction of Mynors' commercial career. Henry was so +prominently active in the Wesleyan Society that the members of that +society, especially the women, were apt to ignore the other side of his +individuality. They knew him supreme as a religious worker; they did +not realise the likelihood of his becoming supreme in the staple +manufacture. Left an orphan at seventeen, Mynors belonged to a family +now otherwise extinct in the Five Towns—one of those families which by +virtue of numbers, variety, and personal force seem to permeate a whole +district, to be a calculable item of it, an essential part of its +identity. The elders of the Mynors blood had once occupied the red +house opposite Tellwright's, now used as a school, and had there reared +many children: the school building was still known as 'Mynors's' by +old-fashioned people. Then the parents died in middle age: one +daughter married in the North, another in the South; a third went to +China as a missionary and died of fever; the eldest son died; the +second had vanished into Canada and was reported a scapegrace; the +third was a sea-captain. Henry (the youngest) alone was left, and of +all the family Henry was the only one to be connected with the +earthenware trade. There was no inherited money, and during ten years +he had worked for a large firm in Turnhill, as clerk, as traveller, and +last as manager, living always quietly in lodgings. In the fullness of +time he gave notice to leave, was offered a partnership, and refused +it. Taking a newly erected manufactory in Bursley near the canal, he +started in business for himself, and it became known that, at the age +of twenty-eight, he had saved fifteen hundred pounds. Equally expert +in the labyrinths of manufacture and in the niceties of the markets (he +was reckoned a peerless traveller), Mynors inevitably flourished. His +order-books were filled and flowing over at remunerative prices, and +insufficiency of capital was the sole peril to which he was exposed. +By the raising of a finger he could have had a dozen working and +moneyed partners, but he had no desire for a working partner. What he +wanted was a capitalist who had confidence in him, Mynors. In Ephraim +Tellwright he found the man. Whether it was by instinct, good luck, or +skilful diplomacy that Mynors secured this invaluable prize no one +could positively say, and perhaps even he himself could not have +catalogued all the obscure motives that had guided him to the shrewd +miser of Manor Terrace. +</P> + +<P> +Anna had meant to reach chapel before the commencement of the meeting, +but the interview with her father threw her late. As she entered the +porch an officer told her that the body of the chapel was quite full +and that she should go into the gallery, where a few seats were left +near the choir. She obeyed: pew-holders had no rights at that service. +The scene in the auditorium astonished her, effectually putting an end +to the worldly preoccupation caused by her father's news. The historic +chapel was crowded almost in every part, and the +congregation—impressed, excited, eager—sang the opening hymn with +unprecedented vigour and sincerity; above the rest could be heard the +trained voices of a large choir, and even the choir, usually +perfunctory, seemed to share the general fervour. In the vast mahogany +pulpit the Reverend Reginald Banks, the superintendent minister, a +stout pale-faced man with pendent cheeks and cold grey eyes, stood +impassively regarding the assemblage, and by his side was the +revivalist, a manikin in comparison with his colleague; on the broad +balustrade of the pulpit lay the cornet. The fiery and inquisitive +eyes of the revivalist probed into the furthest corners of the chapel; +apparently no detail of any single face or of the florid decoration +escaped him, and as Anna crept into a small empty pew next to the east +wall she felt that she too had been separately observed. Mr. Banks +gave out the last verse of the hymn, and simultaneously with the +leading chord from the organ the revivalist seized his cornet and +joined the melody. Massive yet exultant, the tones rose clear over the +mighty volume of vocal sound, an incitement to victorious effort. The +effect was instant: an ecstatic tremor seemed to pass through the +congregation, like wind through ripe corn, and at the close of the hymn +it was not until the revivalist had put down his cornet that the people +resumed their seats. Amid the <I>frou-frou</I> of dresses and subdued +clearing of throats, Mr. Banks retired softly to the back of the +pulpit, and the revivalist, mounting a stool, suddenly dominated the +congregation. His glance swept masterfully across the chapel and round +the gallery. He raised one hand with the stilling action of a +mesmerist, and the people, either kneeling or inclined against the +front of the pews, hid their faces from those eyes. It was as though +the man had in a moment measured their iniquities, and had courageously +resolved to intercede for them with God, but was not very sanguine as +to the result. Everyone except the organist, who was searching his +tune-book for the next tune, seemed to feel humbled, bitterly ashamed, +as it were caught in the act of sin. There was a solemn and terrible +pause. +</P> + +<P> +Then the revivalist began: +</P> + +<P> +'Behold us, O dread God, suppliants for Thy mercy—' +</P> + +<P> +His voice was rich and full, but at the same time sharp and decisive. +The burning eyes were shut tight, and Anna, who had a profile view of +his face, saw that every muscle of it was drawn tense. The man +possessed an extraordinary histrionic gift, and he used it with +imagination. He had two audiences, God and the congregation. God was +not more distant from him than the congregation, or less real to him, +or less a heart to be influenced. Declamatory and full of effects +carefully calculated—a work of art, in fact—his appeal showed no +error of discretion in its approach to the Eternal. There was no +minimising of committed sin, nor yet an insincere and grovelling +self-accusation. A tyrant could not have taken offence at its tone, +which seemed to pacify God while rendering the human audience still +more contrite. The conclusion of the catalogue of wickedness and swift +confident turn to Christ's Cross was marvellously impressive. The +congregation burst out into sighs, groans, blessings, and Amens; and +the pillars of distant rural conventicles who had travelled from the +confines of the circuit to its centre in order to partake of this +spiritual excitation began to feel that they would not be disappointed. +</P> + +<P> +'Let the Holy Ghost descend upon us now,' the revivalist pleaded with +restrained passion; and then, opening his eyes and looking at the clock +in front of the gallery, he repeated, 'Now, now, at twenty-one minutes +past seven.' Then his eyes, without shifting, seemed to ignore the +clock, to gaze through it into some unworldly dimension, and he +murmured in a soft dramatic whisper: 'I see the Divine Dove!——' +</P> + +<P> +The doors, closed during prayer, were opened, and more people entered. +A youth came into Anna's pew. +</P> + +<P> +The superintendent minister gave out another hymn, and when this was +finished the revivalist, who had been resting in a chair, came forward +again. 'Friends and fellow-sinners,' he said, 'a lot of you, fools +that you are, have come here to-night to hear me play my cornet. Well, +you have heard me. I have played the cornet, and I will play it again. +I would play it on my head if by so doing I could bring sinners to +Christ. I have been called a mountebank. I am one. I glory in it. I +am God's mountebank, doing God's precious business in my own way. But +God's precious business cannot be carried on, even by a mountebank, +without money, and there will be a collection towards the expenses of +the Revival. During the collection we will sing "Rock of Ages," and +you shall hear my cornet again. If you feel willing to give us your +sixpences, give; but if you resent a collection,' here he adopted a +tone of ferocious sarcasm, 'keep your miserable sixpences and get +sixpenny-worth of miserable enjoyment out of them elsewhere.' +</P> + +<P> +As the meeting proceeded, submitting itself more and more to the +imperious hypnotism of the revivalist, Anna gradually became oppressed +by a vague sensation which was partly sorrow and partly an inexplicable +dull anger—anger at her own penitence. She felt as if everything was +wrong and could never by any possibility be righted. After two +exhortations, from the minister and the revivalist, and another hymn, +the revivalist once more prayed, and as he did so Anna looked +stealthily about in a sick, preoccupied way. The youth at her side +stared glumly in front of him. In the orchestra Henry Mynors was +whispering to the organist. Down in the body of the chapel the +atmosphere was electric, perilous, overcharged with spiritual emotion. +She was glad she was not down there. The voice of the revivalist +ceased, but he kept the attitude of supplication. Sobs were heard in +various quarters, and here and there an elder of the chapel could be +seen talking quietly to some convicted sinner. The revivalist began +softly to sing 'Jesu, lover of my soul,' and most of the congregation, +standing up, joined him; but the sinners stricken of the Spirit +remained abjectly bent, tortured by conscience, pulled this way by +Christ and that by Satan. A few rose and went to the Communion rails, +there to kneel in the sight of all. Mr. Banks descended from the +pulpit and opening the wicket which led to the Communion table spoke to +these over the rails, reassuringly, as a nurse to a child. Other +sinners, desirous of fuller and more intimate guidance, passed down the +aisles and so into the preacher's vestry at the eastern end of the +chapel, and were followed thither by class-leaders and other proved +servants of God: among these last were Titus Price and Mr. Sutton. +</P> + +<P> +'The blood of Christ atones,' said the revivalist solemnly at the end +of the hymn. 'The spirit of Christ is working among us. Let us engage +in private prayer. Let us drive the devil out of this chapel.' +</P> + +<P> +More sighs and groans followed. Then someone cried out in sharp, +shrill tones, 'Praise Him;' and another cried, 'Praise Him;' and an old +woman's quavering voice sang the words, 'I know that my Redeemer +liveth.' Anna was in despair at her own predicament, and the sense of +sin was not more strong than the sense of being confused and publicly +shamed. A man opened the pew-door, and sitting down by the youth's +side began to talk with him. It was Henry Mynors. Anna looked +steadily away, at the wall, fearful lest he should address her too. +Presently the youth got up with a frenzied gesture and walked out of +the gallery, followed by Mynors. In a moment she saw the youth +stepping awkwardly along the aisle beneath, towards the inquiry room, +his head forward, and the lower lip hanging as though he were sulky. +</P> + +<P> +Anna was now in the profoundest misery. The weight of her sins, of her +ingratitude to God, lay on her like a physical and intolerable load, +and she lost all feeling of shame, as a sea-sick voyager loses shame +after an hour of nausea. She knew then that she could no longer go on +living as aforetime. She shuddered at the thought of her tremendous +responsibility to Agnes—Agnes who took her for perfection. She +recollected all her sins individually—lies, sloth, envy, vanity, even +theft in her infancy. She heaped up all the wickedness of a lifetime, +hysterically augmented it, and found a horrid pleasure in the +exaggeration. Her virtuous acts shrank into nothingness. +</P> + +<P> +A man, and then another, emerged from the vestry door with beaming, +happy face. These were saved; they had yielded to Christ's persuasive +invitation. Anna tried to imagine herself converted, or in the process +of being converted. She could not. She could only sit moveless, dull, +and abject. She did not stir, even when the congregation rose for +another hymn. In what did conversion consist? Was it to say the +words, 'I believe'? She repeated to herself softly, 'I believe; I +believe.' But nothing happened. Of course she believed. She had +never doubted, or dreamed of doubting, that Jesus died on the Cross to +save her soul—<I>her</I> soul—from eternal damnation. She was probably +unaware that any person in Christendom had doubted that fact so +fundamental to her. What, then, was lacking? What was belief? What +was faith? +</P> + +<P> +A venerable class-leader came from the vestry, and, slowly climbing the +pulpit stairs, whispered in the ear of the revivalist. The latter +faced the congregation with a cry of joy. 'Lord,' he exclaimed, 'we +bless Thee that seventeen souls have found Thee! Lord, let the full +crop be gathered, for the fields are white unto harvest.' There was an +exuberant chorus of praise to God. +</P> + +<P> +The door of the pew was opened gently, and Anna started to see Mrs. +Sutton at her side. She at once guessed that Mynors had sent to her +this angel of consolation. +</P> + +<P> +'Are you near the light, dear Anna?' Mrs. Sutton began. +</P> + +<P> +Anna searched for an answer. She now sat huddled up in the corner of +the pew, her face partially turned towards Mrs. Sutton, who looked +mildly into her eyes. 'I don't know,' Anna stammered, feeling like a +naughty school-girl. A doubt whether the whole affair was not after +all absurd flashed through her, and was gone. +</P> + +<P> +'But it is quite simple,' said Mrs. Sutton. 'I cannot tell you +anything that you do not know. Cast out pride. Cast out pride—that +is it. Nothing but earthly pride prevents you from realising the +saving power of Christ. You are afraid, Anna, afraid to be humble. Be +brave. It is so simple, so easy. If one will but submit.' +</P> + +<P> +Anna said nothing, had nothing to say, was conscious of nothing save +excessive discomfort. +</P> + +<P> +'Where do you feel your difficulty to be?' asked Mrs. Sutton. +</P> + +<P> +'I don't know,' she answered wearily. +</P> + +<P> +'The happiness that awaits you is unspeakable. I have followed Christ +for nearly fifty years, and my happiness increases daily. Sometimes I +do not know how to contain it all. It surges above all the trials and +disappointments of this world. Oh, Anna, if you will but believe!' +</P> + +<P> +The ageing woman's thin, distinguished face, crowned with abundant grey +hair, glistened with love and compassion, and as Anna's eyes rested +upon it Anna felt that here was something tangible, something to lay +hold on. +</P> + +<P> +'I think I do believe,' she said weakly. +</P> + +<P> +'You "think"? Are you sure? Are you not deceiving yourself? Belief +is not with the lips: it is with the heart.' +</P> + +<P> +There was a pause. Mr. Banks could be heard praying. +</P> + +<P> +'I will go home,' Anna whispered at length, 'and think it out for +myself.' +</P> + +<P> +'Do, my dear girl, and God will help you.' +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Sutton bent and kissed Anna affectionately, and then hurried away +to offer her ministrations elsewhere. As Anna left the chapel, she +encountered the chapel-keeper pacing regularly to and fro across the +length of the broad steps. In the porch was a notice that cabinet +photographs of the revivalist could be purchased on application, at one +shilling each. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap06"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VI +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +WILLIE +</H4> + +<P> +Anna closed the bedroom door softly; through the open window came the +tones of Cauldon Church clock, famous for their sonority, and richness, +announcing eleven. Agnes lay asleep under the blue-and-white +counterpane, on the side of the bed next the wall, the bed-clothes +pushed down and disclosing the upper half of her night-gowned figure. +She slept in absolute repose, with flushed cheek and every muscle lax, +her hair by some chance drawn in a perfect straight line diagonally +across the pillow. Anna glanced at her sister, the image of physical +innocence and childish security, and then, depositing the candle, went +to the window and looked out. +</P> + +<P> +The bedroom was over the kitchen and faced south. The moon was hidden +by clouds, but clear stretches of sky showed thick-studded clusters of +stars brightly winking. To the far right across the fields the +silhouette of Hillport Church could just be discerned on the ridge. In +front, several miles away, the blast-furnaces of Cauldon Bar Ironworks +shot up vast wreaths of yellow flame with canopies of tinted smoke. +Still more distant were a thousand other lights crowning chimney and +kiln, and nearer, on the waste lands west of Bleakridge, long fields of +burning ironstone glowed with all the strange colours of decadence. +The entire landscape was illuminated and transformed by these unique +pyrotechnics of labour atoning for its grime, and dull, weird sounds, +as of the breathings and sighings of gigantic nocturnal creatures, +filled the enchanted air. It was a romantic scene, a romantic summer +night, balmy, delicate, and wrapped in meditation. But Anna saw +nothing there save the repulsive evidences of manufacture, had never +seen anything else. +</P> + +<P> +She was still horribly, acutely miserable, exhausted by the fruitless +search for some solution of the enigma of sin—her sin in +particular—and of redemption. She had cogitated in a vain circle +until she was no longer capable of reasoned ideas. She gazed at the +stars and into the illimitable spaces beyond them, and thought of life +and its inconceivable littleness, as millions had done before in the +presence of that same firmament. Then, after a time, her brain resumed +its nightmare-like task. She began to probe herself anew. Would it +have availed if she had walked publicly to the penitential form at the +Communion rail, and, ranging herself with the working men and women, +proved by that overt deed the sincerity of her contrition? She wished +ardently that she had done so, yet knew well that such an act would +always be impossible for her, even though the evasion of it meant +eternal torture. Undoubtedly, as Mrs. Sutton had implied, she was +proud, stiff-necked, obstinate in iniquity. +</P> + +<P> +Agnes stirred slightly in her sleep, and Anna, aroused, dropped the +blind, turned towards the room and began to undress, slowly, with +reflective pauses. Her melancholy became grim, sardonic; if she was +doomed to destruction, so let it be. Suddenly, half-glad, she knelt +down and prayed, prayed that pride might be cast out, burying her face +in the coverlet and caging the passionate effusion in a whisper lest +Agnes should be disturbed. Having prayed, she still knelt quiescent; +her eyes were dry and burning. The last car thundered up the road, +shaking the house, and she rose, finished undressing, blew out the +candle, and slipped into bed by Agnes's side. +</P> + +<P> +She could not sleep, did not attempt to sleep, but abandoned herself +meekly to despair. Her thoughts covered again the interminable round, +and again, and yet again. In the twilight of the brief summer night +her accustomed eyes could distinguish every object in the room, all the +bits of furniture which had been bought from Hanbridge and with which +she had been familiar since her memory began: everything appeared mean, +despicable, cheerless; there was nothing to inspire. She dreamed +impossibly of a high spirituality which should metamorphose all, change +her life, lend glamour to the most pitiful surroundings, ennoble the +most ignominious burdens—a spirituality never to be hers. +</P> + +<P> +At any rate she would tell her father in the morning that she was +convicted of sin, and, however hopelessly, seeking salvation; she would +tell both her father and Agnes at breakfast. The task would be +difficult, but she swore to do it. She resolved, she endeavoured to +sleep, and did sleep uneasily for a short period. When she woke the +great business of the dawn had begun. She left the bed, and drawing up +the blind looked forth. The furnace fires were paling; a few milky +clouds sailed in the vast pallid blue. It was cool just then, and she +shivered. She went to the glass, and examined her face carefully, but +it gave no signs whatever of the inward warfare. She saw her plain and +mended night-gown. Suppose she were married to Mynors! Suppose he lay +asleep in the bed where Agnes lay asleep! Involuntarily she glanced at +Agnes to certify that the child and none else was indeed there, and got +into bed hurriedly and hid herself because she was ashamed to have had +such a fancy. But she continued to think of Mynors. She envied him +for his cheerfulness, his joy, his goodness, his dignity, his tact, his +sex. She envied every man. Even in the sphere of religion, men were +not fettered like women. No man, she thought, would acquiesce in the +futility to which she was already half resigned; a man would either +wring salvation from the heavenly powers or race gloriously to hell. +Mynors—Mynors was a god! +</P> + +<P> +She recollected her resolution to speak to her father and Agnes at +breakfast, and shudderingly confirmed it, but less stoutly than before. +Then an announcement made by Mr. Banks in chapel on the previous +evening presented itself, as though she was listening to it for the +first time. It was the announcement of a prayer-meeting for workers in +the Revival, to be held that (Saturday) morning at seven o'clock. She +instantly decided to go to the meeting, and the decision seemed to give +her new hope. Perhaps there she might find peace. On that faint +expectancy she fell asleep again and did not wake till half-past six, +after her usual hour. She heard noises in the yard; it was her father +going towards the garden with a wheelbarrow. She dressed quickly, and +when she had pinned on her hat she woke Agnes. +</P> + +<P> +'Going out, Sis?' the child asked sleepily, seeing her attire. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, dear. I am going to the seven o'clock prayer-meeting. And you +must get breakfast. You can—can't you?' +</P> + +<P> +The child assented, glad of the chance. +</P> + +<P> +'But what are you going to the prayer-meeting for?' +</P> + +<P> +Anna hesitated. Why not confess? No. 'I must go,' she said quietly +at length. 'I shall be back before eight.' +</P> + +<P> +'Does father know?' Agnes enquired apprehensively. +</P> + +<P> +'No, dear.' +</P> + +<P> +Anna shut the door quickly, went softly downstairs and along the +passage, and crept into the street like a thief. +</P> + +<P> +Men and women and boys and girls were on their way to work, with +hurried clattering steps, some munching thick pieces of bread as they +went, all self-centred, apparently morose and not quite awake. The +dust lay thick in the arid gutters, and in drifts across the pavement; +as the night-wind had blown it. Vehicular traffic had not begun, and +blinds were still drawn; and though the footpaths were busy the street +had a deserted and forlorn aspect. Anna walked hastily down the road, +avoiding the glances of such as looked at her, but peering furtively at +the faces of those who ignored her. All seemed callous—hoggishly +careless of the everlasting verities. At first it appeared strange to +her that the potent revival in the Wesleyan chapel had produced no +effect on these preoccupied people. Bursley, then, continued its dull +and even course. She wondered whether any of them guessed that she was +going to the prayer-meeting and secretly sneered at her therefore. +</P> + +<P> +When she had climbed Duck Bank she found to her surprise that the doors +of the chapel were fast closed, though it was ten minutes past seven. +Was there to be no prayer-meeting? A momentary sensation of relief +flashed through her, and then she saw that the gate of the school-yard +was open. She should have known that early morning prayers were never +offered up in the chapel, but in the lecture-hall. She crossed the +quadrangle with beating heart, feeling now that she had embarked on a +frightful enterprise. The door of the lecture-hall was ajar; she +pushed it and went in. At the other end of the hall a meagre handful +of worshippers were collected, and on the raised platform stood Mr. +Banks, vapid, perfunctory and fatigued. He gave out a verse, and +pitched the tune—too high, but the singers with a heroic effect +accomplished the verse without breaking down. The singing was thin and +feeble, and the eagerness of one or two voices seemed strained, as +though with a determination to make the best of things. Mynors was not +present, and Anna did not know whether to be sorry or glad at this. +She recognised that save herself all present were old believers, tried +warriors of the Lord. There was only one other woman, Miss Sarah +Vodrey, an aged spinster who kept house for Titus Price and his son, +and found her sole diversion in the variety of her religious +experiences. Before the hymn was finished a young man joined the +assembly; it was the youth who had sat near Anna on the previous night, +an ecstatic and naïve bliss shone from his face. In his prayer the +minister drew the attention of the Deity to the fact that although a +score or more of souls had been ingathered at the first service, the +Methodists of Bursley were by no means satisfied. They wanted more; +they wanted the whole of Bursley; and they would be content with no +less. He begged that their earnest work might not be shamed before the +world by a partial success. In conclusion he sought the blessing of +God on the revivalist and asked that this tireless enthusiast might be +led to husband his strength: at which there was a fervent Amen. +</P> + +<P> +Several men prayed, and a pause ensued, all still kneeling. +</P> + +<P> +Then the minister said in a tone of oily politeness: +</P> + +<P> +'Will a sister pray?' +</P> + +<P> +Another pause followed. +</P> + +<P> +'Sister Tellwright?' +</P> + +<P> +Anna would have welcomed death and damnation. She clasped her hands +tightly, and longed for the endless moment to pass. At last Sarah +Vodrey gave a preliminary cough. Miss Vodrey was always happy to pray +aloud, and her invocations usually began with the same phrase: 'Lord, +we thank Thee that this day finds us with our bodies out of the grave +and our souls out of hell.' +</P> + +<P> +Afterwards the minister gave out another hymn, and as soon as the +singing commenced Anna slipped away. Once in the yard, she breathed a +sigh of relief. Peace at the prayer-meeting? It was like coming out +of prison. Peace was farther off than ever. Nay, she had actually +forgotten her soul in the sensations of shame and discomfort. She had +contrived only to make herself ridiculous, and perhaps the pious at +their breakfast-tables would discuss her and her father, and their +money, and the queer life they led. +</P> + +<P> +If Mynors had but been present! +</P> + +<P> +She walked out into the street. It was twenty minutes to eight by the +town-hall clock. The last workmen's car of the morning was just +leaving Bursley: it was packed inside and outside, and the conductor +hung insecurely on the step. At the gates of the manufactory opposite +the chapel, a man in a white smock stood placidly smoking a pipe. A +prayer-meeting was a little thing, a trifle in the immense and regular +activity of the town: this thought necessarily occurred to Anna. She +hurried homewards, wondering what her father would say about that +morning's unusual excursion. A couple of hundred yards distant from +home she saw, to her astonishment, Agnes emerging from the front-door +of the house. The child ran rapidly down the street, not observing +Anna till they were close upon each other. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, Anna! You forgot to buy the bacon yesterday. There isn't a +<I>scrap</I>, and father's fearfully angry. He gave me sixpence, and I'm +going down to Leal's to get some as quick as ever I can.' +</P> + +<P> +It was a thunderbolt to Anna, this seemingly petty misadventure. As +she entered the house she felt a tear on her cheek. She was ashamed to +weep, but she wept. This, after the fiasco of the prayer-meeting, was +a climax of woe; it overtopped and extinguished all the rest; her soul +was nothing to her now. She quickly took off her hat and ran to the +kitchen. Agnes had put the breakfast-things on the tray ready for +setting; the bread was cut, the coffee portioned into the jug; the fire +burned bright, and the kettle sang. Anna took the cloth from the +drawer in the oak dresser, and went to the parlour to lay the table. +Mr. Tellwright was at the end of the garden, pointing the wall, his +back to the house. The table set, Anna observed that the room was only +partly dusted: there was a duster on the mantelpiece; she seized it to +finish, and at that moment the kitchen clock struck eight. +Simultaneously Mr. Tellwright dropped his trowel, and came towards the +house. She doggedly dusted one chair, and then, turning coward, flew +away upstairs; the kitchen was barred to her since her father would +enter by the kitchen door. +</P> + +<P> +She had forgotten to buy bacon, and breakfast would be late: it was a +calamity unique in her experience! She stood at the door of her +bedroom, and waited, vehemently, for Agnes's return. At last the child +raced breathlessly in; Anna flew to meet her. With incredible speed +the bacon was whipped out of its wrapper, and Anna picked up the knife. +At the first stroke she cut herself, and Agnes was obliged to bind the +finger with rag. The clock struck the half-hour like a knell. It was +twenty minutes to nine, forty minutes behind time, when the two girls +hurried into the parlour, Anna bearing the bacon and hot plates, Agnes +the bread and coffee. Mr. Tellwright sat upright and ferocious in his +chair, the image of offence and wrath. Instead of reading his letters +he had fed full of this ineffable grievance. The meal began in a +desolating silence. The male creature's terrible displeasure permeated +the whole room like an ether, invisible but carrying vibrations to the +heart. Then, when he had eaten one piece of bacon, and cut his +envelopes, the miser began to empty himself of some of his anger in +stormy tones that might have uprooted trees. Anna ought to feel +thoroughly ashamed. He could not imagine what she had been thinking +of. Why didn't she tell him she was going to the prayer-meeting? Why +did she go to the prayer-meeting, disarranging the whole household? +How came she to forget the bacon? It was gross carelessness. A pretty +example to her little sister! The fact was that <I>since her birthday</I> +she had gotten above hersen. She was careless and extravagant. Look +how thick the bacon was cut. He should not stand it much longer. And +her finger all red, and the blood dropping on the cloth: a nice sight +at a meal! Go and tie it up again. +</P> + +<P> +Without a word she left the room to obey. Of course she had no +defence. Agnes, her tears falling, pecked her food timidly like a +bird, not daring to stir from her chair, even to assist at the finger. +</P> + +<P> +'What did Mr. Mynors say?' Tellwright inquired fiercely when Anna had +come back into the room. +</P> + +<P> +'Mr. Mynors?' she murmured, at a loss, but vaguely apprehending further +trouble. +</P> + +<P> +'Did ye see him?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, father.' +</P> + +<P> +'Did ye give him my message?' +</P> + +<P> +'I forgot it.' God in heaven! She had forgotten the message! +</P> + +<P> +With a devastating grunt Mr. Tellwright walked speechless out of the +room. The girls cleared the table, exchanging sympathy with a single +mute glance. Anna's one satisfaction was that, even if she had +remembered the message, she could not possibly have delivered it. +</P> + +<P> +Ephraim Tellwright stayed in the front parlour till half-past ten +o'clock, unseen but felt, like an angry god behind a cloud. The +consciousness that he was there, unappeased and dangerous, remained +uppermost in the minds of the two girls during the morning. At +half-past ten he opened the door. +</P> + +<P> +'Agnes!' he commanded, and Agnes ran to him from the kitchen with the +speed of propitiation. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, father.' +</P> + +<P> +'Take this note down to Price's, and don't wait for an answer.' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, father.' +</P> + +<P> +She was back in twenty minutes. Anna was sweeping the lobby. +</P> + +<P> +'If Mr. Mynors calls while I'm out, you mun tell him to wait,' Mr. +Tellwright said to Agnes, pointedly ignoring Anna's presence. Then, +having brushed his greenish hat on his sleeve he went off towards town +to buy meat and vegetables. He always did Saturday's marketing +himself. At the butcher's and in the St. Luke's covered market he was +a familiar and redoubtable figure. Among the salespeople who stood the +market was a wrinkled, hardy old potato-woman from the other side of +Moorthorne: every Saturday the miser bested her in their +higgling-match, and nearly every Saturday she scornfully threw at him +the same joke: 'Get thee along to th' post-office, Master Terrick:[<A NAME="chap06fn1text"></A><A HREF="#chap06fn1">1</A>] +happen they'll give thee sixpenn'orth o' stamps for fivepence +ha'penny.' He seldom failed to laugh heartily at this. +</P> + +<P> +At dinner the girls could perceive that the shadow of his displeasure +had slightly lifted, though he kept a frowning silence. Expert in all +the symptoms of his moods, they knew that in a few hours he would begin +to talk again, at first in monosyllables, and then in short detached +sentences. An intimation of relief diffused itself through the house +like a hint of spring in February. +</P> + +<P> +These domestic upheavals followed always the same course, and Anna had +learnt to suffer the later stages of them with calmness and even with +impassivity. Henry Mynors had not called. She supposed that her +father had expected him to call for the answer which she had forgotten +to give him, and she had a hope that he would come in the afternoon: +once again she had the idea that something definite and satisfactory +might result if she could only see him—that she might, as it were, +gather inspiration from the mere sight of his face. After dinner, +while the girls were washing the dinner things in the scullery, Agnes's +quick ear caught the sound of voices in the parlour. They listened. +Mynors had come. Mr. Tellwright must have seen him from the front +window and opened the door to him before he could ring. +</P> + +<P> +'It's him,' said Agnes, excited. +</P> + +<P> +'Who?' Anna asked, self-consciously. +</P> + +<P> +'Mr. Mynors, of course,' said the child sharply, making it quite plain +that this affectation could not impose on her for a single instant. +</P> + +<P> +'Anna!' It was Mr. Tellwright's summons, through the parlour window. +She dried her hands, doffed her apron, and went to the parlour, +animated by a thousand fears and expectations. Why was she to be +included in the colloquy? +</P> + +<P> +Mynors rose at her entrance and greeted her with conspicuous deference, +a deference which made her feel ashamed. +</P> + +<P> +'Hum!' the old man growled, but he was obviously content. 'I gave Anna +a message for ye yesterday, Mr. Mynors, but her forgot to deliver it, +wench-like. Ye might ha' been saved th' trouble o' calling. Now as +ye're here, I've summat for tell ye. It 'll be Anna's money as 'll go +into that concern o' yours. I've none by me; in fact, I'm a'most fast +for brass, but her 'll have as near two thousand as makes no matter in +a month's time, and her says her 'll go in wi' you on th' strength o' +my recommendation.' +</P> + +<P> +This speech was evidently a perfect surprise for Henry Mynors. For a +moment he seemed to be at a loss; then his face gave candid expression +to a feeling of intense pleasure. +</P> + +<P> +'You know all about this business then, Miss Tellwright?' +</P> + +<P> +She blushed. 'Father has told me something about it.' +</P> + +<P> +'And are you willing to be my partner?' +</P> + +<P> +'Nay, I did na' say that,' Tellwright interrupted. 'It 'll be Anna's +money, but i' my name.' +</P> + +<P> +'I see,' said Mynors gravely. 'But if it is Miss Anna's money, why +should not she be the partner?' He offered one of his courtly +diplomatic smiles. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh—but——' Anna began in deprecation. +</P> + +<P> +Tellwright laughed. 'Ay!' he said, 'why not? It 'll be experience for +th' lass.' +</P> + +<P> +'Just so,' said Mynors. +</P> + +<P> +Anna stood silent, like a child who is being talked about. There was a +pause. +</P> + +<P> +'Would you care for that arrangement, Miss Tellwright?' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, yes,' she said. +</P> + +<P> +'I shall try to justify your confidence. I needn't say that I think +you and your father will have no reason to be disappointed. Two +thousand pounds is of course only a trifle to you, but it is a great +deal to me, and—and——' He hesitated. Anna did not surmise that he +was too much moved by the sight of her, and the situation, to continue, +but this was the fact. +</P> + +<P> +'There's nobbut one point, Mr. Mynors,' Tellwright said bluntly, 'and +that's the interest on th' capital, as must be deducted before +reckoning profits. Us must have six per cent.' +</P> + +<P> +'But I thought we had settled it at five,' said Mynors with sudden +firmness. +</P> + +<P> +'We 'n settled as you shall have five on your fifteen hundred,' the +miser replied with imperturbable audacity, 'but us mun have our six.' +</P> + +<P> +'I certainly thought we had thrashed that out fully, and agreed that +the interest should be the same on each side.' Mynors was alert and +defensive. +</P> + +<P> +'Nay, young man. Us mun have our six. We're takkin' a risk.' +</P> + +<P> +Mynors pressed his lips together. He was taken at a disadvantage. Mr. +Tellwright, with unscrupulous cleverness, had utilized the effect on +Mynors of his daughter's presence to regain a position from which the +younger man had definitely ousted him a few days before. Mynors was +annoyed, but he gave no sign of his annoyance. +</P> + +<P> +'Very well,' he said at length, with a private smile at Anna to +indicate that it was out of regard for her that he yielded. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Tellwright made no pretence of concealing his satisfaction. He, +too, smiled at Anna, sardonically: the last vestige of the morning's +irritation vanished in a glow of triumph. +</P> + +<P> +'I'm afraid I must go,' said Mynors, looking at his watch. 'There is a +service at chapel at three. Our Revivalist came down with Mrs. Sutton +to look over the works this morning, and I told him I should be at the +service. So I must. You coming, Mr. Tellwright?' +</P> + +<P> +'Nay, my lad. I'm owd enough to leave it to young uns.' +</P> + +<P> +Anna forced her courage to the verge of rashness, moved by a swift +impulse. +</P> + +<P> +'Will you wait one minute?' she said to Mynors. 'I am going to the +service. If I'm late back, father, Agnes will see to the tea. Don't +wait for me.' She looked him straight in the face. It was one of the +bravest acts of her life. After the episode of breakfast, to suggest a +procedure which might entail any risk upon another meal was absolutely +heroic. Tellwright glanced away from his daughter, and at Mynors. +Anna hurried upstairs. +</P> + +<P> +'Who's thy lawyer, Mr. Mynors?' Tellwright asked. +</P> + +<P> +'Dane,' said Mynors. +</P> + +<P> +'That 'll be convenient. Dane does my bit o' business, too. I'll see +him, and make a bargain wi' him for th' partnership deed. He always +works by contract for me. I've no patience wi' six-and-eight-pences.' +</P> + +<P> +Mynors assented. +</P> + +<P> +'You must come down some afternoon and look over the works,' he said to +Anna as they were walking down Trafalgar Road towards chapel. +</P> + +<P> +'I should like to,' Anna replied. 'I've never been over a works in my +life.' +</P> + +<P> +'No? You are going to be a partner in the best works of its size in +Bursley,' Mynors said enthusiastically. +</P> + +<P> +'I'm glad of that,' she smiled, 'for I do believe I own the worst.' +</P> + +<P> +'What—Price's do you mean?' +</P> + +<P> +She nodded. +</P> + +<P> +'Ah!' he exclaimed, and seemed to be thinking. 'I wasn't sure whether +that belonged to you or your father. I'm afraid it isn't quite the +best of properties. But perhaps I'd better say nothing about that. We +had a grand meeting last night. Our little cornet-player quite lived +up to his reputation, don't you think?' +</P> + +<P> +'Quite,' she said faintly. +</P> + +<P> +'You enjoyed the meeting?' +</P> + +<P> +'No,' she blurted out, dismayed but resolute to be honest. +</P> + +<P> +There was a silence. +</P> + +<P> +'But you were at the early prayer-meeting this morning, I hear.' +</P> + +<P> +She said nothing while they took a dozen paces, and then murmured, +'Yes.' +</P> + +<P> +Their eyes met for a second, hers full of trouble. +</P> + +<P> +'Perhaps,' he said at length, 'perhaps—excuse me saying this—but you +may be expecting too much——' +</P> + +<P> +'Well?' she encouraged him, prepared now to finish what had been begun. +</P> + +<P> +'I mean,' he said, earnestly, 'that I—we—cannot promise you any +sudden change of feeling, any sudden relief and certainty, such as some +people experience. At least, I never had it. What is called +conversion can happen in various ways. It is a question of living, of +constant endeavour, with the example of Christ always before us. It +need not always be a sudden wrench, you know, from the world. Perhaps +you have been expecting too much,' he repeated, as though offering balm +with that phrase. +</P> + +<P> +She thanked him sincerely, but not with her lips, only with the heart. +He had revealed to her an avenue of release from a situation which had +seemed on all sides fatally closed. She sprang eagerly towards it. +She realised afresh how frightful was the dilemma from which there was +now a hope of escape, and she was grateful accordingly. Before, she +had not dared steadily to face its terrors. She wondered that even her +father's displeasure or the project of the partnership had been able to +divert her from the plight of her soul. Putting these mundane things +firmly behind her, she concentrated the activities of her brain on that +idea of Christ-like living, day by day, hour by hour, of a gradual +aspiration towards Christ and thereby an ultimate arrival at the state +of being saved. This she thought she might accomplish; this gave +opportunity of immediate effort, dispensing with the necessity of an +impossible violent spiritual metamorphosis. They did not speak again +until they had reached the gates of the chapel, when Mynors, who had to +enter the choir from the back, bade her a quiet adieu. Anna enjoyed +the service, which passed smoothly and uneventfully. At a Revival, +night is the time of ecstasy and fervour and salvation; in the +afternoon one must be content with preparatory praise and prayer. +</P> + +<P> +That evening, while father and daughters sat in the parlour after +supper, there was a ring at the door. Agnes ran to open, and found +Willie Price. It had begun to rain, and the visitor, his jacket-collar +turned up, was wet and draggled. Agnes left him on the mat and ran +back to the parlour. +</P> + +<P> +'Young Mr. Price wants to see you, father.' +</P> + +<P> +Tellwright motioned to her to shut the door. +</P> + +<P> +'You'd best see him, Anna,' he said. 'It's none my business.' +</P> + +<P> +'But what has he come about, father?' +</P> + +<P> +'That note as I sent down this morning. I told owd Titus as he mun pay +us twenty pun' on Monday morning certain, or us should distrain. Them +as can pay ten pun, especially in bank notes, can pay twenty pun, and +thirty.' +</P> + +<P> +'And suppose he says he can't?' +</P> + +<P> +'Tell him he must. I've figured it out and changed my mind about that +works. Owd Titus isna' done for yet, though he's getting on that road. +Us can screw another fifty out o' him, that 'll only leave six months +rent owing; then us can turn him out. He'll go bankrupt; us can claim +for our rent afore th' other creditors, and us 'll have a hundred or a +hundred and twenty in hand towards doing the owd place up a bit for a +new tenant.' +</P> + +<P> +'Make him bankrupt, father?' Anna exclaimed. It was the only part of +the ingenious scheme which she had understood. +</P> + +<P> +'Ay!' he said laconically. +</P> + +<P> +'But——' (Would Christ have driven Titus Price into the bankruptcy +court?) +</P> + +<P> +'If he pays, well and good.' +</P> + +<P> +'Hadn't you better see Mr. William, father?' +</P> + +<P> +'Whose property is it, mine or thine?' Tellwright growled. His good +humour was still precarious, insecurely re-established, and Anna +obediently left the room. After all, she said to herself, a debt is a +debt, and honest people pay what they owe. +</P> + +<P> +It was in an uncomplaisant tone that Anna invited Willie Price to the +front parlour: nervousness always made her seem harsh and moreover she +had not the trick of hiding firmness under suavity. +</P> + +<P> +'Will you come this way, Mr. Price?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' he said with ingratiating, eager compliance. Dusk was falling, +and the room in shadow. She forgot to ask him to take a chair, so they +both stood up during the interview. +</P> + +<P> +'A grand meeting we had last night,' he began, twisting his hat. 'I +saw you there, Miss Tellwright.' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes.' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes. There was a splendid muster of teachers. I wanted to be at the +prayer-meeting this morning, but couldn't get away. Did you happen to +go, Miss Tellwright?' +</P> + +<P> +She saw that he knew that she had been present, and gave him another +curt monosyllable. She would have liked to be kind to him, to reassure +him, to make him happy and comfortable, so ludicrous and touching were +his efforts after a social urbanity which should appease; but, just as +much as he, she was unskilled in the subtle arts of converse. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' he continued, 'and I was anxious to be at to-night's meeting, +but the dad asked me to come up here. He said I'd better.' That term, +'the dad,' uttered in William's slow, drawling voice, seemed to show +Titus Price in a new light to Anna, as a human creature loved, not as a +mere gross physical organism: the effect was quite surprising. William +went on: 'Can I see your father, Miss Tellwright?' +</P> + +<P> +'Is it about the rent?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' he said. +</P> + +<P> +'Well, if you will tell me——' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh! I beg pardon,' he said quickly. 'Of course I know it's your +property, but I thought Mr. Tellwright always saw after it for you. It +was he that wrote that letter this morning, wasn't it?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' Anna replied. She did not explain the situation. +</P> + +<P> +'You insist on another twenty pounds on Monday?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' she said. +</P> + +<P> +'We paid ten last Monday.' +</P> + +<P> +'But there is still over a hundred owing.' +</P> + +<P> +'I know, but—oh, Miss Tellwright, you mustn't be hard on us. Trade's +bad.' +</P> + +<P> +'It says in the "Signal" that trade is improving,' she interrupted +sharply. +</P> + +<P> +'Does it?' he said. 'But look at prices; they're cut till there's no +profit left. I assure you, Miss Tellwright, my father and me are +having a hard struggle. Everything's against us, and the works in +particular, as you know.' +</P> + +<P> +His tone was so earnest, so pathetic, that tears of compassion almost +rose to her eyes as she looked at those simple naïve blue eyes of his. +His lanky figure and clumsily-fitting clothes, his feeble placatory +smile, the twitching movements of his long red hands, all contributed +to the effect of his defencelessness. She thought of the test: +'Blessed are the meek,' and saw in a flash the deep truth of it. Here +were she and her father, rich, powerful, autocratic; and there were +Willie Price and his father, commercial hares hunted by hounds of +creditors, hares that turned in plaintive appeal to those greedy jaws +for mercy. And yet, she, a hound, envied at that moment the hares. +Blessed are the meek, blessed are the failures, blessed are the stupid, +for they, unknown to themselves, have a grace which is denied to the +haughty, the successful, and the wise. The very repulsiveness of old +Titus, his underhand methods, his insincerities, only served to +increase her sympathy for the pair. How could Titus help being himself +any more than Henry Mynors could help being himself? And that idea led +her to think of the prospective partnership, destined by every +favourable sign to brilliant success, and to contrast it with the +ignoble and forlorn undertaking in Edward Street. +</P> + +<P> +She tried to discover some method of soothing the young man's fears, of +being considerate to him without injuring her father's scheme. +</P> + +<P> +'If you will pay what you owe,' she said, 'we will spend it all, every +penny, on improving the works.' +</P> + +<P> +'Miss Tellwright,' he answered with fatal emphasis, 'we cannot pay.' +</P> + +<P> +Ah! She wished to follow Christ day by day, hour by hour—constantly +to endeavour after saintliness. What was she to do now? Left to +herself, she might have said in a burst of impulsive generosity, 'I +forgive you all arrears. Start afresh.' But her father had to be +reckoned with....... +</P> + +<P> +'How much do you think you can pay on Monday?' she asked coldly. +</P> + +<P> +At that moment her father entered the room. His first act was to light +the gas. Willie Price's eyes blinked at the glare, as though he were +trembling before the anticipated decree of this implacable old man. +Anna's heart beat with sympathetic apprehension. Tellwright shook +hands grimly with the youth, who re-stated hurriedly what he had said +to Anna. +</P> + +<P> +'It's o' this'n,' the old man began with finality, and stopped. Anna +caught a glance from him dismissing her. She went out in silence. On +the Monday Titus Price paid another twenty pounds. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="footnote"> +<A NAME="chap06fn1"></A> +[<A HREF="#chap06fn1text">1</A>] <I>Terrick</I>: a corruption of Tellwright. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap07"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE SEWING MEETING +</H4> + +<P> +On an afternoon ten days later, Mr. Sutton's coachman, Barrett by name, +arrived at Ephraim Tellwright's back-door with a note. The Tellwrights +were having tea. The note could be seen in his enormous hand, and +Agnes went out. +</P> + +<P> +'An answer, if you please, Miss,' he said to her, touching his hat, and +giving a pull to the leathern belt which, surrounding his waist, alone +seemed to hold his frame together. Agnes, much impressed, took the +note. She had never before seen that resplendent automaton apart from +the equipage which he directed. Always afterwards, Barrett formally +saluted her in the streets, affording her thus, every time, a thrilling +moment of delicious joy. +</P> + +<P> +'A letter, and there's an answer, and he's waiting,' she cried, running +into the parlour. +</P> + +<P> +'Less row!' said her father. 'Here, give it me.' +</P> + +<P> +'It's for Miss Tellwright—that's Anna, isn't it? Oh! Scent!' She +put the grey envelope to her nose like a flower. +</P> + +<P> +Anna, secretly as excited as her sister, opened the note and +read:—'Lansdowne House, Wednesday. Dear Miss Tellwright,—Mother +gives tea to the Sunday-school Sewing Meeting here <I>to-morrow</I>. Will +you give us the pleasure of your company? I do not think you have been +to any of the S.S.S. meetings yet, but we should all be glad to see you +and have your assistance. Everyone is working very hard for the Autumn +Bazaar, and mother has set her mind on the Sunday-school stall being +the best. Do come, will you? Excuse this short notice. Yours +sincerely, BEATRICE SUTTON. P.S.—We begin at 3.30.' +</P> + +<P> +'They want me to go to their sewing meeting to-morrow,' she exclaimed +timidly to her father, pushing the note towards him across the table. +'Must I go, father?' +</P> + +<P> +'What dost ask me for? Please thysen. I've nowt do wi' it.' +</P> + +<P> +'I don't want to go——' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh! Sis, <i>do></i> go,' Agnes pleaded. +</P> + +<P> +'Perhaps I'd better,' she agreed, but with the misgivings of +diffidence. 'I haven't a rag to wear. I really must have a new dress, +father, at once.' +</P> + +<P> +'Hast forgotten as that there coachman's waiting?' he remarked curtly. +</P> + +<P> +'Shall I run and tell him you'll go?' Agnes suggested. 'It 'll be +splendid for you.' +</P> + +<P> +'Don't be silly, dear. I must write.' +</P> + +<P> +'Well, write then,' said the child energetically. 'I'll get you the +ink and paper.' She flew about and hovered over Anna while the answer +to the invitation was being written. Anna made her reply as short and +simple as possible, and then tendered it for her father's inspection. +'Will that do?' +</P> + +<P> +He pretended to be nonchalant, but in fact he was somewhat interested. +</P> + +<P> +'Thou's forgotten to put th' date in,' was all his comment, and he +threw the note back. +</P> + +<P> +'I've put Wednesday.' +</P> + +<P> +'That's not the date.' +</P> + +<P> +'Does it matter? Beatrice Sutton only puts Wednesday.' +</P> + +<P> +His response was to walk out of the room. +</P> + +<P> +'Is he vexed?' Agnes asked anxiously. There had been a whole week of +almost perfect amenity. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +The next day at half-past three Anna, having put on her best clothes, +was ready to start. She had seen almost nothing of social life, and +the prospect of taking part in this entertainment of the Suttons filled +her with trepidation. Should she arrive early, in which case she would +have to talk more, or late, in which case there would be the ordeal of +entering a crowded room? She could not decide. She went into her +father's bedroom, whose window overlooked Trafalgar Road, and saw from +behind a curtain that small groups of ladies were continually passing +up the street to disappear into Alderman Sutton's house. Most of the +women she recognised; others she knew but vaguely by sight. Then the +stream ceased, and suddenly she heard the kitchen clock strike four. +She ran downstairs—Agnes, swollen by importance, was carrying her +father's tea into the parlour—and hastened out the back way. In +another moment she was at the Suttons' front-door. A servant in black +alpaca, with white wristbands, cap, streams, and embroidered apron +(each article a <I>dernier cri</I> from Bostock's great shop at Hanbridge), +asked her in a subdued and respectful tone to step within. Externally +there had been no sign of the unusual, but once inside the house Anna +found it a humming hive of activity. Women laden with stuffs and +implements were crossing the picture-hung hall, their footsteps +noiseless on the thick rugs which lay about in rich confusion. On +either hand was an open door, and from each door came the sound of many +eager voices. Beyond these doors a broad staircase rose majestically +to unseen heights, closing the vista of the hall. As the servant was +demanding Anna's name, Beatrice Sutton, radiant and gorgeous, came with +a rush out of the room to the left, the dining-room, and, taking her by +both hands, kissed her. +</P> + +<P> +'My dear, we thought you were never coming. Everyone's here, except +the men, of course. Come along upstairs and take your things off. I'm +so glad you've kept your promise.' +</P> + +<P> +'Did you think I should break it?' said Anna, as they ascended the easy +gradient of the stairs. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, no, my dear. But you're such a shy little bird.' +</P> + +<P> +The conception of herself as a shy little bird amused Anna. By a +curious chain of ideas she came to wonder who could clean those stairs +the better, she or this gay and flitting butterfly in a pale green +tea-gown. Beatrice led the way to a large bedroom, crammed with +furniture and knick-knacks. There were three mirrors in this spacious +apartment—one in the wardrobe, a cheval-glass, and a third over the +mantelpiece; the frame of the last was bordered with photographs. +</P> + +<P> +'This is my room,' said Beatrice. 'Will you put your things on the +bed?' The bed was already laden with hats, bonnets, jackets, and wraps. +</P> + +<P> +'I hope your mother won't give me anything fancy to do,' Anna said. +'I'm no good at anything except plain sewing.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, that's all right,' Beatrice answered carelessly. 'It's all plain +sewing.' She drew a cardboard box from her pocket, and offered it to +Anna. 'Here, have one.' They were chocolate creams. +</P> + +<P> +'Thanks,' said Anna, taking one. 'Aren't they very expensive? I've +never seen any like these before.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh! Just ordinary. Four shillings a pound. Papa buys them for me: I +simply dote on them. I love to eat them in bed, if I can't sleep.' +Beatrice made these statements with her mouth full. 'Don't you adore +chocolates?' she added. +</P> + +<P> +'I don't know,' Anna lamely replied. 'Yes, I like them.' She only +adored her sister, and perhaps God; and this was the first time she had +tasted chocolate. +</P> + +<P> +'I couldn't <i>live</i> without them,' said Beatrice. 'Your hair is lovely. +I never saw such a brown. What wash do you use?' +</P> + +<P> +'Wash?' Anna repeated. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, don't you put anything on it?' +</P> + +<P> +'No, never.' +</P> + +<P> +'Well! Take care you don't lose it, that's all. Now, will you come +and have just a peep at my studio—where I paint, you know? I'd like +you to see it before we go down.' +</P> + +<P> +They proceeded to a small room on the second floor, with a sloping +ceiling and a dormer window. +</P> + +<P> +'I'm obliged to have this room,' Beatrice explained, 'because it's the +only one in the house with a north light, and of course you can't do +without that. How do you like it?' +</P> + +<P> +Anna said that she liked it very much. +</P> + +<P> +The walls of the room were hung with various odd curtains of Eastern +design. Attached somehow to these curtains some coloured plates, bits +of pewter, and a few fans were hung high in apparently precarious +suspense. Lower down on the walls were pictures and sketches, chiefly +unframed, of flowers, fishes, loaves of bread, candlesticks, mugs, +oranges and tea-trays. On an immense easel in the middle of the room +was an unfinished portrait of a man. +</P> + +<P> +'Who's that?' Anna asked, ignorant of those rules of caution which are +observed by the practised frequenter of studios. +</P> + +<P> +'Don't you know?' Beatrice exclaimed, shocked. 'That's papa; I'm doing +his portrait; he sits in that chair there. The silly old master at the +school won't let me draw from life yet—he keeps me to the antique—so +I said to myself I would study the living model at home. I'm +dreadfully in earnest about it, you know—I really am. Mother says I +work far too long up here.' +</P> + +<P> +Anna was unable to perceive that the picture bore any resemblance to +Alderman Sutton, except in the matter of the aldermanic robe, which she +could now trace beneath the portrait's neck. The studies on the walls +pleased her much better. Their realism amazed her. One could make out +not only that here for instance, was a fish—there was no doubt that it +was a hallibut; the solid roundness of the oranges and the glitter on +the tea-trays seemed miraculously achieved. 'Have you actually done +all these?' she asked, in genuine admiration. 'I think they're +splendid.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, yes, they're all mine; they're only still-life studies,' Beatrice +said contemptuously of them, but she was nevertheless flattered. +</P> + +<P> +'I see now that that <i>is</i> Mr. Sutton,' Anna said, pointing to the easel +picture. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, it's pa right enough. But I'm sure I'm boring you. Let's go +down now, or perhaps we shall catch it from mother.' +</P> + +<P> +As Anna, in the wake of Beatrice, entered the drawing-room, a dozen or +more women glanced at her with keen curiosity, and the even flow of +conversation ceased for a moment, to be immediately resumed. In the +centre of the room, with her back to the fire-place, Mrs. Sutton was +seated at a square table, cutting out. Although the afternoon was warm +she had a white woollen wrap over her shoulders; for the rest she was +attired in plain black silk, with a large stuff apron containing a +pocket for scissors and chalk. She jumped up with the activity of +which Beatrice had inherited a part, and greeted Anna, kissing her +heartily. +</P> + +<P> +'How are you, my dear? So pleased you have come.' The time-worn +phrases came from her thin, nervous lips full of sincere and kindly +welcome. Her wrinkled face broke into a warm, life-giving smile. +'Beatrice, find Miss Anna a chair.' There were two chairs in the bay +of the window, and one of them was occupied by Miss Dickinson, whom +Anna slightly knew. The other, being empty, was assigned to the +late-comer. +</P> + +<P> +'Now you want something to do, I suppose,' said Beatrice. +</P> + +<P> +'Please.' +</P> + +<P> +'Mother, let Miss Tellwright have something to get on with at once. +She has a lot of time to make up.' +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Sutton, who had sat down again, smiled across at Anna. 'Let me +see, now, what can we give her?' +</P> + +<P> +'There's several of those boys' nightgowns ready tacked,' said Miss +Dickinson, who was stitching at a boy's nightgown. 'Here's one +half-finished,' and she picked up an inchoate garment from the floor. +'Perhaps Miss Tellwright wouldn't mind finishing it.' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, I will do my best at it,' said Anna. +</P> + +<P> +The thoughtless girl had arrived at the sewing meeting without needles +or thimble or scissors, but one lady or another supplied these +deficiencies, and soon she was at work. She stitched her best and her +hardest, with head bent, and all her wits concentrated on the task. +Most of the others seemed to be doing likewise, though not to the +detriment of conversation. Beatrice sank down on a stool near her +mother, and, threading a needle with coloured silk, took up a long +piece of elaborate embroidery. +</P> + +<P> +The general subjects of talk were the Revival, now over, with a superb +record of seventy saved souls, the school-treat shortly to occur, the +summer holidays, the fashions, and the change of ministers which would +take place in August. The talkers were the wives and daughters of +tradesmen and small manufacturers, together with a few girls of a +somewhat lower status, employed in shops: it was for the sake of these +latter that the sewing meeting was always fixed for the weekly +half-holiday. The splendour of Mrs. Sutton's drawing-room was a little +dazzling to most of the guests, and Mrs. Sutton herself seemed scarcely +of a piece with it. The fact was that the luxury of the abode was +mainly due to Alderman Sutton's inability to refuse anything to his +daughter, whose tastes lay in the direction of rich draperies, large or +quaint chairs, occasional tables, dwarf screens, hand-painted mirrors, +and an opulence of bric-à-brac. The hand of Beatrice might be +perceived everywhere, even in the position of the piano, whose back, +adorned with carelessly-flung silks and photographs, was turned away +from the wall. The pictures on the walls had been acquired gradually +by Mr. Sutton at auction sales: it was commonly held that he had an +excellent taste in pictures, and that his daughter's aptitude for the +arts came from him, and not from her mother. The gilt clock and side +pieces on the mantelpiece were also peculiarly Mr. Sutton's, having +been publicly presented to him by the directors of a local building +society of which he had been chairman for many years. +</P> + +<P> +Less intimidated by all this unexampled luxury than she was reassured +by the atmosphere of combined and homely effort, the lowliness of +several of her companions, and the kind, simple face of Mrs. Sutton, +Anna quickly began to feel at ease. She paused in her work, and, +glancing around her, happened to catch the eye of Miss Dickinson, who +offered a remark about the weather. Miss Dickinson was head-assistant +at a draper's in St. Luke's Square, and a pillar of the Sunday-school, +which Sunday by Sunday and year by year had watched her develop from a +rosy-cheeked girl into a confirmed spinster with sallow and warted +face. Miss Dickinson supported her mother, and was a pattern to her +sex. She was lovable, but had never been loved. She would have made +an admirable wife and mother, but fate had decided that this material +was to be wasted. Miss Dickinson found compensation for the rigour of +destiny in gossip, as innocent as indiscreet. It was said that she had +a tongue. +</P> + +<P> +'I hear,' said Miss Dickinson, lowering her contralto voice to a +confidential tone, 'that you are going into partnership with Mr. +Mynors, Miss Tellwright.' +</P> + +<P> +The suddenness of the attack took Anna by surprise. Her first +defensive impulse was boldly to deny the statement, or at the least to +say that it was premature. A fortnight ago, under similar +circumstances, she would not have hesitated to do so. But for more +than a week Anna had been 'leading a new life,' which chiefly meant a +meticulous avoidance of the sins of speech. Never to deviate from the +truth, never to utter an unkind or a thoughtless word, under whatever +provocation: these were two of her self-imposed rules. 'Yes,' she +answered Miss Dickinson, 'I am.' +</P> + +<P> +'Rather a novelty, isn't it?' Miss Dickinson smiled amiably. +</P> + +<P> +'I don't know,' said Anna. 'It's only a business arrangement; father +arranged it. Really I have nothing to do with it, and I had no idea +that people were talking about it.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh! Of course <I>I</I> should never breathe a syllable,' Miss Dickinson +said with emphasis. 'I make a practice of never talking about other +people's affairs. I always find that best, don't you? But I happened +to hear it mentioned in the shop.' +</P> + +<P> +'It's very funny how things get abroad, isn't it?' said Anna. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, indeed,' Miss Dickinson concurred. 'Mr. Mynors hasn't been to +our sewing meetings for quite a long time, but I expect he'll turn up +to-day.' +</P> + +<P> +Anna took thought. 'Is this a sort of special meeting, then?' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, not at all. But we all of us said just now, while you were +upstairs, that he would be sure to come,' Miss Dickinson's features, +skilled in innuendo, conveyed that which was too delicate for +utterance. Anna said nothing. +</P> + +<P> +'You see a good deal of him at your house, don't you?' Miss Dickinson +continued. +</P> + +<P> +'He comes sometimes to see father on business,' Anna replied sharply, +breaking one of her rules. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh! Of course I meant that. You didn't suppose I meant anything +else, did you?' Miss Dickinson smiled pleasantly. She was thirty-five +years of age. Twenty of those years she had passed in a desolating +routine; she had existed in the midst of life and never lived; she knew +no finer joy than that which she at that moment experienced. +</P> + +<P> +Again Anna offered no reply. The door opened, and every eye was +centred on the stately Mrs. Clayton Vernon, who, with Mrs. Banks, the +minister's wife, was in charge of the other half of the sewing party in +the dining-room. Mrs. Clayton Vernon had heroic proportions, a nose +which everyone admitted to be aristocratic, exquisite tact, and the +calm consciousness of social superiority. In Bursley she was a great +lady: her instincts were those of a great lady; and she would have been +a great lady no matter to what sphere her God had called her. She had +abundant white hair, and wore a flowered purple silk, in the antique +taste. +</P> + +<P> +'Beatrice, my dear,' she began, 'you have deserted us.' +</P> + +<P> +'Have I, Mrs. Vernon?' the girl answered with involuntary deference. +'I was just coming in.' +</P> + +<P> +'Well, I am sent as a deputation from the other room to ask you to sing +something.' +</P> + +<P> +'I'm very busy, Mrs. Vernon. I shall never get this mantel-cloth +finished in time.' +</P> + +<P> +'We shall all work better for a little music,' Mrs. Clayton Vernon +urged. 'Your voice is a precious gift, and should be used for the +benefit of all. We entreat, my dear girl.' +</P> + +<P> +Beatrice arose from the footstool and dropped her embroidery. +</P> + +<P> +'Thank you,' said Mrs. Clayton Vernon. 'If both doors are left open we +shall hear nicely.' +</P> + +<P> +'What would you like?' Beatrice asked. +</P> + +<P> +'I once heard you sing "Nazareth," and I shall never forget it. Sing +that. It will do us all good.' +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Clayton Vernon departed with the large movement of an argosy, and +Beatrice sat down to the piano and removed her bracelets. 'The +accompaniment is simply frightful towards the end,' she said, looking +at Anna with a grimace. 'Excuse mistakes.' +</P> + +<P> +During the song, Mrs. Sutton beckoned with her finger to Anna to come +and occupy the stool vacated by Beatrice. Glad to leave the vicinity +of Miss Dickinson, Anna obeyed, creeping on tiptoe across the +intervening space. 'I thought I would like to have you near me, my +dear,' she whispered maternally. When Beatrice had sung the song and +somehow executed that accompaniment which has terrorised whole +multitudes of drawing-room pianists, there was a great deal of applause +from both rooms. Mrs. Sutton bent down and whispered in Anna's ear: +'Her voice has been very well trained, has it not?' 'Yes, very,' Anna +replied. But, though 'Nazareth' had seemed to her wonderful, she had +neither understood it nor enjoyed it. She tried to like it, but the +effect of it on her was bizarre rather than pleasing. +</P> + +<P> +Shortly after half-past five the gong sounded for tea, and the ladies, +bidden by Mrs. Sutton, unanimously thronged into the hall and towards a +room at the back of the house. Beatrice came and took Anna by the arm. +As they were crossing the hall there was a ring at the door. 'There's +father—and Mr. Banks, too,' Beatrice exclaimed, opening to them. +Everyone in the vicinity, animated suddenly by this appearance of the +male sex, turned with welcoming smiles. 'A greeting to you all,' the +minister ejaculated with formal suavity as he removed his low hat. The +Alderman beamed a rather absent-minded goodwill on the entire company, +and said: 'Well! I see we're just in time for tea.' Then he kissed +his daughter, and she accepted from him his hat and stick. 'Miss +Tellwright, pa,' Beatrice said, drawing Anna forward: he shook hands +with her heartily, emerging for a moment from the benignant dream in +which he seemed usually to exist. +</P> + +<P> +That air of being rapt by some inward vision, common in very old men, +probably signified nothing in the case of William Sutton: it was a +habitual pose into which he had perhaps unconsciously fallen. But +people connected it with his humble archæological, geological, and +zoological hobbies, which had sprung from his membership of the Five +Towns Field Club, and which most of his acquaintances regarded with +amiable secret disdain. At a school-treat once, held at a popular +rural resort, he had taken some of the teachers to a cave, and pointing +out the wave-like formation of its roof had told them that this +peculiar phenomenon had actually been caused by waves of the sea. The +discovery, valid enough and perfectly substantiated by an inquiry into +the levels, was extremely creditable to the amateur geologist, but it +seriously impaired his reputation among the Wesleyan community as a +shrewd man of the world. Few believed the statement, or even tried to +believe it, and nearly all thenceforth looked on him as a man who must +be humoured in his harmless hallucinations and inexplicable +curiosities. On the other hand, the collection of arrowheads, Roman +pottery, fossils and birds' eggs which he had given to the Museum in +the Wedgwood Institution was always viewed with municipal pride. +</P> + +<P> +The tea-room opened by a large French window into a conservatory, and a +table was laid down the whole length of the room and the conservatory. +Mr. Sutton sat at one end and the minister at the other, but neither +Mrs. Sutton nor Beatrice occupied a distinctive place. The ancient +clumsy custom of having tea-urns on the table itself had been abolished +by Beatrice, who had read in a paper that carving was now never done at +table, but by a neatly-dressed parlour-maid at the sideboard. +Consequently the tea-urns were exiled to the sideboard, and the tea +dispensed by a couple of maids. Thus, as Beatrice had explained to her +mother, the hostess was left free to devote herself to the social arts. +The board was richly spread with fancy breads and cakes, jams of Mrs. +Sutton's own celebrated preserving, diverse sandwiches compiled by +Beatrice, and one or two large examples of the famous Bursley pork-pie. +Numerous as the company was, several chairs remained empty after +everyone was seated. Anna found herself again next to Miss Dickinson, +and five places from the minister, in the conservatory. Beatrice and +her mother were higher up, in the room. Grace was sung, by request of +Mrs. Sutton. At first, silence prevailed among the guests, and the +inquiries of the maids about milk and sugar were almost painfully +audible. Then Mr. Banks, glancing up the long vista of the table and +pretending to descry some object in the distance, called out: +</P> + +<P> +'Worthy host, I doubt not you are there, but I can only see you with +the eye of faith.' +</P> + +<P> +At this all laughed, and a natural ease was established. The minister +and Mrs. Clayton Vernon, who sat on his right, exchanged badinage on +the merits and demerits of pork-pies, and their neighbours formed an +appreciative audience. Then there was a sharp ring at the front door, +and one of the maids went out. +</P> + +<P> +'Didn't I tell you?' Miss Dickinson whispered to Anna. +</P> + +<P> +'What?' asked Anna. +</P> + +<P> +'That he would come to-day—Mr. Mynors, I mean.' +</P> + +<P> +'Who can that be?' Mrs. Sutton's voice was heard from the room. +</P> + +<P> +'I dare say it's Henry, mother,' Beatrice answered. +</P> + +<P> +Mynors entered, joyous and self-possessed, a white rose in his coat: he +shook hands with Mr. and Mrs. Sutton, sent a greeting down the table to +Mr. Banks and Mrs. Clayton Vernon, and offered a general apology for +being late. +</P> + +<P> +'Sit here,' said Beatrice to him, sharply, indicating a chair between +Mrs. Banks and herself. 'Mrs. Banks has a word to say to you about the +singing of that anthem last Sunday.' +</P> + +<P> +Mynors made some laughing rejoinder, and the voices sank so that Anna +could not catch what was said. +</P> + +<P> +'That's a new frock that Miss Sutton is wearing to-day,' Miss Dickinson +remarked in an undertone. +</P> + +<P> +'It looks new,' Anna agreed. +</P> + +<P> +'Do you like it?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes. Don't you?' +</P> + +<P> +'Hum! Yes. It was made at Brunt's at Hanbridge. It's quite the +fashion to go there now,' said Miss Dickinson, and added, almost +inaudibly, 'She's put it on for Mr. Mynors. You saw how she saved that +chair for him.' +</P> + +<P> +Anna made no reply. +</P> + +<P> +'Did you know they were engaged once?' Miss Dickinson resumed. +</P> + +<P> +'No,' said Anna. +</P> + +<P> +'At least people said they were. It was all over the town—oh! let me +see, three years ago.' +</P> + +<P> +'I had not heard,' said Anna. +</P> + +<P> +During the rest of the meal she said little. On some natures Miss +Dickinson's gossip had the effect of bringing them to silence. Anna +had not seen Mynors since the previous Sunday, and now she was +apparently unperceived by him. He talked gaily with Beatrice and Mrs. +Banks: that group was a centre of animation. Anna envied their ease of +manner, their smooth and sparkling flow of conversation. She had the +sensation of feeling vulgar, clumsy, tongue-tied; Mynors and Beatrice +possessed something which she would never possess. So they had been +engaged! But had they? Or was it an idle rumour, manufactured by one +who spent her life in such creations? Anna was conscious of +misgivings. She had despised Beatrice once, but now it seemed that +after all Beatrice was the natural equal of Henry Mynors. Was it more +likely that Mynors or she, Anna, should be mistaken in Beatrice? That +Beatrice had generous instincts she was sure. Anna lost confidence in +herself; she felt humbled, out-of-place, and shamed. +</P> + +<P> +'If our hostess and the company will kindly excuse me,' said the +minister with a pompous air, looking at his watch, 'I must go. I have +an important appointment, or an appointment which some people think is +important.' +</P> + +<P> +He got up and made various adieux. The elaborate meal, complex with +fifty dainties each of which had to be savoured, was not nearly over. +The parson stopped in his course up the room to speak with Mrs. Sutton. +After he had shaken hands with her, he caught the admired violet eyes +of his slim wife, a lady of independent fortune whom the wives of +circuit stewards found it difficult to please in the matter of +furniture, and who despite her forty years still kept something of the +pose of a spoiled beauty. As a minister's spouse this languishing but +impeccable and invariably correct dame was unique even in the +experience of Mrs. Clayton Vernon. +</P> + +<P> +'Shall you not be home early, Rex?' she asked in the tone of a young +wife lounging amid the delicate odours of a boudoir. +</P> + +<P> +'My love,' he replied with the stern fixity of a histrionic martyr, +'did you ever know me have a free evening?' +</P> + +<P> +The Alderman accompanied his pastor to the door. +</P> + +<P> +After tea, Mynors was one of the first to leave the room, and Anna one +of the last, but he accosted her in the hall, on the way back to the +drawing-room, and asked how she was, and how Agnes was, with such +deference and sincerity of regard for herself and everything that was +hers that she could not fail to be impressed. Her sense of humiliation +and of uncertainty was effaced by a single word, a single glance. +Uplifted by a delicious reassurance, she passed into the drawing-room, +expecting him to follow: strange to say, he did not do so. Work was +resumed, but with less ardour than before. It was in fact impossible +to be strenuously diligent after one of Mrs. Sutton's teas, and in +every heart, save those which beat over the most perfect and vigorous +digestive organs, there was a feeling of repentance. The +building-society's clock on the mantel-piece intoned seven: all +expressed surprise at the lateness of the hour, and Mrs. Clayton +Vernon, pleading fatigue after her recent indisposition, quietly +departed. As soon as she was gone, Anna said to Mrs. Sutton that she +too must go. +</P> + +<P> +'Why, my dear?' Mrs. Sutton asked. +</P> + +<P> +'I shall be needed at home,' Anna replied. +</P> + +<P> +'Ah! In that case—— I will come upstairs with you, my dear,' said +Mrs. Sutton. +</P> + +<P> +When they were in the bedroom, Mrs. Sutton suddenly clasped her hand. +'How is it with you, dear Anna?' she said, gazing anxiously into the +girl's eyes. Anna knew what she meant, but made no answer. 'Is it +well?' the earnest old woman asked. +</P> + +<P> +'I hope so,' said Anna, averting her eyes, 'I am trying.' +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Sutton kissed her almost passionately. 'Ah! my dear,' she +exclaimed with an impulsive gesture, 'I am glad, so glad. I did so +want to have a word with you. You must "lean hard," as Miss Havergal +says. "Lean hard" on Him. Do not be afraid.' And then, changing her +tone: 'You are looking pale, Anna. You want a holiday. We shall be +going to the Isle of Man in August or September. Would your father let +you come with us?' +</P> + +<P> +'I don't know,' said Anna. She knew, however, that he would not. +Nevertheless the suggestion gave her much pleasure. +</P> + +<P> +'We must see about that later,' said Mrs. Sutton, and they went +downstairs. +</P> + +<P> +'I must say good-bye to Beatrice. Where is she?' Anna said in the +hall. One of the servants directed them to the dining-room. The +Alderman and Henry Mynors were looking together at a large photogravure +of Sant's 'The Soul's Awakening,' which Mr. Sutton had recently bought, +and Beatrice was exhibiting her embroidery to a group of ladies: sundry +stitchers were scattered about, including Miss Dickinson. +</P> + +<P> +'It is a great picture—a picture that makes you think,' Henry was +saying, seriously, and the Alderman, feeling as the artist might have +felt, was obviously flattered by this sagacious praise. +</P> + +<P> +Anna said good-night to Miss Dickinson and then to Beatrice. Mynors, +hearing the words, turned round. 'Well, I must go. Good evening,' he +said suddenly to the astonished Alderman. +</P> + +<P> +'What? Now?' the latter inquired, scarcely pleased to find that Mynors +could tear himself away from the picture with so little difficulty. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes.' +</P> + +<P> +'Good-night, Mr. Mynors,' said Anna. +</P> + +<P> +'If I may I will walk down with you,' Mynors imperturbably answered. +</P> + +<P> +It was one of those dramatic moments which arrive without the slightest +warning. The gleam of joyous satisfaction in Miss Dickinson's eyes +showed that she alone had foreseen this declaration. For a declaration +it was, and a formal declaration. Mynors stood there calm, confident +with masculine superiority, and his glance seemed to say to those +swiftly alert women, whose faces could not disguise a thrilling +excitation: 'Yes. Let all know that I, Henry Mynors, the desired of +all, am honourably captive to this shy and perfect creature who is +blushing because I have said what I have said.' Even the Alderman +forgot his photogravure. Beatrice hurriedly resumed her explanation of +the embroidery. +</P> + +<P> +'How did you like the sewing meeting?' Mynors asked Anna when they were +on the pavement. +</P> + +<P> +Anna paused. 'I think Mrs. Sutton is simply a splendid woman,' she +said enthusiastically. +</P> + +<P> +When, in a moment far too short, they reached Tellwright's house, +Mynors, obeying a mutual wish to which neither had given expression, +followed Anna up the side entry, and so into the yard, where they +lingered for a few seconds. Old Tellwright could be seen at the +extremity of the long narrow garden—a garden which consisted chiefly +of a grass-plot sown with clothes-props and a narrow bordering of +flower beds without flowers. Agnes was invisible. The kitchen-door +stood ajar, and as this was the sole means of ingress from the yard +Anna, humming an air, pushed it open and entered, Mynors in her wake. +They stood on the threshold, happy, hesitating, confused, and looked at +the kitchen as at something which they had not seen before. Anna's +kitchen was the only satisfactory apartment in the house. Its +furniture included a dresser of the simple and dignified kind which is +now assiduously collected by amateurs of old oak. It had four long +narrow shelves holding plates and saucers; the cups were hung in a row +on small brass hooks screwed into the fronts of the shelves. Below the +shelves were three drawers in a line, with brass handles, and below the +drawers was a large recess which held stone jars, a copper +preserving-saucepan, and other receptacles. Seventy years of +continuous polishing by a dynasty of priestesses of cleanliness had +given to this dresser a rich ripe tone which the cleverest +trade-trickster could not have imitated. In it was reflected the +conscientious labour of generations. It had a soft and assuaged +appearance, as though it had never been new and could never have been +new. All its corners and edges had long lost the asperities of +manufacture, and its smooth surfaces were marked by slight hollows +similar in spirit to those worn by the naked feet of pilgrims into the +marble steps of a shrine. The flat portion over the drawers was +scarred with hundreds of scratches, and yet even all these seemed to be +incredibly ancient, and in some distant past to have partaken of the +mellowness of the whole. The dark woodwork formed an admirable +background for the crockery on the shelves, and a few of the old +plates, hand-painted according to some vanished secret in pigments +which time could only improve, had the look of relationship by birth to +the dresser. There must still be thousands of exactly similar dressers +in the kitchens of the people, but they are gradually being transferred +to the dining rooms of curiosity-hunters. To Anna this piece of +furniture, which would have made the most taciturn collector vocal with +joy, was merely 'the dresser.' She had always lamented that it +contained no cupboard. In front of the fireless range was an old steel +kitchen fender with heavy fire-irons. It had in the middle of its flat +top a circular lodgment for saucepans, but on this polished disc no +saucepan was ever placed. The fender was perhaps as old as the +dresser, and the profound depths of its polish served to mitigate +somewhat the newness of the patent coal-economising range which +Tellwright had had put in when he took the house. On the high +mantelpiece were four tall brass candlesticks which, like the dresser, +were silently awaiting their apotheosis at the hands of some collector. +Beside these were two or three common mustard tins, polished to +counterfeit silver, containing spices; also an abandoned coffee-mill +and two flat-irons. A grandfather's clock of oak to match the dresser +stood to the left of the fireplace; it had a very large white dial with +a grinning face in the centre. Though it would only run for +twenty-four hours, its leisured movement seemed to have the certainty +of a natural law, especially to Agnes, for Mr. Tellwright never forgot +to wind it before going to bed. Under the window was a plain deal +table, with white top and stained legs. Two Windsor chairs completed +the catalogue of furniture. The glistening floor was of red and black +tiles, and in front of the fender lay a list hearthrug made by +attaching innumerable bits of black cloth to a canvas base. On the +painted walls were several grocers' almanacs, depicting sailors in the +arms of lovers, children crossing brooks, or monks swelling themselves +with Gargantuan repasts. Everything in this kitchen was absolutely +bright and spotless, as clean as a cat in pattens, except the ceiling, +darkened by fumes of gas. Everything was in perfect order, and had the +humanised air of use and occupation which nothing but use and +occupation can impart to senseless objects. It was a kitchen where, in +the housewife's phrase, you might eat off the floor, and to any Bursley +matron it would have constituted the highest possible certificate of +Anna's character, not only as housewife but as elder sister—for in her +absence Agnes had washed the tea-things and put them away. +</P> + +<P> +'This is the nicest room, I know,' said Mynors at length. +</P> + +<P> +'Whatever do you mean?' Anna smiled, incapable of course of seeing the +place with his eye. +</P> + +<P> +'I mean there is nothing to beat a clean, straight kitchen,' Mynors +replied, 'and there never will be. It wants only the mistress in a +white apron to make it complete. Do you know, when I came in here the +other night, and you were sitting at the table there, I thought the +place was like a picture.' +</P> + +<P> +'How funny!' said Anna, puzzled but well satisfied. 'But won't you +come into the parlour?' +</P> + +<P> +The Persian with one ear met them in the lobby, his tail flying, but +cautiously sidled upstairs at sight of Mynors. When Anna opened the +door of the parlour she saw Agnes seated at the table over her lessons, +frowning and preoccupied. Tears were in her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +'Why, what's the matter, Agnes?' she exclaimed. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh! Go away,' said the child crossly. 'Don't bother.' +</P> + +<P> +'But what's the matter? You're crying.' +</P> + +<P> +'No, I'm not. I'm doing my sums, and I can't get it—can't—-' The +child burst into tears just as Mynors entered. His presence was a +complete surprise to her. She hid her face in her pinafore, ashamed to +be thus caught. +</P> + +<P> +'Where is it?' said Mynors. 'Where is this sum that won't come right?' +He picked up the slate and examined it while Agnes was finding herself +again. 'Practice!' he exclaimed. 'Has Agnes got as far as practice?' +She gave him an instant's glance and murmured 'Yes.' Before she could +shelter her face he had kissed her. Anna was enchanted by his manner, +and as for Agnes, she surrendered happily to him at once. He worked +the sum, and she copied the figures into her exercise-book. Anna sat +and watched. +</P> + +<P> +'Now I must go,' said Mynors. +</P> + +<P> +'But surely you'll stay and see father,' Anna urged. +</P> + +<P> +'No. I really had not meant to call. Good-night, Agnes.' In a moment +he was gone out of the room and the house. It was as if, in obedience +to a sudden impulse, he had forcibly torn himself away. +</P> + +<P> +'Was <I>he</I> at the sewing meeting?' Agnes asked, adding in parenthesis, +'I never dreamt he was here, and I was frightfully vexed. I felt such +a baby.' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes. At least, he came for tea.' +</P> + +<P> +'Why did he call here like that?' +</P> + +<P> +'How can I tell?' Anna said. The child looked at her. +</P> + +<P> +'It's awfully queer, isn't it?' she said slowly. 'Tell me all about +the sewing meeting. Did they have cakes or was it a plain tea? And +did you go into Beatrice Sutton's bedroom?' +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap08"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VIII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +ON THE BANK +</H4> + +<P> +Anna began to receive her July interest and dividends. During a +fortnight remittances, varying from a few pounds to a few hundred of +pounds, arrived by post almost daily. They were all addressed to her, +since the securities now stood in her own name; and upon her, under the +miser's superintendence, fell the new task of entering them in a book +and paying them into the Bank. This mysterious begetting of money by +money—a strange process continually going forward for her benefit, in +various parts of the world, far and near, by means of activities of +which she was completely ignorant and would always be completely +ignorant—bewildered her and gave her a feeling of its unreality. The +elaborate mechanism by which capital yields interest without suffering +diminution from its original bulk is one of the commonest phenomena of +modern life, and one of the least understood. Many capitalists never +grasp it, nor experience the slightest curiosity about it until the +mechanism through some defect ceases to revolve. Tellwright was of +these; for him the interval between the outlay of capital and the +receipt of interest was nothing but an efflux of time: he planted +capital as a gardener plants rhubarb, tolerably certain of a particular +result, but not dwelling even in thought on that which is hidden. The +productivity of capital was to him the greatest achievement of social +progress—indeed, the social organism justified its existence by that +achievement; nothing could be more equitable than this productivity, +nothing more natural. He would as soon have inquired into it as Agnes +would have inquired into the ticking of the grandfather's clock. But +to Anna, who had some imagination, and whose imagination had been +stirred by recent events, the arrival of moneys out of space, unearned, +unasked, was a disturbing experience, affecting her as a conjuring +trick affects a child, whose sensations hesitate between pleasure and +apprehension. Practically, Anna could not believe that she was rich; +and in fact she was not rich—she was merely a fixed point through +which moneys that she was unable to arrest passed with the rapidity of +trains. If money is a token, Anna was denied the satisfaction of +fingering even the token: drafts and cheques were all that she touched +(touched only to abandon)—the doubly tantalising and insubstantial +tokens of a token. She wanted to test the actuality of this apparent +dream by handling coin and causing it to vanish over counters and into +the palms of the necessitous. And moreover, quite apart from this +curiosity, she really needed money for pressing requirements of Agnes +and herself. They had yet had no new summer clothes, and Whitsuntide, +the time prescribed by custom for the refurnishing of wardrobes, was +long since past. The intercourse with Henry Mynors, the visit to the +Suttons, had revealed to her more plainly than ever the intolerable +shortcomings of her wardrobe, and similar imperfections. She was more +painfully awake to these, and yet, by an unhappy paradox, she was even +less in a position to remedy them, than in previous years. For now, +she possessed her own fortune; to ask her father's bounty was +therefore, she divined, a sure way of inviting a rebuff. But, even if +she had dared, she might not use the income that was privately hers, +for was not every penny of it already allocated to the partnership with +Mynors! So it happened that she never once mentioned the matter to her +father; she lacked the courage, since by whatever avenue she approached +it circumstances would add an illogical and adventitious force to the +brutal snubs which he invariably dealt out when petitioned for money. +To demand his money, having fifty thousand of her own! To spend her +own in the face of that agreement with Mynors! She could too easily +guess his bitter and humiliating retorts to either proposition, and she +kept silence, comforting herself with timid visions of a far distant +future. The balance at the bank crept up to sixteen hundred pounds. +The deed of partnership was drawn; her father pored over the blue +draft, and several times Mynors called and the two men discussed it +together. Then one morning her father summoned her into the front +parlour, and handed to her a piece of parchment on which she dimly +deciphered her own name coupled with that of Henry Mynors, in large +letters. +</P> + +<P> +'You mun sign, seal, and deliver this,' he said, putting a pen in her +hand. +</P> + +<P> +She sat down obediently to write, but he stopped her with a scornful +gesture. +</P> + +<P> +'Thou 'lt sign blind then, eh? Just like a woman!' +</P> + +<P> +'I left it to you,' she said. +</P> + +<P> +'Left it to me! Read it.' +</P> + +<P> +She read through the deed, and after she had accomplished the feat one +fact only stood clear in her mind, that the partnership was for seven +years, a period extensible by consent of both parties to fourteen or +twenty-one years. Then she affixed her signature, the pen moving +awkwardly over the rough surface of the parchment. +</P> + +<P> +'Now put thy finger on that bit o' wax, and say; "I deliver this as my +act and deed."' +</P> + +<P> +'I deliver this as my act and deed.' +</P> + +<P> +The old man signed as witness. 'Soon as I give this to Lawyer Dane,' +he remarked, 'thou'rt bound, willy-nilly. Law's law, and thou'rt +bound.' +</P> + +<P> +On the following day she had to sign a cheque which reduced her +bank-balance to about three pounds. Perhaps it was the knowledge of +this reduction that led Ephraim Tellwright to resume at once and with +fresh rigour his new policy of 'squeezing the last penny' out of Titus +Price (despite the fact that the latter had already achieved the +incredible by paying thirty pounds in little more than a month), thus +causing the catastrophe which soon afterwards befell. What methods her +father was adopting Anna did not know, since he said no word to her +about the matter: she only knew that Agnes had twice been dispatched +with notes to Edward Street. One day, about noon, a clay-soiled urchin +brought a letter addressed to herself: she guessed that it was some +appeal for mercy from the Prices, and wished that her father had been +at home. The old man was away for the whole day, attending a sale of +property at Axe, the agricultural town in the north of the county, +locally styled 'the metropolis of the moorlands.' Anna read:—'My dear +Miss Tellwright,—Now that our partnership is an accomplished fact, +will you not come and look over the works? I should much like you to +do so. I shall be passing your house this afternoon about two, and +will call on the chance of being able to take you down with me to the +works. If you are unable to come no harm will be done, and some other +day can be arranged; but of course I shall be disappointed.—Believe +me, yours most sincerely, HY. MYNORS.' +</P> + +<P> +She was charmed with the idea—to her so audacious—and relieved that +the note was not after all from Titus or Willie Price: but again she +had to regret that her father was not at home. He would be capable of +thinking and saying that the projected expedition was a truancy, +contrived to occur in his absence. He might grumble at the house being +left without a keeper. Moreover, according to a tacit law, she never +departed from the fixed routine of her existence without first +obtaining Ephraim's approval, or at least being sure that such a +departure would not make him violently angry. She wondered whether +Mynors knew that her father was away, and, if so, whether he had chosen +that afternoon purposely. She did not care that Mynors should call for +her—it made the visit seem so formal; and as in order to reach the +works, down at Shawport by the canal-side, they would necessarily go +through the middle of the town, she foresaw infinite gossip and rumour +as one result. Already, she knew, the names of herself and Mynors were +everywhere coupled, and she could not even enter a shop without being +made aware, more or less delicately, that she was an object of piquant +curiosity. A woman is profoundly interesting to women at two periods +only—before she is betrothed and before she becomes the mother of her +firstborn. Anna was in the first period; her life did not comprise the +second. When Agnes came home to dinner from school, Anna said nothing +of Mynors' note until they had begun to wash up the dinner-things, when +she suggested that Agnes should finish this operation alone. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' said Agnes, ever compliant. 'But why?' +</P> + +<P> +'I'm going out, and I must get ready.' +</P> + +<P> +'Going out? And shall you leave the house all empty? What will father +say? Where are you going to?' +</P> + +<P> +Agnes's tendency to anticipate the worst, and never to blink their +father's tyranny, always annoyed Anna, and she answered rather curtly: +'I'm going to the works—Mr. Mynors' works. He's sent word he wants me +to.' She despised herself for wishing to hide anything, and added, 'He +will call here for me about two o'clock.' +</P> + +<P> +'Mr. Mynors! How splendid!' And then Agnes's face fell somewhat. 'I +suppose he won't call before two? If he doesn't, I shall be gone to +school.' +</P> + +<P> +'Do you want to see him?' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, no! I don't want to see him. But—I suppose you'll be out a long +time, and he'll bring you back.' +</P> + +<P> +'Of course he won't, you silly girl. And I shan't be out long. I +shall be back for tea.' +</P> + +<P> +Anna ran upstairs to dress. At ten minutes to two she was ready. +Agnes usually left at a quarter to two, but the child had not yet gone. +At five minutes to two, Anna called downstairs to her to ask her when +she meant to depart. +</P> + +<P> +'I'm just going now,' Agnes shouted back. She opened the front door +and then returned to the foot of the stairs. 'Anna, if I meet him down +the road shall I tell him you're ready waiting for him?' +</P> + +<P> +'Certainly not. Whatever are you dreaming of?' the elder sister +reproved. 'Besides, he isn't coming from the town.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh! All right. Good-bye.' And the child at last went. +</P> + +<P> +It was something after two—every siren and hooter had long since +finished the summons to work—when Mynors rang the bell. Anna was +still upstairs. She examined herself in the glass, and then descended +slowly. +</P> + +<P> +'Good afternoon,' he said. 'I see you are ready to come. I'm very +glad. I hope I haven't inconvenienced you, but just this afternoon +seemed to be a good opportunity for you to see the works, and, you +know, you ought to see it. Father in?' +</P> + +<P> +'No,' she said. 'I shall leave the house to take care of itself. Do +you want to see him?' +</P> + +<P> +'Not specially,' he replied. 'I think we have settled everything.' +</P> + +<P> +She banged the door behind her, and they started. As he held open the +gate for her exit, she could not ignore the look of passionate +admiration on his face. It was a look disconcerting by its mere +intensity. The man could control his tongue, but not his eyes. His +demeanour, as she viewed it, aggravated her self-consciousness as they +braved the streets. But she was happy in her perturbation. When they +reached Duck Bank, Mynors asked her whether they should go through the +market-place or along King Street, by the bottom of St. Luke's Square. +'By the market-place,' she said. The shop where Miss Dickinson was +employed was at the bottom of St. Luke's Square, and all the eyes of +the marketplace was preferable to the chance of those eyes. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Probably no one in the Five Towns takes a conscious pride in the +antiquity of the potter's craft, nor in its unique and intimate +relation to human life, alike civilised and uncivilised. Man hardened +clay into a bowl before he spun flax and made a garment, and the last +lone man will want an earthen vessel after he has abandoned his ruined +house for a cave, and his woven rags for an animal's skin. This +supremacy of the most ancient of crafts is in the secret nature of +things, and cannot be explained. History begins long after the period +when Bursley was first the central seat of that honoured manufacture: +it is the central seat still—'the mother of the Five Towns,' in our +local phrase—and though the townsmen, absorbed in a strenuous daily +struggle, may forget their heirship to an unbroken tradition of +countless centuries, the seal of their venerable calling is upon their +foreheads. If no other relic of an immemorial past is to be seen in +these modernised sordid streets, there is at least the living legacy of +that extraordinary kinship between workman and work, that instinctive +mastery of clay which the past has bestowed upon the present. The +horse is less to the Arab than clay is to the Bursley man. He exists +in it and by it; it fills his lungs and blanches his cheek; it keeps +him alive and it kills him. His fingers close round it as round the +hand of a friend. He knows all its tricks and aptitudes; when to coax +and when to force it, when to rely on it and when to distrust it. The +weavers of Lancashire have dubbed him with an obscene epithet on +account of it, an epithet whose hasty use has led to many a fight, but +nothing could be more illuminatively descriptive than that epithet, +which names his vocation in terms of another vocation. A dozen decades +of applied science have of course resulted in the interposition of +elaborate machinery between the clay and the man; but no great vulgar +handicraft has lost less of the human than potting. Clay is always +clay, and the steam-driven contrivance that will mould a basin while a +man sits and watches has yet to be invented. Moreover, if in some +coarser process the hands are superseded, the number of processes has +been multiplied tenfold: the ware in which six men formerly +collaborated is now produced by sixty; and thus, in one sense, the +touch of finger on clay is more pervasive than ever before. +</P> + +<P> +Mynors' works was acknowledged to be one of the best, of its size, in +the district—a model three-oven bank, and it must be remembered that +of the hundreds of banks in the Five Towns the vast majority are small, +like this: the large manufactory with its corps of jacket-men,[<A NAME="chap08fn1text"></A><A HREF="#chap08fn1">1</A>] one +of whom is detached to show visitors round so much of the works as is +deemed advisable for them to see, is the exception. Mynors paid three +hundred pounds a year in rent, and produced nearly three hundred pounds +worth of work a week. He was his own manager, and there was only one +jacket-man on the place, a clerk at eighteen shillings. He employed +about a hundred hands, and devoted all his ingenuity to prevent that +wastage which is at once the easiest to overlook and the most difficult +to check, the wastage of labour. No pains were spared to keep all +departments in full and regular activity, and owing to his judicious +firmness the feast of St. Monday, that canker eternally eating at the +root of the prosperity of the Five Towns, was less religiously observed +on his bank than perhaps anywhere else in Bursley. He had realised +that when a workshop stands empty the employer has not only ceased to +make money, but has begun to lose it. The architect of 'Providence +Works' (Providence stands godfather to many commercial enterprises in +the Five Towns) knew his business and the business of the potter, and +he had designed the works with a view to the strictest economy of +labour. The various shops were so arranged that in the course of its +metamorphosis the clay travelled naturally in a circle from the +slip-house by the canal to the packing-house by the canal: there was no +carrying to and fro. The steam installation was complete: steam once +generated had no respite; after it had exhausted itself in vitalising +fifty machines, it was killed by inches in order to dry the unfired +ware and warm the dinners of the workpeople. +</P> + +<P> +Henry took Anna to the canal-entrance, because the buildings looked +best from that side. +</P> + +<P> +'Now how much is a crate worth?' she asked, pointing to a crate which +was being swung on a crane direct from the packing-house into a boat. +</P> + +<P> +'That?' Mynors answered. 'A crateful of ware may be worth anything. +At Minton's I have seen a crate worth three hundred pounds. But that +one there is only worth eight or nine pounds. You see you and I make +cheap stuff.' +</P> + +<P> +'But don't you make any really good pots—are they all cheap?' +</P> + +<P> +'All cheap,' he said. +</P> + +<P> +'I suppose that's business?' He detected a note of regret in her voice. +</P> + +<P> +'I don't know,' he said, with the slightest impatient warmth. 'We make +the stuff as good as we can for the money. We supply what everyone +wants. Don't you think it's better to please a thousand folks than to +please ten? I like to feel that my ware is used all over the country +and the colonies. I would sooner do as I do than make swagger ware for +a handful of rich people.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, yes,' she exclaimed, eagerly accepting the point of view, 'I quite +agree with you.' She had never heard him in that vein before, and was +struck by his enthusiasm. And Mynors was in fact always very +enthusiastic concerning the virtues of the general markets. He had no +sympathy with specialities, artistic or otherwise. He found his +satisfaction in honestly meeting the public taste. He was born to be a +manufacturer of cheap goods on a colossal scale. He could dream of +fifty ovens, and his ambition blinded him to the present absurdity of +talking about a three-oven bank spreading its productions all over the +country and the colonies; it did not occur to him that there were yet +scarcely enough plates to go round. +</P> + +<P> +'I suppose we had better start at the start,' he said, leading the way +to the slip-house. He did not need to be told that Anna was perfectly +ignorant of the craft of pottery, and that every detail of it, so stale +to him, would acquire freshness under her naïve and inquiring gaze. +</P> + +<P> +In the slip-house begins the long manipulation which transforms raw +porous friable clay into the moulded, decorated and glazed vessel. The +large whitewashed place was occupied by ungainly machines and +receptacles through which the four sorts of clay used in the common +'body'—ball clay, China clay, flint clay and stone clay—were +compelled to pass before they became a white putty-like mixture meet +for shaping by human hands. The blunger crushed the clay, the sifter +extracted the iron from it by means of a magnet, the press expelled the +water, and the pug-mill expelled the air. From the last reluctant +mouth slowly emerged a solid stream nearly a foot in diameter, like a +huge white snake. Already the clay had acquired the uniformity +characteristic of a manufactured product. +</P> + +<P> +Anna moved to touch the bolts of the enormous twenty-four-chambered +press. +</P> + +<P> +'Don't stand there,' said Mynors. 'The pressure is tremendous, and if +the thing were to burst——' +</P> + +<P> +She fled hastily. 'But isn't it dangerous for the workmen?' she asked. +</P> + +<P> +Eli Machin, the engineman, the oldest employee on the works, a moneyed +man and the pattern of reliability, allowed a vague smile to flit +across his face at this remark. He had ascended from the engine-house +below in order to exhibit the tricks of the various machines, and that +done he disappeared. Anna was awed by the sensation of being +surrounded by terrific forces always straining for release and held in +check by the power of a single wall. +</P> + +<P> +'Come and see a plate made: that is one of the simplest things, and the +batting-machine is worth looking at,' said Mynors, and they went into +the nearest shop, a hot interior in the shape of four corridors round a +solid square middle. Here men and women were working side by side, the +women subordinate to the men. All were preoccupied, wrapped up in +their respective operations, and there was the sound of irregular +whirring movements from every part of the big room. The air was laden +with whitish dust, and clay was omnipresent—on the floor, the walls, +the benches, the windows, on clothes, hands and faces. It was in this +shop, where both hollow-ware pressers and flat pressers were busy as +only craftsmen on piecework can be busy, that more than anywhere else +clay was to be seen 'in the hand of the potter.' Near the door a stout +man with a good-humoured face flung some clay on to a revolving disc, +and even as Anna passed a jar sprang into existence. One instant the +clay was an amorphous mass, the next it was a vessel perfectly +circular, of a prescribed width and a prescribed depth; the flat and +apparently clumsy fingers of the craftsman had seemed to lose +themselves in the clay for a fraction of time, and the miracle was +accomplished. The man threw these vessels with the rapidity of a Roman +candle throwing off coloured stars, and one woman was kept busy in +supplying him with material and relieving his bench of the finished +articles. Mynors drew Anna along to the batting-machines for plate +makers, at that period rather a novelty and the latest invention of the +dead genius whose brain has reconstituted a whole industry on new +lines. Confronted with a piece of clay, the batting-machine descended +upon it with the ferocity of a wild animal, worried it, stretched it, +smoothed it into the width and thickness of a plate, and then desisted +of itself and waited inactive for the flat presser to remove its victim +to his more exact shaping machine. Several men were producing plates, +but their rapid labours seemed less astonishing than the preliminary +feat of the batting-machine. All the ware as it was moulded +disappeared into the vast cupboards occupying the centre of the shop, +where Mynors showed Anna innumerable rows of shelves full of pots in +process of steam-drying. Neither time nor space nor material was +wasted in this ant-heap of industry. In order to move to and fro, the +women were compelled to insinuate themselves past the stationary bodies +of the men. Anna marvelled at the careless accuracy with which they +fed the batting-machines with lumps precisely calculated to form a +plate of a given diameter. Everyone exerted himself as though the +salvation of the world hung on the production of so much stuff by a +certain hour; dust, heat, and the presence of a stranger were alike +unheeded in the mad creative passion. +</P> + +<P> +'Now,' said Mynors the cicerone, opening another door which gave into +the yard, 'when all that stuff is dried and fettled—smoothed, you +know—it goes into the biscuit oven: that's the first firing. There's +the biscuit oven, but we can't inspect it because it's just being +drawn.' +</P> + +<P> +He pointed to the oven near by, in whose dark interior the forms of +men, naked to the waist, could dimly be seen struggling with the weight +of saggars[<A NAME="chap08fn2text"></A><A HREF="#chap08fn2">2</A>] full of ware. It seemed like some release of martyrs, +this unpacking of the immense oven, which, after being flooded with a +sea of flame for fifty-four hours, had cooled for two days, and was yet +hotter than the Equator. The inertness and pallor of the saggars +seemed to be the physical result of their fiery trial, and one wondered +that they should have survived the trial. Mynors went into the place +adjoining the oven and brought back a plate out of an open saggar; it +was still quite warm. It had the <I>matt</I> surface of a biscuit, and +adhered slightly to the fingers: it was now a 'crook'; it had exchanged +malleability for brittleness, and nothing mortal could undo what the +fire had done. Mynors took the plate with him to the +biscuit-warehouse, a long room where one was forced to keep to narrow +alleys amid parterres of pots. A solitary biscuit-warehouseman was +examining the ware in order to determine the remuneration of the +pressers. +</P> + +<P> +They climbed a flight of steps to the printing-shop, where, by means of +copper-plates, printing-presses, mineral colours, and transfer-papers, +most of the decoration was done. The room was filled by a little crowd +of people—oldish men, women and girls, divided into printers, cutters, +transferors and apprentices. Each interminably repeated some trifling +process, and every article passed through a succession of hands until +at length it was washed in a tank and rose dripping therefrom with its +ornament of flowers and scrolls fully revealed. The room smelt of oil +and flannel and humanity; the atmosphere was more languid, more like +that of a family party, than in the pressers' shop: the old women +looked stern and shrewish, the pretty young women pert and defiant, the +younger girls meek. The few men seemed out of place. By what trick +had they crept into the very centre of that mass of femineity? It +seemed wrong, scandalous that they should remain. Contiguous with the +printing-shop was the painting-shop, in which the labours of the former +were taken to a finish by the brush of the paintress, who filled in +outlines with flat colour, and thus converted mechanical printing into +handiwork. The paintresses form the <I>noblesse</I> of the banks. Their +task is a light one, demanding deftness first of all; they have +delicate fingers, and enjoy a general reputation for beauty: the wages +they earn may be estimated from their finery on Sundays. They come to +business in cloth jackets, carry dinner in little satchels; in the shop +they wear white aprons, and look startlingly neat and tidy. Across the +benches over which they bend their coquettish heads gossip flies and +returns like a shuttle; they are the source of a thousand intrigues, +and one or other of them is continually getting married or omitting to +get married. On the bank they constitute 'the sex.' An infinitesimal +proportion of them, from among the branch known as ground-layers, die +of lead-poisoning—a fact which adds pathos to their frivolous charm. +In a subsidiary room off the painting-shop a single girl was seated at +a revolving table actuated by a treadle. She was doing the +'band-and-line' on the rims of saucers. Mynors and Anna watched her as +with her left hand she flicked saucer after saucer into the exact +centre of the table, moved the treadle, and, holding a brush firmly +against the rim of the piece, produced with infallible exactitude the +band and the line. She was a brunette, about twenty-eight: she had a +calm, vacuously contemplative face; but God alone knew whether she +thought. Her work represented the summit of monotony; the regularity +of it hypnotised the observer, and Mynors himself was impressed by this +stupendous phenomenon of absolute sameness, involuntarily assuming +towards it the attitude of a showman. +</P> + +<P> +'She earns as much as eighteen shillings a week sometimes,' he +whispered. +</P> + +<P> +'May I try?' Anna timidly asked of a sudden, curious to experience what +the trick was like. +</P> + +<P> +'Certainly,' said Mynors, in eager assent. 'Priscilla, let this lady +have your seat a moment, please.' +</P> + +<P> +The girl got up, smiling politely. Anna took her place. +</P> + +<P> +'Here, try on this,' said Mynors, putting on the table the plate which +he still carried. +</P> + +<P> +'Take a full brush,' the paintress suggested, not attempting to hide +her amusement at Anna's unaccustomed efforts. 'Now push the treadle. +There! It isn't in the middle yet. Now!' +</P> + +<P> +Anna produced a most creditable band, and a trembling but passable +line, and rose flushed with the small triumph. +</P> + +<P> +'You have the gift,' said Mynors; and the paintress respectfully +applauded. +</P> + +<P> +'I felt I could do it,' Anna responded. 'My mother's mother was a +paintress, and it must be in the blood.' +</P> + +<P> +Mynors smiled indulgently. They descended again to the ground floor, +and following the course of manufacture came to the 'hardening-on' +kiln, a minor oven where for twelve hours the oil is burnt out of the +colour in decorated ware. A huge, jolly man in shirt and trousers, +with an enormous apron, was in the act of drawing the kiln, assisted by +two thin boys. He nodded a greeting to Mynors and exclaimed, 'Warm!' +The kiln was nearly emptied. As Anna stopped at the door, the man +addressed her. +</P> + +<P> +'Step inside, miss, and try it.' +</P> + +<P> +'No, thanks!' she laughed. +</P> + +<P> +'Come now,' he insisted, as if despising this hesitation. 'An ounce of +experience——' The two boys grinned and wiped their foreheads with +their bare skeleton-like arms. Anna, challenged by the man's look, +walked quickly into the kiln. A blasting heat seemed to assault her on +every side, driving her back; it was incredible that any human being +could support such a temperature. +</P> + +<P> +'There!' said the jovial man, apparently summing her up with his +bright, quizzical eyes. 'You know summat as you didn't know afore, +miss. Come along, lads,' he added with brisk heartiness to the boys, +and the drawing of the kiln proceeded. +</P> + +<P> +Next came the dipping-house, where a middle-aged woman, enveloped in a +protective garment from head to foot, was dipping jugs into a vat of +lead-glaze, a boy assisting her. The woman's hands were covered with +the grey, slimy glaze. She alone of all the employees appeared to be +cool. +</P> + +<P> +'That is the last stage but one,' said Mynors. 'There is only the +glost-firing,' and they passed out into the yard once more. One of the +glost-ovens was empty; they entered it and peered into the lofty inner +chamber, which seemed like the cold crater of an exhausted volcano, or +like a vault, or like the ruined seat of some forgotten activity. The +other oven was firing, and Anna could only look at its exterior, +catching glimpses of the red glow at its twelve mouths, and guess at +the Tophet, within, where the lead was being fused into glass. +</P> + +<P> +'Now for the glost-warehouse, and you will have seen all,' said Mynors, +'except the mould-shop, and that doesn't matter.' +</P> + +<P> +The warehouse was the largest place on the works, a room sixty-feet +long and twenty broad, low, whitewashed, bare and clean. Piles of ware +occupied the whole of the walls and of the immense floorspace, but +there was no trace here of the soilure and untidiness incident to +manufacture; all processes were at an end, clay had vanished into +crock: and the calmness and the whiteness atoned for the disorder, +noise and squalor which had preceded. Here was a sample of the total +and final achievement towards which the thousands of small, disjointed +efforts that Anna had witnessed, were directed. And it seemed a +miraculous, almost impossible, result; so definite, precise and regular +after a series of acts apparently variable, inexact and casual; so +inhuman after all that intensely inhuman labour; so vast in comparison +with the minuteness of the separate endeavours. As Anna looked, for +instance, at a pile of tea-sets, she found it difficult even to +conceive that, a fortnight or so before, they had been nothing but +lumps of dirty clay. No stage of the manufacture was incredible by +itself, but the result was incredible. It was the result that appealed +to the imagination, authenticating the adage that fools and children +should never see anything till it is done. +</P> + +<P> +Anna pondered over the organising power, the forethought, the wide +vision, and the sheer ingenuity and cleverness which were implied by +the contents of this warehouse. 'What brains!' she thought, of Mynors; +'what quantities of all sorts of things he must know!' It was a humble +and deeply-felt admiration. +</P> + +<P> +Her spoken words gave no clue to her thoughts. 'You seem to make a +fine lot of tea-sets,' she remarked. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, no,' he said carelessly. 'These few that you see here are a +special order. I don't go in much for tea-sets: they don't pay; we +lose fifteen per cent. of the pieces in making. It's toilet-ware that +pays, and that is our leading line.' He waved an arm vaguely towards +rows and rows of ewers and basins in the distance. They walked to the +end of the warehouse, glancing at everything. +</P> + +<P> +'See here,' said Mynors, 'isn't that pretty?' He pointed through the +last window to a view of the canal, which could be seen thence in +perspective, finishing in a curve. On one side, close to the water's +edge, was a ruined and fragmentary building, its rich browns reflected +in the smooth surface of the canal. On the other side were a few grim, +grey trees bordering the towpath. Down the vista moved a boat steered +by a woman in a large mob-cap. 'Isn't that picturesque?' he said. +</P> + +<P> +'Very,' Anna assented willingly. 'It's really quite strange, such a +scene right in the middle of Bursley.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh! There are others,' he said. 'But I always take a peep at that +whenever I come into the warehouse.' +</P> + +<P> +'I wonder you find time to notice it—with all this place to see +after,' she said. 'It's a splendid works!' +</P> + +<P> +'It will do—to be going on with,' he answered, satisfied. 'I'm very +glad you've been down. You must come again. I can see you would be +interested in it, and there are plenty of things you haven't looked at +yet, you know.' +</P> + +<P> +He smiled at her. They were alone in the warehouse. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' she said; 'I expect so. Well, I must go, at once; I'm afraid +it's very late now. Thank you for showing me round, and explaining, +and—I'm frightfully stupid and ignorant. Good-bye.' +</P> + +<P> +Vapid and trite phrases: what unimaginable messages the hearer heard in +you! +</P> + +<P> +Anna held out her hand, and he seized it almost convulsively, his +incendiary eyes fastened on her face. +</P> + +<P> +'I must see you out,' he said, dropping that ungloved hand. +</P> + +<P> +It was ten o'clock that night before Ephraim Tellwright returned home +from Axe. He appeared to be in a bad temper. Agnes had gone to bed. +His supper of bread-and-cheese and water was waiting for him, and Anna +sat at the table while he consumed it. He ate in silence, somewhat +hungrily, and she did not deem the moment propitious for telling him +about her visit to Mynors' works. +</P> + +<P> +'Has Titus Price sent up?' he asked at length, gulping down the last of +the water. +</P> + +<P> +'Sent up?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes. Art fond, lass? I told him as he mun send up some more o' thy +rent to-day—twenty-five pun. He's not sent?' +</P> + +<P> +'I don't know,' she said timidly. 'I was out this afternoon.' +</P> + +<P> +'Out, wast?' +</P> + +<P> +'Mr. Mynors sent word to ask me to go down and look over the works; so +I went. I thought it would be all right.' +</P> + +<P> +'Well, it was'na all right. And I'd like to know what business thou +hast gadding out, as soon as my back's turned. How can I tell whether +Price sent up or not? And what's more, thou know's as th' house hadn't +ought to be left.' +</P> + +<P> +'I'm sorry,' she said pleasantly, with a determination to be meek and +dutiful. +</P> + +<P> +He grunted. 'Happen he didna' send. And if he did, and found th' +house locked up, he should ha' sent again. Bring me th' inkpot, and +I'll write a note as Agnes must take when her goes to school to-morrow +morning.' +</P> + +<P> +Anna obeyed. 'They'll never be able to pay twenty-five pounds, +father,' she ventured. 'They've paid thirty already, you know.' +</P> + +<P> +'Less gab,' he said shortly, taking up the pen. 'Here—write it +thysen.' He threw the pen towards her. 'Tell Titus if he doesn't pay +five-and-twenty this wik, us'll put bailiffs in.' +</P> + +<P> +'Won't it come better from you, father?' she pleaded. +</P> + +<P> +'Whose property is it?' The laconic question was final. She knew she +must obey, and began to write. But, realising that she would perforce +meet both Titus Price and Willie on Sunday, she merely demanded the +money, omitting the threat. Her hand trembled as she passed the note +to him to read. +</P> + +<P> +'Will that do?' +</P> + +<P> +His reply was to tear the paper across. 'Put down what I tell ye,' he +ordered, 'and don't let's have any more paper wasted.' Then he +dictated a letter which was an ultimatum in three lines. 'Sign it,' he +said. +</P> + +<P> +She signed it, weeping. She could see the wistful reproach in Willie +Price's eyes. +</P> + +<P> +'I suppose,' her father said, when she bade him 'Good-night,' 'I +suppose if I hadn't asked, I should ha' heard nowt o' this +gadding-about wi' Mynors?' +</P> + +<P> +'I was going to tell you I had been to the works, father,' she said. +</P> + +<P> +'Going to!' That was his final blow, and having delivered it, he +loosed the victim. 'Go to bed,' he said. +</P> + +<P> +She went upstairs, resolutely read her Bible, and resolutely prayed. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="footnote"> +<A NAME="chap08fn1"></A> +[<A HREF="#chap08fn1text">1</A>] <I>Jacket-man</I>: the artisan's satiric term for anyone who does not +work in shirt-sleeves, who is not actually a producer, such as a clerk +or a pretentious foreman. +</P> + +<P CLASS="footnote"> +<A NAME="chap08fn2"></A> +[<A HREF="#chap08fn2text">2</A>] <I>Saggars</I>: large oval receptacles of coarse clay, in which the ware +is placed for firing. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap09"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IX +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE TREAT +</H4> + +<P> +This surly and terrorising ferocity of Tellwright's was as instinctive +as the growl and spring of a beast of prey. He never considered his +attitude towards the women of his household as an unusual phenomenon +which needed justification, or as being in the least abnormal. The +women of a household were the natural victims of their master: in his +experience it had always been so. In his experience the master had +always, by universal consent, possessed certain rights over the +self-respect, the happiness and the peace of the defenceless souls set +under him—rights as unquestioned as those exercised by Ivan the +Terrible. Such rights were rooted in the secret nature of things. It +was futile to discuss them, because their necessity and their propriety +were equally obvious. Tellwright would not have been angry with any +man who impugned them: he would merely have regarded the fellow as a +crank and a born fool, on whom logic or indignation would be entirely +wasted. He did as his father and uncles had done. He still thought of +his father as a grim customer, infinitely more redoubtable than +himself. He really believed that parents spoiled their children +nowadays: to be knocked down by a single blow was one of the +punishments of his own generation. He could recall the fearful +timidity of his mother's eyes without a trace of compassion. His +treatment of his daughters was no part of a system, nor obedient to any +defined principles, nor the expression of a brutal disposition, nor the +result of gradually-acquired habit. It came to him like eating, and +like parsimony. He belonged to the great and powerful class of +house-tyrants, the backbone of the British nation, whose views on +income-tax cause ministries to tremble. If you had talked to him of +the domestic graces of life, your words would have conveyed to him no +meaning. If you had indicted him for simple unprovoked rudeness, he +would have grinned, well knowing that, as the King can do no wrong, so +a man cannot be rude in his own house. If you had told him that he +inflicted purposeless misery not only on others but on himself, he +would have grinned again, vaguely aware that he had not tried to be +happy, and rather despising happiness as a sort of childish gewgaw. He +had, in fact, never been happy at home: he had never known that +expansion of the spirit which is called joy; he existed continually +under a grievance. The atmosphere of Manor Terrace afflicted him, too, +with a melancholy gloom—him, who had created it. Had he been capable +of self-analysis, he would have discovered that his heart lightened +whenever he left the house, and grew dark whenever he returned; but he +was incapable of the feat. His case, like every similar case, was +irremediable. +</P> + +<P> +The next morning his preposterous displeasure lay like a curse on the +house; Anna was silent, and Agnes moved on timid feet. In the +afternoon Willie Price called in answer to the note. The miser was in +the garden, and Agnes at school. Willie's craven and fawning humility +was inexpressibly touching and shameful to Anna. She longed to say to +him, as he stood hesitant and confused in the parlour: 'Go in peace. +Forget this despicable rent. It sickens me to see you so.' She +foresaw, as the effect of her father's vindictive pursuit of her +tenants, an interminable succession of these mortifying interviews. +</P> + +<P> +'You're rather hard on us,' Willie Price began, using the old phrases, +but in a tone of forced and propitiatory cheerfulness, as though he +feared to bring down a storm of anger which should ruin all. 'You'll +not deny that we've been doing our best.' +</P> + +<P> +'The rent is due, you know, Mr. William,' she replied, blushing. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, yes,' he said quickly. 'I don't deny that. I admit that. I—did +you happen to see Mr. Tellwright's postscript to your letter?' +</P> + +<P> +'No,' she answered, without thinking. +</P> + +<P> +He drew the letter, soiled and creased, from his pocket, and displayed +it to her. At the foot of the page she read, in Ephraim's thick and +clumsy characters: 'P.S. This is final.' +</P> + +<P> +'My father,' said Willie, 'was a little put about. He said he'd never +received such a letter before in the whole of his business career. It +isn't as if——' +</P> + +<P> +'I needn't tell you,' she interrupted, with a sudden determination to +get to the worst without more suspense, 'that of course I am in +father's hands.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh! Of course, Miss Tellwright; we quite understand that—quite. +It's just a matter of business. We owe a debt and we must pay it. All +we want is time.' He smiled piteously at her, his blue eyes full of +appeal. She was obliged to gaze at the floor. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' she said, tapping her foot on the rug. 'But father means what +he says.' She looked up at him again, trying to soften her words by +means of something more subtle than a smile. +</P> + +<P> +'He means what he says,' Willie agreed; 'and I admire him for it.' +</P> + +<P> +The obsequious, truckling lie was odious to her. +</P> + +<P> +'Perhaps I could see him,' he ventured. +</P> + +<P> +'I wish you would,' Anna said, sincerely. 'Father, you're wanted,' she +called curtly through the window. +</P> + +<P> +'I've got a proposal to make to him,' Price continued, while they +awaited the presence of the miser, 'and I can't hardly think he'll +refuse it.' +</P> + +<P> +'Well, young sir,' Tellwright said blandly, with an air almost +insinuating, as he entered. Willie Price, the simpleton, was deceived +by it, and, taking courage, adopted another line of defence. He +thought the miser was a little ashamed of his postscript. +</P> + +<P> +'About your note, Mr. Tellwright; I was just telling Miss Tellwright +that my father said he had never received such a letter in the whole of +his business career.' The youth assumed a discreet indignation. +</P> + +<P> +'Thy feyther's had dozens o' such letters, lad,' the miser said with +cold emphasis, 'or my name's not Tellwright. Dunna tell me as Titus +Price's never heard of a bumbailiff afore.' +</P> + +<P> +Willie was crushed at a blow, and obliged to retreat. He smiled +painfully. 'Come, Mr. Tellwright. Don't talk like that. All we want +is time.' +</P> + +<P> +'Time is money,' said Tellwright, 'and if us give you time us give you +money. 'Stead o' that, it's you as mun give us money. That's right +reason.' +</P> + +<P> +Willie laughed with difficulty. 'See here, Mr. Tellwright. To cut a +long story short, it's like this. You ask for twenty-five pounds. +I've got in my pocket a bill of exchange drawn by us on Mr. Sutton and +endorsed by him, for thirty pounds, payable in three months. Will you +take that? Remember it's for thirty, and you only ask for twenty-five.' +</P> + +<P> +'So Mr. Sutton has dealings with ye, eh?' Tellwright remarked. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, yes,' Willie answered proudly. 'He buys off us regularly. We've +done business for years.' +</P> + +<P> +'And pays i' bills at three months, eh?' The miser grinned. +</P> + +<P> +'Sometimes,' said Willie. +</P> + +<P> +'Let's see it,' said the miser. +</P> + +<P> +'What—the bill?' +</P> + +<P> +'Ay!' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh! The bill's all right.' Willie took it from his pocket, and +opening out the blue paper, gave it to old Tellwright. Anna perceived +the anxiety on the youth's face. He flushed and his hand trembled. +She dared not speak, but she wished to tell him to be at ease. She +knew from infallible signs that her father would take the bill. +Ephraim gazed at the stamped paper as at something strange and +unprecedented in his experience. +</P> + +<P> +'Father would want you not to negotiate that bill,' said Willie. 'The +fact is, we promised Mr. Sutton that that particular bill should not +leave our hands—unless it was absolutely necessary. So father would +like you not to discount it, and he will redeem it before it matures. +You quite understand—we don't care to offend an old customer like Mr. +Sutton.' +</P> + +<P> +'Then this bit o' paper's worth nowt for welly[<A NAME="chap09fn1text"></A><A HREF="#chap09fn1">1</A>] three months?' the +old man said, with an affectation of bewildered simplicity. +</P> + +<P> +Happily inspired for once, Willie made no answer, but put the question: +'Will you take it?' +</P> + +<P> +'Ay! Us'll tak' it,' said Tellwright, 'though it is but a promise.' +He was well pleased. +</P> + +<P> +Young Price's face showed his relief. It was now evident that he had +been passing through an ordeal. Anna guessed that perhaps everything +had depended on the acceptance by Tellwright of that bill. Had he +refused it, Prices, she thought, might have come to sudden disaster. +She felt glad and disburdened for the moment; but immediately it +occurred to her that her father would not rest satisfied for long; a +few weeks, and he would give another turn to the screw. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +The Tellwrights were destined to have other visitors that afternoon. +Agnes, coming from school, was accompanied by a lady. Anna, who was +setting the tea-table, saw a double shadow pass the window, and heard +voices. She ran into the kitchen, and found Mrs. Sutton seated on a +chair, breathing quickly. +</P> + +<P> +'You'll excuse me coming in so unceremoniously, Anna,' she said, after +having kissed her heartily. 'But Agnes said that she always came in by +the back way, so I came that way too. Now I'm resting a minute. I've +had to walk to-day. Our horse has gone lame.' +</P> + +<P> +This kind heart radiated a heavenly goodwill, even in the most ordinary +phrases. Anna began to expand at once. +</P> + +<P> +'Now do come into the parlour,' she said, 'and let me make you +comfortable.' +</P> + +<P> +'Just a minute, my dear,' Mrs. Sutton begged, fanning herself with her +handkerchief, 'Agnes's legs are so long.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, Mrs. Sutton,' Agnes protested, laughing, 'how can you? I could +scarcely keep up with you!' +</P> + +<P> +'Well, my dear, I never could walk slowly. I'm one of them that go +till they drop. It's very silly.' She smiled, and the two girls +smiled happily in return. +</P> + +<P> +'Agnes,' said the housewife, 'set another cup and saucer and plate.' +Agnes threw down her hat and satchel of books, eager to show +hospitality. +</P> + +<P> +'It still keeps very warm,' Anna remarked, as Mrs. Sutton was silent. +</P> + +<P> +'It's beautifully cool here,' said Mrs. Sutton. 'I see you've got your +kitchen like a new pin, Anna, if you'll excuse me saying so. Henry was +very enthusiastic about this kitchen the other night, at our house.' +</P> + +<P> +'What! Mr. Mynors?' Anna reddened to the eyes. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, my dear; and he's a very particular young man, you know.' +</P> + +<P> +The kettle conveniently boiled at that moment, and Anna went to the +range to make the tea. +</P> + +<P> +'Tea is all ready, Mrs. Sutton,' she said at length. 'I'm sure you +could do with a cup.' +</P> + +<P> +'That I could,' said Mrs. Sutton. 'It's what I've come for.' +</P> + +<P> +'We have tea at four. Father will be glad to see you.' The clock +struck, and they went into the parlour, Anna carrying the tea-pot and +the hot-water jug. Agnes had preceded them. The old man was sitting +expectant in his chair. +</P> + +<P> +'Well, Mr. Tellwright,' said the visitor, 'you see I've called to see +you, and to beg a cup of tea. I overtook Agnes coming home from +school—overtook her, mind—me, at my age!' Ephraim rose slowly and +shook hands. +</P> + +<P> +'You're welcome,' he said curtly, but with a kindliness that amazed +Anna. She was unaware that in past days he had known Mrs. Sutton as a +young and charming girl, a vision that had stirred poetic ideas in +hundreds of prosaic breasts, Tellwright's included. There was scarcely +a middle-aged male Wesleyan in Bursley and Hanbridge who had not a +peculiar regard for Mrs. Sutton, and who did not think that he alone +truly appreciated her. +</P> + +<P> +'What an' you bin tiring yourself with this afternoon?' he asked, when +they had begun tea, and Mrs. Sutton had refused a second piece of +bread-and-butter. +</P> + +<P> +'What have I been doing? I've been seeing to some inside repairs to +the superintendent's house. Be thankful you aren't a circuit-steward's +wife, Anna.' +</P> + +<P> +'Why, does she have to see to the repairs of the minister's house?' +Anna asked, surprised. +</P> + +<P> +'I should just think she does. She has to stand between the minister's +wife and the funds of the society. And Mrs. Reginald Banks has been +used to the very best of everything. She's just a bit exacting, though +I must say she's willing enough to spend her own money too. She wants +a new boiler in the scullery now, and I'm sure her boiler is a great +deal better than ours. But we must try to please her. She isn't used +to us rough folks and our ways. Mr. Banks said to me this afternoon +that he tried always to shield her from the worries of this world.' +She smiled almost imperceptibly. +</P> + +<P> +There was a ring at the bell, and Agnes, much perturbed by the august +arrival, let in Mr. Banks himself. +</P> + +<P> +'Shall I enter, my little dear?' said Mr. Banks. 'Your father, your +sister, in?' +</P> + +<P> +'It ne'er rains but it pours,' said Tellwright, who had caught the +minister's voice. +</P> + +<P> +'Speak of angels——' said Mrs. Sutton, laughing quietly. +</P> + +<P> +The minister came grandly into the parlour. 'Ah! How do you do, +brother Tellwright, and you, Miss Tellwright? Mrs. Sutton, we two seem +happily fated to meet this afternoon. Don't let me disturb you, I +beg—I cannot stay. My time is very limited. I wish I could call +oftener, brother Tellwright; but really the new <I>régime</I> leaves no time +for pastoral visits. I was saying to my wife only this morning that I +haven't had a free afternoon for a month.' He accepted a cup of tea. +</P> + +<P> +'Us'n have a tea-party this afternoon,' said Tellwright +<I>quasi</I>-privately to Mrs. Sutton. +</P> + +<P> +'And now,' the minister resumed, 'I've come to beg. The special fund, +you know, Mr. Tellwright, to clear off the debt on the new +school-buildings. I referred to it from the pulpit last Sabbath. It's +not in my province to go round begging, but someone must do it.' +</P> + +<P> +'Well, for me, I'm beforehand with you, Mr. Banks,' said Mrs. Sutton, +'for it's on that very errand I've called to see Mr. Tellwright this +afternoon. His name is on my list.' +</P> + +<P> +'Ah! Then I leave our brother to your superior persuasions.' +</P> + +<P> +'Come, Mr. Tellwright,' said Mrs. Sutton, 'you're between two fires, +and you'll get no mercy. What will you give?' +</P> + +<P> +The miser foresaw a probable discomfiture, and sought for some means of +escape. +</P> + +<P> +'What are others giving?' he asked. +</P> + +<P> +'My husband is giving fifty pounds, and you could buy him up, lock, +stock, and barrel.' +</P> + +<P> +'Nay, nay!' said Tellwright, aghast at this sum. He had underrated the +importance of the Building Fund. +</P> + +<P> +'And I,' said the parson solemnly, 'I have but fifty pounds in the +world, but I am giving twenty to this fund.' +</P> + +<P> +'Then you're giving too much,' said Tellwright with quick brusqueness. +'You canna' afford it.' +</P> + +<P> +'The Lord will provide,' said the parson. +</P> + +<P> +'Happen He will, happen not. It's as well you've gotten a rich wife, +Mr. Banks.' +</P> + +<P> +The parson's dignity was obviously wounded, and Anna wondered timidly +what would occur next. Mrs. Sutton interposed. 'Come now, Mr. +Tellwright,' she said again, 'to the point: what will you give?' +</P> + +<P> +'I'll think it over and let you hear,' said Ephraim. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, no! That won't do at all, will it, Mr. Banks? I, at any rate, am +not going away without a definite promise. As an old and good +Wesleyan, of course you will feel it your duty to be generous with us.' +</P> + +<P> +'You used to be a pillar of the Hanbridge circuit—was it not so?' said +Mr. Banks to the miser, recovering himself. +</P> + +<P> +'So they used to say,' Tellwright replied grimly. 'That was because I +cleared 'em of debt in ten years. But they've slipped into th' ditch +again sin' I left 'em.' +</P> + +<P> +'But if I am right, you do not meet[<A NAME="chap09fn2text"></A><A HREF="#chap09fn2">2</A>] with us,' the minister pursued +imperturbably. +</P> + +<P> +'No.' +</P> + +<P> +'My own class is at three on Saturdays,' said the minister. 'I should +be glad to see you.' +</P> + +<P> +'I tell you what I'll do,' said the miser to Mrs. Sutton. 'Titus Price +is a big man at th' Sunday-school. I'll give as much as he gives to +th' school buildings. That's fair.' +</P> + +<P> +'Do you know what Mr. Price is giving?' Mrs. Sutton asked the minister. +</P> + +<P> +'I saw Mr. Price yesterday. He is giving twenty-five pounds.' +</P> + +<P> +'Very well, that's a bargain,' said Mrs. Sutton, who had succeeded +beyond her expectations. +</P> + +<P> +Ephraim was the dupe of his own scheming. He had made sure that +Price's contribution would be a small one. This ostentatious +munificence on the part of the beggared Titus filled him with secret +anger. He determined to demand more rent at a very early date. +</P> + +<P> +'I'll put you down for twenty-five pounds as a first subscription,' +said the minister, taking out a pocket-book. Perhaps you will give +Mrs. Sutton or myself the cheque to-day?' +</P> + +<P> +'Has Mr. Price paid?' the miser asked, warily. +</P> + +<P> +'Not yet.' +</P> + +<P> +'Then come to me when he has.' Ephraim perceived the way of escape. +</P> + +<P> +When the minister was gone, as Mrs. Sutton seemed in no hurry to +depart, Anna and Agnes cleared the table. +</P> + +<P> +'I've just been telling your father, Anna,' said Mrs. Sutton, when Anna +returned to the room, 'that Mr. Sutton and myself and Beatrice are +going to the Isle of Man soon for a fortnight or so, and we should very +much like you to come with us.' +</P> + +<P> +Anna's heart began to beat violently, though she knew there was no hope +for her. This, then, doubtless, was the main object of Mrs. Sutton's +visit! 'Oh! But I couldn't, really!' said Anna, scarcely aware what +she did say. +</P> + +<P> +'Why not?' asked Mrs. Sutton. +</P> + +<P> +'Well—the house.' +</P> + +<P> +'The house? Agnes could see to what little housekeeping your father +would want. The schools will break up next week.' +</P> + +<P> +'What do these young folks want holidays for?' Tellwright inquired with +philosophic gruffness. 'I never had one. And what's more, I wouldn't +thank ye for one. I'll pig on at Bursley. When ye've gotten a roof of +your own, where's the sense o' going elsewhere and pigging?' +</P> + +<P> +'But we really want Anna to go,' Mrs. Sutton went on. 'Beatrice is +very anxious about it. Beatrice is very short of suitable friends.' +</P> + +<P> +'I should na' ha' thought it,' said Tellwright. 'Her seems to know +everyone.' +</P> + +<P> +'But she is,' Mrs. Sutton insisted. +</P> + +<P> +'I think as you'd better leave Anna out this year,' said the miser +stubbornly. +</P> + +<P> +Anna wished profoundly that Mrs. Sutton would abandon the futile +attempt. Then she perceived that the visitor was signalling to her to +leave the room. Anna obeyed, going into the kitchen to give an eye to +Agnes, who was washing up. +</P> + +<P> +'It's all right,' said Mrs. Sutton contentedly, when Anna returned to +the parlour. 'Your father has consented to your going with us. It is +very kind of him, for I'm sure he'll miss you.' +</P> + +<P> +Anna sat down, limp, speechless. She could not believe the news. +</P> + +<P> +'You are awfully good,' she said to Mrs. Sutton in the lobby, as the +latter was leaving the house. 'I'm ever so grateful—you can't think.' +And she threw her arms round Mrs. Sutton's neck. +</P> + +<P> +Agnes ran up to say good-bye. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Sutton kissed the child. 'Agnes will be the little housekeeper, +eh?' The little housekeeper was almost as pleased at the prospect of +housekeeping as if she too had been going to the Isle of Man. 'You'll +both be at the school-treat next Tuesday, I suppose,' Mrs. Sutton said, +holding Agnes by the hand. Agnes glanced at her sister in inquiry. +</P> + +<P> +'I don't know,' Anna replied. 'We shall see.' +</P> + +<P> +The truth was, that not caring to ask her father for the money for the +tickets, she had given no thought to the school-treat. +</P> + +<P> +'Did I tell you that Henry Mynors will most likely come with us to the +Isle of Man?' said Mrs. Sutton from the gate. +</P> + +<P> +Anna retired to her bedroom to savour an astounding happiness in +quietude. At supper the miser was in a mood not unbenevolent. She +expected a reaction the next morning, but Ephraim, strange to say, +remained innocuous. She ventured to ask him for the money for the +treat tickets, two shillings. He made no immediate reply. Half an +hour afterwards, he ejaculated: 'What i' th' name o' fortune dost thee +want wi' school-treats?' +</P> + +<P> +'It's Agnes,' she answered; 'of course Agnes can't go alone.' +</P> + +<P> +In the end he threw down a florin. He became perilous for the rest of +the day, but the florin was an indisputable fact in Anna's pocket. +</P> + +<P> +The school-treat was held in a twelve-acre field near Sneyd, the seat +of a marquis, and a Saturday afternoon resort very popular in the Five +Towns. The children were formed at noon on Duck Bank into a +procession, which marched to the railway station to the singing of +'Shall we gather at the river?' Thence a special train carried them, +in seething compartments, excited and strident, to Sneyd, where there +had been two sharp showers in the morning, the procession was reformed +along a country road, and the vacillating sky threatened more rain; but +because the sun had shone dazzlingly at eleven o'clock all the women +and girls, too easily tempted by the glory of the moment, blossomed +forth in pale blouses and parasols. The chattering crowd, bright and +defenceless as flowers, made at Sneyd a picture at once gay and +pathetic. It had rained there at half-past twelve; the roads were wet; +and among the two hundred and fifty children and thirty teachers there +were less than a score umbrellas. The excursion was theoretically in +charge of Titus Price, the Senior Superintendent, but this dignitary +had failed to arrive on Duck Bank, and Mynors had taken his place. In +the train Anna heard that some one had seen Mr. Price, wearing a large +grey wideawake, leap into the guard's van at the very instant of +departure. He had not been at school on the previous Sunday, and Anna +was somewhat perturbed at the prospect of meeting the man who had +defined her letter to him as unique in the whole of his business +career. She caught a glimpse of the grey wideawake on the platform at +Sneyd, and steered her own scholars so as to avoid its vicinity. But +on the march to the field Titus reviewed the procession, and she was +obliged to meet his eyes and return his salutation. The look of the +man was a shock to her. He seemed thinner, nervous, restless, +preoccupied, and terribly careworn; except the new brilliant hat, all +his summer clothes were soiled and shabby. It was as though he had +forced himself, out of regard for appearances, to attend the fête, but +had left his thoughts in Edward Street. His uneasy and hollow +cheerfulness was painful to watch. Anna realised the intensity of the +crisis through which Mr. Price was passing. She perceived in a single +glance, more clearly than she could have done after a hundred +interviews with the young and unresponsible William—however +distressing these might be—that Titus must for weeks have been engaged +in a truly frightful struggle. His face was a proof of the tragic +sincerity of William's appeals to herself and to her father. That +Price should have contrived to pay seventy pounds of rent in a little +more than a month seemed to her, imperfectly acquainted alike with +Ephraim's ruthless compulsions and with the financial jugglery often +practised by hard-pressed debtors, to be an almost miraculous effort +after honesty. Her conscience smote her for conniving at which she now +saw to be a persecution. She felt as sorry for Titus as she had felt +for his son. The obese man, with his reputation in rags about him, was +acutely wistful in her eyes, as a child might have been. +</P> + +<P> +A carriage rolled by, raising the dust in places where the strong sun +had already dried the road. It was Mr. Sutton's landau, driven by +Barrett. Beatrice, in white, sat solitary amid cushions, while two +large hampers occupied most of the coachman's box. The carriage seemed +to move with lordly ease and rapidity, and the teachers, already weary +and fretted by the endless pranks of the children, bitterly envied the +enthroned maid who nodded and smiled to them with such charming +condescension. It was a social triumph for Beatrice. She disappeared +ahead like a goddess in a cloud, and scarcely a woman who saw her from +the humble level of the roadway but would have married a satyr to be +able to do as Beatrice did. Later, when the field was reached, and the +children bursting through the gate had spread like a flood over the +daisied grass, the landau was to be seen drawn up near the refreshment +tent; Barrett was unpacking the hampers, which contained delicate +creamy confectionery for the teachers' tea; Beatrice explained that +these were her mother's gift, and that she had driven down in order to +preserve the fragile pasties from the risks of a railway journey. +Gratitude became vocal, and Beatrice's success was perfected. +</P> + +<P> +Then the more conscientious teachers set themselves seriously to the +task of amusing the smaller children, and the smaller children +consented to be amused according to the recipes appointed by long +custom for school-treats. Many round-games, which invariably comprised +singing or kissing, being thus annually resuscitated by elderly people +from the deeps of memory, were preserved for a posterity which +otherwise would never have known them. Among these was Bobby-Bingo. +For twenty-five years Titus Price had played at Bobby-Bingo with the +infant classes at the school-treat, and this year he was bound by the +expectations of all to continue the practice. Another diversion which +he always took care to organise was the three-legged race for boys. +Also, he usually joined in the tut-ball, a quaint game which owes its +surprising longevity to the fact that it is equally proper for both +sexes. Within half an hour the treat was in full career; football, +cricket, rounders, tick, leap-frog, prison-bars, and round-games, +transformed the field into a vast arena of complicated struggles and +emulations. All were occupied, except a few of the women and older +girls, who strolled languidly about in the <I>rôle</I> of spectators. The +sun shone generously on scores of vivid and frail toilettes, and +parasols made slowly-moving hemispheres of glowing colour against the +rich green of the grass. All around were yellow cornfields, and +meadows where cows of a burnished brown indolently meditated upon the +phenomena of a school-treat. Every hedge and ditch and gate and stile +was in that ideal condition of plenary correctness which denotes that a +great landowner is exhibiting the beauties of scientific farming for +the behoof of his villagers. The sky, of an intense blue, was a sea in +which large white clouds sailed gently but capriciously; on the +northern horizon a low range of smoke marked the sinister region of the +Five Towns. +</P> + +<P> +'Will you come and help with the bags and cups?' Henry Mynors asked +Anna. She was standing by herself, watching Agnes at play with some +other girls. Mynors had evidently walked across to her from the +refreshment tent, which was at the opposite extremity of the field. In +her eyes he was once more the exemplar of style. His suit of grey +flannel, his white straw hat, became him to admiration. He stood at +ease with his hands in his coat-pockets, and smiled contentedly. +</P> + +<P> +'After all,' he said, 'the tea is the principal thing, and, although it +wants two hours to tea-time yet, it's as well to be beforehand.' +</P> + +<P> +'I should like something to do,' Anna replied. +</P> + +<P> +'How are you?' he said familiarly, after this abrupt opening, and then +shook hands. They traversed the field together, with many deviations +to avoid trespassing upon areas of play. +</P> + +<P> +The flapping refreshment tent seemed to be full of piles of baskets and +piles of bags and piles of cups, which the contractor had brought in a +waggon. Some teachers were already beginning to put the paper bags +into the baskets; each bag contained bread-and-butter, currant cake, an +Eccles-cake, and a Bath-bun. At the far end of the tent Beatrice +Sutton was arranging her dainties on a small trestle-table. +</P> + +<P> +'Come along quick, Anna,' she exclaimed, 'and taste my tarts, and tell +me what you think of them. I do hope the good people will enjoy them.' +And then, turning to Mynors, 'Hello! Are you seeing after the bags and +things? I thought that was always Willie Price's favourite job!' +</P> + +<P> +'So it is,' said Mynors. 'But, unfortunately, he isn't here to-day.' +</P> + +<P> +'How's that, pray? I never knew him miss a school-treat before.' +</P> + +<P> +'Mr. Price told me they couldn't both be away from the works just now. +Very busy, I suppose.' +</P> + +<P> +'Well, William would have been more use than his father, anyhow.' +</P> + +<P> +'Hush, hush!' Mynors murmured with a subdued laugh. +</P> + +<P> +Beatrice was in one of her 'downright' moods, as she herself called +them. +</P> + +<P> +Mynors's arrangements for the prompt distribution of tea at the +appointed hour were very minute, and involved a considerable amount of +back bending and manual labour. But, though they were enlivened by +frequent intervals of gossip, and by excursions into the field to +observe this and that amusing sight, all was finished half an hour +before time. +</P> + +<P> +'I will go and warn Mr. Price,' said Mynors. 'He is quite capable of +forgetting the clock.' Mynors left the tent, and proceeded to the +scene of an athletic meeting, at which Titus Price, in shirt-sleeves, +was distributing prizes of sixpences and pennies. The famous +three-legged race had just been run. Anna followed at a saunter, and +shortly afterwards Beatrice overtook her. +</P> + +<P> +'The great Titus looks better than he did when he came on the field,' +Beatrice remarked. And indeed the superintendent had put on quite a +merry appearance—flushed, excited, and jocular in his elephantine +way—it seemed as if he had not a care in the world. The boys crowded +appreciatively round him. But this was his last hour of joy. +</P> + +<P> +'Why! Willie Price <I>is</I> here,' Anna exclaimed, perceiving William in +the fringe of the crowd. The lanky fellow stood hesitatingly, his left +hand busy with his moustache. +</P> + +<P> +'So he is,' said Beatrice. 'I wonder what that means.' +</P> + +<P> +Titus had not observed the newcomer, but Henry Mynors saw William, and +exchanged a few words with him. Then Mr. Mynors advanced into the +crowd and spoke to Mr. Price, who glanced quickly round at his son. +The girls, at a distance of forty yards, could discern the swift change +in the man's demeanour. In a second he had reverted to the deplorable +Titus of three hours ago. He elbowed his way roughly to William, +getting into his coat as he went. The pair talked, William glanced at +his watch, and in another moment they were leaving the field. Henry +Mynors had to finish the prize distribution. So much Anna and Beatrice +plainly saw. Others, too, had not been blind to this sudden and +dramatic departure. It aroused universal comment among the teachers. +</P> + +<P> +'Something must be wrong at Price's works,' Beatrice said, 'and Willie +has had to fetch his papa.' This was the conclusion of all the +gossips. Beatrice added: 'Dad has mentioned Price's several times +lately, now I think of it.' +</P> + +<P> +Anna grew extremely self-conscious and uncomfortable. She felt as +though all were saying of her: 'There goes the oppressor of the poor!' +She was fairly sure, however, that her father was not responsible for +this particular incident. There must, then, be other implacable +creditors. She had been thoroughly enjoying the afternoon, but now her +pleasure ceased. +</P> + +<P> +The treat ended disastrously. In the middle of the children's meal, +while yet the enormous double-handled tea-cans were being carried up +and down the thirsty rows, and the boys were causing their bags to +explode with appalling detonations, it began to rain sharply. The +fickle sun withdrew his splendour from the toilettes, and was seen no +more for a week afterwards. 'It's come at last,' ejaculated Mynors, +who had watched the sky with anxiety for an hour previously. He +mobilised the children and ranked them under a row of elms. The +teachers, running to the tent for their own tea, said to one another +that the shower could only be a brief one. The wish was father to the +thought, for they were a little ashamed to be under cover while their +charges precariously sheltered beneath dripping trees—yet there was +nothing else to be done; the men took turns in the rain to keep the +children in their places. The sky was completely overcast. 'It's set +in for a wet evening, and so we may as well make the best of it,' +Beatrice said grimly, and she sent the landau home empty. She was +right. A forlorn and disgusted snake of a procession crawled through +puddles to the station. The platform resounded with sneezes. None but +a dressmaker could have discovered a silver lining to the black and +all-pervading cloud which had ruined so many dozens of fair costumes. +Anna, melancholy and taciturn, exerted herself to minimise the +discomfort of her scholars. A word from Mynors would have been balm to +her; but Mynors, the general of a routed army, was parleying by +telephone with the traffic-manager of the railway for the expediting of +the special train. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="footnote"> +<A NAME="chap09fn1"></A> +[<A HREF="#chap09fn1text">1</A>] <I>Welly</I>: nearly. +</P> + +<P CLASS="footnote"> +<A NAME="chap09fn2"></A> +[<A HREF="#chap09fn2text">2</A>] <I>Meet</I>: meet in class—a gathering for the exchange of religious +counsel and experience. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap10"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER X +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE ISLE +</H4> + +<P> +About this time Anna was not seeing very much of Henry Mynors. At +twenty a man is rash in love, and again, perhaps, at fifty; a man of +middle-age enamoured of a young girl is capable of sublime follies. +But the man of thirty who loves for the first time is usually the +embodiment of cautious discretion. He does not fall in love with a +violent descent, but rather lets himself gently down, continually +testing the rope. His social value, especially if he have achieved +worldly success, is at its highest, and, without conceit, he is aware +of it. He has lost many illusions concerning women; he has seen more +than one friend wrecked in the sea of foolish marriage; he knows the +joys of a bachelor's freedom, without having wearied of them; he +perceives risks where the youth perceives only ecstasy, and the oldster +only a blissful release from solitude. Instead of searching, he is +sought for; accordingly he is selfish and exacting. All these things, +combine to tranquillize passion at thirty. Mynors was in love with +Anna, and his love had its ardent moments; but in the main it was a +temperate affection, an affection that walked circumspectly, with its +eyes open, careful of its dignity, too proud to seem in a hurry; if, by +impulse, it chanced now and then to leap forward, the involuntary +movement was mastered and checked. Mynors called at Manor Terrace once +a week, never on the same day of the week, nor without discussing +business with the miser. Occasionally he accompanied Anna from school +or chapel. Such methods were precisely to Anna's taste. Like him, she +loved prudence and decorum, preferring to make haste slowly. Since the +Revival, they had only once talked together intimately; on that sole +occasion Henry had suggested to her that she might care to join Mrs. +Sutton's class, which met on Monday nights; she accepted the hint with +pleasure, and found a well of spiritual inspiration in Mrs. Sutton's +modest and simple yet fervent homilies. Mynors was not guilty of +blowing both hot and cold. She was sure of him. She waited calmly for +events, existing, as her habit was, in the future. +</P> + +<P> +The future, then, meant the Isle of Man. Anna dreamed of an enchanted +isle and hours of unimaginable rapture. For a whole week after Mrs. +Sutton had won Ephraim's consent, her vision never stooped to practical +details. Then Beatrice called to see her; it was the morning after the +treat, and Anna was brushing her muddy frock; she wore a large white +apron, and held a cloth-brush in her hand as she opened the door. +</P> + +<P> +'You're busy?' said Beatrice. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' said Anna, 'but come in. Come into the kitchen—do you mind?' +</P> + +<P> +Beatrice was covered from neck to heel with a long mackintosh, which +she threw off when entering the kitchen. +</P> + +<P> +'Anyone else in the house?' she asked. +</P> + +<P> +'No,' said Anna, smiling, as Beatrice seated herself, with a sigh of +content, on the table. +</P> + +<P> +'Well, let's talk, then.' Beatrice drew from her pocket the +indispensable chocolates and offered them to Anna. 'I say, wasn't last +night perfectly awful? Henry got wet through in the end, and mother +made him stop at our house, as he was at the trouble to take me home. +Did you see him go down this morning?' +</P> + +<P> +'No; why?' said Anna, stiffly. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh—no reason. Only I thought perhaps you did. I simply can't tell +you how glad I am that you're coming with us to the Isle of Man; we +shall have rare fun. We go every year, you know—to Port Erin, a +lovely little fishing village. All the fishermen know us there. Last +year Henry hired a yacht for the fortnight, and we all went +mackerel-fishing, every day; except sometimes Pa. Now and then Pa had +a tendency to go fiddling in caves and things. I do hope it will be +fine weather again by then, don't you?' +</P> + +<P> +'I'm looking forward to it, I can tell you,' Anna said. 'What day are +we supposed to start?' +</P> + +<P> +'Saturday week.' +</P> + +<P> +'So soon?' Anna was surprised at the proximity of the event. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes; and quite late enough, too. We should start earlier, only the +Dad always makes out he can't. Men always pretend to be so frightfully +busy, and I believe it's all put on.' Beatrice continued to chat about +the holiday, and then of a sudden she asked: 'What are you going to +wear?' +</P> + +<P> +'Wear!' Anna repeated; and added, with hesitation: 'I suppose one will +want some new clothes?' +</P> + +<P> +'Well, just a few! Now let me advise you. Take a blue serge skirt. +Sea-water won't harm it, and if it's dark enough it will look well to +any mortal blouse. Secondly, you can't have too many blouses; they're +always useful at the seaside. Plain straw-hats are my tip. A coat for +nights, and thick boots. There! Of course no one ever <I>dresses</I> at +Port Erin. It isn't like Llandudno, and all that sort of thing. You +don't have to meet your young man on the pier, because there isn't a +pier.' +</P> + +<P> +There was a pause. Anna did not know what to say. At length she +ventured: 'I'm not much for clothes, as I dare say you've noticed.' +</P> + +<P> +'I think you always look nice, my dear,' Beatrice responded. Nothing +was said as to Anna's wealth, no reference made as to the discrepancy +between that and the style of her garments. By a fiction, there was +supposed to be no discrepancy. +</P> + +<P> +'Do you make your own frocks?' Beatrice asked, later. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes.' +</P> + +<P> +'Do you know I thought you did. But they do you great credit. There's +few people can make a plain frock look decent.' +</P> + +<P> +This conversation brought Anna with a shock to the level of earth. She +perceived—only too well—a point which she had not hitherto fairly +faced in her idyllic meditations: that her father was still a factor in +the case. Since Mrs. Sutton's visit both Anna and the miser avoided +the subject of the holiday. 'You can't have too many blouses.' Did +Beatrice, then, have blouses by the dozen? A coat, a serge skirt, +straw hats (how many?)—the catalogue frightened her. She began to +suspect that she would not be able to go to the Isle of Man. +</P> + +<P> +'About me going with Suttons to the Isle of Man?' she accosted her +father, in the afternoon, outwardly calm, but with secret trembling. +</P> + +<P> +'Well?' he exclaimed savagely. +</P> + +<P> +'I shall want some money—a little.' She would have given much not to +have added that 'little,' but it came out of itself. +</P> + +<P> +'It's a waste o' time and money—that's what I call it. I can't think +why Suttons asked ye. Ye aren't ill, are ye?' His savagery changed to +sullenness. +</P> + +<P> +'No, father; but as it's arranged, I suppose I shall have to go.' +</P> + +<P> +'Well, I'm none so set up with the idea mysen.' +</P> + +<P> +'Shan't you be all right with Agnes?' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, yes. <I>I</I> shall be all right. <I>I</I> don't want much. <I>I</I>'ve no +fads and fal-lals. How long art going to be away?' +</P> + +<P> +'I don't know. Didn't Mrs. Sutton tell you? You arranged it.' +</P> + +<P> +'That I didna'. Her said nowt to me.' +</P> + +<P> +'Well, anyhow I shall want some clothes.' +</P> + +<P> +'What for? Art naked?' +</P> + +<P> +'I must have some money.' Her voice shook. She was getting near tears. +</P> + +<P> +'Well, thou's gotten thy own money, hast na'?' +</P> + +<P> +'All I want is that you shall let me have some of my own money. +There's forty odd pounds now in the bank.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh!' he repeated, sneering, 'all ye want is as I shall let thee have +some o' thy own money. And there's forty odd pound i' the bank. Oh!' +</P> + +<P> +'Will you give me my cheque-book out of the bureau? And I'll draw a +cheque; I know how to.' She had conquered the instinct to cry, and +unwillingly her tones became somewhat peremptory. Ephraim seized the +chance. +</P> + +<P> +'No, I won't give ye the cheque-book out o' th' bureau,' he said +flatly. 'And I'll thank ye for less sauce.' +</P> + +<P> +That finished the episode. Proudly she took an oath with herself not +to re-open the question, and resolved to write a note to Mrs. Sutton +saying that on consideration she found it impossible to go to the Isle +of Man. +</P> + +<P> +The next morning there came to Anna a letter from the secretary of a +limited company enclosing a post-office order for ten pounds. Some +weeks previously her father had discovered an error of that amount in +the deduction of income-tax from the dividend paid by this company, and +had instructed Anna to demand the sum. She had obeyed, and then +forgotten the affair. Here was the answer. Desperate at the thought +of missing the holiday, she cashed the order, bought and made her +clothes in secret, and then, two days before the arranged date of +departure told her father what she had done. He was enraged; but since +his anger was too illogical to be rendered effectively coherent in +words, he had the wit to keep silence. With bitterness Anna reflected +that she owed her holiday to the merest accident—for if the remittance +had arrived a little earlier or a little later, or in the form of a +cheque, she could not have utilised it. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +It was an incredible day, the following Saturday, a warm and benign day +of earliest autumn. The Suttons, in a hired cab, called for Anna at +half-past eight, on the way to the main line station at Shawport. +Anna's tin box was flung on to the roof of the cab amid the trunks and +portmanteaux already there. +</P> + +<P> +'Why should not Agnes ride with us to the station?' Beatrice suggested. +</P> + +<P> +'Nay, nay; there's no room,' said Tellwright, who stood at the door, +impelled by an unacknowledged awe of Mrs. Sutton thus to give official +sanction to Anna's departure. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, yes,' Mrs. Sutton exclaimed. 'Let the little thing come, Mr. +Tellwright.' +</P> + +<P> +Agnes, far more excited than any of the rest, seized her straw hat, and +slipping the elastic under her small chin, sprang into the cab, and +found a haven between Mr. Sutton's short, fat legs. The driver drew +his whip smartly across the aged neck of the cream mare. They were +off. What a rumbling, jolting, delicious journey, down the first hill, +up Duck Bank, through the market-place, and down the steep declivity of +Oldcastle Street! Silent and shy, Agnes smiled ecstatically at the +others. Anna answered remarks in a dream. She was conscious only of +present happiness and happy expectation. All bitterness had +disappeared. At least thirty thousand Bursley folk were not going to +the Isle of Man that day—their preoccupied and cheerless faces swam in +a continuous stream past the cab window—and Anna sympathised with +every unit of them. Her spirit overflowed with universal compassion. +What haste and exquisite confusion at the station! The train was +signalled, and the porter, crossing the line with the luggage, ran his +truck perilously under the very buffers of the incoming engine. Mynors +was awaiting them, admirably attired as a tourist. He had got the +tickets, and secured a private compartment in the through-coach for +Liverpool; and he found time to arrange with the cabman to drive Agnes +home on the box-seat. Certainly there was none like Mynors. From the +footboard of the carriage Anna bent down to kiss Agnes. The child had +been laughing and chattering. Suddenly, as Anna's lips touched hers, +she burst into tears, sobbed passionately as though overtaken by some +terrible and unexpected misfortune. Tears stood also in Anna's eyes. +The sisters had never been parted before. +</P> + +<P> +'Poor little thing!' Mrs. Sutton murmured; and Beatrice told her father +to give Agnes a shilling to buy chocolates at Stevenson's in St. Luke's +Square, that being the best shop. The shilling fell between the +footboard and the platform. A scream from Beatrice! The attendant +porter promised to rescue the shilling in due course. The engine +whistled, the silver-mounted guard asserted his authority, Mynors +leaped in, and amid laughter and tears the brief and unique joy of +Anna's life began. +</P> + +<P> +In a moment, so it seemed, the train was thundering through the mile of +solid rock which ends at Lime Street Station, Liverpool. +Thenceforward, till she fell asleep that night, Anna existed in a state +of blissful bewilderment, stupefied by an overdose of novel and +wondrous sensations. They lunched in amazing magnificence at the +Bear's Paw, and then walked through the crowded and prodigious streets +to Prince's landing-stage. The luggage had disappeared by some +mysterious agency—Mynors said that they would find it safe at Douglas; +but Anna could not banish the fear that her tin box had gone for ever. +</P> + +<P> +The great, wavy river, churned by thousands of keels; the monstrous +steamer—the 'Mona's Isle'—whose side rose like solid wall out of the +water; the vistas of its decks; its vast saloons, story under story, +solid and palatial (could all this float?); its high bridge; its +hawsers as thick as trees; its funnels like sloping towers; the +multitudes of passengers; the whistles, hoots, cries; the +far-stretching panorama of wharves and docks; the squat ferry-craft +carrying horses and carts, and no one looking twice at the feat—it was +all too much, too astonishing, too lovely. She had not guessed at this. +</P> + +<P> +'They call Liverpool the slum of Europe,' said Mynors. +</P> + +<P> +'How can you!' she exclaimed, shocked. +</P> + +<P> +Beatrice, seeing her radiant and rapt face, walked to and fro with +Anna, proud of the effect produced on her friend's inexperience by +these sights. One might have thought that Beatrice had built Liverpool +and created its trade by her own efforts. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly the landing-stage and all the people on it moved away bodily +from the ship; there was green water between; a tremor like that of an +earthquake ran along the deck; handkerchiefs were waved. The voyage +had commenced. Mynors found chairs for all the Suttons, and tucked +them up on the lee-side of a deck-house; but Anna did not stir. They +passed New Brighton, Seaforth, and the Crosby and Formby lightships. +</P> + +<P> +'Come and view the ship,' said Mynors, at her side. 'Suppose we go +round and inspect things a bit?' +</P> + +<P> +'It's a very big one, isn't it?' she asked. +</P> + +<P> +'Pretty big,' he said; 'of course not as big as the Atlantic liners—I +wonder we didn't meet one in the river—but still pretty big. Three +hundred and twenty feet over all. I sailed on her last year on her +maiden voyage. She was packed, and the weather very bad.' +</P> + +<P> +'Will it be rough to-day?' Anna inquired timidly. +</P> + +<P> +'Not if it keeps like this,' he laughed. 'You don't feel queer, do +you?' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, no. It's as firm as a house. No one could be ill with this?' +</P> + +<P> +'Couldn't they?' he exclaimed. 'Beatrice could be.' +</P> + +<P> +They descended into the ship, and he explained all its internal +economy, with a knowledge that seemed to her encyclopædic. They stayed +a long time watching the engines, so Titanic, ruthless, and deliberate; +even the smell of the oil was pleasant to Anna. When they came on deck +again the ship was at sea. For the first time Anna beheld the ocean. +A strong breeze blew from prow to stern, yet the sea was absolutely +calm, the unruffled mirror of effulgent sunlight. The steamer moved +alone on the waters, exultantly, leaving behind it an endless track of +white froth in the green, and the shadow of its smoke. The sun, the +salt breeze, the living water, the proud gaiety of the ship, produced a +feeling of intense, inexplicable joy, a profound satisfaction with the +present, and a negligence of past and future. To exist was enough, +then. As Anna and Henry leaned over the starboard quarter and watched +the torrent of foam rush madly and ceaselessly from under the +paddle-box to be swallowed up in the white wake, the spectacle of the +wild torrent almost hypnotised them, destroying thought and reason, and +all sense of their relation to other things. With difficulty Anna +raised her eyes, and perceived the dim receding line of the Lancashire +coast. +</P> + +<P> +'Shall we get quite out of sight of land?' she asked. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, for a little while, about half an hour or so. Just as much out +of sight of land as if we were in the middle of the Atlantic.' +</P> + +<P> +'I can scarcely believe it.' +</P> + +<P> +'Believe what?' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh! The idea of that—of being out of sight of land—nothing but sea.' +</P> + +<P> +When at last it occurred to them to reconnoitre the Suttons, they found +all three still in their deck-chairs, enwrapped and languid. Mr. +Sutton and Beatrice were apparently dozing. This part of the deck was +occupied by somnolent, basking figures. +</P> + +<P> +'Don't wake them,' Mrs. Sutton enjoined, whispering out of her hood. +Anna glanced curiously at Beatrice's yellow face. +</P> + +<P> +'Go away, do,' Beatrice exclaimed, opening her eyes and shutting them +again, wearily. +</P> + +<P> +So they went away, and discovered two empty deck-chairs on the +fore-deck. Anna was innocently vain of her immunity from <i>malaise</i>. +Mynors appeared to appoint himself little errands about the deck, +returning frequently to his chair. 'Look over there. Can you see +anything?' +</P> + +<P> +Anna ran to the rail, with the infantile idea of getting nearer, and +Mynors followed, laughing. What looked like a small slate-coloured +cloud lay on the horizon. +</P> + +<P> +'I seem to see something,' she said. +</P> + +<P> +'That is the Isle of Man.' +</P> + +<P> +By insensible gradations the contours of the land grew clearer in the +afternoon haze. +</P> + +<P> +'How far are we off now?' +</P> + +<P> +'Perhaps twenty miles.' +</P> + +<P> +Twenty miles of uninterrupted flatness, and the ship steadily invading +that separating solitude, yard by yard, furlong by furlong! The +conception awed her. There, a morsel in the waste of the deep, a speck +under the infinite sunlight, lay the island, mysterious, enticing, +enchanted, a glinting jewel on, the sea's bosom, a remote entity +fraught with strange secrets. It was all unspeakable. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +'Anna, you have covered yourself with glory,' said Mrs. Sutton, when +they were in the diminutive and absurd train which by breathless +plunges annihilates the sixteen miles between Douglas and Port Erin in +sixty-five minutes. +</P> + +<P> +'Have I?' she answered. 'How?' +</P> + +<P> +'By not being ill.' +</P> + +<P> +'That's always the beginner's luck,' said Beatrice, pale and +dishevelled. They all relapsed into the silence of fatigue. It was +growing dusk when the train stopped at the tiny terminus. The station +was a hive of bustling activity, the arrival of this train being the +daily event at that end of the world. Mynors and the Suttons were +greeted familiarly by several sailors, and one of these, Tom Kelly, a +tall, middle-aged man, with grey beard, small grey eyes, a wrinkled +skin of red mahogany, and an enormous fist, was introduced to Anna. He +raised his cap, and shook hands. She was touched by the sad, kind look +on his face, the melancholy impress of the sea. Then they drove to +their lodging, and here again the party was welcomed as being old and +tried friends. A fire was burning in the parlour. Throwing herself +down in front of it, Mrs. Sutton breathed, 'At last! Oh, for some +tea.' Through the window, Anna had a glimpse of a deeply indented bay +at the foot of cliffs below them, with a bold headland to the right. +Fishing vessels with flat red sails seemed to hang undecided just +outside the bay. From cottage chimneys beneath the road blue smoke +softly ascended. +</P> + +<P> +All went early to bed, for the weariness of Mr. and Mrs. Sutton seemed +to communicate itself to the three young people, who might otherwise +have gone forth into the village in search of adventures. Anna and +Beatrice shared a room. Each inspected the other's clothes, and +Beatrice made Anna try on the new serge skirt. Through the thin wall +came the sound of Mr. and Mrs. Sutton talking, a high voice, then a +bass reply, in continual alternation. Beatrice said that these two +always discussed the day's doings in such manner. In a few moments +Beatrice was snoring; she had the subdued but steady and serious snore +characteristic of some muscular men. Anna felt no inclination to +sleep. She lived again hour by hour through the day, and beneath +Beatrice's snore her ear caught the undertone of the sea. +</P> + +<P> +The next morning was as lovely as the last. It was Sunday, and every +activity of the village was stilled. Sea and land were equally folded +in a sunlit calm. During breakfast—a meal abundant in fresh herrings, +fresh eggs and fresh rolls, eaten with the window wide open—Anna was +puzzled by the singular amenity of her friends to one another and to +her. They were as polite as though they had been strangers; they +chatted amiably, were full of goodwill, and as anxious to give +happiness as to enjoy it. She thought at first, so unusual was it to +her as a feature of domestic privacy, that this demeanour was affected, +or at any rate a somewhat exaggerated punctilio due to her presence; +but she soon came to see that she was mistaken. After breakfast Mr. +Sutton suggested that they should attend the Wesleyan Chapel on the +hill leading to the Chasms. Here they met the sailors of the night +before, arrayed now in marvellous blue Melton coats with velveteen +collars. Tom Kelly walked back with them to the beach, and showed them +the yacht 'Fay' which Mynors had arranged to hire for mackerel-fishing; +it lay on the sands speckless in new white paint. All the afternoon +they dozed on the cliffs, doing nothing whatever, for this Sunday was +tacitly regarded, not as part of the holiday, but as a preparation for +the holiday; all felt that the holiday, with its proper exertions and +appointed delights, would really begin on Monday morning. +</P> + +<P> +'Let us go for a walk,' said Mynors, after tea, to Beatrice and Anna. +They stood at the gate of the lodging-house. The old people were +resting within. +</P> + +<P> +'You two go,' Beatrice replied, looking at Anna. 'You know I hate +walking, Henry. I'll stop with mother and dad.' +</P> + +<P> +Throughout the day Anna had been conscious of the fact that all the +Suttons showed a tendency, slight but perceptible, to treat Henry and +herself as a pair desirous of opportunities for being alone together. +She did not like it. She flushed under the passing glance with which +Beatrice accompanied the words: 'You two go.' Nevertheless, when +Mynors placidly remarked: 'Very well,' and his eyes sought hers for a +consent, she could not refuse it. One part of her nature would have +preferred to find an excuse for staying at home; but another, and a +stronger, part insisted on seizing this offered joy. +</P> + +<P> +They walked straight up out of the village toward the high coast-range +which stretches peak after peak from Port Erin to Peel. The stony and +devious lanes wound about the bleak hillside, passing here and there +small, solitary cottages of whitewashed stone, with children, fowls, +and dogs at the doors, all embowered in huge fuchsia trees. Presently +they had surmounted the limit of habitation and were on the naked flank +of Bradda, following a narrow track which crept upwards amid short +mossy turf of the most vivid green. Nothing seemed to flourish on this +exposed height except bracken, sheep, and boulders that, from a +distance, resembled sheep; there was no tree, scarcely a shrub; the +immense contours, stark, grim, and unrelieved, rose in melancholy and +defiant majesty against the sky: the hand of man could coax no harvest +from these smooth but obdurate slopes; they had never relented, and +they would never relent. The spirit was braced by the thought that +here, to the furthest eternity of civilisation more and more intricate, +simple and strong souls would always find solace and repose. +</P> + +<P> +Mynors bore to the left for a while, striking across the moor in the +direction of the sea. Then he said: +</P> + +<P> +'Look down, now.' +</P> + +<P> +The little bay lay like an oblong swimming-bath five hundred feet below +them. The surface of the water was like glass; the strand, with its +phalanx of boats drawn up in Sabbath tidiness, glittered like marble in +the living light, and over this marble black dots moved slowly to and +fro; behind the boats were the houses—dolls' houses—each with a +curling wisp of smoke; further away the railway and the high road ran +out in a black and white line to Port St. Mary; the sea, a pale grey, +encompassed all; the southern sky had a faint sapphire tinge, rising to +delicate azure. The sight of this haven at rest, shut in by the +restful sea and by great moveless hills, a calm within a calm, aroused +profound emotion. +</P> + +<P> +'It's lovely,' said Anna, as they stood gazing. Tears came to her eyes +and hung there. She wondered that scenery should cause tears, felt +ashamed, and turned her face so that Mynors should not see. But he had +seen. +</P> + +<P> +'Shall we go on to the top?' he suggested, and they set their faces +northwards to climb still higher. At length they stood on the rocky +summit of Bradda, seven hundred feet from the sea. The Hill of the +Night Watch lifted above them to the north, but on east, south, and +west, the prospect was bounded only by the ocean. The coast-line was +revealed for thirty miles, from Peel to Castletown. Far to the east +was Castletown Bay, large, shallow and inhospitable, its floor strewn +with a thousand unseen wrecks; the lighthouse at Scarlet Point flashed +dimly in the dusk; thence the beach curved nearer in an immense arc, +without a sign of life, to the little cove of Port St. Mary, and jutted +out again into a tongue of land at the end of which lay the Calf of Man +with its single white cottage and cart-track. The dangerous Calf +Sound, where the vexed tide is forced to run nine hours one way and +three the other, seemed like a grey ribbon, and the Chicken Rock like a +tiny pencil on a vast slate. Port Erin was hidden under their feet. +They looked westward. The darkening sky was a labyrinth of purple and +crimson scarves drawn pellucid, as though by the finger of God, across +a sheet of pure saffron. These decadent tints of the sunset faded in +every direction to the same soft azure which filled the south, and one +star twinkled in the illimitable field. Thirty miles off, on the +horizon, could be discerned the Mourne Mountains of Ireland. +</P> + +<P> +'See!' Mynors exclaimed, touching her arm. +</P> + +<P> +The huge disc of the moon was rising in the east, and as this mild lamp +passed up the sky, the sense of universal quiescence increased. +Lovely, Anna had said. It was the loveliest sight her eyes had ever +beheld, a panorama of pure beauty transcending all imagined visions. +It overwhelmed her, thrilled her to the heart, this revelation of the +loveliness of the world. Her thoughts went back to Hanbridge and +Bursley and her life there; and all the remembered scenes, bathed in +the glow of a new ideal, seemed to lose their pain. It was as if she +had never been really unhappy, as if there was no real unhappiness on +the whole earth. She perceived that the monotony, the austerity, the +melancholy of her existence had been sweet and beautiful of its kind, +and she recalled, with a sort of rapture, hours of companionship with +the beloved Agnes, when her father was equable and pacific. Nothing +was ugly nor mean. Beauty was everywhere, in everything. +</P> + +<P> +In silence they began to descend, perforce walking quickly because of +the steep gradient. At the first cottage they saw a little girl in a +mob-cap playing with two kittens. +</P> + +<P> +'How like Agnes!' Mynors said. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes. I was just thinking so,' Anna answered. +</P> + +<P> +'I thought of her up on the hill,' he continued. 'She will miss you, +won't she?' +</P> + +<P> +'I know she cried herself to sleep last night. You mightn't guess it, +but she is extremely sensitive.' +</P> + +<P> +'Not guess it? Why not? I am sure she is. Do you know—I am very +fond of your sister. She's a simply delightful child. And there's a +lot in her, too. She's so quick and bright, and somehow like a little +woman.' +</P> + +<P> +'She's exactly like a woman sometimes,' Anna agreed. 'Sometimes I +fancy she's a great deal older than I am.' +</P> + +<P> +'Older than any of us,' he corrected. +</P> + +<P> +'I'm glad you like her,' Anna said, content. 'She thinks all the world +of you.' And she added: 'My word, wouldn't she be vexed if she knew I +had told you that!' +</P> + +<P> +This appreciation of Agnes brought them into closer intimacy, and they +talked the more easily of other things. +</P> + +<P> +'It will freeze to-night,' Mynors said; and then, suddenly looking at +her in the twilight: 'You are feeling chill.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, no!' she protested. +</P> + +<P> +'But you are. Put this muffler round your neck.' He took a muffler +from his pocket. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, no, really! You will need it yourself.' She drew a little away +from him, as if to avoid the muffler. +</P> + +<P> +'Please take it.' +</P> + +<P> +She did so, and thanked him, tying it loosely and untidily round her +throat. That feeling of the untidiness of the muffler, of its being +something strange to her skin, something with the rough virtue of +masculinity, which no one could detect in the gloom, was in itself +pleasant. +</P> + +<P> +'I wager Mrs. Sutton has a good fire burning when we get in,' he said. +</P> + +<P> +She thought with joyous anticipation of the warm, bright, sitting-room, +the supper, and the vivacious good-natured conversation. Though the +walk was nearly at an end, other delights were in store. Of the +holiday, thirteen complete days yet remained, each to be as happy as +the one now closing. It was an age! At last they entered the human +cosiness of the village. As they walked up the steps of their lodging +and he opened the door for her, she quickly drew off the muffler and +returned it to him with a word of thanks. +</P> + +<P> +On Monday morning, when Beatrice and Anna came downstairs, they found +the breakfast odorously cooling on the table, and nobody in the room. +</P> + +<P> +'Where are they all, I wonder. Any letters?' Beatrice said. +</P> + +<P> +'There's your mother, out on the front—and Mr. Mynors too.' +</P> + +<P> +Beatrice threw up the window, and called: 'Come along, Henry; come +along, mother. Everything's going cold.' +</P> + +<P> +'Is it?' Mynors cheerfully replied. 'Come out here, both of you, and +begin the day properly with a dose of ozone.' +</P> + +<P> +'I loathe cold bacon,' said Beatrice, glancing at the table, and they +went out into the road, where Mrs. Sutton kissed them with as much +fervour as if they had arrived from a long journey. +</P> + +<P> +'You look pale, Anna,' she remarked. +</P> + +<P> +'Do I?' said Anna, 'I don't feel pale.' +</P> + +<P> +'It's that long walk last night,' Beatrice put in. 'Henry always goes +too far.' +</P> + +<P> +'I don't——' Anna began; but at that moment Mr. Sutton, lumbering and +ponderous, joined the party. +</P> + +<P> +'Henry,' he said, without greeting anyone, 'hast noticed those +half-finished houses down the road yonder by the "Falcon"? I've been +having a chat with Kelly, and he tells me the fellow that was building +them has gone bankrupt, and they're at a stand-still. The Receiver +wants to sell 'em. In fact Kelly says they're going cheap. I believe +they'd be a good spec.' +</P> + +<P> +'Eh, dear!' Mrs. Sutton interrupted him. 'Father, I wish you would +leave your specs alone when you're on your holiday.' +</P> + +<P> +'Now, missis!' he affectionately protested, and continued: 'They're +fairly well built, seemingly, and the rafters are on the roof. Anna,' +he turned to her quickly, as if counting on her sympathy, 'you must +come with me and look at 'em after breakfast. Happen they might suit +your father—or you. I know your father's fond of a good spec.' +</P> + +<P> +She assented with a ready smile. This was the beginning of a fancy +which the Alderman always afterwards showed for Anna. +</P> + +<P> +After breakfast Mrs. Sutton, Beatrice, and Anna arranged to go shopping: +</P> + +<P> +'Father—brass,' Mrs. Sutton ejaculated in two monosyllables to her +husband. +</P> + +<P> +'How much will content ye?' he asked mildly. +</P> + +<P> +'Give me five or ten pounds to go on with.' +</P> + +<P> +He opened the left-hand front pocket of his trousers—a pocket which +fastened with a button; and leaning back in his chair drew out a fat +purse, and passed it to his wife with a preoccupied air. She helped +herself, and then Beatrice intercepted the purse and lightened it of +half a sovereign. +</P> + +<P> +'Pocket-money,' Beatrice said; 'I'm ruined.' +</P> + +<P> +The Alderman's eyes requested Anna to observe how he was robbed. At +last the purse was safely buttoned up again. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Sutton's purchases of food at the three principal shops of the +village seemed startlingly profuse to Anna, but gradually she became +accustomed to the scale, and to the amazing habit of always buying the +very best of everything, from beefsteak to grapes. Anna calculated +that the housekeeping could not cost less than six pounds a week for +the five. At Manor Terrace three people existed on a pound. With her +half-sovereign Beatrice bought a belt and a pair of sand-shoes, and +some cigarettes for Henry. Mrs. Sutton bought a pipe with a nickel +cap, such as is used by sailors. When they returned to the house, Mr. +Sutton and Henry were smoking on the front. All five walked in a row +down to the harbour, the Alderman giving an arm each to Beatrice and +Anna. Near the 'Falcon' the procession had to be stopped in order to +view the unfinished houses. Tom Kelly had a cabin partly excavated out +of the rock behind the little quay. Here they found him entangled amid +nets, sails, and oars. All crowded into the cabin and shook hands with +its owner, who remarked with severity on their pallid faces, and +insisted that a change of complexion must be brought about. Mynors +offered him his tobacco-pouch, but on seeing the light colour of the +tobacco he shook his head and refused it, at the same time taking from +within his jersey a lump of something that resembled leather. +</P> + +<P> +'Give him this, Henry,' Mrs. Sutton whispered, handing Mynors the pipe +which she had bought. +</P> + +<P> +'Mrs. Sutton wishes you to accept this,' said Mynors. +</P> + +<P> +'Eh, thank ye,' he exclaimed. 'There's a leddy that knows my taste.' +He cut some shreds from his plug with a clasp-knife and charged and +lighted the pipe, filling the cabin with asphyxiating fumes. +</P> + +<P> +'I don't know how you can smoke such horrid, nasty stuff,' said +Beatrice, coughing. +</P> + +<P> +He laughed condescendingly at Beatrice's petulant manner. 'That stuff +of Henry's is boy's tobacco,' he said shortly. +</P> + +<P> +It was decided that they should go fishing in the 'Fay.' There was a +light southerly breeze, a cloudy sky, and smooth water. Under charge +of young Tom Kelly, a sheepish lad of sixteen, with his father's smile, +they all got into an inconceivably small dinghy, loading it down till +it was almost awash. Old Tom himself helped Anna to embark, told her +where to tread, and forced her gently into a seat at the stern. No one +else seemed to be disturbed, but Anna was in a state of desperate fear. +She had never committed herself to a boat before, and the little waves +spat up against the sides in a most alarming way as young Tom jerked +the dinghy along with the short sculls. She went white, and clung in +silence fiercely to the gunwale. In a few moments they were tied up to +the 'Fay,' which seemed very big and safe in comparison with the +dinghy. They clambered on board, and in the deep well of the two-ton +yacht Anna contrived to collect her wits. She was reassured by the +painted legend in the well, 'Licensed to carry eleven.' Young Tom and +Henry busied themselves with ropes, and suddenly a huge white sail +began to ascend the mast; it flapped like thunder in the gentle breeze. +Tom pulled up the anchor, curling the chain round and round on the +forward deck, and then Anna noticed that, although the wind was +scarcely perceptible, they were gliding quickly past the embankment. +Henry was at the tiller. The next minute Tom had set the jib, and by +this time the 'Fay' was approaching the breakwater at a great pace. +There was no rolling or pitching, but simply a smooth, swift +progression over the calm surface. Anna thought it the ideal of +locomotion. As soon as they were beyond the breakwater and the sails +caught the breeze from the Sound, the 'Fay' lay over as if shot, and a +little column of green water flung itself on the lee coaming of the +well. Anna screamed as she saw the water and felt the angle of the +floor suddenly change, but when everyone laughed, she laughed too. +Henry, noticing the whiteness of her knuckles as she gripped the +coaming, explained the disconcerting phenomena. Anna tried to be at +ease, but she was not. She could not for a long time dismiss the +suspicion that all these people were foolishly blind to a peril which +she alone had the sagacity to perceive. +</P> + +<P> +They cruised about while Tom prepared the lines. The short waves +chopped cheerfully against the carvel sides of the yacht; the clouds +were breaking at a hundred points; the sea grew lighter in tone; gaiety +was in the air; no one could possibly be indisposed in that innocuous +weather. At length the lines were ready, but Tom said the yacht was +making at least a knot too much for serious fishing, so Henry took a +reef in the mainsail, showing Anna how to tie the short strings. The +Alderman, lying on the fore-deck, was placidly smoking. The lines were +thrown out astern, and Mrs. Sutton and Beatrice each took one. But +they had no success; young Tom said it was because the sun had appeared. +</P> + +<P> +'Caught anything?' Mr. Sutton inquired at intervals. After a time he +said: +</P> + +<P> +'Suppose Anna and I have a try?' +</P> + +<P> +It was agreed. +</P> + +<P> +'What must I do?' asked Anna, brave now. +</P> + +<P> +'You just hold the line—so. And if you feel a little jerk-jerk, +that's a mackerel.' These were the instructions of Beatrice. Anna was +becoming excited. She had not held the line ten seconds before she +cried out: +</P> + +<P> +'I've got one.' +</P> + +<P> +'Nonsense,' said Beatrice. 'Everyone thinks at first that the motion +of the waves against the line is a fish.' +</P> + +<P> +'Well,' said Henry, giving the tiller to young Tom. 'Let's haul in and +see, anyway.' Before doing so he held the line for a moment, testing +it, and winked at Anna. While Anna and Henry were hauling in, the +Alderman, dropping his pipe, began also to haul in his own line with +great fury. +</P> + +<P> +'Got one, father?' Mrs. Sutton asked. +</P> + +<P> +'Ay!' +</P> + +<P> +Both lines came in together, and on each was a pounder. Anna saw her +fish gleam and flash like silver in the clear water as it neared the +surface. Henry held the line short, letting the mackerel plunge and +jerk, and then seized and unhooked the catch. +</P> + +<P> +'How cruel!' Anna cried, startled at the nearness of the two fish as +they sprang about in an old sugar box at her feet. Young Tom laughed +loud at her exclamation. 'They cairn't feel, miss,' he sniggered. +Anna wondered that a mouth so soft and kind could utter such heartless +words. +</P> + +<P> +In an hour the united efforts of the party had caught nine mackerel; it +was not a multitude, but the sun, in perfecting the weather, had spoilt +the sport. Anna had ceased to commiserate the captured fish. She was +obliged, however, to avert her head when Tom cut some skin from the +side of one of the mackerel to provide fresh bait; this device seemed +to her the extremest refinement of cruelty. Beatrice grew ominously +silent and inert, and Mrs. Sutton glanced first at her daughter and +then at her husband; the latter nodded. +</P> + +<P> +'We'd happen better be getting back, Henry,' said the Alderman. +</P> + +<P> +The 'Fay' swept home like a bird. They were at the quay, and Kelly was +dragging them one by one from the black dinghy on to what the Alderman +called <I>terra-firma</I>. Henry had the fish on a string. +</P> + +<P> +'How many did ye catch, Miss Tellwright?' Kelly asked benevolently. +</P> + +<P> +'I caught four,' Anna replied. Never before had she felt so proud, +elated, and boisterous. Never had the blood so wildly danced in her +veins. She looked at her short blue skirt which showed three inches of +ankle, put forward her brown-shod foot like a vain coquette, and darted +a covert look at Henry. When he caught it she laughed instead of +blushing. +</P> + +<P> +'Ye're doing well,' Tom Kelly approved. 'Ye'll make a famous +mackerel-fisher.' +</P> + +<P> +Five of the mackerel were given to young Tom, the other four preceded a +fowl in the menu of dinner. They were called Anna's mackerel, and all +the diners agreed that better mackerel had never been lured out of the +Irish Sea. +</P> + +<P> +In the afternoon the Alderman and his wife slept as usual, Mr. Sutton +with a bandanna handkerchief over his face. The rest went out +immediately; the invitation of the sun and the sea was far too +persuasive to be resisted. +</P> + +<P> +'I'm going to paint,' said Beatrice, with a resolute mien. 'I want to +paint Bradda Head frightfully. I tried last year, but I got it too +dark, somehow. I've improved since then. What are you going to do?' +</P> + +<P> +'We'll come and watch you,' said Henry. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, no, you won't. At least you won't; you're such a critic. Anna +can if she likes.' +</P> + +<P> +'What! And me be left all afternoon by myself?' +</P> + +<P> +'Well, suppose you go with him, Anna, just to keep him from being +bored?' +</P> + +<P> +Anna hesitated. Once more she had the uncomfortable suspicion that +Mynors and herself were being manoeuvred. +</P> + +<P> +'Look here,' said Mynors to Beatrice. 'Have you decided absolutely to +paint?' +</P> + +<P> +'Absolutely.' The finality of the answer seemed to have a touch of +resentment. +</P> + +<P> +'Then'—he turned to Anna—'let's go and get that dinghy and row about +the bay. Eh?' +</P> + +<P> +She could offer no rational objection, and they were soon putting off +from the jetty, impelled seaward by a mighty push from Kelly's arm. It +was very hot. Mynors wore white flannels. He removed his coat, and +turned up his sleeves, showing thick, hairy arms. He sculled in a +manner almost dramatic, and the dinghy shot about like a water-spider +on a brook. Anna had nothing to do except to sit still and enjoy. +Everything was drowned in dazzling sunlight, and both Henry and Anna +could feel the process of tanning on their faces. The bay shimmered +with a million diamond points; it was impossible to keep the eyes open +without frowning, and soon Anna could see the beads of sweat on Henry's +crimson brow. +</P> + +<P> +'Warm?' she said. This was the first word of conversation. He merely +smiled in reply. Presently they were at the other side of the bay, in +a cave whose sandy and rock-strewn floor trembled clear under a fathom +of blue water. They landed on a jutting rock; Henry pushed his straw +hat back, and wiped his forehead. 'Glorious! glorious!' he exclaimed. +'Do you swim? No? You should get Beatrice to teach you. I swam out +here this morning at seven o'clock. It was chilly enough then. Oh! I +forgot, I told you at breakfast.' +</P> + +<P> +She could see him in the translucent water, swimming with long, +powerful strokes. Dozens of boats were moving lazily in the bay, each +with a cargo of parasols. +</P> + +<P> +'There's a good deal of the sunshade afloat,' he remarked. 'Why +haven't you got one? You'll get as brown as Tom Kelly.' +</P> + +<P> +'That's what I want,' she said. +</P> + +<P> +'Look at yourself in the water there,' he said, pointing to a little +pool left on the top of the rock by the tide. She did so, and saw two +fiery cheeks, and a forehead divided by a horizontal line into halves +of white and crimson; the tip of the nose was blistered. +</P> + +<P> +'Isn't it disgraceful?' he suggested. +</P> + +<P> +'Why,' she exclaimed, 'they'll never know me when I get home!' +</P> + +<P> +It was in such wise that they talked, endlessly exchanging trifles of +comment. Anna thought to herself: 'Is this love-making?' It could not +be, she decided; but she infinitely preferred it so. She was content. +She wished for nothing better than this apparently frivolous and +irresponsible dalliance. She felt that if Mynors were to be tender, +sentimental, and serious, she would become wretchedly self-conscious. +</P> + +<P> +They re-embarked, and, skirting the shore, gradually came round to the +beach. Up above them, on the cliffs, they could discern the +industrious figure of Beatrice, with easel and sketching-umbrella, and +all the panoply of the earnest amateur. +</P> + +<P> +'Do you sketch?' she asked him. +</P> + +<P> +'Not I!' he said scornfully. +</P> + +<P> +'Don't you believe in that sort of thing, then?' +</P> + +<P> +'It's all right for professional artists,' he said; 'people who can +paint. But—— Well, I suppose it's harmless for the amateurs—finds +them something to do.' +</P> + +<P> +'I wish I could paint, anyway,' she retorted. +</P> + +<P> +'I'm glad you can't,' he insisted. +</P> + +<P> +When they got back to the cliffs, towards tea-time, Beatrice was still +painting, but in a new spot. She seemed entirely absorbed in her work, +and did not hear their approach. +</P> + +<P> +'Let's creep up and surprise her,' Mynors whispered. 'You go first, +and put your hands over her eyes.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh!' exclaimed Beatrice, blindfolded; 'how horrid you are, Henry! I +know who it is—I know who it is.' +</P> + +<P> +'You just don't, then,' said Henry, now in front of her. Anna removed +her hands. +</P> + +<P> +'Well, you told her to do it, I'm sure of that. And I was getting on +so splendidly! I shan't do another stroke now.' +</P> + +<P> +'That's right,' said Henry. 'You've wasted quite enough time as it is.' +</P> + +<P> +Beatrice pouted. She was evidently annoyed with both of them. She +looked from one to the other, jealous of their mutual understanding and +agreement. Mr. and Mrs. Sutton issued from the house, and the five +stood chatting till tea was ready; but the shadow remained on +Beatrice's face. Mynors made several attempts to laugh it away, and at +dusk these two went for a stroll to Port St. Mary. They returned in a +state of deep intimacy. During supper Beatrice was consciously and +elaborately angelic, and there was that in her voice and eyes, when +sometimes she addressed Mynors, which almost persuaded Anna that he +might once have loved his cousin. At night, in the bedroom, Anna +imagined that she could detect in Beatrice's attitude the least shade +of condescension. She felt hurt, and despised herself for feeling hurt. +</P> + +<P> +So the days passed, without much variety, for the Suttons were not +addicted to excursions. Anna was profoundly happy; she had forgotten +care. She agreed to every suggestion for amusement; each moment had +its pleasure, and this pleasure was quite independent of the thing +done; it sprang from all activities and idlenesses. She was at special +pains to fraternise with Mr. Sutton. He made an interesting companion, +full of facts about strata, outcrops, and breaks, his sole weakness +being the habit of quoting extremely sentimental scraps of verse when +walking by the sea-shore. He frankly enjoyed Anna's attention to him, +and took pride in her society. Mrs. Sutton, that simple heart, devoted +herself to the attainment of absolute quiescence. She had come for a +rest, and she achieved her purpose. Her kindliness became for the time +passive instead of active. Beatrice was a changing quantity in the +domestic equation. Plainly her parents had spoiled their only child, +and she had frequent fits of petulance, particularly with Mynors; but +her energy and spirits atoned well for these. As for Mynors, he +behaved exactly as on the first Monday. He spent many hours alone with +Anna—(Beatrice appeared to insist on leaving them together, even while +showing a faint resentment at the loneliness thus entailed on +herself)—and his attitude was such as Anna, ignorant of the ways of +brothers, deemed a brother might adopt. +</P> + +<P> +On the second Monday an incident occurred. In the afternoon Mr. Sutton +had asked Beatrice to go with him to Port St. Mary, and she had refused +on the plea that the light was of a suitable grey for painting. Mr. +Sutton had slipped off alone, unseen by Anna and Henry, who had meant +to accompany him in place of Beatrice. Before tea, while Anna, +Beatrice and Henry were awaiting the meal in the parlour, Mynors +referred to the matter. +</P> + +<P> +'I hope you've done some decent work this afternoon,' he said to +Beatrice. +</P> + +<P> +'I haven't,' she replied shortly; 'I haven't done a stroke.' +</P> + +<P> +'But you said you were going to paint hard!' +</P> + +<P> +'Well, I didn't.' +</P> + +<P> +'Then why couldn't you have gone to Port St. Mary, instead of breaking +your fond father's heart by a refusal?' +</P> + +<P> +'He didn't want me, really.' +</P> + +<P> +Anna interjected: 'I think he did, Bee.' +</P> + +<P> +'You know you're very self-willed, not to say selfish,' Mynors said. +</P> + +<P> +'No, I'm not,' Beatrice protested seriously. 'Am I, Anna?' +</P> + +<P> +'Well——' Anna tried to think of a diplomatic pronouncement. +Beatrice took offence at the hesitation. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh! You two are bound to agree, of course. You're as thick as +thieves.' +</P> + +<P> +She gazed steadily out of the window, and there was a silence. Mynors' +lip curled. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh! There's the loveliest yacht just coming into the bay,' Beatrice +cried suddenly, in a tone of affected enthusiasm. 'I'm going out to +sketch it.' She snatched up her hat and sketching-block, and ran +hastily from the room. The other two saw her sitting on the grass, +sharpening a pencil. The yacht, a large and luxurious craft, had +evidently come to anchor for the night. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Sutton arrived from her bedroom, and then Mr. Sutton also came in. +Tea was served. Mynors called to Beatrice through the window and +received no reply. Then Mrs. Sutton summoned her. +</P> + +<P> +'Go on with your tea,' Beatrice shouted, without turning her head. +'Don't wait for me. I'm bound to finish this now.' +</P> + +<P> +'Fetch her, Anna dear,' said Mrs. Sutton after another interval. Anna +rose to obey, half-fearful. +</P> + +<P> +'Aren't you coming in, Bee?' She stood by the sketcher's side, and +observed nothing but a few meaningless lines on the block. +</P> + +<P> +'Didn't you hear what I said to mother?' +</P> + +<P> +Anna retired in discomfiture. +</P> + +<P> +Tea was finished. They went out, but kept at a discreet distance from +the artist, who continued to use her pencil until dusk had fallen. +Then they returned to the sitting-room, where a fire had been lighted, +and Beatrice at length followed. As the others sat in a circle round +the fire, Beatrice, who occupied the sofa in solitude, gave a shiver. +</P> + +<P> +'Beatrice, you've taken cold,' said her mother, sitting out there like +that.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, nonsense, mother—what a fidget you are!' +</P> + +<P> +'A fidget I certainly am not, my darling, and that you know very well. +As you've had no tea, you shall have some gruel at once, and go to bed +and get warm.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh no, mother!' But Mrs. Sutton was resolved, and in half an hour she +had taken Beatrice to bed and tucked her up. +</P> + +<P> +When Anna went to the bedroom Beatrice was awake. +</P> + +<P> +'Can't you sleep?' she inquired kindly. +</P> + +<P> +'No,' said Beatrice, in a feeble voice, 'I'm restless, somehow.' +</P> + +<P> +'I wonder if it's influenza,' said Mrs. Sutton, on the following +morning, when she learnt from Anna that Beatrice had had a bad night, +and would take breakfast in bed. She carried the invalid's food +upstairs herself. 'I hope it isn't influenza,' she said later. 'The +girl is very hot.' +</P> + +<P> +'You haven't a clinical thermometer?' Mynors suggested. +</P> + +<P> +'Go, see if you can buy one at the little chemist's,' she replied +eagerly. In a few minutes he came back with the instrument. +</P> + +<P> +'She's at over a hundred,' Mrs. Sutton reported, having used the +thermometer. 'What do you say, father? Shall we send for a doctor? +I'm not so set up with doctors as a general rule,' she added, as if in +defence, to Anna. 'I brought Beatrice through measles and scarlet +fever without a doctor—we never used to think of having a doctor in +those days for ordinary ailments; but influenza—that's different. Eh, +I dread it; you never know how it will end. And poor Beatrice had such +a bad attack last Martinmas.' +</P> + +<P> +'If you like, I'll run for a doctor now,' said Mynors. +</P> + +<P> +'Let be till to-morrow,' the Alderman decided. 'We'll see how she goes +on. Happen it's nothing but a cold.' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' assented Mrs. Sutton; 'it's no use crying out before you're +hurt.' +</P> + +<P> +Anna was struck by the placidity with which they covered their +apprehension. Towards noon, Beatrice, who said that she felt better, +insisted on rising. A fire was lighted at once in the parlour, and she +sat in front of it till tea-time, when she was obliged to go to bed +again. On the Wednesday morning, after a night which had been almost +sleepless for both girls, her temperature stood at 103°, and Henry +fetched the doctor, who pronounced it a case of influenza, severe, +demanding very careful treatment. Instantly the normal movement of the +household was changed. The sickroom became a mysterious centre round +which everything revolved, and the parlour, without the alteration of a +single chair, took on a deserted, forlorn appearance. Meals were eaten +like the passover, with loins girded for any sudden summons. Mrs. +Sutton and Anna, as nurses, grew important in the eyes of the men, who +instinctively effaced themselves, existing only like messenger-boys +whose business it is to await a call. Yet there was no alarm, flurry, +nor excitement. In the evening the doctor returned. The patient's +temperature had not fallen. It was part of the treatment that a +medicine should be administered every two hours with absolute +regularity, and Mrs. Sutton said that she should sit up through the +night. +</P> + +<P> +'I shall do that,' said Anna. +</P> + +<P> +'Nay, I won't hear of it,' Mrs. Sutton replied, smiling. +</P> + +<P> +But the three men (the doctor had remained to chat in the parlour), +recognising Anna's capacity and reliability, and perhaps impressed also +by her business-like appearance as, arrayed in a white apron, she stood +with firm lips before them, gave a unanimous decision against Mrs. +Sutton. +</P> + +<P> +'We'st have you ill next, lass,' said the Alderman to his wife; 'and +that'll never do.' +</P> + +<P> +'Well,' Mrs. Sutton surrendered, 'if I can leave her to anyone, it's +Anna.' +</P> + +<P> +Mynors smiled appreciatively. +</P> + +<P> +On the Thursday morning there was still no sign of recovery. The +temperature was 104°, and the patient slightly delirious. Anna left +the sickroom at eight o'clock to preside at breakfast, and Mrs. Sutton +took her place. +</P> + +<P> +'You look tired, my dear,' said the Alderman affectionately. +</P> + +<P> +'I feel perfectly well,' she replied with cheerfulness. +</P> + +<P> +'And you aren't afraid of catching it?' Mynors asked. +</P> + +<P> +'Afraid?' she said; 'there's no fear of me catching it.' +</P> + +<P> +'How do you know?' +</P> + +<P> +'I know, that's all. I'm never ill.' +</P> + +<P> +'That's the right way to keep well,' the Alderman remarked. +</P> + +<P> +The quiet admiration of these two men was very pleasant to her. She +felt that she had established herself for ever in their esteem. After +breakfast, in obedience to them, she slept for several hours on Mrs. +Sutton's bed. In the afternoon Beatrice was worse. The doctor called, +and found her temperature at 105°. +</P> + +<P> +'This can't last,' he remarked briefly. +</P> + +<P> +'Well, Doctor,' Mr. Sutton said, 'it's i' your hands.' +</P> + +<P> +'Nay,' Mrs. Sutton murmured with a smile, 'I've left it with God. It's +with Him.' +</P> + +<P> +This was the first and only word of religion, except grace at table, +that Anna heard from the Suttons during her stay in the Isle of Man. +She had feared lest vocal piety might form a prominent feature of their +daily life, but her fear had proved groundless. She, too, from reason +rather than instinct, had tried to pray for Beatrice's recovery. She +had, however, found much more satisfaction in the activity of nursing. +</P> + +<P> +Again that night she sat up, and on the Friday morning Beatrice was +better. At noon all immediate danger was past; the patient slept; her +temperature was almost correct. Anna went to bed in the afternoon and +slept soundly till supper-time, when she awoke very hungry. For the +first time in three days Beatrice could be left alone. The other four +had supper together, cheerful and relieved after the tension. +</P> + +<P> +'She'll be as right as a trivet in a few days,' said the Alderman. +</P> + +<P> +'A few weeks,' said Mrs. Sutton. +</P> + +<P> +'Of course,' said Mynors, 'you'll stay on here, now?' +</P> + +<P> +'We shall stay until Beatrice is quite fit to travel,' Mr. Sutton +answered. 'I might have to run over to th' Five Towns for a day or two +middle of next week, but I can come back immediately.' +</P> + +<P> +'Well, I must go tomorrow,' Mynors sighed. +</P> + +<P> +'Surely you can stay over Sunday, Henry?' +</P> + +<P> +'No; I've no one to take my place at school.' +</P> + +<P> +'And I must go to-morrow, too,' said Anna suddenly. +</P> + +<P> +'Fiddle-de-dee, Anna!' the Alderman protested. +</P> + +<P> +'I must,' she insisted. 'Father will expect me. You know I came for a +fortnight. Besides, there's Agnes.' +</P> + +<P> +'Agnes will be all right.' +</P> + +<P> +'I must go.' They saw that she was fixed. +</P> + +<P> +'Won't a short walk do you good?' Mynors suggested to her, with +singular gravity, after supper. 'You've not been outside for two days.' +</P> + +<P> +She looked inquiringly at Mrs. Sutton. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, take her, Henry; she'll sleep better for it. Eh, Anna, but it's +a shame to send you home with those rings round your eyes.' +</P> + +<P> +She went upstairs for a jacket. Beatrice was awake. 'Anna,' she +exclaimed in a weak voice, without any preface, 'I was awfully silly +and cross the other afternoon, before all this business. Just now, +when you came into the room, I was feeling quite ashamed.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh! Bee!' she answered, bending over her, 'what nonsense! Now go off +to sleep at once.' She was very happy. Beatrice, victim of a +temperament which had the childishness and the impulsiveness of the +artist without his higher and sterner traits, sank back in facile +content. +</P> + +<P> +The night was still and very dark. When Anna and Mynors got outside +they could distinguish neither the sky nor the sea; but the faint, +restless murmur of the sea came up the cliffs. Only the lights of the +houses disclosed the direction of the road. +</P> + +<P> +'Suppose we go down to the jetty, and then along as far as the +breakwater?' he said, and she concurred. 'Won't you take my +muffler—again?' he added, pulling this ever-present article from his +pocket. +</P> + +<P> +'No, thanks,' she said, almost coldly, 'it's really quite warm.' She +regarded the offer of the muffler as an indiscretion—his sole +indiscretion during their acquaintance. As they walked down the hill +to the shore she though how Beatrice's illness had sharply interrupted +their relations. If she had come to the Isle of Man with a vague idea +that he would possibly propose to her, the expectation was +disappointed; but she felt no disappointment. She felt that events had +lifted her to a higher plane than that of love-making. She was filled +with the proud satisfaction of a duty accomplished. She did not seek +to minimise to herself the fact that she had been of real value to her +friends in the last few days, had probably saved Mrs. Sutton from +illness, had certainly laid them all under an obligation. Their +gratitude, unexpressed, but patent on each face, gave her infinite +pleasure. She had won their respect by the manner in which she had +risen to the height of an emergency that demanded more than devotion. +She had proved, not merely to them but to herself, that she could be +calm under stress, and could exert moral force when occasion needed. +Such were the joyous and exultant reflections which passed through her +brain—unnaturally active in the factitious wakefulness caused by +excessive fatigue. She was in an extremely nervous and excitable +condition—and never guessed it, fancying indeed that her emotions were +exceptionally tranquil that night. She had not begun to realise the +crisis through which she had just lived. +</P> + +<P> +The uneven road to the ruined breakwater was quite deserted. Having +reached the limit of the path, they stood side by side, solitary, +silent, gazing at the black and gently heaving surface of the sea. The +eye was foiled by the intense gloom; the ear could make nothing of the +strange night-noises of the bay and the ocean beyond; but the +imagination was stimulated by the appeal of all this mystery and +darkness. Never had the water seemed so wonderful, terrible, and +austere. +</P> + +<P> +'We are going away to-morrow,' he said at length. +</P> + +<P> +Anna started and shook with apprehension at the tremor in his voice. +She had read that a woman was always well warned by her instincts when +a man meant to propose to her. But here was the proposal imminent, and +she had not suspected. In a flash of insight she perceived that the +very event which had separated them for three days had also impelled +the lover forward in his course. It was the thought of her vigils, her +fortitude, her compassion, that had fanned the flame. She was not +surprised, only made uncomfortable, when he took her hand. +</P> + +<P> +'Anna,' he said, 'it's no use making a long story of it. I'm +tremendously in love with you; you know I am.' +</P> + +<P> +He stepped back, still holding her hand. She could say nothing. +</P> + +<P> +'Well?' he ventured. 'Didn't you know?' +</P> + +<P> +'I thought—I thought,' she murmured stupidly, 'I thought you liked me.' +</P> + +<P> +'I can't tell you how I admire you. I'm not going to praise you to +your face, but I simply never met anyone like you. From the very first +moment I saw you, it was the same. It's something in your face, +Anna—— Anna, will you be my wife?' +</P> + +<P> +The actual question was put in a precise, polite, somewhat conventional +tone. To Anna he was never more himself than at that moment. +</P> + +<P> +She could not speak; she could not analyse her feelings; she could not +even think. She was adrift. At last she stammered: 'We've only known +each other——' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, dear,' he exclaimed masterfully, 'what does that matter? If it +had been a dozen years instead of one, that would have made no +difference.' She drew her hand timidly away, but he took it again. +She felt that he dominated her and would decide for her. 'Say yes.' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' she said. +</P> + +<P> +She saw pictures of her career as his wife, and resolved that one of +the first acts of her freedom should be to release Agnes from the more +ignominious of her father's tyrannies. +</P> + +<P> +They walked home almost in silence. She was engaged, then. Yet she +experienced no new sensation. She felt as she had felt on the way +down, except that she was sorely perturbed. There was no ineffable +rapture, no ecstatic bliss. Suddenly the prospect of happiness swept +over her like a flood. +</P> + +<P> +At the gate she wished to make a request to him, but hesitated, because +she could not bring herself to use his Christian name. It was proper +for her to use his Christian name, however, and she would do so, or +perish. +</P> + +<P> +'Henry,' she said, 'don't tell anyone here.' He merely kissed her once +more. She went straight upstairs. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap11"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XI +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE DOWNFALL +</H4> + +<P> +In order to catch the Liverpool steamer at Douglas it was necessary to +leave Port Erin at half-past six in the morning. The freshness of the +morning, and the smiles of the Alderman and his wife as they waved +God-speed from the doorstep, filled Anna with a serene content which +she certainly had not felt during the wakeful night. She forgot, then, +the hours passed with her conscience in realising how serious and +solemn a thing was this engagement, made in an instant on the previous +evening. All that remained in her mind, as she and Henry walked +quickly down the road, was the tonic sensation of high resolves to be a +worthy wife. The duties, rather than the joys, of her condition, had +lain nearest her heart until that moment of setting out, giving her an +anxious and almost worried mien which at breakfast neither Henry nor +the Suttons could quite understand. But now the idea of duty ceased +for a time to be paramount, and she loosed herself to the pleasures of +the day in store. The harbour was full of low wandering mists, through +which the brown sails of the fishing-smacks played at hide-and-seek. +High above them the round forms of immense clouds were still carrying +the colours of sunrise. The gentle salt wind on the cheek was like the +touch of a life-giver. It was impossible, on such a morning, not to +exult in life, not to laugh childishly from irrational glee, not to +dismiss the memory of grief and the apprehension of grief as morbid +hallucinations. Mynor's face expressed the double happiness of present +and anticipated pleasure. He had once again succeeded, he who had +never failed; and the voyage back to England was for him a triumphal +progress. Anna responded eagerly to his mood. The day was an ecstasy, +a bright expanse unstained. To Anna in particular it was a unique day, +marking the apogee of her existence. In the years that followed she +could always return to it and say to herself: 'That day I was happy, +foolishly, ignorantly, but utterly. And all that I have since learnt +cannot alter it—I was happy.' +</P> + +<P> +When they reached Shawport Station a cab was waiting for Anna. Unknown +to her, Henry had ordered it by telegraph. This considerateness was of +a piece, she thought, with his masterly conduct of the entire +journey—on the steamer, at Liverpool, in the train; nothing that an +experienced traveller could devise had been lacking to her comfort. +She got into the cab alone, while Mynors, followed by a boy and his +bag, walked to his rooms in Mount Street. It had been arranged, at +Anna's wish, that he should not appear at Manor Terrace till +supper-time. Ephraim opened for her the door of her home. It seemed +to her that he was pleased. +</P> + +<P> +'Well, father, here I am again, you see.' +</P> + +<P> +'Ay, lass.' They shook hands, and she indicated to the cabman where to +deposit her tin-box. She was glad and relieved to be back. Nothing +had changed, except herself, and this absolute sameness was at once +pleasant and pathetic to her. +</P> + +<P> +'Where's Agnes?' she asked, smiling at her father. In the glow of +arrival she had a vague notion that her relations with him had been +permanently softened by absence. +</P> + +<P> +'I see thou's gotten into th' habit o' flitting about in cabs,' he +said, without answering her question. +</P> + +<P> +'Well, father,' she said, smiling yet, 'there was the box. I couldn't +carry the box.' +</P> + +<P> +'I reckon thou couldst ha' hired a lad to carry it for sixpence.' +</P> + +<P> +She did not reply. The cabman had gone to his vehicle. +</P> + +<P> +'Art'na going to pay th' cabby?' +</P> + +<P> +'I've paid him, father.' +</P> + +<P> +'How much?' +</P> + +<P> +She paused. 'Eighteen-pence, father.' It was a lie; she had paid two +shillings. +</P> + +<P> +She went eagerly into the kitchen, and then into the parlour, where tea +was set for one. Agnes was not there. 'Her's upstairs,' Ephraim said, +meeting Anna as she came into the lobby again. She ran softly +upstairs, and into the bedroom. Agnes was replacing ornaments on the +mantelpiece with mathematical exactitude; under her arm was a duster. +The child turned, startled, and gave a little shriek. +</P> + +<P> +'Eh, I didn't know you'd come. How early you are!' +</P> + +<P> +They rushed towards each other, embraced, and kissed. Anna was +overcome by the pathos of her sister's loneliness in that grim house +for fourteen days, while she, the elder, had been absorbed in selfish +gaiety. The pale face, large, melancholy eyes, and long, thin arms, +were a silent accusation. She wondered that she could ever have +brought herself to leave Agnes even for a day. Sitting down on the +bed, she drew the child on her knee in a fury of love, and kissed her +again, weeping. Agnes cried too, for sympathy. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, my dear, dear Anna, I'm so glad you've come back!' She dried her +eyes, and in quite a different tone of voice asked: 'Has Mr. Mynors +proposed to you?' +</P> + +<P> +Anna could not avoid a blush at this simple and astounding query. She +said: 'Yes.' It was the one word of which she was capable, under the +circumstances. That was not the moment to tax Agnes with too much +precocity and abruptness. +</P> + +<P> +'You're engaged, then? Oh, Anna, does it feel nice? It must. I knew +you would be!' +</P> + +<P> +'How did you know, Agnes?' +</P> + +<P> +'I mean I knew he would ask you, some time. All the girls at school +knew too.' +</P> + +<P> +'I hope you didn't talk about it,' said the elder sister. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, <i>no</i>! But they did; they were always talking about it.' +</P> + +<P> +'You never told me that.' +</P> + +<P> +'I—I didn't like to. Anna, shall I have to call him Henry now?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, of course. When we're married he will be your brother-in-law.' +</P> + +<P> +'Shall you be married soon, Anna?' +</P> + +<P> +'Not for a very long time.' +</P> + +<P> +'When you are—shall I keep house alone? I can, you know—— I shall +never <i>dare</i> to call him Henry. But he's awfully nice; isn't he, Anna? +Yes, when you are married, I shall keep house here, but I shall come to +see you every day. Father will <i>have</i> to let me do that. Does father +know you're engaged?' +</P> + +<P> +'Not yet. And you mustn't say anything. Henry is coming for supper. +And then father will be told.' +</P> + +<P> +'Did he kiss you, Anna?' +</P> + +<P> +'Who—father?' +</P> + +<P> +'No, silly! Henry, of course—I mean when he'd asked you?' +</P> + +<P> +'I think you are asking all the questions. Suppose I ask you some now. +How have you managed with father? Has he been nice?' +</P> + +<P> +'Some days—yes,' said Agnes, after thinking a moment. 'We have had +some new cups and saucers up from Mr. Mynors works. And father has +swept the kitchen chimney. And, oh Anna! I asked him to-day if I'd +kept house well, and he said "Pretty well," and he gave me a penny. +Look! It's the first money I've ever had, you know. I wanted you at +nights, Anna—and all the time, too. I've been frightfully busy. I +cleaned silvers all afternoon. Anna, I <I>have</I> tried—— And I've got +some tea for you. I'll go down and make it. Now you mustn't come into +the kitchen. I'll bring it to you in the parlour.' +</P> + +<P> +'I had my tea at Crewe,' Anna was about to say, but refrained, in due +course drinking the cup prepared by Agnes. She felt passionately sorry +for Agnes, too young to feel the shadow which overhung her future. +Anna would marry into freedom, but Agnes would remain the serf. Would +Agnes marry? Could she? Would her father allow it? Anna had noticed +that in families the youngest, petted in childhood, was often +sacrificed in maturity. It was the last maid who must keep her +maidenhood, and, vicariously filial, pay out of her own life the debt +of all the rest. +</P> + +<P> +'Mr. Mynors is coming up for supper to-night. He wants to see you;' +Anna said to her father, as calmly as she could. The miser grunted. +But at eight o'clock, the hour immutably fixed for supper, Henry had +not arrived. The meal proceeded, of course, without him. To Anna his +absence was unaccountable and disturbing, for none could be more +punctilious than he in the matter of appointments. She expected him +every moment, but he did not appear. Agnes, filled full of the great +secret confided to her, was more openly impatient than her sister. +Neither of them could talk, and a heavy silence fell upon the family +group, a silence which her father, on that particular evening of Anna's +return, resented. +</P> + +<P> +'You dunna' tell us much,' he remarked, when the supper was finished. +</P> + +<P> +She felt that the complaint was a just one. Even before supper, when +nothing had occurred to preoccupy her, she had spoken little. There +had seemed so much to tell—at Port Erin, and now there seemed nothing +to tell. She ventured into a flaccid, perfunctory account of +Beatrice's illness, of the fishing, of the unfinished houses which had +caught the fancy of Mr. Sutton; she said the sea had been smooth, that +they had had something to eat at Liverpool, that the train for Crewe +was very prompt; and then she could think of no more. Silence fell +again. The supper-things were cleared away and washed up. At a +quarter-past nine, Agnes, vainly begging permission to stay up in order +to see Mr. Mynors, was sent to bed, only partially comforted by a +clothes-brush, long desired, which Anna had brought for her as a +present from the Isle of Man. +</P> + +<P> +'Shall you tell father yourself, now Henry hasn't come?' the child +asked Anna, who had gone upstairs to unpack her box. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' said Anna, briefly. +</P> + +<P> +'I wonder what he'll say,' Agnes reflected, with that habit, always +annoying to Anna, of meeting trouble half-way. +</P> + +<P> +At a quarter to ten Anna ceased to expect Mynors, and finally braced +herself to the ordeal of a solemn interview with her father, well +knowing that she dared not leave him any longer in ignorance of her +engagement. Already the old man was locking and bolting the door; he +had wound up the kitchen clock. When he came back to the parlour to +extinguish the gas she was standing by the mantelpiece. +</P> + +<P> +'Father,' she began, 'I've something I must tell you.' +</P> + +<P> +'Eh, what's that ye say?' his hand was on the gas-tap. He dropped it, +examining her face curiously. +</P> + +<P> +'Mr. Mynors has asked me to marry him; he asked me last night. We +settled he should come up to-night to see you—I can't think why he +hasn't. It must be something very unexpected and important, or he'd +have come.' She trembled, her heart beat violently; but the words were +out, and she thanked God. +</P> + +<P> +'Asked ye to marry him, did he?' The miser gazed at her quizzically +out of his small blue eyes. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, father.' +</P> + +<P> +'And what didst say?' +</P> + +<P> +'I said I would.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh! Thou saidst thou wouldst! I reckon it was for thatten as thou +must go gadding off to seaside, eh?' +</P> + +<P> +'Father, I never dreamt of such a thing when Suttons asked me to go. I +do wish Henry'—the cost of that Christian name!—'had come. He quite +meant to come to-night.' She could not help insisting on the propriety +of Henry's intentions. +</P> + +<P> +'Then I am for be consulted, eh?' +</P> + +<P> +'Of course, father.' +</P> + +<P> +'Ye've soon made it up, between ye.' +</P> + +<P> +His tone was, at the best, brusque; but she breathed more easily, +divining instantly from his manner that he meant to offer no violent +objection to the engagement. She knew that only tact was needed now. +The miser had, indeed, foreseen the possibility of this marriage for +months past, and had long since decided in his own mind that Henry +would make a satisfactory son-in-law. Ephraim had no social +ambitions—with all his meanness, he was above them; he had nothing but +contempt for rank, style, luxury, and 'the theory of what it is to be a +lady and a gentleman.' Yet, by a curious contradiction, Henry's +smartness of appearance—the smartness of an unrivalled commercial +traveller—pleased him. He saw in Henry a young and sedate man of +remarkable shrewdness, a man who had saved money, had made money for +others, and was now making it for himself; a man who could be trusted +absolutely to perform that feat of 'getting on'; a 'safe' and +profoundly respectable man, at the same time audacious and +imperturbable. He was well aware that Henry had really fallen in love +with Anna, but nothing would have convinced him that Anna's money was +not the primal cause of Henry's genuine passion for Anna's self. +</P> + +<P> +'You like Henry, don't you, father?' Anna said. It was a failure in +the desired tact, for Ephraim had never been known to admit that he +liked anyone or anything. Such natures are capable of nothing more +positive than toleration. +</P> + +<P> +'He's a hard-headed chap, and he knows the value o' money. Ay! that he +does; he knows which side his bread's buttered on.' A sinister +emphasis marked the last sentence. +</P> + +<P> +Instead of remaining silent, Anna, in her nervousness, committed +another imprudence. 'What do you mean, father?' she asked, pretending +that she thought it impossible he could mean what he obviously did mean. +</P> + +<P> +'Thou knows what I'm at, lass. Dost think he isna' marrying thee for +thy brass? Dost think as he canna' make a fine guess what thou'rt +worth? But that wunna' bother thee as long as thou'st hooked a +good-looking chap.' +</P> + +<P> +'Father!' +</P> + +<P> +'Ay! thou mayst bridle; but it's true. Dunna' tell me.' +</P> + +<P> +Securely conscious of the perfect purity of Mynors' affection, she was +not in the least hurt. She even thought that her father's attitude was +not quite sincere, an attitude partially due to mere wilful +churlishness. 'Henry has never even mentioned money to me,' she said +mildly. +</P> + +<P> +'Happen not; he isna' such a fool as that.' He paused, and continued: +'Thou'rt free to wed, for me. Lasses will do it, I reckon, and thee +among th' rest.' She smiled, and on that smile he suddenly turned out +the gas. Anna was glad that the colloquy had ended so well. +Congratulations, endearments, loving regard for her welfare: she had +not expected these things, and was in no wise grieved by their absence. +Groping her way towards the lobby, she considered herself lucky, and +only wished that nothing had happened to keep Mynors away. She wanted +to tell him at once that her father had proved tractable. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +The next morning, Tellwright, whose attendance at chapel was losing the +strictness of its old regularity, announced that he should stay at +home. Sunday's dinner was to be a cold repast, and so Anna and Agnes +went to chapel. Anna's thoughts were wholly occupied with the prospect +of seeing Mynors, and hearing the explanation of his absence on +Saturday night. +</P> + +<P> +'There he is!' Agnes exclaimed loudly, as they were approaching the +chapel. +</P> + +<P> +'Agnes,' said Anna, 'when will you learn to behave in the street?' +</P> + +<P> +Mynors stood at the chapel-gates; he was evidently awaiting them. He +looked grave, almost sad. He raised his hat and shook hands, with a +particular friendliness for Agnes, who was speculating whether he would +kiss Anna, as his betrothed, or herself, as being only a little girl, +or both or neither of them. Her eyes already expressed a sort of +ownership in him. +</P> + +<P> +'I should like to speak to you a moment,' Henry said. 'Will you come +into the school-yard?' +</P> + +<P> +'Agnes, you had better go straight into chapel,' said Anna. It was an +ignominious disaster to the child, but she obeyed. +</P> + +<P> +'I didn't give you up last night till nearly ten o'clock,' Anna +remarked as they passed into the school-yard. She was astonished to +discover in herself an inclination to pout, to play the offended fair +one, because Mynors had failed in his appointment. Contemptuously she +crushed it. +</P> + +<P> +'Have you heard about Mr. Price?' Mynors began. +</P> + +<P> +'No. What about him? Has anything happened?' +</P> + +<P> +'A very sad thing has happened. Yes——' He stopped, from emotion. +'Our superintendent has committed suicide!' +</P> + +<P> +'Killed himself?' Anna gasped. +</P> + +<P> +'He hanged himself yesterday afternoon at Edward Street, in the +slip-house after the works were closed. Willie had gone home, but he +came back, when his father didn't turn up for dinner, and found him. +Mr. Price was quite dead. He ran in to my place to fetch me just as I +was getting my tea. That was why I never came last night.' +</P> + +<P> +Anna was speechless. +</P> + +<P> +'I thought I would tell you myself,' Henry resumed. 'It's an awful +thing for the Sunday-school, and the whole society, too. He, a +prominent Wesleyan, a worker among us! An awful thing!' he repeated, +dominated by the idea of the blow thus dealt to the Methodist connexion +by the man now dead. +</P> + +<P> +'Why did he do it?' Anna demanded, curtly. +</P> + +<P> +Mynors shrugged his shoulders, and ejaculated: 'Business troubles, I +suppose; it couldn't be anything else. At school this morning I simply +announced that he was dead.' Henry's voice broke, but he added, after +a pause: 'Young Price bore himself splendidly last night.' +</P> + +<P> +Anna turned away in silence. 'I shall come up for tea, if I may,' +Henry said, and then they parted, he to the singing-seat, she to the +portico of the chapel. People were talking in groups on the broad +steps and in the vestibule. All knew of the calamity, and had received +from it a new interest in life. The town was aroused as if from a +lethargy. Consternation and eager curiosity were on every face. Those +who arrived in ignorance of the event were informed of it in impressive +tones, and with intense satisfaction to the informer; nothing of equal +importance had happened in the society for decades. Anna walked up the +aisle to her pew, filled with one thought: +</P> + +<P> +'We drove him to it, father and I.' +</P> + +<P> +Her fear was that the miser had renewed his terrible insistence during +the previous fortnight. She forgot that she had disliked the dead man, +that he had always seemed to her mean, pietistic, and two-faced. She +forgot that in pressing him for rent many months overdue she and her +father had acted within their just rights—acted as Price himself would +have acted in their place. She could think only of the strain, the +agony, the despair that must have preceded the miserable tragedy. Old +Price had atoned for all in one sublime sin, the sole deed that could +lend dignity and repose to such a figure as his. Anna's feverish +imagination reconstituted the scene in the slip-house: she saw it as +something grand, accusing, and unanswerable; and she could not dismiss +a feeling of acute remorse that she should have been engaged in +pleasure at that very hour of death. Surely some instinct should have +warned her that the hare which she had helped to hunt was at its last +gasp! +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Sargent, the newly-appointed second minister, was in the pulpit—a +little, earnest bachelor, who emphasised every sentence with a +continual tremor of the voice. 'Brethren,' he said, after the second +hymn—and his tones vibrated with a singular effect through the +half-empty building: 'Before I proceed to my sermon I have one word to +say in reference to the awful event which is doubtless uppermost in the +minds of all of you. It is not for us to judge the man who is now gone +from us, ushered into the dread presence of his Maker with the crime of +self-murder upon his soul. I say it is not for us to judge him. The +ways of the Almighty are past finding out. Therefore at such a moment +we may fitly humble ourselves before the Throne, and while prostrate +there let us intercede for the poor young man who is left behind, +bereft, and full of grief and shame. We will engage in silent prayer.' +He lifted his hand, and closed his eyes, and the congregation leaned +forward against the fronts of the pews. The appealing face of Willie +presented itself vividly to Anna. +</P> + +<P> +'Who is it?' Agnes asked, in a whisper of appalling distinctness. Anna +frowned angrily, and gave no reply. +</P> + +<P> +While the last hymn was being sung, Anna signed to Agnes that she +wished to leave the chapel. Everyone would be aware that she was among +Price's creditors, and she feared that if she stayed till the end of +the service some chatterer might draw her into a distressing +conversation. The sisters went out, and Agnes's burning curiosity was +at length relieved. +</P> + +<P> +'Mr. Price has hanged himself,' Anna said to her father when they +reached home. +</P> + +<P> +The miser looked through the window for a moment. 'I am na' +surprised,' he said. 'Suicide's i' that blood. Titus's uncle 'Lijah +tried to kill himself twice afore he died o' gravel. Us'n have to do +summat wi' Edward Street at last.' +</P> + +<P> +She wanted to ask Ephraim if he had been demanding more rent lately, +but she could not find courage to do so. +</P> + +<P> +Agnes had to go to Sunday-school alone that afternoon. Without saying +anything to her father, Anna decided to stay at home. She spent the +time in her bedroom, idle, preoccupied; and did not come downstairs +till half-past three. Ephraim had gone out. Agnes presently returned, +and then Henry came in with Mr. Tellwright. They were conversing +amicably, and Anna knew that her engagement was finally and +satisfactorily settled. During tea no reference was made to it, nor to +the suicide. Mynors' demeanour was quiet but cheerful. He had partly +recovered from the morning's agitation, and gave Ephraim and Agnes a +vivacious account of the attractions of Port Erin. Anna noticed the +amusement in his eyes when Agnes, reddening, said to him: 'Will you +have some more bread-and-butter, Henry?' It seemed to be tacitly +understood afterwards that Agnes and her father would attend chapel, +while Henry and Anna kept house. No one was ingenious enough to detect +an impropriety in the arrangement. For some obscure reason, +immediately upon the departure of the chapel-goers, Anna went into the +kitchen, rattled some plates, stroked her hair mechanically, and then +stole back again to the parlour. It was a chilly evening, and instead +of walking up and down the strip of garden the betrothed lovers sat +together under the window. Anna wondered whether or not she was happy. +The presence of Mynors was, at any rate, marvellously soothing. +</P> + +<P> +'Did your father say anything about the Price affair?' he began, +yielding at once to the powerful hypnotism of the subject which +fascinated the whole town that night, and which Anna could bear neither +to discuss nor to ignore. +</P> + +<P> +'Not much,' she said, and repeated to him her father's remark. +</P> + +<P> +Mynors told her all he knew; how Willie had discovered his father with +his toes actually touching the floor, leaning slightly forward, quite +dead; how he had then cut the rope and fetched Mynors, who went with +him to the police-station; how they had tied up the head of the corpse, +and then waited till night to wheel the body on a hand-cart from Edward +Street to the mortuary chamber at the police-station; how the police +had telephoned to the coroner, and settled at once that the inquest +should be held on Tuesday in the court-room at the town-hall; and how +quiet, self-contained, and dignified Willie had been, surprising +everyone by this new-found manliness. It all seemed hideously real to +Anna, as Henry added detail to detail. +</P> + +<P> +'I think I ought to tell you,' she said very calmly, when he had +finished the recital, 'that I—I'm dreadfully upset over it. I can't +help thinking that I—that father and I, I mean—are somehow partly +responsible for this.' +</P> + +<P> +'For Price's death? How?' +</P> + +<P> +'We have been so hard on him for his rent lately, you know.' +</P> + +<P> +'My dearest girl! What next?' He took her hand in his. 'I assure you +the idea is absurd. You've only got it because you're so sensitive and +high-strung. I undertake to say Price was stuck fast +everywhere—everywhere—hadn't a chance.' +</P> + +<P> +'Me high-strung!' she exclaimed. He kissed her lovingly. But, beneath +the feeling of reassurance, which by superior force he had imposed on +her, there lay a feeling that she was treated like a frightened child +who must be tranquillized in the night. Nevertheless, she was grateful +for his kindness, and when she went to bed she obtained relief from the +returning obsession of the suicide by making anew her vows to him. +</P> + +<P> +As a theatrical effect the death of Titus Price could scarcely have +been surpassed. The town was profoundly moved by the spectacle of this +abject yet heroic surrender of all those pretences by which society +contrives to tolerate itself. Here was a man whom no one respected, +but everyone pretended to respect—who knew that he was respected by +none, but pretended that he was respected by all; whose whole career +was made up of dissimulations: religious, moral, and social. If any +man could have been trusted to continue the decent sham to the end, and +so preserve the general self-esteem, surely it was this man. But no! +Suddenly abandoning all imposture, he transgresses openly, brazenly; +and, snatching a bit of hemp cries: 'Behold me; this is real human +nature. This is the truth; the rest was lies. I lied; you lied. I +confess it, and you shall confess it.' Such a thunderclap shakes the +very base of the microcosm. The young folk in particular could with +difficulty believe their ears. It seemed incredible to them that Titus +Price, the Methodist, the Sunday-school superintendent, the loud +champion of the highest virtues, should commit the sin of all +sins—murder. They were dazed. The remembrance of his insincerity did +nothing to mitigate the blow. In their view it was perhaps even worse +that he had played false to his own falsity. The elders were a little +less disturbed. The event was not unique in their experience. They +had lived longer and felt these seismic shocks before. They could go +back into the past and find other cases where a swift impulse had +shattered the edifice of a lifetime. They knew that the history of +families and of communities is crowded with disillusion. They had +discovered that character is changeless, irrepressible, incurable. +They were aware of the astonishing fact, which takes at least thirty +years to learn, that a Sunday-school superintendent is a man. And the +suicide of Titus Price, when they had realised it, served but to +confirm their most secret and honest estimate of humanity, that +estimate which they never confided to a soul. The young folk thought +the Methodist Society shamed and branded by the tragic incident, and +imagined that years must elapse before it could again hold up its head +in the town. The old folk were wiser, foreseeing with certainty that +in only a few days this all-engrossing phenomenon would lose its +significance, and be as though it had never been. Even in two days, +time had already begun its work, for by Tuesday morning the interest of +the affair—on Sunday at the highest pitch—had waned so much that the +thought of the inquest was capable of reviving it. Although everyone +knew that the case presented no unusual features, and that the +coroner's inquiry would be nothing more than a formal ceremony, the +almost greedy curiosity of Methodist circles lifted it to the level of +a <I>cause célèbre</I>. The court was filled with irreproachable +respectability when the coroner drove into the town, and each animated +face said to its fellow: 'So you're here, are you?' Late comers of the +official world—councillors, guardians of the poor, members of the +school board, and one or two of their ladies, were forced to intrigue +for room with the police and the town-hall keeper, and, having +succeeded, sank into their narrow seats with a sigh of expectancy and +triumph. Late comers with less influence had to retire, and by a kind +of sinister fascination were kept wandering about the corridor before +they could decide to go home. The market-place was occupied by +hundreds of loafers, who seemed to find a mystic satisfaction in +beholding the coroner's dogcart and the exterior of the building which +now held the corpse. +</P> + +<P> +It was by accident that Anna was in the town. She knew that the +inquest was to occur that morning, but had not dreamed of attending it. +When, however, she saw the stir of excitement in the market-place, and +the police guarding the entrances of the town-hall, she walked directly +across the road, past the two officers at the east door, and into the +dark main corridor of the building, which was dotted with small groups +idly conversing. She was conscious of two things: a vehement +curiosity, and the existence somewhere in the precincts of a dead body, +unsightly, monstrous, calm, silent, careless—the insensible origin of +all this simmering ferment which disgusted her even while she shared in +it. At a small door, half hidden by a curtain, she was startled to see +Mynors. +</P> + +<P> +'You here!' he exclaimed, as if painfully surprised, and shook hands +with a preoccupied air. 'They are examining Willie. I came outside +while he was in the witness-box.' +</P> + +<P> +'Is the inquest going on in there?' she asked, pointing to the door. +Each appeared to be concealing a certain resentment against the other; +but this appearance was due only to nervous agitation. +</P> + +<P> +A policeman down the corridor called: 'Mr. Mynors, a moment.' Henry +hurried away, answering Anna's question as he went: 'Yes, in there. +That's the witnesses' and jurors' door; but please don't go in. I +don't like you to, and it is sure to upset you.' +</P> + +<P> +She opened the door and went in. None said nay, and she found a few +inches of standing-room behind the jury-box. A terrible stench +nauseated her; the chamber was crammed, and not a window open. There +was silence in the court—no one seemed to be doing anything; but at +last she perceived that the coroner, enthroned on the bench justice was +writing in a book with blue leaves. In the witness-box stood William +Price, dressed in black, with kid gloves, not lounging in an ungainly +attitude, as might have been expected, but perfectly erect; he kept his +eyes fixed on the coroner's head. Sarah Vodrey, Price's aged +housekeeper, sat on a chair near the witness-box, weeping into a +black-bordered handkerchief; at intervals she raised her small, +wrinkled, red face, with its glistening, inflamed eyes, and then buried +it again in the handkerchief. The members of the jury, whom Anna could +see only in profile, shuffled to and fro on their long, pew-like +seats—they were mostly working men, shabbily clothed; but the foreman +was Mr. Leal, the provision dealer, a freemason, and a sidesman at the +parish church. The general public sat intent and vacuous; their minds +gaped, if not their mouths; occasionally one whispered inaudibly to +another; the jury, conscious of an official status, exchanged remarks +in a whisper courageously loud. Several tall policemen, helmet in +hand, stood in various corners of the room, and the coroner's officer +sat near the witness-box to administer the oath. At length the coroner +lifted his head. He was rather a young man, with a large, intelligent +face; he wore eyeglasses, and his chin was covered with a short, wavy +beard. His manner showed that, while secretly proud of his supreme +position in that assemblage, he was deliberately trying to make it +appear that this exercise of judicial authority was nothing to him, +that in truth these eternal inquiries, which interested others so +deeply, were to him a weariness conscientiously endured. +</P> + +<P> +'Now, Mr. Price,' the coroner said blandly, and it was plain that he +was being ceremoniously polite to an inferior, in obedience to the +rules of good form, 'I must ask you some more questions. They may be +inconvenient, even painful; but I am here simply as the instrument of +the law, and I must do my duty. And these gentlemen here,' he waved a +hand in the direction of the jury, 'must be told the whole facts of the +case. We know, of course, that the deceased committed suicide—that +has been proved beyond doubt; but, as I say, we have the right to know +more.' He paused, well satisfied with the sound of his voice, and +evidently thinking that he had said something very weighty and +impressive. +</P> + +<P> +'What do you want to know?' Willie Price demanded, his broad Five Towns +speech contrasting with the Kensingtonian accents of the coroner. The +latter, who came originally from Manchester, was irritated by the +brusque interruption; but he controlled his annoyance, at the same time +glancing at the public as if to signify to them that he had learnt not +to take too seriously the unintentional rudeness characteristic of +their district. +</P> + +<P> +'You say it was probably business troubles that caused your late father +to commit the rash act?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes.' +</P> + +<P> +'You are sure there was nothing else?' +</P> + +<P> +'What else could there be?' +</P> + +<P> +'Your late father was a widower?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes.' +</P> + +<P> +'Now as to these business troubles—what were they?' +</P> + +<P> +'We were being pressed by creditors.' +</P> + +<P> +'Were you a partner with your late father?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh! You were a partner with him!' +</P> + +<P> +The jury seemed surprised, and the coroner wrote again: 'What was your +share in the business?' +</P> + +<P> +'I don't know.' +</P> + +<P> +'You don't know? Surely that is rather singular?' +</P> + +<P> +'My father took me in Co. not long since. We signed a deed, but I +forget what was in it. My place was principally on the bank, not in +the office.' +</P> + +<P> +'And so you were being pressed by creditors?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes. And we were behind with the rent.' +</P> + +<P> +'Was the landlord pressing you, too?' +</P> + +<P> +Anna lowered her eyes, fearful lest every head had turned towards her. +</P> + +<P> +'Not then; he had been—she, I mean.' +</P> + +<P> +'The landlord is a lady?' Here the coroner faintly smiled. 'Then, as +regards the landlord, the pressure was less than it had been?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes; we had paid some rent, and settled some other claims.' +</P> + +<P> +'Does it not seem strange——?' the coroner began, with a suave air of +suggesting an idea. +</P> + +<P> +'If you must know,' Willie surprisingly burst out, 'I believe it was +the failure of a firm in London that owed us money that caused father +to hang himself.' +</P> + +<P> +'Ah!' exclaimed the coroner. 'When did you hear of that failure?' +</P> + +<P> +'By second post on Friday. Eleven in the morning.' +</P> + +<P> +'I think we have heard enough, Mr. Coroner,' said Leal, standing up in +the jury-box. 'We have decided on our verdict.' +</P> + +<P> +'Thank you, Mr. Price,' said the coroner, dismissing Willie. He added, +in a tone of icy severity to the foreman: 'I had concluded my +examination of the witness.' Then he wrote further in his book. +</P> + +<P> +'Now, gentlemen of the jury,' the coroner resumed, having first cleared +his throat; 'I think you will agree with me that this is a peculiarly +painful case. Yet at the same time——' +</P> + +<P> +Anna hastened from the court as impulsively as she had entered it. She +could think of nothing but the quiet, silent, pitiful corpse; and all +this vapid mouthing exasperated her beyond sufferance. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +On the Thursday afternoon, Anna was sitting alone in the house, with +the Persian cat and a pile of stockings on her knee, darning. Agnes +had with sorrow returned to school; Ephraim was out. The bell sounded +violently, and Anna, thinking that perhaps for some reason her father +had chosen to enter by the front door, ran to open it. The visitor was +Willie Price; he wore the new black suit which had figured in the +coroner's court. She invited him to the parlour and they both sat +down, tongue-tied. Now that she had learnt from his evidence given at +the inquest that Ephraim had not been pressing for rent during her +absence in the Isle of Man, she felt less like a criminal before Willie +than she would have felt without that assurance. But at the best she +was nervous, self-conscious, and shamed. She supposed that he had +called to make some arrangement with reference to the tenure of the +works, or, more probably, to announce a bankruptcy and stoppage. +</P> + +<P> +'Well, Miss Tellwright,' Willie began, 'I've buried him. He's gone.' +</P> + +<P> +The simple and profound grief, and the restrained bitterness against +all the world, which were expressed in these words—the sole epitaph of +Titus Price—nearly made Anna cry. She would have cried, if the cat +had not opportunely jumped on her knee again; she controlled herself by +dint of stroking it. She sympathised with him more intensely in that +first moment of his loneliness than she had ever sympathised with +anyone, even Agnes. She wished passionately to shield, shelter, and +comfort him, to do something, however small, to diminish his sorrow and +humiliation; and this despite his size, his ungainliness, his coarse +features, his rough voice, his lack of all the conventional +refinements. A single look from his guileless and timid eyes atoned +for every shortcoming. Yet she could scarcely open her mouth. She +knew not what to say. She had no phrases to soften the frightful blow +which Providence had dealt him. +</P> + +<P> +'I'm very sorry,' she said. 'You must be relieved it's all over.' +</P> + +<P> +If she could have been Mrs. Sutton for half an hour! But she was Anna, +and her feelings could only find outlet in her eyes. Happily young +Price was of those meek ones who know by instinct the language of the +eyes. +</P> + +<P> +'You've come about the works, I suppose?' she went on. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' he said. 'Is your father in? I want to see him very +particular.' +</P> + +<P> +'He isn't in now,' she replied: 'but he will be back by four o'clock.' +</P> + +<P> +'That's an hour. You don't know where he is?' +</P> + +<P> +She shook her head. 'Well,' he continued, 'I must tell you, then. +I've come up to do it, and do it I must. I can't come up again; +neither can I wait. You remember that bill of exchange as we gave you +some weeks back towards rent?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' she said. There was a pause. He stood up, and moved to the +mantelpiece. Her gaze followed him intently, but she had no idea what +he was about to say. +</P> + +<P> +'It's forged, Miss Tellwright.' He sat down again, and seemed calmer, +braver, ready to meet any conceivable set of consequences. +</P> + +<P> +'Forged!' she repeated, not immediately grasping the significance of +the avowal. +</P> + +<P> +'Mr. Sutton's name is forged on it. So I came to tell your father; but +you'll do as well. I feel as if I should like to tell you all about +it,' he said, smiling sadly. 'Mr. Sutton had really given us a bill +for thirty pounds, but we'd paid that away when Mr. Tellwright sent +word down—you remember—that he should put bailiffs in if he didn't +have twenty-five pounds next day. We were just turning the corner +then, father said to me. There was a goodish sum due to us from a +London firm in a month's time, and if we could only hold out till then, +father said he could see daylight for us. But he knew as there'd be no +getting round Mr. Tellwright. So he had the idea of using Mr. Sutton's +name—just temporary like. He sent me to the post-office to buy a bill +stamp, and he wrote out the bill all but the name. "You take this up +to Tellwright's," he says, "and ask 'em to take it and hold it, and +we'll redeem it, and that'll be all right. No harm done there, Will!" +he says. Then he tries Sutton's name on the back of an envelope. It's +an easy signature, as you know; but he couldn't do it. "Here, Will," +he says, "my old hand shakes; you have a go," and he gives me a letter +of Sutton's to copy from. I did it easy enough after a try or two. +"That'll be all right, Will," he says, and I put my hat on and brought +the bill up here. That's the truth, Miss Tellwright. It was the smash +of that London firm that finished my poor old father off.' +</P> + +<P> +Her one feeling was the sense of being herself a culprit. After all, +it was her father's action, more than anything else, that had led to +the suicide, and he was her agent. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, Mr. Price,' she said foolishly, 'whatever shall you do?' +</P> + +<P> +'There's nothing to be done,' he replied. 'It was bound to be. It's +our luck. We'd no thought but what we should bring you thirty pound in +cash and get that bit of paper back, and rip it up, and no one the +worse. But we were always unlucky, me and him. All you've got to do +is just to tell your father, and say I'm ready to go to the +police-station when he gives the word. It's a bad business, but I'm +ready for it.' +</P> + +<P> +'Can't we do something?' she naïvely inquired, with a vision of a trial +and sentence, and years of prison. +</P> + +<P> +'Your father keeps the bill, doesn't he? Not you?' +</P> + +<P> +'I could ask him to destroy it.' +</P> + +<P> +'He wouldn't,' said Willie. 'You'll excuse me saying that, Miss +Tellwright, but he wouldn't.' +</P> + +<P> +He rose as if to go, bitterly. As for Anna, she knew well that her +father would never permit the bill to be destroyed. But at any cost +she meant to comfort him then, to ease his lot, to send him away less +grievous than he came. +</P> + +<P> +'Listen!' she said, standing up, and abandoning the cat, 'I will see +what can be done. Yes. Something <I>shall</I> be done—something or other. +I will come and see you at the works to-morrow afternoon. You may rely +on me.' +</P> + +<P> +She saw hope brighten his eyes at the earnestness and resolution of her +tone, and she felt richly rewarded. He never said another word, but +gripped her hand with such force that she flinched in pain. When he +had gone, she perceived clearly the dire dilemma; but cared nothing, in +the first bliss of having reassured him. +</P> + +<P> +During tea it occurred to her that as soon as Agnes had gone to bed she +would put the situation plainly before her father, and, for the first +and last time in her life, assert herself. She would tell him that the +affair was, after all, entirely her own, she would firmly demand +possession of the bill of exchange, and she would insist on it being +destroyed. She would point out to the old man that, her promise having +been given to Willie Price, no other course than this was possible. In +planning this night-surprise on her father's obstinacy, she found +argument after argument auspicious of its success. The formidable +tyrant was at last to meet his equal, in force, in resolution, and in +pugnacity. The swiftness of her onrush would sweep him, for once, off +his feet. At whatever cost, she was bound to win, even though victory +resulted in eternal enmity between father and daughter. She saw +herself towering over him, morally, with blazing eye and scornful +nostril. And, thus meditating on the grandeur of her adventure, she +fed her courage with indignation. By the act of death, Titus Price had +put her father for ever in the wrong. His corpse accused the miser, +and Anna, incapable now of seeing aught save the pathos of suicide, +acquiesced in the accusation with all the strength of her remorse. She +did not reason—she felt; reason was shrivelled up in the fire of +emotion. She almost trembled with the urgency of her desire to protect +from further shame the figure of Willie Price, so frank, simple, +innocent, and big; and to protect also the lifeless and dishonoured +body of his parent. She reviewed the whole circumstances again and +again, each time finding less excuse for her father's implacable and +fatal cruelty. +</P> + +<P> +So her thoughts ran until the appointed hour of Agnes's bedtime. It +was always necessary to remind Agnes of that hour; left to herself, the +child would have stayed up till the very Day of Judgment. The clock +struck, but Anna kept silence. To utter the word 'bedtime' to Agnes +was to open the attack on her father, and she felt as the conductor of +an opera feels before setting in motion a complicated activity which +may end in either triumph or an unspeakable fiasco. The child was +reading; Anna looked and looked at her, and at length her lips were set +for the phrase, 'Now Agnes,' when, suddenly, the old man forestalled +her: +</P> + +<P> +'Is that wench going for sit here all night?' he asked of Anna, +menacingly. +</P> + +<P> +Agnes shut her book and crept away. +</P> + +<P> +This accident was the ruin of Anna's scheme. Her father, always the +favourite of circumstance, had by chance struck the first blow; +ignorant of the battle that awaited him, he had unwittingly won it by +putting her in the wrong, as Titus Price had put him in the wrong. She +knew in a flash that her enterprise was hopeless; she knew that her +father's position in regard to her was impregnable, that no moral +force, no consciousness of right, would avail to overthrow that +authority which she had herself made absolute by a life-long +submission; she knew that face to face with her father she was, and +always would be, a coward. And now, instead of finding arguments for +success, she found arguments for failure. She divined all the retorts +that he would fling at her. What about Mr. Sutton—in a sense the +victim of this fraud? It was not merely a matter of thirty pounds. A +man's name had been used. Was he, Ephraim Tellwright, and she, his +daughter, to connive at a felony? The felony was done, and could not +be undone. Were they to render themselves liable, even in theory, to a +criminal prosecution? If Titus Price had killed himself, what of that? +If Willie Price was threatened with ruin, what of that? Them as made +the bed must lie on it. At the best, and apart from any forgery, the +Prices had swindled their creditors; even in dying, old Price had been +guilty of a commercial swindle. And was the fact that father and son +between them had committed a direct and flagrant crime to serve as an +excuse for sympathising with the survivor? Why was Anna so anxious to +shield the forger? What claim had he? A forger was a forger, and that +was the end of it. +</P> + +<P> +She went to bed without opening her mouth. Irresolute, shamed, and +despairing, she tried to pray for guidance, but she could bring no +sincerity of appeal into this prayer; it seemed an empty form. Where, +indeed, was her religion? She was obliged to acknowledge that the +fervour of her aspirations had been steadily cooling for weeks. She +was not a whit more a true Christian now than she had been before the +Revival; it appeared that she was incapable of real religion, possibly +one of those souls foreordained to damnation. This admission added to +the general sense of futility, and increased her misery. She lay awake +for hours, confronting her deliberate promise to Willie Price. +<I>Something shall be done</I>. <I>Rely on me</I>. He was relying on her, then. +But on whom could she rely? To whom could she turn? It is significant +that the idea of confiding in Henry Mynors did not present itself for a +single moment as practical. Mynors had been kind to Willie in his +trouble, but Anna almost resented this kindness on account of the +condescending superiority which she thought she detected therein. It +was as though she had overheard Mynors saying to himself: 'Here is this +poor, crushed worm. It is my duty as a Christian to pity and succour +him. I will do so. I am a righteous man.' The thought of anyone +stooping to Willie was hateful to her. She felt equal with him, as a +mother feels equal with her child when it cries and she soothes it. +And she felt, in another way, that he was equal with her, as she +thought of his sturdy and simple confession, and of the loyal love in +his voice when he spoke of his father. She liked him for hurting her +hand, and for refusing to snatch at the slender chance of her father's +clemency. She could never reveal Willie's sin, if it was a sin, to +Henry Mynors—that symbol of correctness and of success. She had +fraternised with sinners, like Christ; and, with amazing injustice, she +was capable of deeming Mynors a Pharisee because she could not find +fault with him, because he lived and loved so impeccably and so +triumphantly. There was only one person from whom she could have asked +advice and help, and that wise and consoling heart was far away in the +Isle of Man. +</P> + +<P> +'Why won't father give up the bill?' she demanded, half aloud, in +sullen wrath. She could not frame the answer in words, but +nevertheless she knew it and felt it. Such an act of grace would have +been impossible to her father's nature—that was all. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly the expression of her face changed from utter disgust into a +bitter and proud smile. Without thinking further, without daring to +think, she rose out of bed and, night-gowned and bare-footed, crept +with infinite precaution downstairs. The oilcloth on the stairs froze +her feet; a cold, grey light issuing through the glass square over the +front door showed that dawn was beginning. The door of the +front-parlour was shut; she opened it gently, and went within. Every +object in the room was faintly visible, the bureau, the chair, the +files of papers, the pictures, the books on the mantelshelf, and the +safe in the corner. The bureau, she knew, was never locked; fear of +their father had always kept its privacy inviolate from Anna and Agnes, +without the aid of a key. As Anna stood in front of it, a shaking +figure with hair hanging loose, she dimly remembered having one day +seen a blue paper among white in the pigeon-holes. But if the bill was +not there she vowed that she would steal her father's keys while he +slept, and force the safe. She opened the bureau, and at once saw the +edge of a blue paper corresponding with her recollection. She pulled +it forth and scanned it. 'Three months after date pay to our order ... +Accepted payable, <I>William Sutton</I>.' So here was the forgery, here the +two words for which Willie Price might have gone to prison! What a +trifle! She tore the flimsy document to bits, and crumpled the bits +into a little ball. How should she dispose of the ball? After a +moment's reflection she went into the kitchen, stretched on tiptoe to +reach the match-box from the high mantelpiece, struck a match, and +burnt the ball in the grate. Then, with a restrained and sinister +laugh, she ran softly upstairs. +</P> + +<P> +'What's the matter, Anna?' Agnes was sitting up in bed, wide awake. +</P> + +<P> +'Nothing; go to sleep, and don't bother,' Anna angrily whispered. +</P> + +<P> +Had she closed the lid of the bureau? She was compelled to return in +order to make sure. Yes, it was closed. When at length she lay in +bed, breathless, her heart violently beating, her feet like icicles, +she realised what she had done. She had saved Willie Price, but she +had ruined herself with her father. She knew well that he would never +forgive her. +</P> + +<P> +On the following afternoon she planned to hurry to Edward Street and +back while Ephraim and Agnes were both out of the house. But for some +reason her father sat persistently after dinner, conning a sale +catalogue. At a quarter to three he had not moved. She decided to go +at any risks. She put on her hat and jacket, and opened the front +door. He heard her. +</P> + +<P> +'Anna!' he called sharply. She obeyed the summons in terror. 'Art +going out?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, father.' +</P> + +<P> +'Where to?' +</P> + +<P> +'Down town to buy some things.' +</P> + +<P> +'Seems thou'rt always buying.' +</P> + +<P> +That was all; he let her free. In an unworthy attempt to appease her +conscience she did in fact go first into the town; she bought some +wool; the trick was despicable. Then she hastened to Edward Street. +The decrepit works seemed to have undergone no change. She had +expected the business would be suspended, and Willie Price alone on the +bank; but manufacture was proceeding as usual. She went direct to the +office, fancying, as she climbed the stairs, that every window of all +the workshops was full of eyes to discern her purpose. Without +knocking, she pushed against the unlatched door and entered. Willie +was lolling in his father's chair, gloomy, meditative, apparently idle. +He was coatless, and wore a dirty apron; a battered hat was at the back +of his head, and his great hands which lay on the desk in front of him, +were soiled. He sprang up, flushing red, and she shut the door; they +were alone together. +</P> + +<P> +'I'm all in my dirt,' he murmured apologetically. Simple and silly +creature, to imagine that she cared for his dirt! +</P> + +<P> +'It's all right,' she said; 'you needn't worry any more. It's all +right.' They were glorious words for her, and her face shone. +</P> + +<P> +'What do you mean?' he asked gruffly. +</P> + +<P> +'Why,' she smiled, full of happiness, 'I got that paper and burnt it!' +</P> + +<P> +He looked at her exactly as if he had not understood. 'Does your +father know?' +</P> + +<P> +She still smiled at him happily. 'No; but I shall tell him this +afternoon. It's all right. I've burnt it.' +</P> + +<P> +He sank down in the chair, and, laying his head on the desk, burst into +sobbing tears. She stood over him, and put a hand on the sleeve of his +shirt. At that touch he sobbed more violently. +</P> + +<P> +'Mr. Price, what is it?' She asked the question in a calm, soothing +tone. +</P> + +<P> +He glanced up at her, his face wet, yet apparently not shamed by the +tears. She could not meet his gaze without herself crying, and so she +turned her head. 'I was only thinking,' he stammered, 'only +thinking—what an angel you are.' +</P> + +<P> +Only the meek, the timid, the silent, can, in moments of deep feeling, +use this language of hyperbole without seeming ridiculous. +</P> + +<P> +He was her great child, and she knew that he worshipped her. Oh, +ineffable power, that out of misfortune canst create divine happiness! +</P> + +<P> +Later, he remarked in his ordinary tone: 'I was expecting your father +here this afternoon about the lease. There is to be a deed of +arrangement with the creditors.' +</P> + +<P> +'My father!' she exclaimed, and she bade him good-bye. +</P> + +<P> +As she passed under the archway she heard a familiar voice: 'I reckon I +shall find young Mester Price in th' office?' Ephraim, who had +wandered into the packing-house, turned and saw her through the +doorway; a second's delay, and she would have escaped. She stood +waiting the storm, and then they walked out into the road together. +</P> + +<P> +'Anna, what art doing here?' +</P> + +<P> +She did not know what to say. +</P> + +<P> +'What art doing here?' he repeated coldly. +</P> + +<P> +'Father, I—was just going back home.' +</P> + +<P> +He hesitated an instant. 'I'll go with thee,' he said. They walked +back to Manor Terrace in silence. They had tea in silence; except that +Agnes, with dreadful inopportuneness, continually worried her father +for a definite promise that she might leave school at Christmas. The +idea was preposterous; but Agnes, fired by her recent success as a +housekeeper, clung to it. Ignorant of her imminent danger, and +misinterpreting the signs of his face, she at last pushed her +insistence too far. +</P> + +<P> +'Get to bed, this minute,' he said, in a voice suddenly terrible. She +perceived her error then, but it was too late. Looking wistfully at +Anna, the child fled. +</P> + +<P> +'I was told this morning, miss,' Ephraim began, as soon as Agnes was +gone, 'that young Price had bin seen coming to this house 'ere +yesterday afternoon. I thought as it was strange as thoud'st said nowt +about it to thy feyther; but I never suspected as a daughter o' mine +was up to any tricks. There was a hang-dog look on thy face this +afternoon when I asked where thou wast going, but I didna' think thou +wast lying to me.' +</P> + +<P> +'I wasn't,' she began, and stopped. +</P> + +<P> +'Thou wast! Now, what is it? What's this carrying-on between thee and +Will Price? I'll have it out of thee.' +</P> + +<P> +'There is no carrying-on, father.' +</P> + +<P> +'Then why hast thou gotten secrets? Why dost go sneaking about to see +him—sneaking, creeping, like any brazen moll?' +</P> + +<P> +The miser was wounded in the one spot where there remained to him any +sentiment capable of being wounded: his faith in the irreproachable, +absolute chastity, in thought and deed, of his womankind. +</P> + +<P> +'Willie Price came in here yesterday,' Anna began, white and calm, 'to +see you. But you weren't in. So he saw me. He told me that bill of +exchange, that blue paper, for thirty pounds, was forged. He said he +had forged Mr. Sutton's name on it.' She stopped, expecting the +thunder. +</P> + +<P> +'Get on with thy tale,' said Ephraim, breathing loudly. +</P> + +<P> +'He said he was ready to go to prison as soon as you gave the word. +But I told him, "No such thing!" I said it must be settled quietly. I +told him to leave it to me. He was driven to the forgery, and I +thought——' +</P> + +<P> +'Dost mean to say,' the miser shouted, 'as that blasted scoundrel came +here and told thee he'd forged a bill, and thou told him to leave it to +thee to settle?' Without waiting for an answer, he jumped up and +strode to the door, evidently with the intention of examining the +forged document for himself. +</P> + +<P> +'It isn't there—it isn't there!' Anna called to him wildly. +</P> + +<P> +'What isna' there?' +</P> + +<P> +'The paper. I may as well tell you, father. I got up early this +morning and burnt it.' +</P> + +<P> +The man was staggered at this audacious and astounding impiety. +</P> + +<P> +'It was mine, really,' she continued; 'and I thought——' +</P> + +<P> +'Thou thought!' +</P> + +<P> +Agnes, upstairs, heard that passionate and consuming roar. 'Shame on +thee, Anna Tellwright! Shame on thee for a shameless hussy! A +daughter o' mine, and just promised to another man! Thou'rt an +accomplice in forgery. Thou sees the scamp on the sly! Thou——' He +paused, and then added, with furious scorn: 'Shalt speak o' this to +Henry Mynors?' +</P> + +<P> +'I will tell him if you like,' she said proudly. +</P> + +<P> +'Look thee here!' he hissed, 'if thou breathes a word o' this to Henry +Mynors, or any other man, I'll cut thy tongue out. A daughter o' mine! +If thou breathes a word——' +</P> + +<P> +'I shall not, father.' +</P> + +<P> +It was finished; grey with frightful anger, Ephraim left the room. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap12"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +AT THE PRIORY +</H4> + +<P> +She was not to be pardoned: the offence was too monstrous, daring, and +final. At the same time, the unappeasable ire of the old man tended to +weaken his power over her. All her life she had been terrorised by the +fear of a wrath which had never reached the superlative degree until +that day. Now that she had seen and felt the limit of his anger, she +became aware that she could endure it; the curse was heavy, and perhaps +more irksome than heavy, but she survived; she continued to breathe, +eat, drink, and sleep; her father's power stopped short of +annihilation. Here, too, was a satisfaction: that things could not be +worse. And still greater comfort lay in the fact that she had not only +accomplished the deliverance of Willie Price, but had secured absolute +secrecy concerning the episode. +</P> + +<P> +The next day was Saturday, when, after breakfast, it was Ephraim's +custom to give Anna the weekly sovereign for housekeeping. +</P> + +<P> +'Here, Agnes,' he said, turning in his armchair to face the child, and +drawing a sovereign from his waistcoat-pocket, 'take charge o' this, +and mind ye make it go as far as ye can.' His tone conveyed a +subsidiary message: 'I am terribly angry, but I am not angry with you. +However, behave yourself.' +</P> + +<P> +The child mechanically took the coin, scared by this proof of an +unprecedented domestic convulsion. Anna, with a tightening of the +lips, rose and went into the kitchen. Agnes followed, after a discreet +interval, and in silence gave up the sovereign. +</P> + +<P> +'What is it all about, Anna?' she ventured to ask that night. +</P> + +<P> +'Never mind,' said Anna curtly. +</P> + +<P> +The question had needed some courage, for, at certain times, Agnes +would as easily have trifled with her father as with Anna. From that +moment, with the passive fatalism characteristic of her years, Agnes' +spirits began to rise again to the normal level. She accepted the new +situation, and fitted herself into it with a child's adaptability. If +Anna naturally felt a slight resentment against this too impartial and +apparently callous attitude on the part of the child, she never showed +it. +</P> + +<P> +Nearly a week later, Anna received a postcard from Beatrice announcing +her complete recovery, and the immediate return of her parents and +herself to Bursley. That same afternoon, a cab encumbered with much +luggage passed up the street as Anna was fixing clean curtains in her +father's bedroom. Beatrice, on the look-out, waved a hand and smiled, +and Anna responded to the signals. She was glad now that the Suttons +had come back, though for several days she had almost forgotten their +existence. On the Saturday afternoon, Mynors called. Anna was in the +kitchen; she heard him scuffling with Agnes in the lobby, and then +talking to her father. Three times she had seen him since her +disgrace, and each time the secret bitterness of her soul, despite +conscientious effort to repress it, had marred the meeting—it had been +plain, indeed, that she was profoundly disturbed; he had affected at +first not to observe the change in her, and she, anticipating his +questions, hinted briefly that the trouble was with her father, and had +no reference to himself, and that she preferred not to discuss it at +all; reassured, and too young in courtship yet to presume on a lover's +rights, he respected her wish, and endeavoured by every art to restore +her to equanimity. This time, as she went to greet him in the parlour, +she resolved that he should see no more of the shadow. He noticed +instantly the difference in her face. +</P> + +<P> +'I've come to take you into Sutton's for tea—and for the evening,' he +said eagerly. 'You must come. They are very anxious to see you. I've +told your father,' he added. Ephraim had vanished into his office. +</P> + +<P> +'What did he say, Henry?' she asked timidly. +</P> + +<P> +'He said you must please yourself, of course. Come along, love. +Mustn't she, Agnes?' +</P> + +<P> +Agnes concurred, and said that she would get her father's tea, and his +supper too. +</P> + +<P> +'You will come,' he urged. She nodded, smiling thoughtfully, and he +kissed her, for the first time in front of Agnes, who was filled with +pride at this proof of their confidence in her. +</P> + +<P> +'I'm ready, Henry,' Anna said, a quarter of an hour later, and they +went across to Sutton's. +</P> + +<P> +'Anna, tell me all about it,' Beatrice burst out when she and Anna had +fled to her bedroom. 'I'm so glad. Do you love him really—truly? +He's dreadfully fond of you. He told me so this morning; we had quite +a long chat in the market. I think you're both very lucky, you know.' +She kissed Anna effusively for the third time. Anna looked at her +smiling but silent. +</P> + +<P> +'Well?' Beatrice said. +</P> + +<P> +'What do you want me to say?' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh! You are the funniest girl, Anna, I ever met. "What do you want +me to say," indeed!' Beatrice added in a different tone: 'Don't +imagine this affair was the least bit of a surprise to us. It wasn't. +The fact is, Henry had—oh! well, never mind. Do you know, mother and +dad used to think there was something between Henry and me. But there +wasn't, you know—not really. I tell you that, so that you won't be +able to say you were kept in the dark. When shall you be married, +Anna?' +</P> + +<P> +'I haven't the least idea,' Anna replied, and began to question +Beatrice about her convalescence. +</P> + +<P> +'I'm perfectly well,' Beatrice said. 'It's always the same. If I +catch anything I catch it bad and get it over quickly.' +</P> + +<P> +'Now, how long are you two chatterboxes going to stay here?' It was +Mrs. Sutton who came into the room. 'Bee, you've got those +sewing-meeting letters to write. Eh, Anna, but I'm glad of this. +You'll make him a good wife. You two'll just suit each other.' +</P> + +<P> +Anna could not but be impressed by this unaffected joy of her friends +in the engagement. Her spirits rose, and once more she saw visions of +future happiness. At tea, Alderman Sutton added his felicitations to +the rest, with that flattering air of intimate sympathy and +comprehension which some middle-aged men can adopt towards young girls. +The tea, made specially magnificent in honour of the betrothal, was +such a meal as could only have been compassed in Staffordshire or +Yorkshire—a high tea of the last richness and excellence, exquisitely +gracious to the palate, but ruthless in its demands on the stomach. At +one end of the table, which glittered with silver, glass, and Longshaw +china, was a fowl which had been boiled for four hours; at the other, a +hot pork-pie, islanded in liquor, which might have satisfied a +regiment. Between these two dishes were all the delicacies which +differentiate high tea from tea, and on the quality of which the +success of the meal really depends; hot pikelets, hot crumpets, hot +toast, sardines with tomatoes, raisin-bread, current-bread, seed-cake, +lettuce, home-made marmalade and home-made jams. The repast occupied +over an hour, and even then not a quarter of the food was consumed. +Surrounded by all that good fare and good-will, with the Alderman on +her left, Henry on her right, and a bright fire in front of her, Anna +quickly caught the gaiety of the others. She forgot everything but the +gladness of reunion, the joy of the moment, the luxurious comfort of +the house. Conversation was busy with the doings of the Suttons at +Port Erin after Anna and Henry had left. A listener would have caught +fragments like this:—'You know such-and-such a point.... No, not +there, over the hill. Well, we hired a carriage and drove.... The +weather was simply.... Tom Kelly said he'd never.... And that little +guard on the railway came all the way down to the steamer.... Did you +see anything in the "Signal" about the actress being drowned? Oh! It +was awfully sad. We saw the corpse just after.... Beatrice, will you +hush?' +</P> + +<P> +'Wasn't it terrible about Titus Price?' Beatrice exclaimed. +</P> + +<P> +'Eh, my!' sighed Mrs. Sutton, glancing at Anna. 'You can never tell +what's going to happen next. I'm always afraid to go away for fear of +something happening.' +</P> + +<P> +A silence followed. When tea was finished Beatrice was taken away by +her mother to write the letters concerning the immediate resumption of +sewing-meetings, and for a little time Anna was left in the +drawing-room alone with the two men, who began to talk about the +affairs of the Prices. It appeared that Mr. Sutton had been asked to +become trustee for the creditors under a deed of arrangement, and that +he had hopes of being able to sell the business as a going concern. In +the meantime it would need careful management. +</P> + +<P> +'Will Willie Price manage it?' Anna inquired. The question seemed to +divert Henry and the Alderman, to afford them a contemptuous and +somewhat inimical amusement at the expense of Willie. +</P> + +<P> +'No,' said the Alderman, quietly, but emphatically. +</P> + +<P> +'Master William is fairly good on the works,' said Henry; 'but in the +office, I imagine, he is worse than useless.' +</P> + +<P> +Grieved and confused, Anna bent down and moved a hassock in order to +hide her face. The attitude of these men to Willie Price, that victim +of circumstances and of his own simplicity, wounded Anna inexpressibly. +She perceived that they could see in him only a defaulting debtor, that +his misfortune made no appeal to their charity. She wondered that men +so warm-hearted and kind in some relations could be so hard in others. +</P> + +<P> +'I had a talk with your father at the creditors' meeting yesterday,' +said the Alderman. 'You won't lose much. Of course you've got a +preferential claim for six months' rent.' He said this reassuringly, +as though it would give satisfaction. Anna did not know what a +preferential claim might be, nor was she aware of any creditors' +meeting. She wished ardently that she might lose as much as +possible—hundreds of pounds. She was relieved when Beatrice swept in, +her mother following. +</P> + +<P> +'Now, your worship,' said Beatrice to her father, 'seven stamps for +these letters, please.' Anna glanced up inquiringly on hearing the +form of address. 'You don't mean to say that you didn't know that +father is going to be mayor this year?' Beatrice asked, as if shocked +at this ignorance of affairs. 'Yes, it was all settled rather late, +wasn't it, dad? And the mayor-elect pretends not to care much, but +actually he is filled with pride, isn't he, dad? As for the +mayoress——?' +</P> + +<P> +'Eh, Bee!' Mrs. Sutton stopped her, smiling; 'you'll tumble over that +tongue of yours some day.' +</P> + +<P> +'Mother said I wasn't to mention it,' said Beatrice, 'lest you should +think we were putting on airs.' +</P> + +<P> +'Nay, not I!' Mrs. Sutton protested. 'I said no such thing. Anna +knows us too well for that. But I'm not so set up with this mayor +business as some people will think I am.' +</P> + +<P> +'Or as Beatrice is,' Mynors added. +</P> + +<P> +At half-past eight, and again at nine, Anna said that she must go home; +but the Suttons, now frankly absorbed in the topic of the mayoralty, +their secret preoccupation, would not spoil the confidential talk which +had ensued by letting the lovers depart. It was nearly half-past nine +before Anna and Henry stood on the pavement outside, and Beatrice, +after facetious farewells, had shut the door. +</P> + +<P> +'Let us just walk round by the Manor Farm,' Henry pleaded. 'It won't +take more than a quarter of an hour or so.' +</P> + +<P> +She agreed dutifully. The footpath ran at right angles to Trafalgar +Road, past a colliery whose engine-fires glowed in the dark, moonless, +autumn night, and then across a field. They stood on a knoll near the +old farmstead, that extraordinary and pathetic survival of a vanished +agriculture. Immediately in front of them stretched acres of burning +ironstone—a vast tremulous carpet of flame woven in red, purple, and +strange greens. Beyond were the skeleton-like silhouettes of +pit-heads, and the solid forms of furnace and chimney-shaft. In the +distance a canal reflected the gigantic illuminations of Cauldon Bar +Ironworks. It was a scene mysterious and romantic enough to kindle the +raptures of love, but Anna felt cold, melancholy, and apprehensive of +vague sorrows. 'Why am I so?' she asked herself, and tried in vain to +shake off the mood. +</P> + +<P> +'What will Willie Price do if the business is sold?' she questioned +Mynors suddenly. +</P> + +<P> +'Surely,' he said to soothe her, 'you aren't still worrying about that +misfortune. I wish you had never gone near the inquest; the thing +seems to have got on your mind.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, no!' she protested, with an air of cheerfulness. 'But I was just +wondering.' +</P> + +<P> +'Well, Willie will have to do the best he can. Get a place somewhere, +I suppose. It won't be much, at the best.' +</P> + +<P> +Had he guessed what perhaps hung on that answer, Mynors might have +given it in a tone less callous and perfunctory. Could he have seen +the tightening of her lips, he might even afterwards have repaired his +error by some voluntary assurance that Willie Price should be watched +over with a benevolent eye and protected with a strong arm. But how +was he to know that in misprizing Willie Price before her, he was +misprizing a child to its mother? He had done something for Willie +Price, and considered that he had done enough. His thoughts, moreover, +were on other matters. +</P> + +<P> +'Do you remember that day we went up to the park?' he murmured fondly; +'that Sunday? I have never told you that that evening I came out of +chapel after the first hymn, when I noticed you weren't there, and +walked up past your house. I couldn't help it. Something drew me. I +nearly called in to see you. Then I thought I had better not.' +</P> + +<P> +'I saw you,' she said calmly. His warmth made her feel sad. 'I saw +you stop at the gate.' +</P> + +<P> +'You did? But you weren't at the window?' +</P> + +<P> +'I saw you through the glass of the front-door.' Her voice grew +fainter, more reluctant. +</P> + +<P> +'Then you were watching?' In the dark he seized her with such +violence, and kissed her so vehemently, that she was startled out of +herself. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh! Henry!' she exclaimed. +</P> + +<P> +'Call me Harry,' he entreated, his arm still round her waist; 'I want +you to call me Harry. No one else does or ever has done, and no one +shall, now.' +</P> + +<P> +'Harry,' she said deliberately, bracing her mind to a positive +determination. She must please him, and she said it again: 'Harry; +yes, it has a nice sound.' +</P> + +<P> +Ephraim sat reading the 'Signal' in the parlour when she arrived home +at five minutes to ten. Imbued then with ideas of duty, submission, +and systematic kindliness, she had an impulse to attempt a +reconciliation with her father. +</P> + +<P> +'Good-night, father,' she said, 'I hope I've not kept you up.' +</P> + +<P> +He was deaf. +</P> + +<P> +She went to bed resigned; sad, but not gloomy. It was not for nothing +that during all her life she had been accustomed to infelicity. +Experience had taught her this: to be the mistress of herself. She +knew that she could face any fact—even the fact of her dispassionate +frigidity under Mynors' caresses. It was on the firm, almost rapturous +resolve to succour Willie Price, if need be, that she fell asleep. +</P> + +<P> +The engagement, which had hitherto been kept private, became the theme +of universal gossip immediately upon the return of the Suttons from the +Isle of Man. Two words let fall by Beatrice in the St. Luke's covered +market on Saturday morning had increased and multiplied till the whole +town echoed with the news. Anna's private fortune rose as high as a +quarter of a million. As for Henry Mynors, it was said that Henry +Mynors knew what he was about. After all, he was like the rest. +Money, money! Of course it was inconceivable that a fine, prosperous +figure of a man, such as Mynors, would have made up to <I>her</I>, if she +had not been simply rolling in money. Well, there was one thing to be +said for young Mynors, he would put money to good use; you might rely +he would not hoard it up same as it had been hoarded up. However, the +more saved, the more for young Mynors, so he needn't grumble. It was +to be hoped he would make her dress herself a bit better—though indeed +it hadn't been her fault she went about so shabby; the old skinflint +would never allow her a penny of her own. So tongues wagged. +</P> + +<P> +The first Sunday was a tiresome ordeal for Anna, both at school and at +chapel. 'Well, I never!' seemed to be written like a note of +exclamation on every brow; the monotony of the congratulations fatigued +her as much as her involuntary efforts to grasp what each speaker had +left unsaid of innuendo, malice, envy or sycophancy. Even the people +in the shops, during the next few days, could not serve her without +direct and curious reference to her private affairs. The general +opinion that she was a cold and bloodless creature was strengthened by +her attitude at this period. But the apathy which she displayed was +neither affected nor due to an excessive diffidence. As she seemed, so +she felt. She often wondered what would have happened to her if that +vague 'something' between Henry and Beatrice, to which Beatrice had +confessed, had ever taken definite shape. +</P> + +<P> +'Hancock came back from Lancashire last night,' said Mynors, when he +arrived at Manor Terrace on the next Saturday afternoon. Ephraim was +in the room, and Henry, evidently joyous and triumphant, addressed both +him and Anna. +</P> + +<P> +'Is Hancock the commercial traveller?' Anna asked. She knew that +Hancock was the commercial traveller, but she experienced a nervous +compulsion to make idle remarks in order to hide the breach of +intercourse between her father and herself. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' said Mynors; 'he's had a magnificent journey.' +</P> + +<P> +'How much?' asked the miser. +</P> + +<P> +Henry named the amount of orders taken in a fortnight's journey. +</P> + +<P> +'Humph!' the miser ejaculated. 'That's better than a bat in the eye +with a burnt stick.' From him, this was the superlative of praise. +'You're making good money at any rate?' +</P> + +<P> +'We are,' said Mynors. +</P> + +<P> +'That reminds me,' Ephraim remarked gruffly. 'When dost think o' +getting wed? I'm not much for long engagements, and so I tell ye.' He +threw a cold glance sideways at Anna. The idea penetrated her heart +like a stab: 'He wants to get me out of the house!' +</P> + +<P> +'Well,' said Mynors, surprised at the question and the tone, and, +looking at Anna as if for an explanation: 'I had scarcely thought of +that. What does Anna say?' +</P> + +<P> +'I don't know,' she murmured; and then, more bravely, in a louder +voice, and with a smile: 'The sooner the better.' She thought, in her +bitter and painful resentment: 'If he wants me to go, go I will.' +</P> + +<P> +Henry tactfully passed on to another phase of the subject: 'I met Mr. +Sutton yesterday, and he was telling me of Price's house up at Toft +End. It belonged to Mr. Price, but of course it was mortgaged up to +the hilt. The mortgagees have taken possession, and Mr. Sutton said it +would be to let cheap at Christmas. Of course Willie and old Sarah +Vodrey, the housekeeper, will clear out. I was thinking it might do +for us. It's not a bad sort of house, or, rather, it won't be when +it's repaired.' +</P> + +<P> +'What will they ask for it?' Ephraim inquired. +</P> + +<P> +'Twenty-five or twenty-eight. It's a nice large house—four bedrooms, +and a very good garden.' +</P> + +<P> +'Four bedrooms!' the miser exclaimed. 'What dost want wi' four +bedrooms? You'd have for keep a servant.' +</P> + +<P> +'Naturally we should keep a servant,' Mynors said, with calm politeness. +</P> + +<P> +'You could get one o' them new houses up by th' park for fifteen pounds +as would do you well enough'; the miser protested against these dreams +of extravagance. +</P> + +<P> +'I don't care for that part of the town,' said Mynors. 'It's too new +for my taste.' +</P> + +<P> +After tea, when Henry and Anna went out for the Saturday evening +stroll, Mynors suddenly suggested: 'Why not go up and look through that +house of Price's?' +</P> + +<P> +'Won't it seem like turning them out if we happen to take it?' she +asked. +</P> + +<P> +'Turning them out! Willie is bound to leave it. What use is it to +him? Besides, it's in the hands of the mortgagees now. Why shouldn't +we take it just as well as anybody else, if it suits us?' +</P> + +<P> +Anna had no reply, and she surrendered herself placidly enough to his +will; nevertheless she could not entirely banish a misgiving that +Willie Price was again to be victimised. Infinitely more disturbing +than this illogical sensation, however, was the instinctive and sure +knowledge, revealed in a flash, that her father wished to be rid of +her. So implacable, then, was his animosity against her! Never, never +had she been so deeply hurt. The wound, in fact, was so severe that at +first she felt only a numbness that reduced everything to unimportance, +robbing her of volition. She walked up to Toft End as if walking in +her sleep. +</P> + +<P> +Price's house, sometimes called Priory House, in accordance with a +legend that a priory had once occupied the site, stood in the middle of +the mean and struggling suburb of Toft End, which was flung up the +hillside like a ragged scarf. Built of red brick, towards the end of +the eighteenth century, double-fronted, with small, evenly disposed +windows, and a chimney stack at either side, it looked westward over +the town smoke towards a horizon of hills. It had a long, narrow +garden, which ran parallel with the road. Behind it, adjoining, was a +small, disused potworks, already advanced in decay. On the north side, +and enclosed by a brick wall which surrounded also the garden, was a +small orchard of sterile and withered fruit trees. In parts the wall +had crumpled under the assaults of generations of boys, and from the +orchard, through the gaps, could be seen an expanse of grey-green +field, with a few abandoned pit-shafts scattered over it. These +shafts, imperfectly protected by ruinous masonry, presented an +appearance strangely sinister and forlorn, raising visions in the mind +of dark and mysterious depths peopled with miserable ghosts of those +who had toiled there in the days when to be a miner was to be a slave. +The whole place, house and garden, looked ashamed and sad, with a +shabby mournfulness acquired gradually from its inmates during many +years. But, nevertheless, the house was substantial, and the air on +that height fresh and pure. +</P> + +<P> +Mynors rang in vain at the front door, and then they walked round the +house to the orchard, and discovered Sarah Vodrey taking in clothes +from a line—a diminutive and wasted figure, with scanty, grey hair, a +tiny face permanently soured, and bony hands contorted by rheumatism. +</P> + +<P> +'My rheumatism's that bad,' she said in response to greetings, 'I can +scarce move about, and this house is a regular barracks to keep clean. +No; Willie's not in. He's at th' works, as usual—Saturday like any +other day. I'm by myself here all day and every day. But I reckon +us'n be flitting soon, and me lived here eight-and-twenty year! Praise +God, there's a mansion up there for me at last. And not sorry shall I +be when He calls.' +</P> + +<P> +'It must be very lonely for you, Miss Vodrey,' said Mynors. He knew +exactly how to speak to this dame who lived her life like a fly between +two panes of glass, and who could find room in her head for only three +ideas, namely: that God and herself were on terms of intimacy; that she +was, and had always been, indispensable to the Price family; and that +her social status was far above that of a servant. 'It's a pity you +never married,' Mynors added. +</P> + +<P> +'Me, marry! What would <I>they</I> ha' done without me? No, I'm none for +marriage and never was. I'd be shamed to be like some o' them +spinsters down at chapel, always hanging round chapel-yard on the +off-chance of a service, to catch that there young Mr. Sargent, the new +minister. It's a sign of a hard winter, Miss Terrick, when the hay +runs after the horse, that's what I say.' +</P> + +<P> +'Miss Tellwright and myself are in search of a house,' Mynors gently +interrupted the flow, and gave her a peculiar glance which she +appreciated. 'We heard you and Willie were going to leave here, and so +we came up just to look over the place, if it's quite convenient to +you.' +</P> + +<P> +'Eh, I understand ye,' she said; 'come in. But ye mun tak' things as +ye find 'em, Miss Terrick.' +</P> + +<P> +Dismal and unkempt, the interior of the house matched the exterior. +The carpets were threadbare, the discoloured wall-papers hung loose on +the walls, the ceilings were almost black, the paint had nearly been +rubbed away from the woodwork; the exhausted furniture looked as if it +would fall to pieces in despair if compelled to face the threatened +ordeal of an auction-sale. But to Anna the rooms were surprisingly +large, and there seemed so many of them! It was as if she were +exploring an immense abode, like a castle, with odd chambers +continually showing themselves in unexpected places. The upper story +was even less inviting than the ground-floor—barer, more chill, +utterly comfortless. +</P> + +<P> +'This is the best bedroom,' said Miss Vodrey. 'And a rare big room +too! It's not used now. <I>He</I> slept here. Willie sleeps at back.' +</P> + +<P> +'A very nice room,' Mynors agreed blandly, and measured it, as he had +done all the others, with a two-foot, entering the figures in his +pocket-book. +</P> + +<P> +Anna's eye wandered uneasily across the room, with its dismantled bed +and decrepit mahogany suite. +</P> + +<P> +'I'm glad he hanged himself at the works, and not here,' she thought. +Then she looked out at the window. 'What a splendid view!' she +remarked to Mynors. +</P> + +<P> +She saw that he had taken a fancy to the house. The sagacious fellow +esteemed it, not as it was, but as it would be, re-papered, re-painted, +re-furnished, the outer walls pointed, the garden stocked; everything +cleansed, brightened, renewed. And there was indeed much to be said +for his fancy. The house was large, with plenty of ground; the +boundary wall secured that privacy which young husbands and young wives +instinctively demand; the outlook was unlimited, the air the purest in +the Five Towns. And the rent was low, because the great majority of +those who could afford such a house would never deign to exist in a +quarter so poverty-stricken and unfashionable. +</P> + +<P> +After leaving the house they continued their walk up the hill, and then +turned off to the left on the high road from Hanbridge to Moorthorne. +The venerable but not dignified town lay below them, a huddled medley +of brown brick under a thick black cloud of smoke. The gold angel of +the town-hall gleamed in the evening light, and the dark, squat tower +of the parish church, sole relic of the past stood out grim and +obdurate amid the featureless buildings which surrounded it. To the +north and east miles of moorland, defaced by collieries and murky +hamlets, ran to the horizon. Across the great field at their feet a +figure slouched along, past the abandoned pit-shafts. They both +recognised the man. +</P> + +<P> +'There's Willie Price going home!' said Mynors. +</P> + +<P> +'He looks tired,' she said. She was relieved that they had not met him +at the house. +</P> + +<P> +'I say,' Mynors began earnestly, after a pause, 'why shouldn't we get +married soon, since the old gentleman seems rather to expect it? He's +been rather awkward lately, hasn't he?' +</P> + +<P> +This was the only reference made by Mynors to her father's temper. She +nodded. 'How soon?' she asked. +</P> + +<P> +'Well, I was just thinking. Suppose, for the sake of argument, this +house turns out all right. I couldn't get it thoroughly done up much +before the middle of January—couldn't begin till these people had +moved. Suppose we said early in February?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes!' +</P> + +<P> +'Could you be ready by that time?' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, yes,' she answered, 'I could be ready.' +</P> + +<P> +'Well, why shouldn't we fix February, then?' +</P> + +<P> +'There's the question of Agnes,' she said. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes; and there will always be the question of Agnes. Your father will +have to get a housekeeper. You and I will be able to see after little +Agnes, never fear.' So, with tenderness in his voice, he reassured her +on that point. +</P> + +<P> +'Why not February?' she reflected. 'Why not to-morrow, as father wants +me out of the house?' +</P> + +<P> +It was agreed. +</P> + +<P> +'I've taken the Priory, subject to your approval,' Henry said, less +than a fortnight later. From that time he invariably referred to the +place as the Priory. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +It was on the very night after this eager announcement that the +approaching tragedy came one step nearer. Beatrice, in a modest +evening-dress, with a white cloak—excited, hurried, and important—ran +in to speak to Anna. The carriage was waiting outside. She and her +father and mother had to attend a very important dinner at the mayor's +house at Hillport, in connection with Mr. Sutton's impending mayoralty. +Old Sarah Vodrey had just sent down a girl to say that she was unwell, +and would be grateful if Mrs. Sutton or Beatrice would visit her. It +was a most unreasonable time for such a summons, but Sarah was a +fidgety old crotchet, and knew how frightfully good-natured Mrs. Sutton +was. Would Anna mind going up to Toft End? And would Anna come out to +the carriage and personally assure Mrs. Sutton that old Sarah should be +attended to? If not, Beatrice was afraid her mother would take it into +her head to do something stupid. +</P> + +<P> +'It's very good of you, Anna,' said Mrs. Sutton, when Anna went outside +with Beatrice. 'But I think I'd better go myself. The poor old thing +may feel slighted if I don't, and Beatrice can well take my place at +this affair at Hillport, which I've no mind for.' She was already half +out of the carriage. +</P> + +<P> +'Nothing of the kind,' said Anna firmly, pushing her back. 'I shall be +delighted to go and do what I can.' +</P> + +<P> +'That's right, Anna,' said the Alderman from the darkness of the +carriage, where his shirt-front gleamed; 'Bee said you'd go, and we're +much obliged to ye.' +</P> + +<P> +'I expect it will be nothing,' said Beatrice, as the vehicle drove off; +'Sarah has served mother this trick before now.' +</P> + +<P> +As Anna opened the garden-gate of the Priory she discerned a figure +amid the rank bushes, which had been allowed to grow till they almost +met across the narrow path leading to the front door of the house. +</P> + +<P> +It was a thick and mysterious night—such a night as death chooses; and +Anna jumped in vague terror at the apparition. +</P> + +<P> +'Who's there?' said a voice sharply. +</P> + +<P> +'It's me,' said Anna. 'Miss Vodrey sent down to ask Mrs. Sutton to +come up and see her, but Mrs. Sutton had an engagement, so I came +instead.' +</P> + +<P> +The figure moved forward; it was Willie Price. +</P> + +<P> +He peered into her face, and she could see the mortal pallor of his +cheeks. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh!' he exclaimed, 'it's Miss Tellwright, is it? Will ye come in, +Miss Tellwright?' +</P> + +<P> +She followed him with beating heart, alarmed, apprehensive. The front +door stood wide open, and at the far end of the gloomy passage a faint +light shone from the open door of the kitchen. 'This way,' he said. +In the large, bare, stone-floored kitchen Sarah Vodrey sat limp and +with closed eyes in an old rocking-chair close to the fireless range. +The window, which gave on to the street, was open; through that window +Sarah, in her extremity, had called the child who ran down to Mrs. +Sutton's. On the deal table were a dirty cup and saucer, a tea-pot, +bread, butter, and a lighted candle—sole illumination of the chamber. +</P> + +<P> +'I come home, and I find this,' he said. +</P> + +<P> +Daunted for a moment by the scene of misery, Anna could say nothing. +</P> + +<P> +'I find this,' he repeated, as if accusing God of spitefulness; and he +lifted the candle to show the apparently insensible form of the woman. +Sarah's wrinkled and seamed face had the flush of fever, and the +features were drawn into the expression of a terrible anxiety; her +hands hung loose; she breathed like a dog after a run. +</P> + +<P> +'I wanted her to have the doctor yesterday,' he said, 'but she +wouldn't. Ever since you and Mr. Mynors called she's been cleaning the +house down. She said you'd happen be coming again soon, and the place +wasn't fit to be seen. No use me arguing with her.' +</P> + +<P> +'You had better run for a doctor,' Anna said. +</P> + +<P> +'I was just going off when you came. She's been complaining more of +her rheumatism, and pain in her hips, lately.' +</P> + +<P> +'Go now; fetch Mr. Macpherson, and call at our house and say I shall +stay here all night. Wait a moment.' Seeing that he was exhausted +from lack of food, she cut a thick piece of bread-and-butter. 'Eat +this as you go,' she said. +</P> + +<P> +'I can't eat; it'll choke me.' +</P> + +<P> +'Let it choke you,' she said. 'You've got to swallow it.' +</P> + +<P> +Child of a hundred sorrows, he must be treated as a child. As soon as +Willie was gone she took off her hat and jacket, and lit a lamp; there +was no gas in the kitchen. +</P> + +<P> +'What's that light?' the old woman asked peevishly, rousing herself and +sitting up. 'I doubt I'll be late with Willie's tea. Eh, Miss +Terrick, what's amiss?' +</P> + +<P> +'You're not quite well, Miss Vodrey,' Anna answered. 'If you'll show +me your room, I'll see you into bed.' Without giving her a moment for +hesitation, Anna seized the feeble creature under the arms, and so, +coaxing, supporting, carrying, got her to bed. At length she lay on +the narrow mattress, panting, exhausted. It was Sarah's final effort. +</P> + +<P> +Anna lit fires in the kitchen and in the bedroom, and when Willie +returned with Dr. Macpherson, water was boiling and tea made. +</P> + +<P> +'You'd better get a woman in,' said the doctor curtly, in the kitchen, +when he had finished his examination of Sarah. 'Some neighbour for +to-night, and I'll send a nurse up from the cottage-hospital early +to-morrow morning. Not that it will be the least use. She must have +been dying for the last two days at least. She's got pericarditis and +pleurisy. She's breathing I don't know how many to the minute, and her +temperature is just about as high as it can be. It all follows from +rheumatism, and then taking cold. Gross carelessness and neglect all +through! I've no patience with such work.' He turned angrily to +Willie. 'I don't know what on earth you were thinking of, Mr. Price, +not to send for me earlier.' +</P> + +<P> +Willie, abashed and guilty, found nothing to say. His eye had the meek +wistfulness of Holman Hunt's 'Scapegoat.' +</P> + +<P> +'Mr. Price wanted her to have the doctor,' said Anna, defending him +with warmth; 'but she wouldn't. He is out at the works all day till +late at night. How was he to know how she was? She could walk about.' +</P> + +<P> +The tall doctor glanced at Anna in surprise, and at once modified his +tone. 'Yes,' he said, 'that's the curious thing. It passes me how she +managed to get about. But there is no knowing what an obstinate woman +won't force herself to do. I'll send the medicine up to-night, and +come along myself with the nurse early to-morrow. Meantime, keep +carefully to my instructions.' +</P> + +<P> +That night remains for ever fixed in Anna's memory: the grim rooms, +echoing and shadowy; the countless journeys up and down dark stairs and +passages; Willie sitting always immovable in the kitchen, idle because +there was nothing for him to do; Sarah incessantly panting on the +truckle-bed; the hired woman from up the street, buxom, kindly, useful, +but fatuous in the endless monotony of her commiserations. +</P> + +<P> +Towards morning, Sarah Vodrey gave sign of a desire to talk. +</P> + +<P> +'I've fought the fight,' she murmured to Anna, who alone was in the +bedroom with her, 'I've fought the fight; I've kept the faith. In that +box there ye'll see a purse. There's seventeen pounds six in it. That +will pay for the funeral, and Willie must have what's over. There +would ha' been more for the lad, but he never paid me no wages this two +years past. I never troubled him.' +</P> + +<P> +'Don't tell Willie that,' Anna said impetuously. +</P> + +<P> +'Eh, bless ye, no!' said the dying drudge, and then seemed to doze. +</P> + +<P> +Anna went to the kitchen, and sent the woman upstairs. +</P> + +<P> +'How is she?' asked Willie, without stirring. Anna shook her head. +'Neither her nor me will be here much longer, I'm thinking,' he said, +smiling wearily. +</P> + +<P> +'What?' she exclaimed, startled. +</P> + +<P> +'Mr. Sutton has arranged to sell our business as a going-concern—some +people at Turnhill are buying it. I shall go to Australia; there's no +room for me here. The creditors have promised to allow me twenty-five +pounds, and I can get an assisted passage. Bursley'll know me no more. +But—but—I shall always remember you and what you've done.' +</P> + +<P> +She longed to kneel at his feet, and to comfort him, and to cry: 'It is +I who have ruined you—driven your father to cheating his servant, to +crime, to suicide; driven you to forgery, and turned you out of your +house which your old servant killed herself in making clean for me. I +have wronged you, and I love you like a mother because I have wronged +you and because I saved you from prison.' +</P> + +<P> +But she said nothing except: 'Some of us will miss you.' +</P> + +<P> +The next day Sarah Vodrey died—she who had never lived save in the +fetters of slavery and fanaticism. After fifty years of ceaseless +labour, she had gained the affection of one person, and enough money to +pay for her own funeral. Willie Price took a cheap lodging with the +woman who had been called in on the night of Sarah's collapse. Before +Christmas he was to sail for Melbourne. The Priory, deserted, gave up +its rickety furniture to a van from Hanbridge, where, in an +auction-room, the frail sticks lost their identity in a medley of other +sticks, and ceased to be. Then the bricklayer, the plasterer, the +painter, and the paper-hanger came to the Priory, and whistled and sang +in it. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap13"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE BAZAAR +</H4> + +<P> +The Wesleyan Bazaar, the greatest undertaking of its kind ever known in +Bursley, gradually became a cloud which filled the entire social +horizon. Mrs. Sutton, organiser of the Sunday-school stall, pressed +all her friends into the service, and a fortnight after the death of +Sarah Vodrey, Anna and even Agnes gave much of their spare time to the +work, which was carried on under pressure increasing daily as the final +moments approached. This was well for Anna, in that it diverted her +thoughts by keeping her energies fully engaged. One morning, however, +it occurred to Mrs. Sutton to reflect that Anna, at such a period of +life, should be otherwise employed. Anna had called at the Suttons' to +deliver some finished garments. +</P> + +<P> +'My dear,' she said, 'I am very much obliged to you for all this +industry. But I've been thinking that as you are to be married in +February you ought to be preparing your things.' +</P> + +<P> +'My things!' Anna repeated idly; and then she remembered Mynors' +phrase, on the hill, 'Can you be ready by that time?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' said Mrs. Sutton; 'but possibly you've been getting forward with +them on the quiet.' +</P> + +<P> +'Tell me,' said Anna, with an air of interest; 'I've meant to ask you +before: Is it the bride's place to provide all the house-linen, and +that sort of thing?' +</P> + +<P> +'It was in my day; but those things alter so. The bride took all the +house-linen to her husband, and as many clothes for herself as would +last a year; that was the rule. We used to stitch everything at home +in those days—everything; and we had what we called a "bottom drawer" +to store them in. As soon as a girl passed her fifteenth birthday, she +began to sew for the "bottom drawer." But all those things change so, +I dare say it's different now.' +</P> + +<P> +'How much will it cost to buy everything, do you think?' Anna asked. +</P> + +<P> +Just then Beatrice entered the room. +</P> + +<P> +'Beatrice, Anna is inquiring how much it will cost to buy her +trousseau, and the house-linen. What do you say?' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh!' Beatrice replied, without any hesitation, 'a couple of hundred at +least.' +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Sutton, reading Anna's face, smiled reassuringly. 'Nonsense, Bee! +I dare say you could do it on a hundred with care, Anna.' +</P> + +<P> +'Why should Anna want to do it with care?' Beatrice asked curtly. +</P> + +<P> +Anna went straight across the road to her father, and asked him for a +hundred pounds of her own money. She had not spoken to him, save under +necessity, since the evening spent at the Suttons'. +</P> + +<P> +'What's afoot now?' he questioned savagely. +</P> + +<P> +'I must buy things for the wedding—clothes and things, father.' +</P> + +<P> +'Ay! clothes! clothes! What clothes dost want? A few pounds will +cover them.' +</P> + +<P> +'There'll be all the linen for the house.' +</P> + +<P> +'Linen for—— It's none thy place for buy that.' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, father, it is.' +</P> + +<P> +'I say it isna',' he shouted. +</P> + +<P> +'But I've asked Mrs. Sutton, and she says it is.' +</P> + +<P> +'What business an' ye for go blabbing thy affairs all over Bosley? I +say it isna' thy place for buy linen, and let that be sufficient. Go +and get dinner. It's nigh on twelve now.' +</P> + +<P> +That evening, when Agnes had gone to bed, she resumed the struggle. +</P> + +<P> +'Father, I must have that hundred pounds. I really must. I mean it.' +</P> + +<P> +'<I>Thou means it</I>! What?' +</P> + +<P> +'I mean I must have a hundred pounds.' +</P> + +<P> +'I'd advise thee to tak' care o' thy tongue, my lass. <I>Thou means it</I>!' +</P> + +<P> +'But you needn't give it me all at once,' she pursued. +</P> + +<P> +He gazed at her, glowering. +</P> + +<P> +'I shanna' give it thee. It's Henry's place for buy th' house-linen.' +</P> + +<P> +'Father, it isn't.' Her voice broke, but only for an instant. 'I'm +asking you for my own money. You seem to want to make me miserable +just before my wedding.' +</P> + +<P> +'I wish to God thou 'dst never seen Henry Mynors. It's given thee +pride and made thee undutiful.' +</P> + +<P> +'I'm only asking you for my own money.' +</P> + +<P> +Her calm insistence maddened him. Jumping up from his chair, he +stamped out of the room, and she heard him strike a match in his +office. Presently he returned, and threw angrily on to the table in +front of her a cheque-book and pass-book. The deposit-book she had +always kept herself for convenience of paying into the bank. +</P> + +<P> +'Here,' he said scornfully, 'tak' thy traps and ne'er speak to me +again. I wash my hands of ye. Tak' 'em and do what ye'n a mind. +Chuck thy money into th' cut[<A NAME="chap13fn1text"></A><A HREF="#chap13fn1">1</A>] for aught I care.' +</P> + +<P> +The next evening Henry came up. She observed that his face had a grave +look, but intent on her own difficulties she did not remark on it, and +proceeded at once to do what she resolved to do. It was a cold night +in November, yet the miser, wrathfully sullen, chose to sit in his +office without a fire. Agnes was working sums in the kitchen. +</P> + +<P> +'Henry,' Anna began, 'I've had a difficulty with father, and I must +tell you.' +</P> + +<P> +'Not about the wedding, I hope,' he said. +</P> + +<P> +'It was about money. Of course, Henry, I can't get married without a +lot of money.' +</P> + +<P> +'Why not?' he inquired. +</P> + +<P> +'I've my own things to get,' she said, 'and I've all the house-linen to +buy.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh! You buy the house-linen, do you?' She saw that he was relieved +by that information. +</P> + +<P> +'Of course. Well, I told father I must have a hundred pounds, and he +wouldn't give it me. And when I stuck to him he got angry—you know he +can't bear to see money spent—and at last he get a little savage and +gave me my bank-books, and said he'd have nothing more to do with my +money.' +</P> + +<P> +Henry's face broke into a laugh, and Anna was obliged to smile. +'Capital!' he said. 'Couldn't be better.' +</P> + +<P> +'I want you to tell me how much I've got in the bank,' she said. 'I +only know I'm always paying in odd cheques.' +</P> + +<P> +He examined the three books. 'A very tidy bit,' he said; 'something +over two hundred and fifty pounds. So you can draw cheques at your +ease.' +</P> + +<P> +'Draw me a cheque for twenty pounds,' she said; and then, while he +wrote: 'Henry, after we're married, I shall want you to take charge of +all this.' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, of course; I will do that, dear. But your money will be yours. +There ought to be a settlement on you. Still, if your father says +nothing, it is not for me to say anything.' +</P> + +<P> +'Father will say nothing—now,' she said. 'You've never shown any +interest in it, Henry; but as we're talking of money, I may as well +tell you that father says I'm worth fifty thousand pounds.' +</P> + +<P> +The man of business was astonished and enraptured beyond measure. His +countenance shone with delight. +</P> + +<P> +'Surely not!' he protested formally. +</P> + +<P> +'That's what father told me, and he made me read a list of shares, and +so on.' +</P> + +<P> +'We will go slow, to begin with,' said Mynors solemnly. He had not +expected more than fifteen, or twenty thousand pounds, and even this +sum had dazzled his imagination. He was glad that he had only taken +the house at Toft End on a yearly tenancy. He now saw himself the +dominant figure in all the Five Towns. +</P> + +<P> +Later in the evening he disclosed, perfunctorily, the matter which had +been a serious weight on his mind when he entered the house, but which +this revelation of vast wealth had diminished to a trifle. Titus Price +had been the treasurer of the building fund which the bazaar was +designed to assist. Mynors had assumed the position of the dead man, +and that day, in going through the accounts, he had discovered that a +sum of fifty pounds was missing. +</P> + +<P> +'It's a dreadful thing for Willie, if it gets about,' he said; 'a tale +of that sort would follow him to Australia.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, Henry, it is!' she exclaimed, sorrow-stricken, 'but we mustn't let +it get about. Let us pay the money ourselves. You must enter it in +the books and say nothing.' +</P> + +<P> +'That is impossible,' he said firmly. 'I can't alter the accounts. At +least I can't alter the bank-book and the vouchers. The auditor would +detect it in a minute. Besides, I should not be doing my duty if I +kept a thing like this from the Superintendent-minister. He, at any +rate, must know, and perhaps the stewards.' +</P> + +<P> +'But you can urge them to say nothing. Tell them that you will make it +good. I will write a cheque at once.' +</P> + +<P> +'I had meant to find the fifty myself,' he said. It was a peddling sum +to him now. +</P> + +<P> +'Let me pay half, then,' she asked. +</P> + +<P> +'If you like,' he urged, smiling faintly at her eagerness. 'The thing +is bound to be kept quiet—it would create such a frightful scandal. +Poor old chap!' he added, carelessly, 'I suppose he was hard run, and +meant to put it back—as they all do mean.' +</P> + +<P> +But it was useless for Mynors to affect depression of spirits, or +mournful sympathy with the errors of a dead sinner. The fifty thousand +danced a jig in his brain that night. +</P> + +<P> +Anna was absorbed in contemplating the misfortune of Willie Price. She +prayed wildly that he might never learn the full depth of his father's +fall. The miserable robbery of Sarah's wages was buried for evermore, +and this new delinquency, which all would regard as flagrant sacrilege, +must be buried also. A soul less loyal than Anna's might have feared +that Willie, a self-convicted forger, had been a party to the +embezzlement; but Anna knew that it could not be so. +</P> + +<P> +It was characteristic of Mynors' cautious prudence that, the first +intoxication having passed, he made no further reference of any kind to +Anna's fortune. The arrangements for their married life were planned +on a scale which ignored the fifty thousand pounds. For both their +sakes he wished to avoid all friction with the miser, at any rate until +his status as Anna's husband would enable him to enforce her rights, if +that should be necessary, with dignity and effectiveness. He did not +precisely anticipate trouble, but the fact had not escaped him that +Ephraim still held the whole of Anna's securities. He was in no hurry +to enlarge his borders. He knew that there were twenty-four hours in +every day, three hundred and sixty-five days in every year, and thirty +good years in life still left to him; and therefore that there would be +ample time, after the wedding, for the execution of his purposes in +regard to that fifty thousand pounds. Meanwhile, he told Anna that he +had set aside two hundred pounds for the purchase of furniture for the +Priory—a modest sum; but he judged it sufficient. His method was to +buy a piece at a time, always second-hand, but always good. The +bargain-hunt was up, and Anna soon yielded to its mild satisfactions. +In the matter of her trousseau and the house-linen, Anna, having +obtained the needed money—at so dear a cost—found yet another +obstacle in the imminent bazaar, which occupied Mrs. Sutton and +Beatrice so completely that they could not contrive any opportunity to +assist her in shopping. It was decided between them that every article +should be bought ready-made and seamed, and that the first week of the +New Year, if indeed Mrs. Sutton survived the bazaar, should be entirely +and absolutely devoted to Anna's business. +</P> + +<P> +At nights, when she had leisure to think, Anna was astonished how +during the day she had forgotten her preoccupations in the activities +precendent to the bazaar, or in choosing furniture with Mynors. But +she never slept without thinking of Willie Price, and hoping that no +further disaster might overtake him. The incident of the embezzled +fifty pounds had been closed, and she had given a cheque for +twenty-five pounds to Mynors. He had acquainted the minister with the +facts, and Mr. Banks had decided that the two circuit stewards must be +informed. Beyond these the scandalous secret was not to go. But Anna +wondered whether a secret shared by five persons could long remain a +secret. +</P> + +<P> +The bazaar was a triumphant and unparalleled success, and, of the seven +stalls, the Sunday-school stall stood first each night in the nightly +returns. The scene in the town-hall, on the fourth and final night, a +Saturday, was as delirious and gay as a carnival. Four hundred and +twenty pounds had been raised up to tea-time, and it was the +impassioned desire of everyone to achieve five hundred. The price of +admission had been reduced to threepence, in order that the artisan +might enter and spend his wages in an excellent cause. The seven +stalls, ranged round the room like so many bowers of beauty, draped and +frilled and floriated, and still laden with countless articles of use +and ornament, were continually reinforced with purchasers by emissaries +canvassing the crowd which filled the middle of the paper-strewn floor. +The horse was not only taken to the water, but compelled to drink; and +many a man who, outside, would have laughed at the risk of being +robbed, was robbed openly, shamelessly, under the gaze of ministers and +class-leaders. Bouquets were sold at a shilling each, and at the +refreshment stall a glass of milk cost sixpence. The noise rivalled +that of a fair; there was no quiet anywhere, save in the farthest +recess of each stall, where the lady in supreme charge of it, like a +spider in the middle of its web, watched customers and cash-box with +equal cupidity. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Sutton, at seven o'clock, had not returned from tea, and Anna and +Beatrice, who managed the Sunday-school stall in her absence, feared +that she had at last succumbed under the strain. But shortly +afterwards she hurried back breathless to her place. +</P> + +<P> +'See that, Anna? It will be reckoned in our returns,' she said, +exhibiting a piece of paper. It was Ephraim's cheque for twenty-five +pounds promised months ago, but on a condition which had not been +fulfilled. +</P> + +<P> +'She has the secret of persuading him,' thought Anna. 'Why have I +never found it?' +</P> + +<P> +Then Agnes, in a new white frock, came up with three shillings, +proceeds of bouquets. +</P> + +<P> +'But you must take that to the flower-stall, my pet,' said Mrs. Sutton. +</P> + +<P> +'Can't I give it to you?' the child pleaded. 'I want your stall to be +the best.' +</P> + +<P> +Mynors arrived next, with something concealed in tissue-paper. He +removed the paper, and showed, in a frame of crimson plush, a common +white plate decorated with a simple band and line, and a monogram in +the centre—'A.T.' Anna blushed, recognising the plate which she had +painted that afternoon in July at Mynors' works. +</P> + +<P> +'Can you sell this?' Mynors asked Mrs. Sutton. +</P> + +<P> +'I'll try to,' said Mrs. Sutton doubtfully—not in the secret. 'What's +it meant for?' +</P> + +<P> +'Try to sell it to me,' said Mynors. +</P> + +<P> +'Well,' she laughed, 'what will you give?' +</P> + +<P> +'A couple of sovereigns.' +</P> + +<P> +'Make it guineas.' +</P> + +<P> +He paid the money, and requested Anna to keep the plate for him. +</P> + +<P> +At nine o'clock it was announced that, though raffling was forbidden, +the bazaar would be enlivened by an auction. A licensed auctioneer was +brought, and the sale commenced. The auctioneer, however, failed to +attune himself to the wild spirit of the hour, and his professional +efforts would have resulted in a fiasco had not Mynors, perceiving the +danger, leaped to the platform and masterfully assumed the hammer. +Mynors surpassed himself in the kind of wit that amuses an excited +crowd, and the auction soon monopolised the attention of the room; it +was always afterwards remembered as the crowning success of the bazaar. +The incredible man took ten pounds in twenty minutes. During this +episode Anna, who had been left alone in the stall, first noticed +Willie Price in the room. His ship sailed on the Monday, but steerage +passengers had to be aboard on Sunday, and he was saying good-bye to a +few acquaintances. He seemed quite cheerful, as he walked about with +his hands in his pockets, chatting with this one and that; it was the +false and hysterical gaiety that precedes a final separation. As soon +as he saw Anna he came towards her. +</P> + +<P> +'Well, good-bye, Miss Tellwright,' he said jauntily. 'I leave for +Liverpool to-morrow morning. Wish me luck.' +</P> + +<P> +Nothing more; no word, no accent, to recall the terrible but sublime +past. +</P> + +<P> +'I do,' she answered. They shook hands. Others approaching, he +drifted away. Her glance followed him like a beneficent influence. +</P> + +<P> +For three days she had carried in her pocket an envelope containing a +bank-note for a hundred pounds, intending by some device to force it on +him as a parting gift. Now the last chance was lost, and she had not +even attempted this difficult feat of charity. Such futility, she +reflected, self-scorning, was of a piece with her life. 'He hasn't +really gone. He hasn't really gone,' she kept repeating, and yet knew +well that he had gone. +</P> + +<P> +'Do you know what they are saying, Anna?' said Beatrice, when, after +eleven o'clock, the bazaar was closed to the public, and the +stall-holders and their assistants were preparing to depart, their +movements hastened by the stern aspect of the town-hall keeper. +</P> + +<P> +'No. What?' said Anna; and in the same moment guessed. +</P> + +<P> +'They say old Titus Price embezzled fifty pounds from the building +fund, and Henry made it up, privately, so that there shouldn't be a +scandal. Just fancy! Do you believe it?' +</P> + +<P> +The secret was abroad. She looked round the room, and saw it in every +face. +</P> + +<P> +'Who says?' Anna demanded fiercely. +</P> + +<P> +'It's all over the place. Miss Dickinson told me.' +</P> + +<P> +'You will be glad to know, ladies,' Mynors' voice sang out from the +platform, 'that the total proceeds, so far as we can calculate them +now, exceed five hundred and twenty-five pounds.' +</P> + +<P> +There was clapping of hands, which died out suddenly. +</P> + +<P> +'Now Agnes,' Anna called, 'come along, quick; you're as white as a +sheet. Good-night, Mrs. Sutton; good-night, Bee.' +</P> + +<P> +Mynors was still occupied on the platform. +</P> + +<P> +The town-hall keeper extinguished some of the lights. The bazaar was +over. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="footnote"> +<A NAME="chap13fn1"></A> +[<A HREF="#chap13fn1text">1</A>] <I>Cut</I>: canal. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap14"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIV +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +END OF A SIMPLE SOUL +</H4> + +<P> +The next morning, at half-past seven, Anna was standing in the +garden-doorway of the Priory. The sun had just risen, the air was +cold; roof and pavement were damp; rain had fallen, and more was to +fall. A door opened higher up the street, and Willie Price came out, +carrying a small bag. He turned to speak to some person within the +house, and then stepped forward. As he passed Anna she sprang forth. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh!' she cried, 'I had just come up here to see if the workmen had +locked up properly. We have some of our new furniture in the house, +you know.' She was as red as the sun over Hillport. +</P> + +<P> +He glanced at her. 'Have <I>you</I> heard?' he asked simply. +</P> + +<P> +'About what?' she whispered. +</P> + +<P> +'About my poor old father.' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes. I was hoping—hoping you would never know.' +</P> + +<P> +By a common impulse they went into the garden of the Priory, and he +shut the door. +</P> + +<P> +'Never know?' he repeated. 'Oh! they took care to tell me.' +</P> + +<P> +A silence followed. +</P> + +<P> +'Is that your luggage?' she inquired. He lifted up the handbag, and +nodded. +</P> + +<P> +'All of it?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' he said. 'I'm only an emigrant.' +</P> + +<P> +'I've got a note here for you,' she said. 'I should have posted it to +the steamer; but now you can take it yourself. I want you not to read +it till you get to Melbourne.' +</P> + +<P> +'Very well,' he said, and crumpled the proffered envelope into his +pocket. He was not thinking of the note at all. Presently he asked: +'Why didn't you tell me about my father? If I had to hear it, I'd +sooner have heard it from you.' +</P> + +<P> +'You must try to forget it,' she urged him. 'You are not your father.' +</P> + +<P> +'I wish I had never been born,' he said. 'I wish I'd gone to prison.' +</P> + +<P> +Now was the moment when, if ever, the mother's influence should be +exerted. +</P> + +<P> +'Be a man,' she said softly. 'I did the best I could for you. I shall +always think of you, in Australia, getting on.' +</P> + +<P> +She put a hand on his shoulder. 'Yes,' she said again, passionately: +'I shall always remember you—always.' +</P> + +<P> +The hand with which he touched her arm shook like an old man's hand. +As their eyes met in an intense and painful gaze, to her, at least, it +was revealed that they were lovers. What he had learnt in that instant +can only be guessed from his next action.... +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Anna ran out of the garden into the street, and so home, never looking +behind to see if he pursued his way to the station. +</P> + +<P> +Some may argue that Anna, knowing she loved another man, ought not to +have married Mynors. But she did not reason thus; such a notion never +even occurred to her. She had promised to marry Mynors, and she +married him. Nothing else was possible. She who had never failed in +duty did not fail then. She who had always submitted and bowed the +head, submitted and bowed the head then. She had sucked in with her +mother's milk the profound truth that a woman's life is always a +renunciation, greater or less. Hers by chance was greater. Facing the +future calmly and genially, she took oath with herself to be a good +wife to the man whom, with all his excellences, she had never loved. +Her thoughts often dwelt lovingly on Willie Price, whom she deemed to +be pursuing in Australia an honourable and successful career, quickened +at the outset by her hundred pounds. This vision of him was her stay. +But neither she nor anyone in the Five Towns or elsewhere ever heard of +Willie Price again. And well might none hear! The abandoned pitshaft +does not deliver up its secret. And so—the Bank of England is the +richer by a hundred pounds unclaimed, and the world the poorer by a +simple and meek soul stung to revolt only in its last hour. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="t4"> +<I>Jamieson & Munro, Ltd., Printers, Stirling.</I> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<HR> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap15"></A> + +<P CLASS="t3"> + Uniform with this Volume +</P> + +<BR> + +<PRE> + 36 De Profundis Oscar Wilde + 37 Lord Arthur Savile's Crime Oscar Wilde + 38 Selected Poems Oscar Wilde + 39 An Ideal Husband Oscar Wilde + 40 Intentions Oscar Wilde + 41 Lady Windermere's Fan Oscar Wilde + 42 Charmides and other Poems Oscar Wilde + 43 Harvest Home E. V. Lucas + 44 A Little of Everything E. V. Lucas + 45 Vallima Letters Robert Louis Stevenson + 46 Hills and the Sea Hilaire Belloc + 47 The Blue Bird Maurice Maeterlinck + 50 Charles Dickens G. K. Chesterton + 53 Letters from Self-Made Merchant to his Son George Horace Larimer + 54 The Life of John Ruskin W. G. Collingwood + 57 Sevastopol and other Stories Leo Tolstoy + 58 The Lore of the Honey-Bee Tickner Edwardes + 60 From Midshipman to Field Marshal Sir Evelyn Wood + 63 Oscar Wilde Arthur Ransome + 64 The Vicar of Morwenstow S. Baring-Gould + 65 Old Country Life S. Baring-Gould + 76 Home Life in France M. Betham-Edwards + 77 Selected Prose Oscar Wilde + 78 The Best of Lamb E. V. Lucas + 80 Selected Letters Robert Louis Stevenson + 83 Reason and Belief Sir Oliver Lodge + 85 The Importance of Being Earnest Oscar Wilde + 91 Social Evils and their Remedy Leo Tolstoy + 93 The Substance of Faith Sir Oliver Lodge + 94 All Things Considered G. K. Chesterton + 95 The Mirror of the Sea Joseph Conrad + 96 A Picked Company Hilaire Belloc + 116 The Survival of Man Sir Oliver Lodge + 126 Science from an Easy Chair Sir Ray Lankester + 141 Variety Lane E. V. Lucas + 144 A Shilling for my Thoughts G. K. Chesterton + 146 A Woman of No Importance Oscar Wilde + 149 A Shepherd's Life W. H. Hudson + 193 On Nothing Hilaire Belloc + 300 Jane Austen and her Times G. E. Mitton + 114 Select Essays Maurice Maeterlinck + 218 R. L. S. Francis Watt + 223 Two Generations Leo Tolstoy + 126 On Everything Hilaire Belloc + 934 Records and Reminiscences Sir Francis Burnand + 253 My Childhood and Boyhood Leo Tolstoy + 254 On Something Hilaire Belloc +</PRE> + +<BR><BR> + + +<P CLASS="t4"> + A Selection only. +</P> + +<HR ALIGN="center" WIDTH="60%"> + +<P CLASS="t3"> + Uniform with this Volume +</P> + +<PRE> + 1 The Mighty Atom Marie Corelli + 2 Jane Marie Corelli + 3 Boy Marie Corelli + 4 Spanish Gold G. A. Birmingham + 5 The Search Party G. A. Birmingham + 6 Teresa of Watling Street Arnold Bennett + 9 The Unofficial Honeymoon Dolf Wyllarde + 12 The Demon C. N. and A. M. Williamson + 17 Joseph Frank Danby + 18 Round the Red Lamp Sir A. Conan Doyle + 20 Light Freights W. W. Jacobs + 22 The Long Road John Oxenham + 71 The Gates of Wrath Arnold Bennett + 72 Short Cruises W. W. Jacobs + 81 The Card Arnold Bennett + 87 Lalage's Lovers G. A. Birmingham + 93 White Fang Jack London + 105 The Wallet of Kai Lung Ernest Bramah + 108 The Adventures of Dr. Whitty G. A. Birmingham + 113 Lavender and Old Lace Myrtle Reed + 115 Old Rose and Silver Myrtle Reed + 122 The Double Life of Mr. Alfred Burton E. Phillips Oppenheim + 125 The Regent Arnold Bennett + 127 Sally Dorothea Conyers + 129 The Lodger Mrs. Belloc Lowndes + 135 A Spinner In the Sun Myrtle Reed + 137 The Mystery of Dr. Fu-Manchu Sax Rohmer + 139 The Golden Centipede Louise Gerard + 140 The Love Pirate C. N. and A. M. Williamson + 143 The Way of these Women E. Phillips Oppenheim + 143 Sandy Married Dorothea Conyers + 145 Chance Joseph Conrad + 148 Flower of the Dusk Myrtle Reed + 150 The Gentleman Adventurer H. C. Bailey + 154 The Hyena of Kallu Louise Gerard + 190 The Happy Hunting Ground Mrs. Alice Perrin + 191 My Lady of Shadows John Oxenham + 211 Max Carrados Ernest Bramah + 212 Under Western Eyes Joseph Conrad + 213 The Kloof Bride Ernest Glanville + 215 Mr. Grex of Monte Carlo E. Phillips Oppenheim + 216 The Wonder of Love E. M. Albanesi + 217 A Weaver of Dreams Myrtle Reed + 219 The Family Elinor Mordaunt + 220 A Heritage of Peril A. W. Marchmont + 221 The Kinsman Mrs. Sidgwick + 222 Emmanuel Burden Hilaire Belloc + 224 Broken Shackles John Oxenham + 225 A Knight of Spain Marjorie Bowen + 227 Byeways Robert Hichens + 228 Gossamer G. A. Birmingham + 230 The Salving of a Derelict Maurice Drake + 231 Cameos Marie Corelli + 232 The Happy Valley B. M. Croker + 245 The Shop Girl C. N. and A. M. Williamson + 250 The Lost Regiment Ernest Glanville + 261 Tarzan of the Apes Edgar Rice Burroughs +</PRE> + +<P CLASS="t4"> + A Selection only. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Anna of the Five Towns, by Arnold Bennett + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANNA OF THE FIVE TOWNS *** + +***** This file should be named 35505-h.htm or 35505-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/5/0/35505/ + +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. 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Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..87350fc --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #35505 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/35505) diff --git a/old/35505-20110306.txt b/old/35505-20110306.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..384bfa2 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/35505-20110306.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9286 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Anna of the Five Towns, by Arnold Bennett + +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.net + + +Title: Anna of the Five Towns + +Author: Arnold Bennett + +Release Date: March 6, 2011 [EBook #35505] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANNA OF THE FIVE TOWNS *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + + + + + +ANNA OF THE FIVE TOWNS + + +BY + +ARNOLD BENNETT + + + + +THIRTEENTH EDITION + + + + +METHUEN & CO. LTD. + +36 ESSEX STREET W.C. + +LONDON + + + + + First issued in this Cheap Form (Third Edition) - September 5th 1912 + Fourth Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - September 1912 + Fifth Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - February 1913 + Sixth Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - July 1913 + Seventh Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - April 1914 + Eighth Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - September 1914 + Ninth Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - November 1915 + Tenth Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - July 1916 + Eleventh Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - March 1917 + Twelfth Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - February 1918 + Thirteenth Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 1919 + + + + This Book was First Published by Messrs Chatto & + Windus - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - September 11th, 1902 + Second Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - November 1902 + + + + +I DEDICATE THIS BOOK + +WITH AFFECTION AND ADMIRATION + +TO + +HERBERT SHARPE + +AN ARTIST + +WHOSE INDIVIDUALITY AND ACHIEVEMENT + +HAVE CONTINUALLY INSPIRED ME + + + + + 'Therefore, although it be a history + Homely and rude, I will relate the same + For the delight of a few natural hearts.' + + + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER + + I. THE KINDLING OF LOVE + II. THE MISER'S DAUGHTER + III. THE BIRTHDAY + IV. A VISIT + V. THE REVIVAL + VI. WILLIE + VII. THE SEWING MEETING + VIII. ON THE BANK + IX. THE TREAT + X. THE ISLE + XI. THE DOWNFALL + XII. AT THE PRIORY + XIII. THE BAZAAR + XIV. END OF A SIMPLE SOUL + + + + +ANNA OF THE FIVE TOWNS + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE KINDLING OF LOVE + +The yard was all silent and empty under the burning afternoon heat, +which had made its asphalt springy like turf, when suddenly the +children threw themselves out of the great doors at either end of the +Sunday-school--boys from the right, girls from the left--in two +howling, impetuous streams, that widened, eddied, intermingled and +formed backwaters until the whole quadrangle was full of clamour and +movement. Many of the scholars carried prize-books bound in vivid +tints, and proudly exhibited these volumes to their companions and to +the teachers, who, tall, languid, and condescending, soon began to +appear amid the restless throng. Near the left-hand door a little girl +of twelve years, dressed in a cream coloured frock, with a wide and +heavy straw hat, stood quietly kicking her foal-like legs against the +wall. She was one of those who had won a prize, and once or twice she +took the treasure from under her arm to glance at its frontispiece with +a vague smile of satisfaction. For a time her bright eyes were fixed +expectantly on the doorway; then they would wander, and she started to +count the windows of the various Connexional buildings which on three +sides enclosed the yard--chapel, school, lecture-hall, and +chapel-keeper's house. Most of the children had already squeezed +through the narrow iron gate into the street beyond, where a steam-car +was rumbling and clattering up Duck Bank, attended by its immense +shadow. The teachers remained a little behind. Gradually dropping the +pedagogic pose, and happy in the virtuous sensation of duty +accomplished, they forgot the frets and fatigues of the day, and grew +amiably vivacious among themselves. With an instinctive mutual +complacency the two sexes mixed again after separation. Greetings and +pleasantries were exchanged, and intimate conversations begun; and +then, dividing into small familiar groups, the young men and women +slowly followed their pupils out of the gate. The chapel-keeper, who +always had an injured expression, left the white step of his residence, +and, walking with official dignity across the yard, drew down the +side-windows of the chapel one after another. As he approached the +little solitary girl in his course he gave her a reluctant acid +recognition; then he returned to his hearth. Agnes was alone. + +'Well, young lady?' + +She looked round with a jump, and blushed, smiling and screwing up her +little shoulders, when she recognised the two men who were coming +towards her from the door of the lecture-hall. The one who had called +out was Henry Mynors, morning superintendent of the Sunday-school and +conductor of the men's Bible-class held in the lecture-hall on Sunday +afternoons. The other was William Price, usually styled Willie Price, +secretary of the same Bible-class, and son of Titus Price, the +afternoon superintendent. + +'I'm sure you don't deserve that prize. Let me see if it isn't too +good for you.' Mynors smiled playfully down upon Agnes Tellwright as +he idly turned the leaves of the book which she handed to him. 'Now, +do you deserve it? Tell me honestly.' + +She scrutinised those sparkling and vehement black eyes with the +fearless calm of infancy. 'Yes, I do,' $he answered in her high, thin +voice, having at length decided within herself that Mr. Mynors was +joking. + +'Then I suppose you must have it,' he admitted, with a fine air of +giving way. + +As Agnes took the volume from him she thought how perfect a man Mr. +Mynors was. His eyes, so kind and sincere, and that mysterious, +delicious, inexpressible something which dwelt behind his eyes: these +constituted an ideal for her. + +Willie Price stood somewhat apart, grinning, and pulling a thin +honey-coloured moustache. He was at the uncouth, disjointed age, +twenty-one, and nine years younger than Henry Mynors. Despite a +continual effort after ease of manner, he was often sheepish and +self-conscious, even, as now, when he could discover no reason for such +a condition of mind. But Agnes liked him too. His simple, pale blue +eyes had a wistfulness which made her feel towards him as she felt +towards her doll when she happened to find it lying neglected on the +floor. + +'Your big sister isn't out of school yet?' Mynors remarked. + +Agnes shook her head. 'I've been waiting ever so long,' she said +plaintively. + +At that moment a grey-haired woman with a benevolent but rather pinched +face emerged with much briskness from the girls' door. This was Mrs. +Sutton, a distant relative of Mynors'--his mother had been her second +cousin. The men raised their hats. + +'I've just been down to make sure of some of you slippery folks for the +sewing-meeting,' she said, shaking hands with Mynors, and including +both him and Willie Price in an embracing maternal smile. She was +short-sighted and did not perceive Agnes, who had fallen back. + +'Had a good class this afternoon, Henry?' Mrs. Sutton's breathing was +short and quick. + +'Oh, yes,' he said, 'very good indeed.' + +'You're doing a grand work.' + +'We had over seventy present,' he added. + +'Eh!' she said, 'I make nothing of numbers. Henry. I meant a _good_ +class. Doesn't it say--Where _two or three_ are gathered together...? +But I must be getting on. The horse will be restless. I've to go up +to Hillport before tea. Mrs. Clayton Vernon is ill.' + +Scarcely having stopped in her active course, Mrs. Sutton drew the men +along with her down the yard, she and Mynors in rapid talk: Willie +Price fell a little to the rear, his big hands half-way into his +pockets and his eyes diffidently roving. It appeared as though he +could not find courage to take a share in the conversation, yet was +anxious to convince himself of his right to do so. + +Mynors helped Mrs. Sutton into her carriage, which had been drawn up +outside the gate of the school yard. Only two families of the Bursley +Wesleyan Methodists kept a carriage, the Suttons and the Clayton +Vernons. The latter, boasting lineage and a large house in the +aristocratic suburb of Hillport, gave to the society monetary aid and a +gracious condescension. But though indubitably above the operation of +any unwritten sumptuary law, even the Clayton Vernons ventured only in +wet weather to bring their carriage to chapel. Yet Mrs. Sutton, who +was a plain woman, might with impunity use her equipage on Sundays. +This license granted by Connexional opinion was due to the fact that +she so obviously regarded her carriage, not as a carriage, but as a +contrivance on four wheels for enabling an infirm creature to move +rapidly from place to place. When she got into it she had exactly the +air of a doctor on his rounds. Mrs. Sutton's bodily frame had long ago +proved inadequate to the ceaseless demands of a spirit indefatigably +altruistic, and her continuance in activity was a notable illustration +of the dominion of mind over matter. Her husband, a potter's valuer +and commission agent, made money with facility in that lucrative +vocation, and his wife's charities were famous, notwithstanding her +attempts to hide them. Neither husband nor wife had allowed riches to +put a factitious gloss upon their primal simplicity. They were as they +were, save that Mr. Sutton had joined the Five Towns Field Club and +acquired some of the habits of an archaeologist. The influence of +wealth on manners was to be observed only in their daughter Beatrice, +who, while favouring her mother, dressed at considerable expense, and +at intervals gave much time to the arts of music and painting. Agnes +watched the carriage drive away, and then turned to look up the stairs +within the school doorway. She sighed, scowled, and sighed again, +murmured something to herself, and finally began to read her book. + +'Not come out yet?' Mynors was at her side once more, alone this time. + +'No, not yet,' said Agnes, wearied. 'Yes. Here she is. Anna, what +ages you've been!' + +Anna Tellwright stood motionless for a second in the shadow of the +doorway. She was tall, but not unusually so, and sturdily built up. +Her figure, though the bust was a little flat, had the lenient curves +of absolute maturity. Anna had been a woman since seventeen, and she +was now on the eve of her twenty-first birthday. She wore a plain, +home-made light frock checked with brown and edged with brown velvet, +thin cotton gloves of cream colour, and a broad straw hat like her +sister's. Her grave face, owing to the prominence of the cheekbones +and the width of the jaw, had a slight angularity; the lips were thin, +the brown eyes rather large, the eyebrows level, the nose fine and +delicate; the ears could scarcely be seen for the dark brown hair which +was brushed diagonally across the temples, leaving of the forehead only +a pale triangle. It seemed a face for the cloister, austere in +contour, fervent in expression, the severity of it mollified by that +resigned and spiritual melancholy peculiar to women who through the +error of destiny have been born into a wrong environment. + +As if charmed forward by Mynors' compelling eyes, Anna stepped into the +sunlight, at the same time putting up her parasol. 'How calm and +stately she is,' he thought, as she gave him her cool hand and murmured +a reply to his salutation. But even his aquiline gaze could not +surprise the secrets of that concealing breast: this was one of the +three great tumultuous moments of her life--she realised for the first +time that she was loved. + +'You are late this afternoon, Miss Tellwright,' Mynors began, with the +easy inflections of a man well accustomed to prominence in the society +of women. Little Agnes seized Anna's left arm, silently holding up the +prize, and Anna nodded appreciation. + +'Yes,' she said as they walked across the yard, 'one of my girls has +been doing wrong. She stole a Bible from another girl, so of course I +had to mention it to the superintendent. Mr. Price gave her a long +lecture, and now she is waiting upstairs till he is ready to go with +her to her home and talk to her parents. He says she must be +dismissed.' + +'Dismissed!' + +Anna's look flashed a grateful response to him. By the least possible +emphasis he had expressed a complete disagreement with his senior +colleague which etiquette forbade him to utter in words. + +'I think it's a very great pity,' Anna said firmly. 'I rather like the +girl,' she ventured in haste; 'you might speak to Mr. Price about it.' + +'If he mentions it to me.' + +'Yes, I meant that. Mr. Price said--if it had been anything else but a +_Bible_----' + +'Um!' he murmured very low, but she caught the significance of his +intonation. They did not glance at each other: it was unnecessary. +Anna felt that comfortable easement of the spirit which springs from +the recognition of another spirit capable of understanding without +explanations and of sympathising without a phrase. Under that calm +mask a strange and sweet satisfaction thrilled through her as her +precious instinct of common sense--rarest of good qualities, and pining +always for fellowship--found a companion in his own. She had dreaded +the overtures which for a fortnight past she had foreseen were +inevitably to come from Mynors: he was a stranger, whom she merely +respected. Now in a sudden disclosure she knew him and liked him. The +dire apprehension of those formal 'advances' which she had watched +other men make to other women faded away. It was at once a release and +a reassurance. + +They were passing through the gate, Agnes skipping round her sister's +skirts, when Willie Price reappeared front the direction of the chapel. + +'Forgotten something?' Mynors inquired of him blandly. + +'Ye-es,' he stammered, clumsily raising his hat to Anna. She thought +of him exactly as Agnes had done. He hesitated for a fraction of time, +and then went up the yard-towards the lecture-hall. + +'Agnes has been showing me her prize,' said Mynors, as the three stood +together outside the gate. 'I ask her if she thinks she really +deserves it, and she says she does. What do you think, Miss Big +Sister?' + +Anna gave the little girl an affectionate smile of comprehension. +'What is it called, dear?' + +'"Janey's Sacrifice or the Spool of Cotton, and other stories for +children,"' Agnes read out in a monotone: then she clutched Anna's +elbow and aimed a whisper at her ear. + +'Very well, dear,' Anna answered loud, 'but we must be back by a +quarter-past four.' And turning to Mynors: 'Agnes wants to go up to +the Park to hear the band play.' + +'I'm going up there, too,' he said. 'Come along, Agnes, take my arm +and show me the way.' Shyly Agnes left her sister's side and put a +pink finger into Mynors' hand. + +Moor Road, which climbs over the ridge to the mining village of +Moorthorne and passes the new Park on its way, was crowded with people +going up to criticise and enjoy this latest outcome of municipal +enterprise in Bursley: sedate elders of the borough who smiled grimly +to see one another on Sunday afternoon in that undignified, idly +curious throng; white-skinned potters, and miners with the swarthy +pallor of subterranean toil; untidy Sabbath loafers whom neither church +nor chapel could entice, and the primly-clad respectable who had not +only clothes but a separate deportment for the seventh day; house-wives +whose pale faces, as of prisoners free only for a while, showed a naive +and timorous pleasure in the unusual diversion; young women made +glorious by richly-coloured stuffs and carrying themselves with the +defiant independence of good wages earned in warehouse or +painting-shop; youths oppressed by stiff new clothes bought at +Whitsuntide, in which the bright necktie and the nosegay revealed a +thousand secret aspirations; young children running and yelling with +the marvellous energy of their years; here and there a small +well-dressed group whose studious repudiation of the crowd betrayed a +conscious eminence of rank; louts, drunkards, idiots, beggars, waifs, +outcasts, and every oddity of the town: all were more or less under the +influence of a new excitement, and all with the same face of pleased +expectancy looked towards the spot where, half-way up the hill, a +denser mass of sightseers indicated the grand entrance to the Park. + +'What stacks of folks!' Agnes exclaimed. 'It's like going to a +football match.' + +'Do you go to football matches, Agnes?' Mynors asked. The child gave a +giggle. + +Anna was relieved when these two began to chatter. She had at once, by +a firm natural impulse, subdued the agitation which seized her when she +found Mynors waiting with such an obvious intention at the school door; +she had conversed with him in tones of quiet ease; his attitude had +even enabled her in a few moments to establish a pleasant familiarity +with him. Nevertheless, as they joined the stream of people in Moor +Road, she longed to be at home, in her kitchen, in order to examine +herself and the new situation thus created by Mynors. And yet also she +was glad that she must remain at his side, but it was a fluttered joy +that his presence gave her, too strange for immediate appreciation. As +her eye, without directly looking at him, embraced the suave and +admirable male creature within its field of vision, she became aware +that he was quite inscrutable to her. What were his inmost thoughts, +his ideals, the histories of his heart? Surely it was impossible that +she should ever know these secrets! He--and she: they were utterly +foreign to each other. So the primary dissonances of sex vibrated +within her, and her own feelings puzzled her. Still, there was an +instant pleasure, delightful, if disturbing and inexplicable. And also +there was a sensation of triumph, which, though she tried to scorn it, +she could not banish. That a man and a woman should saunter together +on that road was nothing; but the circumstance acquired tremendous +importance when the man happened to be Henry Mynors and the woman Anna +Tellwright. Mynors--handsome, dark, accomplished, exemplary and +prosperous--had walked for ten years circumspect and unscathed amid the +glances of a whole legion of maids. As for Anna, the peculiarity of +her position had always marked her for special attention: ever since +her father settled in Bursley, she had felt herself to be the object of +an interest in which awe and pity were equally mingled. She guessed +that the fact of her going to the Park with Mynors that afternoon would +pass swiftly from mouth to mouth like the rumour of a decisive event. +She had no friends; her innate reserve had been misinterpreted, and she +was not popular among the Wesleyan community. Many people would say, +and more would think, that it was her money which was drawing Mynors +from the narrow path of his celibate discretion. She could imagine all +the innuendoes, the expressive nods, the pursing of lips, the lifting +of shoulders and of eyebrows. 'Money 'll do owt': that was the +proverb. But she cared not. She had the just and unshakable +self-esteem which is fundamental in all strong and righteous natures; +and she knew beyond the possibility of doubt that, though Mynors might +have no incurable aversion to a fortune, she herself, the spirit and +body of her, had been the sole awakener of his desire. + +By a common instinct, Mynors and Anna made little Agnes the centre of +attraction. Mynors continued to tease her, and Agnes growing +courageous, began to retort. She was now walking between them, and the +other two smiled to each other at the child's sayings over her head, +interchanging thus messages too subtle and delicate for the coarse +medium of words. + +As they approached the Park the bandstand came into sight over the +railway cutting, and they could hear the music of 'The Emperor's Hymn.' +The crude, brazen sounds were tempered in their passage through the +warm, still air, and fell gently on the ear in soft waves, quickening +every heart to unaccustomed emotions. Children leaped forward, and old +people unconsciously assumed a lightsome vigour. The Park rose in +terraces from the railway station to a street of small villas almost on +the ridge of the hill. From its gilded gates to its smallest +geranium-slips it was brand-new, and most of it was red. The keeper's +house, the bandstand, the kiosks, the balustrades, the shelters--all +these assailed the eye with a uniform redness of brick and tile which +nullified the pallid greens of the turf and the frail trees. The +immense crowd, in order to circulate, moved along in tight processions, +inspecting one after another the various features of which they had +read full descriptions in the 'Staffordshire Signal'--waterfall, +grotto, lake, swans, boat, seats, faience, statues--and scanning with +interest the names of the donors so clearly inscribed on such objects +of art and craft as from divers motives had been presented to the town +by its citizens. Mynors, as he manoeuvred a way for the two girls +through the main avenue up to the topmost terrace, gravely judged each +thing upon its merits, approving this, condemning that. In deciding +that under all the circumstances the Park made a very creditable +appearance he only reflected the best local opinion. The town was +proud of its achievement, and it had the right to be; for, though this +narrow pleasaunce was in itself unlovely, it symbolised the first faint +renascence of the longing for beauty in a district long given up to +unredeemed ugliness. + +At length, Mynors having encountered many acquaintances, they got past +the bandstand and stood on the highest terrace, which was almost +deserted. Beneath them, in front, stretched a maze of roofs, dominated +by the gold angel of the Town Hall spire. Bursley, the ancient home of +the potter, has an antiquity of a thousand years. It lies towards the +north end of an extensive valley, which must have been one of the +fairest spots in Alfred's England, but which is now defaced by the +activities of a quarter of a million of people. Five contiguous +towns--Turnhill, Bursley, Hanbridge, Knype, and Longshaw--united by a +single winding thoroughfare some eight miles in length, have inundated +the valley like a succession of great lakes. Of these five Bursley is +the mother, but Hanbridge is the largest. They are mean and forbidding +of aspect--sombre, hard-featured, uncouth; and the vaporous poison of +their ovens and chimneys has soiled and shrivelled the surrounding +country till there is no village lane within a league but what offers a +gaunt and ludicrous travesty of rural charms. Nothing could be more +prosaic than the huddled, red-brown streets; nothing more seemingly +remote from romance. Yet be it said that romance is even here--the +romance which, for those who have an eye to perceive it, ever dwells +amid the seats of industrial manufacture, softening the coarseness, +transfiguring the squalor, of these mighty alchemic operations. Look +down into the valley from this terrace-height where love is kindling, +embrace the whole smoke-girt amphitheatre in a glance, and it may be +that you will suddenly comprehend the secret and superb significance of +the vast Doing which goes forward below. Because they seldom think, +the townsmen take shame when indicted for having disfigured half a +county in order to live. They have not understood that this +disfigurement is merely an episode in the unending warfare of man and +nature, and calls for no contrition. Here, indeed, is nature repaid +for some of her notorious cruelties. She imperiously bids man sustain +and reproduce himself, and this is one of the places where in the very +act of obedience he wounds and maltreats her. Out beyond the municipal +confines, where the subsidiary industries of coal and iron prosper amid +a wreck of verdure, the struggle is grim, appalling, heroic--so +ruthless is his havoc of her, so indomitable her ceaseless +recuperation. On the one side is a wresting from nature's own bowels +of the means to waste her; on the other, an undismayed, enduring +fortitude. The grass grows; though it is not green, it grows. In the +very heart of the valley, hedged about with furnaces, a farm still +stands, and at harvest-time the sooty sheaves are gathered in. + +The band stopped playing. A whole population was idle in the Park, and +it seemed, in the fierce calm of the sunlight, that of all the +strenuous weekday vitality of the district only a murmurous hush +remained. But everywhere on the horizon, and nearer, furnaces cast +their heavy smoke across the borders of the sky: the Doing was never +suspended. + +'Mr. Mynors,' said Agnes, still holding his hand, when they had been +silent a moment, 'when do those furnaces go out?' + +'They don't go out,' he answered, 'unless there is a strike. It costs +hundreds and hundreds of pounds to light them again.' + +'Does it?' she said vaguely. 'Father says it's the smoke that stops my +gilliflowers from growing.' + +Mynors turned to Anna. 'Your father seems the picture of health. I +saw him out this morning at a quarter to seven, as brisk as a boy. +What a constitution!' + +'Yes,' Anna replied, 'he is always up at six.' + +'But you aren't, I suppose?' + +'Yes, I too.' + +'And me too,' Agnes interjected. + +'And how does Bursley compare with Hanbridge?' Mynors continued. Anna +paused before replying. + +'I like it better,' she said. 'At first--last year--I thought I +shouldn't.' + +'By the way, your father used to preach in Hanbridge circuit-----' + +'That was years ago,' she said quickly. + +'But why won't he preach here? I dare say you know that we are rather +short of local preachers--good ones, that is.' + +'I can't say why father doesn't preach now:' Anna flushed as she spoke. +'You had better ask him that.' + +'Well, I will do,' he laughed. 'I am coming to see him soon--perhaps +one night next week.' + +Anna looked at Henry Mynors as he uttered the astonishing words. The +Tellwrights had been in Bursley a year, but no visitor had crossed +their doorsteps except the minister, once, and such poor defaulters as +came, full of excuse and obsequious conciliation, to pay rent overdue. + +'Business, I suppose?' she said, and prayed that he might not be +intending to make a mere call of ceremony. + +'Yes, business,' he answered lightly. 'But you will be in?' + +'I am always in,' she said. She wondered what the business could be, +and felt relieved to know that his visit would have at least some +assigned pretext; but already her heart beat with apprehensive +perturbation at the thought of his presence in their household. + +'See!' said Agnes, whose eyes were everywhere, 'There's Miss Sutton.' + +Both Mynors and Anna looked sharply round. Beatrice Sutton was coming +towards them along the terrace. Stylishly clad in a dress of pink +muslin, with harmonious hat, gloves, and sunshade, she made an +agreeable and rather effective picture, despite her plain, round face +and stoutish figure. She had the air of being a leader. Grafted on to +the original simple honesty of her eyes there was the +unconsciously-acquired arrogance of one who had always been accustomed +to deference. Socially, Beatrice had no peer among the young women who +were active in the Wesleyan Sunday-school. Beatrice had been used to +teach in the afternoon school, but she had recently advanced her +labours from the afternoon to the morning in response to a hint that if +she did so the force of her influence and example might lessen the +chronic dearth of morning teachers. + +'Good afternoon, Miss Tellwright,' Beatrice said as she came up. 'So +you have come to look at the Park.' + +'Yes,' said Anna, and then stopped awkwardly. In the tone of each +there was an obscure constraint, and something in Mynors' smile of +salute to Beatrice showed that he too shared it. + +'Seen you before,' Beatrice said to him familiarly, without taking his +hand; then she bent down and kissed Agnes. + +'What are you doing here, mademoiselle?' Mynors asked her. + +'Father's just down below, near the lake. He caught sight of you, and +sent me up to say that you were to be sure to come in to supper +to-night. You will, won't you?' + +'Yes, thanks. I had meant to.' + +Anna knew that they were related, and also that Mynors was constantly +at the Suttons' house, but the close intimacy between these two came +nevertheless like a shock to her. She could not conquer a certain +resentment of it, however absurd such a feeling might seem to her +intelligence. And this attitude extended not only to the intimacy, but +to Beatrice's handsome clothes and facile urbanity, which by contrast +emphasised her own poor little frock and tongue-tied manner. The mere +existence of Beatrice so near to Mynors was like an affront to her. +Yet at heart, and even while admiring this shining daughter of success, +she was conscious within herself of a fundamental superiority. The +soul of her condescended to the soul of the other one. + +They began to discuss the Park. + +'Papa says it will send up the value of that land over there +enormously,' said Beatrice, pointing with her ribboned sunshade to some +building plots which lay to the north, high up the hill. 'Mr. +Tellwright owns most of that, doesn't he?' she added to Anna. + +'I dare say he does,' said Anna. It was torture to her to refer to her +father's possessions. + +'Of course it will be covered with streets in a few months. Will he +build himself, or will he sell it?' + +'I haven't the least idea,' Anna answered, with an effort after gaiety +of tone, and then turned aside to look at the crowd. There, close +against the bandstand, stood her father, a short, stout, ruddy, +middle-aged man in a shabby brown suit. He recognised her, stared +fixedly, and nodded with his grotesque and ambiguous grin. Then he +sidled off towards the entrance of the Park. None of the others had +seen him. 'Agnes dear,' she said abruptly, 'we must go now, or we +shall be late for tea.' + +As the two women said good-bye their eyes met, and in the brief second +of that encounter each tried to wring from the other the true answer to +a question which lay unuttered in her heart. Then, having bidden adieu +to Mynors, whose parting glance sang its own song to her, Anna took +Agnes by the hand and left him and Beatrice together. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE MISER'S DAUGHTER + +Anna sat in the bay-window of the front parlour, her accustomed place +on Sunday evenings in summer, and watched Mr. Tellwright and Agnes +disappear down the slope of Trafalgar Road on their way to chapel. +Trafalgar Road is the long thoroughfare which, under many aliases, runs +through the Five Towns from end to end, uniting them as a river might +unite them. Ephraim Tellwright could remember the time when this part +of it was a country lane, flanked by meadows and market gardens. Now +it was a street of houses up to and beyond Bleakridge, where the +Tellwrights lived; on the other side of the hill the houses came only +in patches until the far-stretching borders of Hanbridge were reached. +Within the municipal limits Bleakridge was the pleasantest quarter of +Bursley--Hillport, abode of the highest fashion, had its own government +and authority--and to reside 'at the top of Trafalgar Road' was still +the final ambition of many citizens, though the natural growth of the +town had robbed Bleakridge of some of that exclusive distinction which +it once possessed. Trafalgar Road, in its journey to Bleakridge from +the centre of the town, underwent certain changes of character. First +came a succession of manufactories and small shops; then, at the +beginning of the rise, a quarter of a mile of superior cottages; and +lastly, on the brow, occurred the houses of the comfortable-detached, +semi-detached, and in terraces, with rentals from 25_l._ to 60_l._ a +year. The Tellwrights lived in Manor Terrace (the name being a last +reminder of the great farmstead which formerly occupied the western +hill side): their house, of light yellow brick, was two-storied, with a +long narrow garden behind, and the rent 30_l_. Exactly opposite was an +antique red mansion, standing back in its own ground--home of the +Mynors family for two generations, but now a school, the Mynors family +being extinct in the district save for one member. Somewhat higher up, +still on the opposite side to Manor Terrace, came an imposing row of +four new houses, said to be the best planned and best built in the +town, each erected separately and occupied by its owner. The nearest +of these four was Councillor Sutton's, valued at 60_l._ a year. Lower +down, below Manor Terrace and on the same side, lived the Wesleyan +superintendent minister, the vicar of St. Luke's Church, an alderman, +and a doctor. + +It was nearly six o'clock. The sun shone, but gentlier; and the earth +lay cooling in the mild, pensive effulgence of a summer evening. Even +the onrush of the steam-car, as it swept with a gay load of passengers +to Hanbridge, seemed to be chastened; the bell of the Roman Catholic +chapel sounded like the bell of some village church heard in the +distance; the quick but sober tramp of the chapel-goers fell peacefully +on the ear. The sense of calm increased, and, steeped in this +meditative calm, Anna from the open window gazed idly down the +perspective of the road, which ended a mile away in the dim concave +forms of ovens suffused in a pale mist. A book from the Free Library +lay on her lap; she could not read it. She was conscious of nothing +save the quiet enchantment of reverie. Her mind, stimulated by the +emotions of the afternoon, broke the fetters of habitual +self-discipline, and ranged voluptuously free over the whole field of +recollection and anticipation. To remember, to hope: that was +sufficient joy. + +In the dissolving views of her own past, from which the rigour and pain +seemed to have mysteriously departed, the chief figure was always her +father--that sinister and formidable individuality, whom her mind hated +but her heart disobediently loved. Ephraim Tellwright[1] was one of +the most extraordinary and most mysterious men in the Five Towns. The +outer facts of his career were known to all, for his riches made him +notorious; but of the secret and intimate man none knew anything except +Anna, and what little Anna knew had come to her by divination rather +than discernment. A native of Hanbridge, he had inherited a small +fortune from his father, who was a prominent Wesleyan Methodist. At +thirty, owing mainly to investments in property which his calling of +potter's valuer had helped him to choose with advantage, he was worth +twenty thousand pounds, and he lived in lodgings on a total expenditure +of about a hundred a year. When he was thirty-five he suddenly +married, without any perceptible public wooing, the daughter of a wood +merchant at Oldcastle, and shortly after the marriage his wife +inherited from her father a sum of eighteen thousand pounds. The pair +lived narrowly in a small house up at Pireford, between Hanbridge and +Oldcastle. They visited no one, and were never seen together except on +Sundays. She was a rosy-cheeked, very unassuming and simple woman, who +smiled easily and talked with difficulty, and for the rest lived +apparently a servile life of satisfaction and content. After five +years Anna was born, and in another five years Mrs. Tellwright died of +erysipelas. The widower engaged a housekeeper: otherwise his existence +proceeded without change. No stranger visited the house, the +housekeeper never gossiped; but tales will spread, and people fell into +the habit of regarding Tellwright's child and his housekeeper with +commiseration. + +During all this period he was what is termed 'a good Wesleyan,' +preaching and teaching, and spending himself in the various activities +of Hanbridge chapel. For many years he had been circuit treasurer. +Among Anna's earliest memories was a picture of her father arriving +late for supper one Sunday night in autumn after an anniversary +service, and pouring out on the white tablecloth the contents of +numerous chamois-leather money-bags. She recalled the surprising +dexterity with which he counted the coins, the peculiar smell of the +bags, and her mother's bland exclamation, 'Eh, Ephraim!' Tellwright +belonged by birth to the Old Guard of Methodism; there was in his +family a tradition of holy valour for the pure doctrine: his father, a +Bursley man, had fought in the fight which preceded the famous +Primitive Methodist Secession of 1808 at Bursley, and had also borne a +notable part in the Warren affrays of '28, and the disastrous trouble +of the Fly-Sheets in '49, when Methodism lost a hundred thousand +members. As for Ephraim, he expounded the mystery of the Atonement in +village conventicles and grew garrulous with God at prayer-meetings in +the big Bethesda chapel; but he did these things as routine, without +skill and without enthusiasm, because they gave him an unassailable +position within the central group of the society. He was not, in fact, +much smitten with either the doctrinal or the spiritual side of +Methodism. His chief interest lay in those fiscal schemes of +organisation without whose aid no religious propaganda can possibly +succeed. It was in the finance of salvation that he rose supreme--the +interminable alternation of debt-raising and new liability which +provides a lasting excitement for Nonconformists. In the negotiation +of mortgages, the artful arrangement of appeals, the planning of +anniversaries and of mighty revivals, he was an undisputed leader. To +him the circuit was a 'going concern,' and he kept it in motion, +serving the Lord in committee and over statements of account. The +minister by his pleading might bring sinners to the penitent form, but +it was Ephraim Tellwright who reduced the cost per head of souls saved, +and so widened the frontiers of the Kingdom of Heaven. + +Three years after the death of his first wife it was rumoured that he +would marry again, and that his choice had fallen on a young orphan +girl, thirty years his junior, who 'assisted' at the stationer's shop +where he bought his daily newspaper. The rumour was well-founded. +Anna, then eight years of age, vividly remembered the home-coming of +the pale wife, and her own sturdy attempts to explain, excuse, or +assuage to this wistful and fragile creature the implacable harshness +of her father's temper. Agnes was born within a year, and the pale +girl died of puerperal fever. In that year lay a whole tragedy, which +could not have been more poignant in its perfection if the year had +been a thousand years. Ephraim promptly re-engaged the old +housekeeper, a course which filled Anna with secret childish revolt, +for Anna was now nine, and accomplished in all domesticity. In another +seven years the housekeeper died, a gaunt grey ruin, and Anna at +sixteen became mistress of the household, with a small sister to +cherish and control. About this time Anna began to perceive that her +father was generally regarded as a man of great wealth, having few +rivals in the entire region of the Five Towns, Definite knowledge, +however, she had none: he never spoke of his affairs; she knew only +that he possessed houses and other property in various places, that he +always turned first to the money article in the newspaper, and that +long envelopes arrived for him by post almost daily. But she had once +heard the surmise that he was worth sixty thousand of his own, apart +from the fortune of his first wife, Anna's mother. Nevertheless, it +did not occur to her to think of her father, in plain terms, as a +miser, until one day she happened to read in the 'Staffordshire Signal' +some particulars of the last will and testament of William Wilbraham, +J.P., who had just died. Mr. Wilbraham had been a famous magnate and +benefactor of the Five Towns; his revered name was in every mouth; he +had a fine seat, Hillport House, at Hillport; and his superb horses +were constantly seen, winged and nervous, in the streets of Bursley and +Hanbridge. The 'Signal' said that the net value of his estate was +sworn at fifty-nine thousand pounds. This single fact added a definite +and startling significance to figures which had previously conveyed +nothing to Anna except an idea of vastness. The crude contrast between +the things of Hillport House and the things of the six-roomed abode in +Manor Terrace gave food for reflection, silent but profound. + +Tellwright had long ago retired from business, and three years after +the housekeeper died he retired, practically, from religious work, to +the grave detriment of the Hanbridge circuit. In reply to sorrowful +questioners, he said merely that he was petting old and needed rest, +and that there ought to be plenty of younger men to fill his shoes. He +gave up everything except his pew in the chapel. The circuit was +astounded by this sudden defection of a class-leader, a local preacher, +and an officer. It was an inexplicable fall from grace. Yet the +solution of the problem was quite simple. Ephraim had lost interest in +his religious avocations; they had ceased to amuse him, the old ardour +had cooled. The phenomenon is a common enough experience with men who +have passed their fiftieth year--men, too, who began with the true and +sacred zeal, which Tellwright never felt. The difference in +Tellwright's case was that, characteristically, he at once yielded to +the new instinct, caring naught for public opinion. Soon afterwards, +having purchased a lot of cottage property in Bursley, he decided to +migrate to the town of his fathers. He had more than one reason for +doing so, but perhaps the chief was that he found the atmosphere of +Hanbridge Wesleyan chapel rather uncongenial. The exodus from it was +his silent and malicious retort to a silent rebuke. + +He appeared now to grow younger, discarding in some measure a certain +morose taciturnity which had hitherto marked his demeanour. He went +amiably about in the manner of a veteran determined to enjoy the brief +existence of life's winter. His stout, stiff, deliberate yet alert +figure became a familiar object to Bursley: that ruddy face, with its +small blue eyes, smooth upper lip, and short grey beard under the +smooth chin, seemed to pervade the streets, offering everywhere the +conundrum of its vague smile. Though no friend ever crossed his +doorstep, he had dozens of acquaintances of the footpath. He was not, +however, a facile talker, and he seldom gave an opinion; nor were his +remarks often noticeably shrewd. He existed within himself, +unrevealed. To the crowd, of course, he was a marvellous legend, and +moving always in the glory of that legend he received their wondering +awe--an awe tinged with contempt for his lack of ostentation and public +splendour. Commercial men with whom he had transacted business liked +to discuss his abilities, thus disseminating that solid respect for him +which had sprung from a personal experience of those abilities, and +which not even the shabbiness of his clothes could weaken. + +Anna was disturbed by the arrival at the front door of the milk-girl. +Alternately with her father, she stayed at home on Sunday evenings, +partly to receive the evening milk and partly to guard the house. The +Persian cat with one ear preceded her to the door as soon as he heard +the clatter of the can. The stout little milk-girl dispensed one pint +of milk into Anna's jug, and spilt an eleemosynary supply on the step +for the cat. 'He does like it fresh, Miss,' said the milk-girl, +smiling at the greedy cat, and then, with a 'Lovely evenin',' departed +down the street, one fat red arm stretched horizontally out to balance +the weight of the can in the other. Anna leaned idly against the +doorpost, waiting while the cat finished, until at length the swaying +figure of the milk-girl disappeared in the dip of the road. Suddenly +she darted within, shutting the door, and stood on the hall-mat in a +startled attitude of dismay. She had caught sight of Henry Mynors in +the distance, approaching the house. At that moment the kitchen clock +struck seven, and Mynors, according to the rule of a lifetime, should +have been in his place in the 'orchestra' (or, as some term it, the +'singing-seat') of the chapel, where he was an admired baritone. Anna +dared not conjecture what impulse had led him into this extraordinary, +incredible deviation. She dared not conjecture, but despite herself +she knew, and the knowledge shocked her sensitive and peremptory +conscience. Her heart began to beat rapidly; she was in distress. +Aware that her father and sister had left her alone, did he mean to +call? It was absolutely impossible, yet she feared it, and blushed, +all solitary there in the passage, for shame. Now she heard his sharp, +decided footsteps, and through the glazed panels of the door she could +see the outline of his form. He stopped; his hand was on the gate, and +she ceased to breathe. He pushed the gate open, and then, at the +whisper of some blessed angel, he closed it again and continued his way +up the street. After a few moments Anna carried the milk into the +kitchen, and stood by the dresser, moveless, each muscle braced in the +intensity of profound contemplation. Gradually the tears rose to her +eyes and fell; they were the tincture of a strange and mystic joy, too +poignant to be endured. As it were under compulsion she ran outside, +and down the garden path to the low wall which looked over the grey +fields of the valley up to Hillport. Exactly opposite, a mile and a +half away, on the ridge, was Hillport Church, dark and clear against +the orange sky. To the right, and nearer, lay the central masses of +the town, tier on tier of richly-coloured ovens and chimneys. Along +the field-paths couples moved slowly. All was quiescent, languorous, +beautiful in the glow of the sun's stately declension. Anna put her +arms on the wall. Far more impressively than in the afternoon she +realised that this was the end of one epoch in her career and the +beginning of another. Enthralled by austere traditions and that stern +conscience of hers, she had never permitted herself to dream of the +possibility of an escape from the parental servitude. She had never +looked beyond the horizons of her present world, but had sought +spiritual satisfaction in the ideas of duty and sacrifice. The worst +tyrannies of her father never dulled the sense of her duty to him; and, +without perhaps being aware of it, she had rather despised love and the +dalliance of the sexes. In her attitude towards such things there had +been not only a little contempt but also some disapproval, as though +man were destined for higher ends. Now she saw, in a quick revelation, +that it was the lovers, and not she, who had the right to scorn. She +saw how miserably narrow, tepid, and trickling the stream of her life +had been, and had threatened to be. Now it gushed forth warm, +impetuous, and full, opening out new and delicious vistas. She lived; +and she was finding the sight to see, the courage to enjoy. Now, as +she leaned over the wall, she would not have cared if Henry Mynors +indeed had called that night. She perceived something splendid and +free in his abandonment of habit and discretion at the bidding of a +desire. To be the magnet which could draw that pattern and exemplar of +seemliness from the strict orbit of virtuous custom! It was she, the +miser's shabby daughter, who had caused this amazing phenomenon. The +thought intoxicated her. Without the support of the wall she might +have fallen. In a sort of trance she murmured these words: 'He loves +me.' + +This was Anna Tellwright, the ascetic, the prosaic, the impassive. + +After an interval which to her was as much like a minute as a century, +she went back into the house. As she entered by the kitchen she heard +an impatient knocking at the front door. + +'At last,' said her father grimly, when she opened the door. In two +words he had resumed his terrible sway over her. Agnes looked timidly +from one to the other and slipped past them into the house. + +'I was in the garden,' Anna explained. 'Have you been here long?' She +tried to smile apologetically. + +'Only about a quarter of an hour,' he answered, with a grimness still +more portentous. + +'He won't speak again to-night,' she thought fearfully. But she was +mistaken. After he had carefully hung his best hat on the hat-rack, he +turned towards her, and said, with a queer smile: + +'Ye've been day-dreaming, eh, Sis?' + +'Sis' was her pet name, used often by Agnes, but by her father only at +the very rarest intervals. She was staggered at this change of front, +so unaccountable in this man, who, when she had unwittingly annoyed +him, was capable of keeping an awful silence for days together. What +did he know? What had those old eyes seen? + +'I forgot,' she stammered, gathering herself together happily, 'I +forgot the time.' She felt that after all there was a bond between +them which nothing could break--the tie of blood. They were father and +daughter, united by sympathies obscure but fundamental. Kissing was +not in the Tellwright blood, but she had a fleeting wish to hug the +tyrant. + + + +[1] Tellwright: tile-wright, a name specially characteristic of, and +possibly originating in, this clay-manufacturing district. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE BIRTHDAY + +The next morning there was no outward sign that anything unusual had +occurred. As the clock in the kitchen struck eight Anna carried to the +back parlour a tray on which were a dish of bacon and a coffee-pot. +Breakfast was already laid for three. She threw a housekeeper's glance +over the table, and called: 'Father!' Mr. Tellwright was re-setting +some encaustic tiles in the lobby. He came in, coatless, and, dropping +a trowel on the hearth, sat down at the end of the table nearest the +fireplace. Anna sat opposite to him, and poured out the coffee. + +On the dish were six pieces of bacon. He put one piece on a plate, and +set it carefully in front of Agnes's vacant chair, two he passed to +Anna, three he kept for himself. + +'Where's Agnes?' he inquired. + +'Coming--she's finishing her arithmetic.' + +In the middle of the table was an unaccustomed small jug containing +gilly-flowers. Mr. Tellwright noticed it instantly. + +'What an we gotten here?' he said, indicating the jug. + +'Agnes gave me them first thing when she got up. She's grown them +herself, you know,' Anna said, and then added: 'It's my birthday.' + +'Ay!' he exclaimed, with a trace of satire in his voice. 'Thou'rt a +woman now, lass.' + +No further remark on that matter was made during the meal. + +Agnes ran in, all pinafore and legs. With a toss backwards of her +light golden hair she slipped silently into her seat, cautiously +glancing at the master of the house. Then she began to stir her coffee. + +'Now, young woman,' Tellwright said curtly. + +She looked a startled interrogative. + +'We're waiting,' he explained. + +'Oh!' said Agnes, confused. 'I thought you'd said it. "God sanctify +this food to our use and us to His service for Christ's sake, Amen."' + +The breakfast proceeded in silence. Breakfast at eight, dinner at +noon, tea at four, supper at eight: all the meals in this house +occurred with absolute precision and sameness. Mr. Tellwright seldom +spoke, and his example imposed silence on the girls, who felt as nuns +feel when assisting at some grave but monotonous and perfunctory rite. +The room was not a cheerful one in the morning, since the window was +small and the aspect westerly. Besides the table and three horse-hair +chairs, the furniture consisted of an arm-chair, a bent-wood rocking +chair, and a sewing-machine. A fatigued Brussels carpet covered the +floor. Over the mantelpiece was an engraving of 'The Light of the +World,' in a frame of polished brown wood. On the other walls were +some family photographs in black frames. A two-light chandelier hung +from the ceiling, weighed down on one side by a patent gas-saving +mantle and a glass shade; over this the ceiling was deeply discoloured. +On either side of the chimney-breast were cupboards about three feet +high; some cardboard boxes, a work-basket, and Agnes's school books lay +on the tops of these cupboards. On the window-sill was a pot of +mignonette in a saucer. The window was wide open, and flies buzzed to +and fro, constantly rebounding from the window panes with terrible +thuds. In the blue-paved yard beyond the cat was licking himself in +the sunlight with an air of being wholly absorbed in his task. + +Mr. Tellwright demanded a second and last cup of coffee, and having +drunk it pushed away his plate as a sign that he had finished. Then he +took from the mantelpiece at his right hand a bundle of letters and +opened them methodically. When he had arranged the correspondence in a +flattened pile, he put on his steel-rimmed spectacles and began to read. + +'Can I return thanks, father?' Agnes asked, and he nodded, looking at +her fixedly over his spectacles. + +'Thank God for our good breakfast, Amen.' + +In two minutes the table was cleared, and Mr. Tellwright was alone. As +he read laboriously through communications from solicitors, secretaries +of companies, and tenants, he could hear his daughters talking together +in the kitchen. Anna was washing the breakfast things while Agnes +wiped. Then there were flying steps across the yard: Agnes had gone to +school. + +After he had mastered his correspondence, Mr. Tellwright took up the +trowel again and finished the tile-setting in the lobby. Then he +resumed his coat, and, gathering together the letters from the table in +the back parlour, went into the front parlour and shut the door. This +room was his office. The principal things in it were an old oak bureau +and an old oak desk-chair which had come to him from his first wife's +father; on the walls were some sombre landscapes in oil, received from +the same source; there was no carpet on the floor, and only one other +chair. A safe stood in the corner opposite the door. On the +mantelpiece were some books--Woodfall's 'Landlord and Tenant,' Jordan's +'Guide to Company Law,' Whitaker's Almanack, and a Gazetteer of the +Five Towns. Several wire files, loaded with papers, hung from the +mantelpiece. With the exception of a mahogany what-not with a Bible on +it, which stood in front of the window, there was nothing else whatever +in the room. He sat down to the bureau and opened it, and took from +one of the pigeon-holes a packet of various documents: these he +examined one by one, from time to time referring to a list. Then he +unlocked the safe and extracted from it another bundle of documents +which had evidently been placed ready. With these in his hand, he +opened the door, and called out: + +'Anna.' + +'Yes, father;' her voice came from the kitchen. + +'I want ye.' + +'In a minute. I'm peeling potatoes.' + +When she came in, she found him seated at the bureau as usual. He did +not look round. + +'Yes, father.' + +She stood there in her print dress and white apron, full in the eye of +the sun, waiting for him. She could not guess what she had been +summoned for. As a rule, she never saw her father between breakfast +and dinner. At length he turned. + +'Anna,' he said in his harsh, abrupt tones, and then stopped for a +moment before continuing. His thick, short fingers held the list which +he had previously been consulting. She waited in bewilderment. 'It's +your birthday, ye told me. I hadna' forgotten. Ye're of age to-day, +and there's summat for ye. Your mother had a fortune of her own, and +under your grandfeyther's will it comes to you when you're twenty-one. +I'm the trustee. Your mother had eighteen thousand pounds i' +Government stock.' He laid a slight sneering emphasis on the last two +words. 'That was near twenty-five year ago. I've nigh on trebled it +for ye, what wi' good investments and interest accumulating. Thou'rt +worth'--here he changed to the second personal singular, a habit with +him--'thou'rt worth this day as near fifty thousand as makes no matter, +Anna. And that's a tidy bit.' + +'Fifty thousand--_pounds_!' she exclaimed aghast. + +'Ay, lass.' + +She tried to speak calmly. 'Do you mean it's mine, father?' + +'It's thine, under thy grandfeyther's will--haven't I told thee? I'm +bound by law for to give it to thee this day, and thou mun give me a +receipt in due form for the securities. Here they are, and here's the +list. Tak' the list, Anna, and read it to me while I check off.' + +She mechanically took the blue paper and read: 'Toft End Colliery and +Brickworks Limited, five hundred shares of ten pounds.' + +'They paid ten per cent. last year,' he said, 'and with coal up as it +is they'll pay fiftane this. Let's see what thy arithmetic is worth, +lass. How much is fiftane per cent. on five thousand pun?' + +'Seven hundred and fifty pounds,' she said, getting the correct answer +by a superhuman effort worthy of that occasion. + +'Right,' said her father, pleased. 'Recollect that's more till two pun +a day. Go on.' + +'North Staffordshire Railway Company ordinary stock, ten thousand and +two hundred pounds.' + +'Right. Th' owd North Stafford's getting up i' th' world. It'll be a +five per cent. line yet. Then thou mun sell out.' + +She had only a vague idea of his meaning, and continued: 'Five Towns +Waterworks Company Limited consolidated stock, eight thousand five +hundred pounds.' + +'That's a tit-bit, lass,' he interjected, looking absently over his +spectacles at something outside in the road. 'You canna' pick that up +on shardrucks.' + +'Norris's Brewery Limited, six hundred ordinary shares of ten pounds.' + +'Twenty per cent.,' said the old man. 'Twenty per cent. regular.' He +made no attempt to conceal his pride in these investments. And he had +the right to be proud of them. They were the finest in the market, the +aristocracy of investments, based on commercial enterprises of which +every business man in the Five Towns knew the entire soundness. They +conferred distinction on the possessor, like a great picture or a rare +volume. They stifled all questions and insinuations. Put before any +jury of the Five Towns as evidence of character, they would almost have +exculpated a murderer. + +Anna continued reading the list, which seemed endless: long before she +had reached the last item her brain was a menagerie of monstrous +figures. The list included, besides all sorts of shares English and +American, sundry properties in the Five Towns, and among these was the +earthenware manufactory in Edward Street occupied by Titus Price, the +Sunday-school superintendent. Anna was a little alarmed to find +herself the owner of this works; she knew that her father had had some +difficult moments with Titus Price, and that the property was not +without grave disadvantages. + +'That all!' Tellwright asked, at length. + +'That's all.' + +'Total face value,' he went on, 'as I value it, forty-eight thousand +and fifty pounds, producing a net annual income of three thousand two +hundred and ninety pounds or thereabouts. There's not many in this +district as 'as gotten that to their names, Anna--no, nor half +that--let 'em be who they will.' + +Anna had sensations such as a child might have who has received a +traction-engine to play with in a back yard. 'What am I to do with +it?' she asked plaintively. + +'Do wi' it?' he repeated, and stood up and faced her, putting his lips +together: 'Do wi' it, did ye say?' + +'Yes.' + +'Tak' care on it, my girl. Tak' care on it. And remember it's thine. +Thou mun sign this list, and all these transfers and fal-lals, and then +thou mun go to th' Bank, and tell Mester Lovatt I've sent thee. +There's four hundred pound there. He'll give thee a cheque-book. I've +told him all about it. Thou'll have thy own account, and be sure thou +keeps it straight.' + +'I shan't know a bit what to do, father, and so it's no use talking,' +she said quietly. + +'I'll learn ye,' he replied. 'Here, tak' th' pen, and let's have thy +signature.' + +She signed her name many times and put her finger on many seals. Then +Tellwright gathered up everything into a bundle, and gave it to her to +hold. + +'That's the lot,' he said. 'Have ye gotten 'em?' + +'Yes,' she said. + +They both smiled, self-consciously. As for Tellwright, he was +evidently impressed by the grandeur of this superb renunciation on his +part. 'Shall I keep 'em for ye?' + +'Yes, please.' + +'Then give 'em me.' + +He took back all the documents. + +'When shall I call at the Bank, father?' + +'Better call this afternoon--afore three, mind ye.' + +'Very well. But I shan't know what to do.' + +'You've gotten a tongue in that noddle of yours, haven't ye?' he said. +'Now go and get along wi' them potatoes.' + +Anna returned to the kitchen. She felt no elation or ferment of any +kind; she had not begun to realise the significance of what had +occurred. Like the soldier whom a bullet has struck, she only knew +vaguely that something had occurred. She peeled the potatoes with more +than her usual thrifty care; the peel was so thin as to be almost +transparent. It seemed to her that she could not arrange or examine +her emotions until after she had met Henry Mynors again. More than +anything else she wished to see him: it was as if out of the mere sight +of him something definite might emerge, as if when her eyes had rested +on him, and not before, she might perceive some simple solution of the +problems which she had obscurely discerned ahead of her. + +During dinner a boy brought a note for her father. He read it, +snorted, and threw it across the table to Anna. + +'Here,' he said, 'that's your affair.' + +The letter was from Titus Price: it said that he was sorry to be +compelled to break his promise, but it was quite impossible for him to +pay twenty pounds on account of rent that day; he would endeavour to +pay at least twenty pounds in a week's time. + +'You'd better call there, after you've been to th' Bank,' said +Tellwright, 'and get summat out of him, if it's only ten pun.' + +'Must I go to Edward Street?' + +'Yes.' + +'What am I to say? I've never been there before.' + +'Well, it's high time as ye began to look after your own property. You +mun see owd Price, and tell him ye canna accept any excuses.' + +'How much does he owe?' + +'He owes ye a hundred and twenty-five pun altogether--he's five +quarters in arrear.' + +'A hundred and----! Well, I never!' Anna was aghast. The sum +appeared larger to her than all the thousands and tens of thousands +which she had received in the morning. She reflected that the weekly +bills of the household amounted to about a sovereign, and that the +total of this debt of Price's would therefore keep them in food for two +years. The idea of being in debt was abhorrent to her. She could not +conceive how a man who was in debt could sleep at nights. 'Mr. Price +ought to be ashamed of himself,' she said warmly. 'I'm sure he's quite +able to pay.' The image of the sleek and stout superintendent of the +Sunday-school, arrayed in his rich, almost voluptuous, broadcloth, +offended her profoundly. That he, debtor and promise-breaker, should +have the effrontery to pray for the souls of children, to chastise +their petty furtive crimes, was nearly incredible. + +'Oh! Price is all _right_,' her father remarked, with an apparent +benignity which surprised her. 'He'll pay when he can.' + +'I think it's a shame,' she repeated emphatically. + +Agnes looked with a mystified air from one to the other, instinctively +divining that something very extraordinary had happened during her +absence at school. + +'Ye mun'na be too hard, Anna,' said Tellwright. 'Supposing ye sold owd +Titus up? What then? D'ye reckon ye'd get a tenant for them +ramshackle works? A thousand pound spent wouldn't 'tice a tenant. +That Edward Street property was one o' ye grandfeyther's specs; 'twere +none o' mine. You'd best tak' what ye can get.' + +Anna felt a little ashamed of herself, not because of her bad policy, +but because she saw that Mr. Price might have been handicapped by the +faults of her property. + +That afternoon it was a shy and timid Anna who swung back the heavy +polished and glazed portals of the Bursley branch of the Birmingham, +Sheffield and district Bank, the opulent and spacious erection which +stands commandingly at the top of St. Luke's Square. She looked about +her, across broad counters, enormous ledgers, and rows of bent heads, +and wondered whom she should address. Then a bearded gentleman, who +was weighing gold in a balance, caught sight of her: he slid the gold +into a drawer, and whisked round the end of the counter with a celerity +which was, at any rate, not born of practice, for he, the cashier, had +not done such a thing for years. + +'Good afternoon, Miss Tellwright.' + +'Good afternoon. I----' + +'May I trouble you to step into the manager's room?' and he drew her +forward, while every clerk's eye watched. Anna tried not to blush, but +she could feel the red mounting even to her temples. + +'Delightful weather we're having. But of course we've the right to +expect it at this time of year.' He opened a door on the glass of +which was painted 'Manager,' and bowed. 'Mr. Lovatt--Miss Tellwright.' + +Mr. Lovatt greeted his new customer with a formal and rather fatigued +politeness, and invited her to sit in a large leather armchair in front +of a large table; on this table lay a large open book. Anna had once +in her life been to the dentist's; this interview reminded her of that +experience. + +'Your father told me I might expect you to-day,' said Mr. Lovatt in his +high-pitched, perfunctory tones. Richard Lovatt was probably the most +influential man in Bursley. Every Saturday morning he irrigated the +whole town with fertilising gold. By a single negative he could have +ruined scores of upright merchants and manufacturers. He had only to +stop a man in the street and murmur, 'By the way, your overdraft----,' +in order to spread discord and desolation through a refined and pious +home. His estimate of human nature was falsified by no common +illusions; he had the impassive and frosty gaze of a criminal judge. +Many men deemed they had cause to hate him, but no one did hate him: +all recognised that he was set far above hatred. + +'Kindly sign your full name here,' he said, pointing to a spot on the +large open page of the book, 'and your ordinary signature, which you +will attach to cheques, here.' + +Anna wrote, but in doing so she became aware that she had no ordinary +signature; she was obliged to invent one. + +'Do you wish to draw anything out now? There is already a credit of +four hundred and twenty pounds in your favour,' said Mr. Lovatt, after +he had handed her a cheque-book, a deposit-book, and a pass-book. + +'Oh, no, thank you,' Anna answered quickly. She keenly desired some +money, but she well knew that courage would fail her to demand it +without her father's consent; moreover, she was in a whirl of +uncertainty as to the uses of the three books, though Mr. Lovatt had +expounded them severally to her in simple language. + +'Good-day.' + +'Good-day, Miss Tellwright.' + +'My compliments to your father.' + +His final glance said half cynically, half in pity: 'You are naive and +unspoilt now, but these eyes will see yours harden like the rest. +Wretched victim of gold, you are only one in a procession, after all.' + +Outside, Anna thought that everyone had been very agreeable to her. +Her complacency increased at a bound. She no longer felt ashamed of +her shabby cotton dress. She surmised that people would find it +convenient to ignore any difference which might exist between her +costume and that of other girls. + +She went on to Edward Street, a short steep thoroughfare at the eastern +extremity of the town, leading into a rough road across unoccupied land +dotted with the mouths of abandoned pits: this road climbed up to Toft +End, a mean annexe of the town about half a mile east of Bleakridge. +From Toft End, lying on the highest hill in the district, one had a +panoramic view of Hanbridge and Bursley, with Hillport to the west, and +all the moorland and mining villages to the north and north-east. +Titus Price and his son lived in what had once been a farm-house at +Toft End; every morning and evening they traversed the desolate and +featureless grey road between their dwelling and the works. + +Anna had never been in Edward Street before. It was a miserable +quarter--two rows of blackened infinitesimal cottages, and her +manufactory at the end--a frontier post of the town. Price's works was +small, old-fashioned, and out of repair--one of those properties which +are forlorn from the beginning, which bring despair into the hearts of +a succession of owners, and which, being ultimately deserted, seem to +stand for ever in pitiable ruin. The arched entrance for carts into +the yard was at the top of the steepest rise of the street, when it +might as well have been at the bottom; and this was but one example of +the architect's fine disregard for the principle of economy in +working--that principle to which in the scheming of manufactories +everything else is now so strictly subordinated. Ephraim Tellwright +used to say (but not to Titus Price) that the situation of that archway +cost five pounds a year in horseflesh, and that five pounds was the +interest on a hundred. The place was badly located, badly planned and +badly constructed. Its faults defied improvement. Titus Price +remained in it only because he was chained there by arrears of rent; +Tellwright hesitated to sell it only because the rent was a hundred a +year, and the whole freehold would not have fetched eight hundred. He +promised repairs in exchange for payment of arrears which he knew would +never be paid, and his policy was to squeeze the last penny out of +Price without forcing him into bankruptcy. Such was the predicament +when Anna assumed ownership. As she surveyed the irregular and huddled +frontage from the opposite side of the street, her first feeling was +one of depression at the broken and dirty panes of the windows. A man +in shirt-sleeves was standing on the weighing platform under the +archway; his back was towards her, but she could see the smoke issuing +in puffs from his pipe. She crossed the road. Hearing her footfalls, +the man turned round: it was Titus Price himself. He was wearing an +apron, but no cap; the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, exposing +forearms covered with auburn hair. His puffed, heavy face, and general +bigness and untidiness, gave the idea of a vast and torpid male +slattern. Anna was astounded by the contrast between the Titus of +Sunday and the Titus of Monday: a single glance compelled her to +readjust all her notions of the man. She stammered a greeting, and he +replied, and then they were both silent for a moment: in the pause Mr. +Price thrust his pipe between apron and waistcoat. + +'Come inside, Miss Tellwright,' he said, with a sickly, conciliatory +smile. 'Come into the office, will ye?' + +She followed him without a word through the archway. To the right was +an open door into the packing-house, where a man surrounded by straw +was packing basins in a crate: with swift, precise movements, twisting +straw between basin and basin, he forced piles of ware into a space +inconceivably small. Mr. Price lingered to watch him for a few +seconds, and passed on. They were in the yard, a small quadrangle +paved with black, greasy mud. In one corner a load of coal had been +cast; in another lay a heap of broken saggars. Decrepit doorways led +to the various 'shops' on the ground floor; those on the upper floor +were reached by narrow wooden stairs, which seemed to cling insecurely +to the exterior walls. Up one of these stairways Mr. Price climbed +with heavy, elephantine movements: Anna prudently waited till he had +reached the top before beginning to ascend. He pushed open a flimsy +door, and with a nod bade her enter. The office was a long narrow +room, the dirtiest that Anna had ever seen. If such was the condition +of the master's quarters, she thought, what must the workshops be like? +The ceiling, which bulged downwards, was as black as the floor, which +sank away in the middle till it was hollow like a saucer. The +revolution of an engine somewhere below shook everything with a +periodic muffled thud. A greyish light came through one small window. +By the window was a large double desk, with chairs facing each other. +One of these chairs was occupied by Willie Price. The youth did not +observe at first that another person had come in with his father. He +was casting up figures in an account book, and murmuring numbers to +himself. He wore an office coat, short at the wrists and torn at the +elbows, and a battered felt hat was thrust far back over his head so +that the brim rested on his dirty collar. He turned round at length, +and, on seeing Anna, blushed brilliant crimson, and rose, scraping the +legs of his chair horribly across the floor. Tall, thin, and ungainly +in every motion, he had the look of a ninny: it was the fact that at +school all the boys by a common instinct had combined to tease him, and +that on the works the young paintresses continually made private sport +of him. Anna, however, had not the least impulse to mock him in her +thoughts. For her there was nothing in his blue eyes but simplicity +and good intentions. Beside him she felt old, sagacious, crafty: it +seemed to her that some one ought to shield that transparent and +confiding soul from his father and the intriguing world. + +He spoke to her and lifted his hat, holding it afterwards in his great +bony hand. + +'Get down to th' entry, Will,' said his father, and Willie, with an +apologetic sort of cough, slipped silently away through the door. + +'Sit down, Miss Tellwright,' said old Price, and she took the Windsor +chair that had been occupied by Willie. Her tenant fell into the seat +opposite--a leathern chair from which the stuffing had exuded, and with +one of its arms broken. 'I hear as ye father is going into partnership +with young Mynors--Henry Mynors.' + +Anna started at this surprising item of news, which was entirely fresh +to her. 'Father has said nothing to me about it,' she replied, coldly. + +'Oh! Happen I've said too much. If so, you'll excuse me, Miss. A +smart fellow, Mynors. Now you should see _his_ little works: not very +much bigger than this, but there's everything you can think of +there--all the latest machinery and dodges, and not over-rented, I'm +told. The biggest fool i' Bursley couldn't help but make money there. +This 'ere works 'ere, Miss Tellwright, wants mendin' with a new 'un.' + +'It looks very dirty, I must say,' said Anna. + +'Dirty!' he laughed--a short, acrid laugh--'I suppose you've called +about the rent.' + +'Yes, father asked me to call.' + +'Let me see, this place belongs to you i' your own right, doesn't it, +Miss?' + +'Yes,' said Anna. 'It's mine--from my grandfather, you know.' + +'Ah! Well, I'm sorry for to tell ye as I can't pay anything now--no, +not a cent. But I'll pay twenty pounds in a week. Tell ye father I'll +pay twenty pound in a week.' + +'That's what you said last week,' Anna remarked, with more brusqueness +than she had intended. At first she was fearful at her own temerity in +thus addressing a superintendent of the Sunday-school; then, as nothing +happened, she felt reassured, and strong in the justice of her position. + +'Yes,' he admitted obsequiously. 'But I've been disappointed. One of +our best customers put us off, to tell ye the truth. Money's tight, +very tight. It's got to be give and take in these days, as ye father +knows. And I may as well speak plain to ye, Miss Tellwright. We +canna' stay here; we shall be compelled to give ye notice. What's +amiss with this bank[1] is that it wants pullin' down.' He went off +into a rapid enumeration of ninety-and-nine alterations and repairs +that must be done without the loss of a moment, and concluded: 'You +tell ye father what I've told ye, and say as I'll send up twenty pounds +next week. I can't pay anything now; I've nothing by me at all.' + +'Father said particularly I was to be sure and get something on +account.' There was a flinty hardness in her tone which astonished +herself perhaps more than Titus Price. A long pause followed, and then +Mr. Price drew a breath, seeming to nerve himself to a tremendous +sacrificial deed. + +'I tell ye what I'll do. I'll give ye ten pounds now, and I'll do what +I can next week. I'll do what I can. There!' + +'Thank you,' said Anna. She was amazed at her success. + +He unlocked the desk, and his head disappeared under the lifted lid. +Anna gazed through the window. Like many women, and not a few men, in +the Five Towns, she was wholly ignorant of the staple manufacture. The +interior of a works was almost as strange to her as it would have been +to a farm-hand from Sussex. A girl came out of a door on the opposite +side of the quadrangle: the creature was clothed in clayey rags, and +carried on her right shoulder a board laden with biscuit[2] cups. She +began to mount one of the wooden stairways, and as she did so the +board, six feet in length, swayed alarmingly to and fro. Anna expected +to see it fall with a destructive crash, but the girl went up in +safety, and with a nonchalant jerk of the shoulder aimed the end of the +board through another door and vanished from sight. To Anna it was a +thrilling feat, but she noticed that a man who stood in the yard did +not even turn his head to watch it. Mr. Price recalled her to the +business of her errand. + +'Here's two fives,' he said, shutting down the desk with the sigh of a +crocodile. + +'Liar! You said you had nothing!' her unspoken thought ran, and at the +same instant the Sunday-school and everything connected with it +grievously sank in her estimation; she contrasted this scene with that +on the previous day with the peccant schoolgirl: it was an hour of +disillusion. Taking the notes, she gave a receipt and rose to go. + +'Tell ye father'--it seemed to Anna that this phrase was always on his +lips--'tell ye father he must come down and look at the state this +place is in,' said Mr. Price, enheartened by the heroic payment of ten +pounds. Anna said nothing; she thought a fire would do more good than +anything else to the foul, squalid buildings: the passing fancy +coincided with Mr. Price's secret and most intense desire. + +Outside she saw Willie Price superintending the lifting of a crate on +to a railway lorry. After twirling in the air, the crate sank safely +into the waggon. Young Price was perspiring. + +'Warm afternoon, Miss Tellwright,' he called to her as she passed, with +his pleasant bashful smile. She gave an affirmative. Then he came to +her, still smiling, his face full of an intention to say something, +however insignificant. + +'I suppose you'll be at the Special Teachers' Meeting to-morrow night,' +he remarked. + +'I hope to be,' she said. That was all: William had achieved his +small-talk: they parted. + +'So father and Mr. Mynors are going into partnership,' she kept saying +to herself on the way home. + + + +[1] Bank: manufactory. + +[2] Biscuit: a term applied to ware which has been fired only once. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +A VISIT + +The Special Teachers' Meeting to which Willie Price had referred was +one of the final preliminaries to a Revival--that is, a revival of +godliness and Christian grace--about to be undertaken by the Wesleyan +Methodist Society in Bursley. Its object was to arrange for a personal +visitation of the parents of Sunday-school scholars in their homes. +Hitherto Anna had felt but little interest in the Revival: it had +several times been brought indirectly before her notice, but she had +regarded it as a phenomenon which recurred at intervals in the cycle of +religious activity, and as not in any way affecting herself. The +gradual centring of public interest, however--that mysterious movement +which, defying analysis, gathers force as it proceeds, and ends by +coercing the most indifferent--had already modified her attitude +towards this forthcoming event. It got about that the preacher who had +been engaged, a specialist in revivals, was a man of miraculous powers: +the number of souls which he had snatched from eternal torment was +precisely stated, and it amounted to tens of thousands. He played the +cornet to the glory of God, and his cornet was of silver: his more +distant past had been ineffably wicked, and the faint rumour of that +dead wickedness clung to his name like a piquant odour. As Anna walked +up Trafalgar Road from Price's she observed that the hoardings had been +billed with great posters announcing the Revival and the revivalist, +who was to commence his work on Friday night. + +During tea Mr. Tellwright interrupted his perusal of the evening +'Signal' to give utterance to a rather remarkable speech. + +'Bless us!' he said. 'Th' old trumpeter 'll turn the town upside down!' + +'Do you mean the revivalist, father?' Anna asked. + +'Ay!' + +'He's a beautiful man,' Agnes exclaimed with enthusiasm. 'Our teacher +showed us his portrait after school this afternoon. I never saw such a +beautiful man.' + +Her father gazed hard at the child for an instant, cup in hand, and +then turned to Anna with a slightly sardonic air. + +'What are you doing i' this Revival, Anna?' + +'Nothing,' she said. 'Only there's a teachers' meeting about it +to-morrow night, and I have to go to that. Young Mr. Price mentioned +it to me specially to-day.' + +A pause followed. + +'Didst get anything out o' Price?' Tellwright asked. + +'Yes; he gave me ten pounds. He wants you to go and look over the +works--says they're falling to pieces.' + +'Cheque, I reckon?' + +She corrected the surmise. + +'Better give me them notes, Anna,' he said after tea. 'I'm going to +th' Bank i' th' morning, and I'll pay 'em in to your account.' + +There was no reason why she should not have suggested the propriety of +keeping at least one of the notes for her private use. But she dared +not. She had never any money of her own, not a penny; and the +effective possession of five pounds seemed far too audacious a dream. +She hesitated to imagine her father's reply to such a request, even to +frame the request to herself. The thing, viewed close, was utterly +impossible. And when she relinquished the notes she also, without +being asked, gave up her cheque-book, deposit-book, and pass-book. She +did this while ardently desiring to refrain from doing it, as it were +under the compulsion of an invincible instinct. Afterwards she felt +more at ease, as though some disturbing question had been settled once +and for all. + +During the whole of that evening she timorously expected Mynors, saying +to herself however that he certainly would not call before Thursday. +On Tuesday evening she started early for the teachers' meeting. Her +intention was to arrive among the first and to choose a seat in +obscurity, since she knew well that every eye would be upon her. She +was divided between the desire to see Mynors and the desire to avoid +the ordeal of being seen by her colleagues in his presence. She +trembled lest she should be incapable of commanding her mien so as to +appear unconscious of this inspection by curious eyes. + +The meeting was held in a large class-room, furnished with wooden +seats, a chair and a small table. On the grey distempered walls hung a +few Biblical cartoons depicting scenes in the life of Joseph and his +brethren--but without reference to Potiphar's wife. From the +whitewashed ceiling depended a T-shaped gas-fitting, one burner of +which showed a glimmer, though the sun had not yet set. The evening +was oppressively warm, and through the wide-open window came the faint +effluvium of populous cottages and the distant but raucous cries of +children at play. When Anna entered a group of young men were talking +eagerly round the table; among these was Willie Price, who greeted her. +No others had come: she sat down in a corner by the door, invisible +except from within the room. Gradually the place began to fill. Then +at last Mynors entered: Anna recognised his authoritative step before +she saw him. He walked quickly to the chair in front of the table, +and, including all in a friendly and generous smile, said that in the +absence of Mr. Titus Price it fell to him to take the chair; he was +glad that so many had made a point of being present. Everyone sat +down. He gave out a hymn, and led the singing himself, attacking the +first note with an assurance born of practice. Then he prayed, and as +he prayed Anna gazed at him intently. He was standing up, the ends of +his fingers pressed against the top of the table. Very carefully +dressed as usual, he wore a brilliant new red necktie, and a gardenia +in his button-hole. He seemed happy, wholesome, earnest, and +unaffected. He had the elasticity of youth with the firm wisdom of +age. And it was as if he had never been younger and would never grow +older, remaining always at just thirty and in his prime. Incomparable +to the rest, he was clearly born to lead. He fulfilled his functions +with tact, grace, and dignity. In such an affair as this present he +disclosed the attributes of the skilled workman, whose easy and exact +movements are a joy and wonder to the beholder. And behind all was the +man, his excellent and strong nature, his kindliness, his sincerity. +Yes, to Anna, Mynors was perfect that night; the reality of him +exceeded her dreamy meditations. Fearful on the brink of an ecstatic +bliss, she could scarcely believe that from the enticements of a +thousand woman this paragon had been preserved for her. Like most of +us, she lacked the high courage to grasp happiness boldly and without +apprehension; she had not learnt that nothing is too good to be true. + +Mynors' prayer was a cogent appeal for the success of the Revival. He +knew what he wanted, and confidently asked for it, approaching God with +humility but with self-respect. The prayer was punctuated by Amens +from various parts of the room. The atmosphere became suddenly +fervent, emotional and devout. Here was lofty endeavour, idealism, a +burning spirituality; and not all the pettinesses unavoidable in such +an organisation as a Sunday-school could hide the difference between +this impassioned altruism and the ignoble selfishness of the worldly. +Anna felt, as she had often felt before, but more acutely now, that she +existed only on the fringe of the Methodist society. She had not been +converted; technically she was a lost creature: the converted knew it, +and in some subtle way their bearing towards her, and others in her +case, always showed that they knew it. Why did she teach? Not from +the impulse of religious zeal. Why was she allowed to have charge of a +class of immortal souls? The blind could not lead the blind, nor the +lost save the lost. These considerations troubled her. Conscience +pricked, accusing her of a continual pretence. The _role_ of +professing Christian, through false shame, had seemed distasteful to +her: she had said that she could never stand up and say, 'I am for +Christ,' without being uncomfortable. But now she was ashamed of her +inability to profess Christ. She could conceive herself proud and +happy in the very part which formerly she had despised. It was these +believers, workers, exhorters, wrestlers with Satan, who had the right +to disdain; not she. At that moment, as if divining her thoughts, +Mynors prayed for those among them who were not converted. She +blushed, and when the prayer was finished she feared lest every eye +might seek hers in inquiry; but no one seemed to notice her. + +Mynors sat down, and, seated, began to explain the arrangements for the +Revival. He made it plain that prayers without industry would not +achieve success. His remarks revealed the fact that underneath the +broad religious structure of the enterprise, and supporting it, there +was a basis of individual diplomacy and solicitation. The town had +been mapped out into districts, and each of these was being importuned, +as at an election: by the thoroughness and instancy of this canvass, +quite as much as by the intensity of prayerful desire, would Christ +conquer. The affair was a campaign before it was a prostration at the +Throne of Grace. He spoke of the children, saying that in connection +with these they, the teachers, had at once the highest privilege and +the most sacred responsibility. He told of a special service for the +children, and the need of visiting them in their homes and inviting the +parents also to this feast of God. He wished every teacher during +to-morrow and the next day and the next day to go through the list of +his or her scholars' names, and call if possible at every house. There +must be no shirking. 'Will you ladies do that?' he exclaimed with an +appealing, serious smile. 'Will you, Miss Dickinson? Will you, Miss +Machin? Will you, Mrs. Salt? Will you, Miss Sutton? Will you----' +Until at last it came: 'Will you, Miss Tellwright?' 'I will,' she +answered, with averted eyes. 'Thank you. Thank you all.' + +Some others spoke, hopefully, enthusiastically, and one or two prayed. +Then Mynors rose: 'May the blessing of God the Father, the Son, and the +Holy Ghost rest upon us now and for ever.' 'Amen,' someone ejaculated. +The meeting was over. + +Anna passed rapidly out of he door, down the Quadrangle, and into +Trafalgar Road. She was the first to leave, daring not to stay in the +room a moment. She had seen him; he had not altered since Sunday; +there was no disillusion, but a deepening of the original impression. +Caught up by the soaring of his spirit, her spirit lifted, and she was +conscious of vague but intense longing skyward. She could not reason +or think in that dizzying hour, but she made resolutions which had no +verbal form, yielding eagerly to his influence and his appeal. Not +till she had reached the bottom of Duck Bank and was breasting the +first rise towards Bleakridge did her pace slacken. Then a voice +called to her from behind. She recognised it, and turned sharply +beneath the shock. Mynors raised his hat and greeted her. + +'I'm coming to see your father,' he said. + +'Yes?' she said, and gave him her hand. + +'It was a very satisfactory meeting to-night,' he began, and in a +moment they were talking seriously of the Revival. With the most +oblique delicacy, the most perfect assumption of equality between them, +he allowed her to perceive his genuine and profound anxiety for her +spiritual welfare. The atmosphere of the meeting was still round about +him, the divine fire still uncooled. 'I hope you will come to the +first service on Friday night,' he pleaded. + +'I must,' she replied. 'Oh, yes. I shall come.' + +'That is good,' he said. 'I particularly wanted your promise.' + +They were at the door of the house. Agnes, obviously expectant and +excited, answered the bell. With an effort Anna and Mynors passed into +a lighter mood. + +'Father said you were coming, Mr. Mynors,' said Agnes, and, turning to +Anna, 'I've set supper all myself.' + +'Have you?' Mynors laughed. 'Capital! You must let me give you a +kiss for that.' He bent down and kissed her, she holding up her face +to his with no reluctance. Anna looked on, smiling. + +Mr. Tellwright sat near the window of the back parlour, reading the +paper. Twilight was at hand. He lowered his head as Mynors entered +with Agnes in train, so as to see over his spectacles, which were +half-way down his nose. + +'How d'ye do, Mr. Mynors? I was just going to begin my supper. I +don't wait, you know,' and he glanced at the table. + +'Quite right,' said Mynors, 'so long as you wouldn't eat it all. Would +he have eaten it all, Agnes, do you think?' Agnes pressed her head +against Mynors' arm and laughed shyly. The old man sardonically +chuckled. + +Anna, who was still in the passage, wondered what could be on the +table. If it was only the usual morsel of cheese she felt that she +should expire of mortification. She peeped: the cheese was at one end, +and at the other a joint of beef, scarcely touched. + +'Nay, nay,' said Tellwright, as if he had been engaged some seconds +upon the joke, 'I'd have saved ye the bone.' + +Anna went upstairs to take off her hat, and immediately Agnes flew +after her. The child was breathless with news. + +'Oh, Anna! As soon as you'd gone out father told me that Mr. Mynors +was coming for supper. Did you know before?' + +'Not till Mr. Mynors told me, dear.' It was characteristic of her +father to say nothing until the last moment. + +'Yes, and he told me to put an extra plate, and I asked him if I had +better put the beef on the table, and first he said "No," cross--you +know--and then he said I could please myself, so I put it on. Why has +Mr. Mynors come, Anna?' + +'How should I know? Some business between him and father, I expect.' + +'It's very _queer_,' said Agnes positively, with the child's aptitude +for looking a fact squarely in the face. + +'Why "queer"?' + +'You know it is, Anna,' she frowned, and then breaking into a joyous +anile: 'But isn't he nice? I think he's lovely.' + +'Yes,' Anna assented coldly. + +'But really?' Agnes persisted. + +Anna brushed her hair and determined not to put on the apron which she +usually wore in the house. + +'Am I tidy, Anna?' + +'Yes. Run downstairs now. I am coming directly.' + +'I want to wait for you,' Agnes pouted. + +'Very well, dear.' + +They entered the parlour together, and Henry Mynors jumped up from his +chair, and would not sit at table until they were seated. Then Mr. +Tellwright carved the beef, giving each of them a very small piece, and +taking only cheese for himself. Agnes handed the water-jug and the +bread. Mynors talked about nothing in especial, but he talked and +laughed the whole time; he even made the old man laugh, by a comical +phrase aimed at Agnes's mad passion for gilly-flowers. He seemed not +to have detected any shortcomings in the table appointments--the coarse +cloth and plates, the chipped tumblers, the pewter cruet, and the +stumpy knives--which caused anguish in the heart of the housewife. He +might have sat at such a table every night of his life. + +'May I trouble you for a little more beef?' he asked presently, and +Anna fancied a shade of mischief in his tone as he thus forced the old +man into a tardy hospitality. 'Thanks. _And_ a morsel of fat.' + +She wondered whether he guessed that she was worth fifty thousand +pounds, and her father worth perhaps more. + +But on the whole Anna enjoyed the meal. She was sorry when they had +finished and Agnes had thanked God for the beef. It was not without +considerable reluctance that she rose and left the side of the man +whose arm she could have touched at any time during the previous twenty +minutes. She had felt happy and perturbed in being so near to him, so +intimate and free; already she knew his face by heart. The two girls +carried the plates and dishes into the kitchen, Agnes making the last +journey with the tablecloth, which Mynors had assisted her to fold. + +'Shut the door, Agnes,' said the old man, getting up to light the gas. +It was an order of dismissal to both his daughters. 'Let me light +that,' Mynors exclaimed, and the gas was lighted before Mr. Tellwright +had struck a match. Mynors turned on the full force of gas. Then Mr. +Tellwright carefully lowered it. The summer quarter's gas-bill at that +house did not exceed five shillings. + +Through the open windows of the kitchen and parlour, Anna could hear +the voices of the two men in conversation, Mynors' vivacious and +changeful, her father's monotonous, curt, and heavy. Once she caught +the old man's hard dry chuckle. The washing-up was done, Agnes had +accomplished her home-lessons; the grandfather's clock chimed the +half-hour after nine. + +'You must go to bed, Agnes.' + +'Mustn't I say good-night to him?' + +'No, I will say good-night for you.' + +'Don't forget to. I shall ask you in the morning.' + +The regular sound of talk still came from the parlour. A full moon +passed along the cloudless sky. By its light and that of a glimmer of +gas, Anna sat cleaning silver, or rather nickel, at the kitchen table. +The spoons and forks were already clean, but she felt compelled to busy +herself with something. At length the talk stopped and she heard the +scraping of chair-legs. Should she return to the parlour? Or should +she----? Even while she hesitated, the kitchen door opened. + +'Excuse me coming in here,' said Mynors. 'I wanted to say good-night +to you.' + +She sprang up and he took her hand. Could he feel the agitation of +that hand? + +'Good-night.' + +'Good-night.' He said it again. + +'And Agnes wished me to say good-night to you for her.' + +'Did she?' He smiled; till then his face had been serious. 'You won't +forget Friday?' + +'As if I could!' she murmured after he had gone. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE REVIVAL + +Anna spent the two following afternoons in visiting the houses of her +school-children. She had no talent for such work, which demands the +vocal rather than the meditative temperament, and the apparent futility +of her labours would have disgusted and disheartened her had she not +been sustained and urged forward by the still active influence of +Mynors and the teachers' meeting. There were fifteen names in her +class-book, and she went to each house, except four whose tenants were +impeccable Wesleyan families and would have considered themselves +insulted by a quasi-didactic visit from an upstart like Anna. Of the +eleven, some parents were rude to her; others begged, and she had +nothing to give; others made perfunctory promises; only two seemed to +regard her as anything but a somewhat tiresome impertinence. The fault +was doubtless her own. Nevertheless she found joy in the uncongenial +and ill-performed task--the cold, fierce joy of the nun in her penance. +When it was done she said 'I have done it,' as one who has sworn to do +it come what might, yet without quite expecting to succeed. + +On the Friday afternoon, during tea, a boy brought up a large foolscap +packet addressed to Mr. Tellwright. 'From Mr. Mynors,' the boy said. +Tellwright opened it leisurely after the boy had gone, and took out +some sheets covered with figures which he carefully examined. 'Anna,' +he said, as she was clearing away the tea things, 'I understand thou'rt +going to the Revival meeting to-night. I shall have a message as thou +mun give to Mr. Mynors.' + +When she went upstairs to dress, she saw the Suttons' landau standing +outside their house on the opposite side of the road. Mrs. Sutton came +down the front steps and got into the carriage, and was followed by a +little restless, nervous, alert man who carried in his hand a black +case of peculiar form. 'The Revivalist!' Anna exclaimed, remembering +that he was to stay with the Suttons during the Revival week. Then +this was the renowned crusader, and the case held his renowned cornet! +The carriage drove off down Trafalgar Road, and Anna could see that the +little man was talking vehemently and incessantly to Mrs. Sutton, who +listened with evident interest; at the same time the man's eyes were +everywhere, absorbing all details of the street and houses with +unquenchable curiosity. + +'What is the message for Mr. Mynors, father?' she asked in the parlour, +putting on her cotton gloves. + +'Oh!' he said, and then paused. 'Shut th' door, lass.' + +She shut it, not knowing what this cautiousness foreshadowed. Agnes +was in the kitchen. + +'It's o' this'n,' Tellwright began. 'Young Mynors wants a partner wi' +a couple o' thousand pounds, and he come to me. Ye understand; 'tis +what they call a sleeping partner he's after. He'll give a third share +in his concern for two thousand pound now. I've looked into it and +there's money in it. He's no fool and he's gotten hold of a good +thing. He sent me up his stock-taking and balance sheet to-day, and +I've been o'er the place mysen. I'm telling thee this, lass, because I +have na' two thousand o' my own idle just now, and I thought as thou +might happen like th' investment.' + +'But father----' + +'Listen. I know as there's only four hundred o' thine in th' Bank now, +but next week 'll see the beginning o' July and dividends coming in. +I've reckoned as ye'll have nigh on fourteen hundred i' dividends and +interests, and I can lend ye a couple o' hundred in case o' necessity. +It's a rare chance; thou's best tak' it.' + +'Of course, if you think it's all right, father, that's enough,' she +said without animation. + +'Am' na I telling thee I think it's all right?' he remarked sharply. +'You mun tell Mynors as I say it's satisfactory. Tell him that, see? +I say it's satisfactory. I shall want for to see him later on. He +told me he couldna' come up any night next week, so ask him to make it +the week after. There's no hurry. Dunna' forget.' + +What surprised Anna most in the affair was that Henry Mynors should +have been able to tempt her father into a speculation. Ephraim +Tellwright the investor was usually as shy as a well-fed trout, and +this capture of him by a youngster only two years established in +business might fairly be regarded as a prodigious feat. It was indeed +the highest distinction of Mynors' commercial career. Henry was so +prominently active in the Wesleyan Society that the members of that +society, especially the women, were apt to ignore the other side of his +individuality. They knew him supreme as a religious worker; they did +not realise the likelihood of his becoming supreme in the staple +manufacture. Left an orphan at seventeen, Mynors belonged to a family +now otherwise extinct in the Five Towns--one of those families which by +virtue of numbers, variety, and personal force seem to permeate a whole +district, to be a calculable item of it, an essential part of its +identity. The elders of the Mynors blood had once occupied the red +house opposite Tellwright's, now used as a school, and had there reared +many children: the school building was still known as 'Mynors's' by +old-fashioned people. Then the parents died in middle age: one +daughter married in the North, another in the South; a third went to +China as a missionary and died of fever; the eldest son died; the +second had vanished into Canada and was reported a scapegrace; the +third was a sea-captain. Henry (the youngest) alone was left, and of +all the family Henry was the only one to be connected with the +earthenware trade. There was no inherited money, and during ten years +he had worked for a large firm in Turnhill, as clerk, as traveller, and +last as manager, living always quietly in lodgings. In the fullness of +time he gave notice to leave, was offered a partnership, and refused +it. Taking a newly erected manufactory in Bursley near the canal, he +started in business for himself, and it became known that, at the age +of twenty-eight, he had saved fifteen hundred pounds. Equally expert +in the labyrinths of manufacture and in the niceties of the markets (he +was reckoned a peerless traveller), Mynors inevitably flourished. His +order-books were filled and flowing over at remunerative prices, and +insufficiency of capital was the sole peril to which he was exposed. +By the raising of a finger he could have had a dozen working and +moneyed partners, but he had no desire for a working partner. What he +wanted was a capitalist who had confidence in him, Mynors. In Ephraim +Tellwright he found the man. Whether it was by instinct, good luck, or +skilful diplomacy that Mynors secured this invaluable prize no one +could positively say, and perhaps even he himself could not have +catalogued all the obscure motives that had guided him to the shrewd +miser of Manor Terrace. + +Anna had meant to reach chapel before the commencement of the meeting, +but the interview with her father threw her late. As she entered the +porch an officer told her that the body of the chapel was quite full +and that she should go into the gallery, where a few seats were left +near the choir. She obeyed: pew-holders had no rights at that service. +The scene in the auditorium astonished her, effectually putting an end +to the worldly preoccupation caused by her father's news. The historic +chapel was crowded almost in every part, and the +congregation--impressed, excited, eager--sang the opening hymn with +unprecedented vigour and sincerity; above the rest could be heard the +trained voices of a large choir, and even the choir, usually +perfunctory, seemed to share the general fervour. In the vast mahogany +pulpit the Reverend Reginald Banks, the superintendent minister, a +stout pale-faced man with pendent cheeks and cold grey eyes, stood +impassively regarding the assemblage, and by his side was the +revivalist, a manikin in comparison with his colleague; on the broad +balustrade of the pulpit lay the cornet. The fiery and inquisitive +eyes of the revivalist probed into the furthest corners of the chapel; +apparently no detail of any single face or of the florid decoration +escaped him, and as Anna crept into a small empty pew next to the cast +wall she felt that she too had been separately observed. Mr. Banks +gave out the last verse of the hymn, and simultaneously with the +leading chord from the organ the revivalist seized his cornet and +joined the melody. Massive yet exultant, the tones rose clear over the +mighty volume of vocal sound, an incitement to victorious effort. The +effect was instant: an ecstatic tremor seemed to pass through the +congregation, like wind through ripe corn, and at the close of the hymn +it was not until the revivalist had put down his cornet that the people +resumed their seats. Amid the _frou-frou_ of dresses and subdued +clearing of throats, Mr. Banks retired softly to the back of the +pulpit, and the revivalist, mounting a stool, suddenly dominated the +congregation. His glance swept masterfully across the chapel and round +the gallery. He raised one hand with the stilling action of a +mesmerist, and the people, either kneeling or inclined against the +front of the pews, hid their faces from those eyes. It was as though +the man had in a moment measured their iniquities, and had courageously +resolved to intercede for them with God, but was not very sanguine as +to the result. Everyone except the organist, who was searching his +tune-book for the next tune, seemed to feel humbled, bitterly ashamed, +as it were caught in the act of sin. There was a solemn and terrible +pause. + +Then the revivalist began: + +'Behold us, O dread God, suppliants for Thy mercy--' + +His voice was rich and full, but at the same time sharp and decisive. +The burning eyes were shut tight, and Anna, who had a profile view of +his face, saw that every muscle of it was drawn tense. The man +possessed an extraordinary histrionic gift, and he used it with +imagination. He had two audiences, God and the congregation. God was +not more distant from him than the congregation, or less real to him, +or less a heart to be influenced. Declamatory and full of effects +carefully calculated--a work of art, in fact--his appeal showed no +error of discretion in its approach to the Eternal. There was no +minimising of committed sin, nor yet an insincere and grovelling +self-accusation. A tyrant could not have taken offence at its tone, +which seemed to pacify God while rendering the human audience still +more contrite. The conclusion of the catalogue of wickedness and swift +confident turn to Christ's Cross was marvellously impressive. The +congregation burst out into sighs, groans, blessings, and Amens; and +the pillars of distant rural conventicles who had travelled from the +confines of the circuit to its centre in order to partake of this +spiritual excitation began to feel that they would not be disappointed. + +'Let the Holy Ghost descend upon us now,' the revivalist pleaded with +restrained passion; and then, opening his eyes and looking at the clock +in front of the gallery, he repeated, 'Now, now, at twenty-one minutes +past seven.' Then his eyes, without shifting, seemed to ignore the +clock, to gaze through it into some unworldly dimension, and he +murmured in a soft dramatic whisper: 'I see the Divine Dove!----' + +The doors, closed during prayer, were opened, and more people entered. +A youth came into Anna's pew. + +The superintendent minister gave out another hymn, and when this was +finished the revivalist, who had been resting in a chair, came forward +again. 'Friends and fellow-sinners,' he said, 'a lot of you, fools +that you are, have come here to-night to hear me play my cornet. Well, +you have heard me. I have played the cornet, and I will play it again. +I would play it on my head if by so doing I could bring sinners to +Christ. I have been called a mountebank. I am one. I glory in it. I +am God's mountebank, doing God's precious business in my own way. But +God's precious business cannot be carried on, even by a mountebank, +without money, and there will be a collection towards the expenses of +the Revival. During the collection we will sing "Rock of Ages," and +you shall hear my cornet again. If you feel willing to give us your +sixpences, give; but if you resent a collection,' here he adopted a +tone of ferocious sarcasm, 'keep your miserable sixpences and get +sixpenny-worth of miserable enjoyment out of them elsewhere.' + +As the meeting proceeded, submitting itself more and more to the +imperious hypnotism of the revivalist, Anna gradually became oppressed +by a vague sensation which was partly sorrow and partly an inexplicable +dull anger--anger at her own penitence. She felt as if everything was +wrong and could never by any possibility be righted. After two +exhortations, from the minister and the revivalist, and another hymn, +the revivalist once more prayed, and as he did so Anna looked +stealthily about in a sick, preoccupied way. The youth at her side +stared glumly in front of him. In the orchestra Henry Mynors was +whispering to the organist. Down in the body of the chapel the +atmosphere was electric, perilous, overcharged with spiritual emotion. +She was glad she was not down there. The voice of the revivalist +ceased, but he kept the attitude of supplication. Sobs were heard in +various quarters, and here and there an elder of the chapel could be +seen talking quietly to some convicted sinner. The revivalist began +softly to sing 'Jesu, lover of my soul,' and most of the congregation, +standing up, joined him; but the sinners stricken of the Spirit +remained abjectly bent, tortured by conscience, pulled this way by +Christ and that by Satan. A few rose and went to the Communion rails, +there to kneel in the sight of all. Mr. Banks descended from the +pulpit and opening the wicket which led to the Communion table spoke to +these over the rails, reassuringly, as a nurse to a child. Other +sinners, desirous of fuller and more intimate guidance, passed down the +aisles and so into the preacher's vestry at the eastern end of the +chapel, and were followed thither by class-leaders and other proved +servants of God: among these last were Titus Price and Mr. Sutton. + +'The blood of Christ atones,' said the revivalist solemnly at the end +of the hymn. 'The spirit of Christ is working among us. Let us engage +in private prayer. Let us drive the devil out of this chapel.' + +More sighs and groans followed. Then someone cried out in sharp, +shrill tones, 'Praise Him;' and another cried, 'Praise Him;' and an old +woman's quavering voice sang the words, 'I know that my Redeemer +liveth.' Anna was in despair at her own predicament, and the sense of +sin was not more strong than the sense of being confused and publicly +shamed. A man opened the pew-door, and sitting down by the youth's +side began to talk with him. It was Henry Mynors. Anna looked +steadily away, at the wall, fearful lest he should address her too. +Presently the youth got up with a frenzied gesture and walked out of +the gallery, followed by Mynors. In a moment she saw the youth +stepping awkwardly along the aisle beneath, towards the inquiry room, +his head forward, and the lower lip hanging as though he were sulky. + +Anna was now in the profoundest misery. The weight of her sins, of her +ingratitude to God, lay on her like a physical and intolerable load, +and she lost all feeling of shame, as a sea-sick voyager loses shame +after an hour of nausea. She knew then that she could no longer go on +living as aforetime. She shuddered at the thought of her tremendous +responsibility to Agnes--Agnes who took her for perfection. She +recollected all her sins individually--lies, sloth, envy, vanity, even +theft in her infancy. She heaped up all the wickedness of a lifetime, +hysterically augmented it, and found a horrid pleasure in the +exaggeration. Her virtuous acts shrank into nothingness. + +A man, and then another, emerged from the vestry door with beaming, +happy face. These were saved; they had yielded to Christ's persuasive +invitation. Anna tried to imagine herself converted, or in the process +of being converted. She could not. She could only sit moveless, dull, +and abject. She did not stir, even when the congregation rose for +another hymn. In what did conversion consist? Was it to say the +words, 'I believe'? She repeated to herself softly, 'I believe; I +believe.' But nothing happened. Of course she believed. She had +never doubted, or dreamed of doubting, that Jesus died on the Cross to +save her soul--_her_ soul--from eternal damnation. She was probably +unaware that any person in Christendom had doubted that fact so +fundamental to her. What, then, was lacking? What was belief? What +was faith? + +A venerable class-leader came from the vestry, and, slowly climbing the +pulpit stairs, whispered in the ear of the revivalist. The latter +faced the congregation with a cry of joy. 'Lord,' he exclaimed, 'we +bless Thee that seventeen souls have found Thee! Lord, let the full +crop be gathered, for the fields are white unto harvest.' There was an +exuberant chorus of praise to God. + +The door of the pew was opened gently, and Anna started to see Mrs. +Sutton at her side. She at once guessed that Mynors had sent to her +this angel of consolation. + +'Are you near the light, dear Anna?' Mrs. Sutton began. + +Anna searched for an answer. She now sat huddled up in the corner of +the pew, her face partially turned towards Mrs. Sutton, who looked +mildly into her eyes. 'I don't know,' Anna stammered, feeling like a +naughty school-girl. A doubt whether the whole affair was not after +all absurd flashed through her, and was gone. + +'But it is quite simple,' said Mrs. Sutton. 'I cannot tell you +anything that you do not know. Cast out pride. Cast out pride--that +is it. Nothing but earthly pride prevents you from realising the +saving power of Christ. You are afraid, Anna, afraid to be humble. Be +brave. It is so simple, so easy. If one will but submit.' + +Anna said nothing, had nothing to say, was conscious of nothing save +excessive discomfort. + +'Where do you feel your difficulty to be?' asked Mrs. Sutton. + +'I don't know,' she answered wearily. + +'The happiness that awaits you is unspeakable. I have followed Christ +for nearly fifty years, and my happiness increases daily. Sometimes I +do not know how to contain it all. It surges above all the trials and +disappointments of this world. Oh, Anna, if you will but believe!' + +The ageing woman's thin, distinguished face, crowned with abundant grey +hair, glistened with love and compassion, and as Anna's eyes rested +upon it Anna felt that here was something tangible, something to lay +hold on. + +'I think I do believe,' she said weakly. + +'You "think"? Are you sure? Are you not deceiving yourself? Belief +is not with the lips: it is with the heart.' + +There was a pause. Mr. Banks could be heard praying. + +'I will go home,' Anna whispered at length, 'and think it out for +myself.' + +'Do, my dear girl, and God will help you.' + +Mrs. Sutton bent and kissed Anna affectionately, and then hurried away +to offer her ministrations elsewhere. As Anna left the chapel, she +encountered the chapel-keeper pacing regularly to and fro across the +length of the broad steps. In the porch was a notice that cabinet +photographs of the revivalist could be purchased on application, at one +shilling each. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +WILLIE + +Anna closed the bedroom door softly; through the open window came the +tones of Cauldon Church clock, famous for their sonority, and richness, +announcing eleven. Agnes lay asleep under the blue-and-white +counterpane, on the side of the bed next the wall, the bed-clothes +pushed down and disclosing the upper half of her night-gowned figure. +She slept in absolute repose, with flushed cheek and every muscle lax, +her hair by some chance drawn in a perfect straight line diagonally +across the pillow. Anna glanced at her sister, the image of physical +innocence and childish security, and then, depositing the candle, went +to the window and looked out. + +The bedroom was over the kitchen and faced south. The moon was hidden +by clouds, but clear stretches of sky showed thick-studded clusters of +stars brightly winking. To the far right across the fields the +silhouette of Hillport Church could just be discerned on the ridge. In +front, several miles away, the blast-furnaces of Cauldon Bar Ironworks +shot up vast wreaths of yellow flame with canopies of tinted smoke. +Still more distant were a thousand other lights crowning chimney and +kiln, and nearer, on the waste lands west of Bleakridge, long fields of +burning ironstone glowed with all the strange colours of decadence. +The entire landscape was illuminated and transformed by these unique +pyrotechnics of labour atoning for its grime, and dull, weird sounds, +as of the breathings and sighings of gigantic nocturnal creatures, +filled the enchanted air, It was a romantic scene, a romantic summer +night, balmy, delicate, and wrapped in meditation. But Anna saw +nothing there save the repulsive evidences of manufacture, had never +seen anything else. + +She was still horribly, acutely miserable, exhausted by the fruitless +search for some solution of the enigma of sin--her sin in +particular--and of redemption. She had cogitated in a vain circle +until she was no longer capable of reasoned ideas. She gazed at the +stars and into the illimitable spaces beyond them, and thought of life +and its inconceivable littleness, as millions had done before in the +presence of that same firmament. Then, after a time, her brain resumed +its nightmare-like task. She began to probe herself anew. Would it +have availed if she had walked publicly to the penitential form at the +Communion rail, and, ranging herself with the working men and women, +proved by that overt deed the sincerity of her contrition? She wished +ardently that she had done so, yet knew well that such an act would +always be impossible for her, even though the evasion of it meant +eternal torture. Undoubtedly, as Mrs. Sutton had implied, she was +proud, stiff-necked, obstinate in iniquity. + +Agnes stirred slightly in her sleep, and Anna, aroused, dropped the +blind, turned towards the room and began to undress, slowly, with +reflective pauses. Her melancholy became grim, sardonic; if she was +doomed to destruction, so let it be. Suddenly, half-glad, she knelt +down and prayed, prayed that pride might be cast out, burying her face +in the coverlet and caging the passionate effusion in a whisper lest +Agnes should be disturbed. Having prayed, she still knelt quiescent; +her eyes were dry and burning. The last car thundered up the road, +shaking the house, and she rose, finished undressing, blew out the +candle, and slipped into bed by Agnes's side. + +She could not sleep, did not attempt to sleep, but abandoned herself +meekly to despair. Her thoughts covered again the interminable round, +and again, and yet again. In the twilight of the brief summer night +her accustomed eyes could distinguish every object in the room, all the +bits of furniture which had been bought from Hanbridge and with which +she had been familiar since her memory began: everything appeared mean, +despicable, cheerless; there was nothing to inspire. She dreamed +impossibly of a high spirituality which should metamorphose all, change +her life, lend glamour to the most pitiful surroundings, ennoble the +most ignominious burdens--a spirituality never to be hers. + +At any rate she would tell her father in the morning that she was +convicted of sin, and, however hopelessly, seeking salvation; she would +tell both her father and Agnes at breakfast. The task would be +difficult, but she swore to do it. She resolved, she endeavoured to +sleep, and did sleep uneasily for a short period. When she woke the +great business of the dawn had begun. She left the bed, and drawing up +the blind looked forth. The furnace fires were paling; a few milky +clouds sailed in the vast pallid blue. It was cool just then, and she +shivered. She went to the glass, and examined her face carefully, but +it gave no signs whatever of the inward warfare. She saw her plain and +mended night-gown. Suppose she were married to Mynors! Suppose he lay +asleep in the bed where Agnes lay asleep! Involuntarily she glanced at +Agnes to certify that the child and none else was indeed there, and got +into bed hurriedly and hid herself because she was ashamed to have had +such a fancy. But she continued to think of Mynors. She envied him +for his cheerfulness, his joy, his goodness, his dignity, his tact, his +sex. She envied every man. Even in the sphere of religion, men were +not fettered like women. No man, she thought, would acquiesce in the +futility to which she was already half resigned; a man would either +wring salvation from the heavenly powers or race gloriously to hell. +Mynors--Mynors was a god! + +She recollected her resolution to speak to her father and Agnes at +breakfast, and shudderingly confirmed it, but less stoutly than before. +Then an announcement made by Mr. Banks in chapel on the previous +evening presented itself, as though she was listening to it for the +first time. It was the announcement of a prayer-meeting for workers in +the Revival, to be held that (Saturday) morning at seven o'clock. She +instantly decided to go to the meeting, and the decision seemed to give +her new hope. Perhaps there she might find peace. On that faint +expectancy she fell asleep again and did not wake till half-past six, +after her usual hour. She heard noises in the yard; it was her father +going towards the garden with a wheelbarrow. She dressed quickly, and +when she had pinned on her hat she woke Agnes. + +'Going out, Sis?' the child asked sleepily, seeing her attire. + +'Yes, dear. I am going to the seven o'clock prayer-meeting. And you +must get breakfast. You can--can't you?' + +The child assented, glad of the chance. + +'But what are you going to the prayer-meeting for?' + +Anna hesitated. Why not confess? No. 'I must go,' she said quietly +at length. 'I shall be back before eight.' + +'Does father know?' Agnes enquired apprehensively. + +'No, dear.' + +Anna shut the door quickly, went softly downstairs and along the +passage, and crept into the street like a thief. + +Men and women and boys and girls were on their way to work, with +hurried clattering steps, some munching thick pieces of bread as they +went, all self-centred, apparently morose and not quite awake. The +dust lay thick in the arid gutters, and in drifts across the pavement; +as the night-wind had blown it. Vehicular traffic had not begun, and +blinds were still drawn; and though the footpaths were busy the street +had a deserted and forlorn aspect. Anna walked hastily down the road, +avoiding the glances of such as looked at her, but peering furtively at +the faces of those who ignored her. All seemed callous--hoggishly +careless of the everlasting verities. At first it appeared strange to +her that the potent revival in the Wesleyan chapel had produced no +effect on these preoccupied people. Bursley, then, continued its dull +and even course. She wondered whether any of them guessed that she was +going to the prayer-meeting and secretly sneered at her therefore. + +When she had climbed Duck Bank she found to her surprise that the doors +of the chapel were fast closed, though it was ten minutes past seven. +Was there to be no prayer-meeting? A momentary sensation of relief +flashed through her, and then she saw that the gate of the school-yard +was open. She should have known that early morning prayers were never +offered up in the chapel, but in the lecture-hall. She crossed the +quadrangle with beating heart, feeling now that she had embarked on a +frightful enterprise. The door of the lecture-hall was ajar; she +pushed it and went in. At the other end of the hall a meagre handful +of worshippers were collected, and on the raised platform stood Mr. +Banks, vapid, perfunctory and fatigued. He gave out a verse, and +pitched the tune--too high, but the singers with a heroic effect +accomplished the verse without breaking down. The singing was thin and +feeble, and the eagerness of one or two voices seemed strained, as +though with a determination to make the best of things. Mynors was not +present, and Anna did not know whether to be sorry or glad at this. +She recognised that save herself all present were old believers, tried +warriors of the Lord. There was only one other woman, Miss Sarah +Vodrey, an aged spinster who kept house for Titus Price and his son, +and found her sole diversion in the variety of her religious +experiences. Before the hymn was finished a young man joined the +assembly; it was the youth who had sat near Anna on the previous night, +an ecstatic and naive bliss shone from his face. In his prayer the +minister drew the attention of the Deity to the fact that although a +score or more of souls had been ingathered at the first service, the +Methodists of Bursley were by no means satisfied. They wanted more; +they wanted the whole of Bursley; and they would be content with no +less. He begged that their earnest work might not be shamed before the +world by a partial success. In conclusion he sought the blessing of +God on the revivalist and asked that this tireless enthusiast might be +led to husband his strength: at which there was a fervent Amen. + +Several men prayed, and a pause ensued, all still kneeling. + +Then the minister said in a tone of oily politeness: + +'Will a sister pray?' + +Another pause followed. + +'Sister Tellwright?' + +Anna would have welcomed death and damnation. She clasped her hands +tightly, and longed for the endless moment to pass. At last Sarah +Vodrey gave a preliminary cough. Miss Vodrey was always happy to pray +aloud, and her invocations usually began with the same phrase: 'Lord, +we thank Thee that this day finds us with our bodies out of the grave +and our souls out of hell.' + +Afterwards the minister gave out another hymn, and as soon as the +singing commenced Anna slipped away. Once in the yard, she breathed a +sigh of relief. Peace at the prayer-meeting? It was like coming out +of prison. Peace was farther off than ever. Nay, she had actually +forgotten her soul in the sensations of shame and discomfort. She had +contrived only to make herself ridiculous, and perhaps the pious at +their breakfast-tables would discuss her and her father, and their +money, and the queer life they led. + +If Mynors had but been present! + +She walked out into the street. It was twenty minutes to eight by the +town-hall clock. The last workmen's car of the morning was just +leaving Bursley: it was packed inside and outside, and the conductor +hung insecurely on the step. At the gates of the manufactory opposite +the chapel, a man in a white smock stood placidly smoking a pipe. A +prayer-meeting was a little thing, a trifle in the immense and regular +activity of the town: this thought necessarily occurred to Anna. She +hurried homewards, wondering what her father would say about that +morning's unusual excursion. A couple of hundred yards distant from +home she saw, to her astonishment, Agnes emerging from the front-door +of the house. The child ran rapidly down the street, not observing +Anna till they were close upon each other. + +'Oh, Anna! You forgot to buy the bacon yesterday. There isn't a +_scrap_, and father's fearfully angry. He gave me sixpence, and I'm +going down to Leal's to get some as quick as ever I can.' + +It was a thunderbolt to Anna, this seemingly petty misadventure. As +she entered the house she felt a tear on her cheek. She was ashamed to +weep, but she wept. This, after the fiasco of the prayer-meeting, was +a climax of woe; it overtopped and extinguished all the rest; her soul +was nothing to her now. She quickly took off her hat and ran to the +kitchen. Agnes had put the breakfast-things on the tray ready for +setting; the bread was cut, the coffee portioned into the jug; the fire +burned bright, and the kettle sang. Anna took the cloth from the +drawer in the oak dresser, and went to the parlour to lay the table. +Mr. Tellwright was at the end of the garden, pointing the wall, his +back to the house. The table set, Anna observed that the room was only +partly dusted: there was a duster on the mantelpiece; she seized it to +finish, and at that moment the kitchen clock struck eight. +Simultaneously Mr. Tellwright dropped his trowel, and came towards the +house. She doggedly dusted one chair, and then, turning coward, flew +away upstairs; the kitchen was barred to her since her father would +enter by the kitchen door. + +She had forgotten to buy bacon, and breakfast would be late: it was a +calamity unique in, her experience! She stood at the door of her +bedroom, and waited, vehemently, for Agnes's return. At last the child +raced breathlessly in; Anna flew to meet her. With incredible speed +the bacon was whipped out of its wrapper, and Anna picked up the knife. +At the first stroke she cut herself, and Agnes was obliged to bind the +finger with rag. The clock struck the half-hour like a knell. It was +twenty minutes to nine, forty minutes behind time, when the two girls +hurried into the parlour, Anna bearing the bacon and hot plates, Agnes +the bread and coffee. Mr. Tellwright sat upright and ferocious in his +chair, the image of offence and wrath. Instead of reading his letters +he had fed full of this ineffable grievance. The meal began in a +desolating silence. The male creature's terrible displeasure permeated +the whole room like an ether, invisible but carrying vibrations to the +heart. Then, when he had eaten one piece of bacon, and cut his +envelopes, the miser began to empty himself of some of his anger in +stormy tones that might have uprooted trees. Anna ought to feel +thoroughly ashamed. He could not imagine what she had been thinking +of. Why didn't she tell him she was going to the prayer-meeting? Why +did she go to the prayer-meeting, disarranging the whole household? +How came she to forget the bacon? It was gross carelessness. A pretty +example to her little sister! The fact was that _since her birthday_ +she had gotten above hersen. She was careless and extravagant. Look +how thick the bacon was cut. He should not stand it much longer. And +her finger all red, and the blood dropping on the cloth: a nice sight +at a meal! Go and tie it up again. + +Without a word she left the room to obey. Of course she had no +defence. Agnes, her tears falling, pecked her food timidly like a +bird, not daring to stir from her chair, even to assist at the finger. + +'What did Mr. Mynors say?' Tellwright inquired fiercely when Anna had +come back into the room. + +'Mr. Mynors?' she murmured, at a loss, but vaguely apprehending further +trouble. + +'Did ye see him?' + +'Yes, father.' + +'Did ye give him my message?' + +'I forgot it.' God in heaven! She had forgotten the message! + +With a devastating grunt Mr. Tellwright walked speechless out of the +room. The girls cleared the table, exchanging sympathy with a single +mute glance. Anna's one satisfaction was that, even if she had +remembered the message, she could not possibly have delivered it. + +Ephraim Tellwright stayed in the front parlour till half-past ten +o'clock, unseen but felt, like an angry god behind a cloud. The +consciousness that he was there, unappeased and dangerous, remained +uppermost in the minds of the two girls during the morning. At +half-past ten he opened the door. + +'Agnes!' he commanded, and Agnes ran to him from the kitchen with the +speed of propitiation. + +'Yes, father.' + +'Take this note down to Price's, and don't wait for an answer.' + +'Yes, father.' + +She was back in twenty minutes. Anna was sweeping the lobby. + +'If Mr. Mynors calls while I'm out, you mun tell him to wait,' Mr. +Tellwright said to Agnes, pointedly ignoring Anna's presence. Then, +having brushed his greenish hat on his sleeve he went off towards town +to buy meat and vegetables. He always did Saturday's marketing +himself. At the butcher's and in the St. Luke's covered market he was +a familiar and redoubtable figure. Among the salespeople who stood the +market was a wrinkled, hardy old potato-woman from the other side of +Moorthorne: every Saturday the miser bested her in their +higgling-match, and nearly every Saturday she scornfully threw at him +the same joke: 'Get thee along to th' post-office, Master Terrick:[1] +happen they'll give thee sixpenn'orth o' stamps for fivepence +ha'penny.' He seldom failed to laugh heartily at this. + +At dinner the girls could perceive that the shadow of his displeasure +had slightly lifted, though he kept a frowning silence. Expert in all +the symptoms of his moods, they knew that in a few hours he would begin +to talk again, at first in monosyllables, and then in short detached +sentences. An intimation of relief diffused itself through the house +like a hint of spring in February. + +These domestic upheavals followed always the same course, and Anna had +learnt to suffer the later stages of them with calmness and even with +impassivity. Henry Mynors had not called. She supposed that her +father had expected him to call for the answer which she had forgotten +to give him, and she had a hope that he would come in the afternoon: +once again she had the idea that something definite and satisfactory +might result if she could only see him--that she might, as it were, +gather inspiration from the mere sight of his face. After dinner, +while the girls were washing the dinner things in the scullery, Agnes's +quick ear caught the sound of voices in the parlour. They listened. +Mynors had come. Mr. Tellwright must have seen him from the front +window and opened the door to him before he could ring. + +'It's him,' said Agnes, excited. + +'Who?' Anna asked, self-consciously. + +'Mr. Mynors, of course,' said the child sharply, making it quite plain +that this affectation could not impose on her for a single instant. + +'Anna!' It was Mr. Tellwright's summons, through the parlour window. +She dried her hands, doffed her apron, and went to the parlour, +animated by a thousand fears and expectations. Why was she to be +included in the colloquy? + +Mynors rose at her entrance and greeted her with conspicuous deference, +a deference which made her feel ashamed. + +'Hum!' the old man growled, but he was obviously content. 'I gave Anna +a message for ye yesterday, Mr. Mynors, but her forgot to deliver it, +wench-like. Ye might ha' been saved th' trouble o' calling. Now as +ye're here, I've summat for tell ye. It 'll be Anna's money as 'll go +into that concern o' yours. I've none by me; in fact, I'm a'most fast +for brass, but her 'll have as near two thousand as makes no matter in +a month's time, and her says her 'll go in wi' you on th' strength o' +my recommendation.' + +This speech was evidently a perfect surprise for Henry Mynors. For a +moment he seemed to be at a loss; then his face gave candid expression +to a feeling of intense pleasure. + +'You know all about this business then, Miss Tellwright?' + +She blushed. 'Father has told me something about it.' + +'And are you willing to be my partner?' + +'Nay, I did na' say that,' Tellwright interrupted. 'It 'll be Anna's +money, but i' my name.' + +'I see,' said Mynors gravely. 'But if it is Miss Anna's money, why +should not she be the partner?' He offered one of his courtly +diplomatic smiles. + +'Oh--but----' Anna began in deprecation. + +Tellwright laughed. 'Ay!' he said, 'why not? It 'll be experience for +th' lass.' + +'Just so,' said Mynors. + +Anna stood silent, like a child who is being talked about. There was a +pause. + +'Would you care for that arrangement, Miss Tellwright?' + +'Oh, yes,' she said. + +'I shall try to justify your confidence. I needn't say that I think +you and your father will have no reason to be disappointed. Two +thousand pounds is of course only a trifle to you, but it is a great +deal to me, and--and----' He hesitated. Anna did not surmise that he +was too much moved by the sight of her, and the situation, to continue, +but this was the fact. + +'There's nobbut one point, Mr. Mynors,' Tellwright said bluntly, 'and +that's the interest on th' capital, as must be deducted before +reckoning profits. Us must have six per cent.' + +'But I thought we had settled it at five,' said Mynors with sudden +firmness. + +'We 'n settled as you shall have five on your fifteen hundred,' the +miser replied with imperturbable audacity, 'but us mun have our six.' + +'I certainly thought we had thrashed that out fully, and agreed that +the interest should be the same on each side.' Mynors was alert and +defensive. + +'Nay, young man. Us mun have our six. We're takkin' a risk.' + +Mynors pressed his lips together. He was taken at a disadvantage. Mr. +Tellwright, with unscrupulous cleverness, had utilized the effect on +Mynors of his daughter's presence to regain a position from which the +younger man had definitely ousted him a few days before. Mynors was +annoyed, but he gave no sign of his annoyance. + +'Very well,' he said at length, with a private smile at Anna to +indicate that it was out of regard for her that he yielded. + +Mr. Tellwright made no pretence of concealing his satisfaction. He, +too, smiled at Anna, sardonically: the last vestige of the morning's +irritation vanished in a glow of triumph. + +'I'm afraid I must go,' said Mynors, looking at his watch. 'There is a +service at chapel at three. Our Revivalist came down with Mrs. Sutton +to look over the works this morning, and I told him I should be at the +service. So I must. You coming, Mr. Tellwright?' + +'Nay, my lad. I'm owd enough to leave it to young uns.' + +Anna forced her courage to the verge of rashness, moved by a swift +impulse. + +'Will you wait one minute?' she said to Mynors. 'I am going to the +service. If I'm late back, father, Agnes will see to the tea. Don't +wait for me.' She looked him straight in the face. It was one of the +bravest acts of her life. After the episode of breakfast, to suggest a +procedure which might entail any risk upon another meal was absolutely +heroic. Tellwright glanced away from his daughter, and at Mynors. +Anna hurried upstairs. + +'Who's thy lawyer, Mr. Mynors?' Tellwright asked. + +'Dane,' said Mynors. + +'That 'll be convenient. Dane does my bit o' business, too. I'll see +him, and make a bargain wi' him for th' partnership deed. He always +works by contract for me. I've no patience wi' six-and-eight-pences.' + +Mynors assented. + +'You must come down some afternoon and look over the works,' he said to +Anna as they were walking down Trafalgar Road towards chapel. + +'I should like to,' Anna replied. 'I've never been over a works in my +life.' + +'No? You are going to be a partner in the best works of its size in +Bursley,' Mynors said enthusiastically. + +'I'm glad of that,' she smiled, 'for I do believe I own the worst.' + +'What--Price's do you mean?' + +She nodded. + +'Ah!' he exclaimed, and seemed to be thinking. 'I wasn't sure whether +that belonged to you or your father. I'm afraid it isn't quite the +best of properties. But perhaps I'd better say nothing about that. We +had a grand meeting last night. Our little cornet-player quite lived +up to his reputation, don't you think?' + +'Quite,' she said faintly. + +'You enjoyed the meeting?' + +'No,' she blurted out, dismayed but resolute to be honest. + +There was a silence. + +'But you were at the early prayer-meeting this morning, I hear.' + +She said nothing while they took a dozen paces, and then murmured, +'Yes.' + +Their eyes met for a second, hers full of trouble. + +'Perhaps,' he said at length, 'perhaps--excuse me saying this--but you +may be expecting too much----' + +'Well?' she encouraged him, prepared now to finish what had been begun. + +'I mean,' he said, earnestly, 'that I--we--cannot promise you any +sudden change of feeling, any sudden relief and certainty, such as some +people experience. At least, I never had it. What is called +conversion can happen in various ways. It is a question of living, of +constant endeavour, with the example of Christ always before us. It +need not always be a sudden wrench, you know, from the world. Perhaps +you have been expecting too much,' he repeated, as though offering balm +with that phrase. + +She thanked him sincerely, but not with her lips, only with the heart. +He had revealed to her an avenue of release from a situation which had +seemed on all sides fatally closed. She sprang eagerly towards it. +She realised afresh how frightful was the dilemma from which there was +now a hope of escape, and she was grateful accordingly. Before, she +had not dared steadily to face its terrors. She wondered that even her +father's displeasure or the project of the partnership had been able to +divert her from the plight of her soul. Putting these mundane things +firmly behind her, she concentrated the activities of her brain on that +idea of Christ-like living, day by day, hour by hour, of a gradual +aspiration towards Christ and thereby an ultimate arrival at the state +of being saved. This she thought she might accomplish; this gave +opportunity of immediate effort, dispensing with the necessity of an +impossible violent spiritual metamorphosis. They did not speak again +until they had reached the gates of the chapel, when Mynors, who had to +enter the choir from the back, bade her a quiet adieu. Anna enjoyed +the service, which passed smoothly and uneventfully. At a Revival, +night is the time of ecstasy and fervour and salvation; in the +afternoon one must be content with preparatory praise and prayer. + +That evening, while father and daughters sat in the parlour after +supper, there was a ring at the door. Agnes ran to open, and found +Willie Price. It had begun to rain, and the visitor, his jacket-collar +turned up, was wet and draggled. Agnes left him on the mat and ran +back to the parlour. + +'Young Mr. Price wants to see you, father.' + +Tellwright motioned to her to shut the door. + +'You'd best see him, Anna,' he said. 'It's none my business.' + +'But what has he come about, father?' + +'That note as I sent down this morning. I told owd Titus as he mun pay +us twenty pun' on Monday morning certain, or us should distrain. Them +as can pay ten pun, especially in bank notes, can pay twenty pun, and +thirty.' + +'And suppose he says he can't?' + +'Tell him he must. I 've figured it out and changed my mind about that +works. Owd Titus isna' done for yet, though he's getting on that road. +Us can screw another fifty out o' him, that 'll only leave six months +rent owing; then us can turn him out. He'll go bankrupt; us can claim +for our rent afore th' other creditors, and us 'll have a hundred or a +hundred and twenty in hand towards doing the owd place up a bit for a +new tenant.' + +'Make him bankrupt, father?' Anna exclaimed. It was the only part of +the ingenious scheme which she had understood. + +'Ay!' he said laconically. + +'But----' (Would Christ have driven Titus Price into the bankruptcy +court?) + +'If he pays, well and good.' + +'Hadn't you better see Mr. William, father?' + +'Whose property is it, mine or thine?' Tellwright growled. His good +humour was still precarious, insecurely re-established, and Anna +obediently left the room. After all, she said to herself, a debt is a +debt, and honest people pay what they owe. + +It was in an uncomplaisant tone that Anna invited Willie Price to the +front parlour: nervousness always made her seem harsh and moreover she +had not the trick of hiding firmness under suavity. + +'Will you come this way, Mr. Price?' + +'Yes,' he said with ingratiating, eager compliance. Dusk was falling, +and the room in shadow. She forgot to ask him to take a chair, so they +both stood up during the interview. + +'A grand meeting we had last night,' he began, twisting his hat. 'I +saw you there, Miss Tellwright.' + +'Yes.' + +'Yes. There was a splendid muster of teachers. I wanted to be at the +prayer-meeting this morning, but couldn't get away. Did you happen to +go, Miss Tellwright?' + +She saw that he knew that she had been present, and gave him another +curt monosyllable. She would have liked to be kind to him, to reassure +him, to make him happy and comfortable, so ludicrous and touching were +his efforts after a social urbanity which should appease; but, just as +much as he, she was unskilled in the subtle arts of converse. + +'Yes,' he continued, 'and I was anxious to be at to-night's meeting, +but the dad asked me to come up here. He said I'd better.' That term, +'the dad,' uttered in William's slow, drawling voice, seemed to show +Titus Price in a new light to Anna, as a human creature loved, not as a +mere gross physical organism: the effect was quite surprising. William +went on: 'Can I see your father, Miss Tellwright?' + +'Is it about the rent?' + +'Yes,' he said. + +'Well, if you will tell me----' + +'Oh! I beg pardon,' he said quickly. 'Of course I know it's your +property, but I thought Mr. Tellwright always saw after it for you. It +was he that wrote that letter this morning, wasn't it?' + +'Yes,' Anna replied. 'She did not explain the situation. + +'You insist on another twenty pounds on Monday?' + +'Yes,' she said. + +'We paid ten last Monday.' + +'But there is still over a hundred owing.' + +'I know, but--oh, Miss Tellwright, you mustn't be hard on us. Trade's +bad.' + +'It says in the "Signal" that trade is improving,' she interrupted +sharply. + +'Does it?' he said. 'But look at prices; they're cut till there's no +profit left. I assure you, Miss Tellwright, my father and me are +having a hard struggle. Everything's against us, and the works in +particular, as you know.' + +His tone was so earnest, so pathetic, that tears of compassion almost +rose to her eyes as she looked at those simple naive blue eyes of his. +His lanky figure and clumsily-fitting clothes, his feeble placatory +smile, the twitching movements of his long red hands, all contributed +to the effect of his defencelessness. She thought of the test: +'Blessed are the meek,' and saw in a flash the deep truth of it. Here +were she and her father, rich, powerful, autocratic; and there were +Willie Price and his father, commercial hares hunted by hounds of +creditors, hares that turned in plaintive appeal to those greedy jaws +for mercy. And yet, she, a hound, envied at that moment the hares. +Blessed are the meek, blessed are the failures, blessed are the stupid, +for they, unknown to themselves, have a grace which is denied to the +haughty, the successful, and the wise. The very repulsiveness of old +Titus, his underhand methods, his insincerities, only served to +increase her sympathy for the pair. How could Titus help being himself +any more than Henry Mynors could help being himself? And that idea led +her to think of the prospective partnership, destined by every +favourable sign to brilliant success, and to contrast it with the +ignoble and forlorn undertaking in Edward Street. + +She tried to discover some method of soothing the young man's fears, of +being considerate to him without injuring her father's scheme. + +'If you will pay what you owe,' she said, 'we will spend it all, every +penny, on improving the works.' + +'Miss Tellwright,' he answered with fatal emphasis, 'we cannot pay.' + +Ah! She wished to follow Christ day by day, hour by hour--constantly +to endeavour after saintliness. What was she to do now? Left to +herself, she might have said in a burst of impulsive generosity, 'I +forgive you all arrears. Start afresh.' But her father had to be +reckoned with....... + +'How much do you think you can pay on Monday?' she asked coldly. + +At that moment her father entered the room. His first act was to light +the gas. Willie Price's eyes blinked at the glare, as though he were +trembling before the anticipated decree of this implacable old man. +Anna's heart beat with sympathetic apprehension. Tellwright shook +hands grimly with the youth, who re-stated hurriedly what he had said +to Anna. + +'It's o' this'n,' the old man began with finality, and stopped. Anna +caught a glance from him dismissing her. She went out in silence. On +the Monday Titus Price paid another twenty pounds. + + + +[1] _Terrick_: a corruption of Tellwright. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE SEWING MEETING + +On an afternoon ten days later, Mr. Sutton's coachman, Barrett by name, +arrived at Ephraim Tellwright's back-door with a note. The Tellwrights +were having tea. The note could be seen in his enormous hand, and +Agnes went out. + +'An answer, if you please, Miss,' he said to her, touching his hat, and +giving a pull to the leathern belt which, surrounding his waist, alone +seemed to hold his frame together. Agnes, much impressed, took the +note. She had never before seen that resplendent automaton apart from +the equipage which he directed. Always afterwards, Barrett formally +saluted her in the streets, affording her thus, every time, a thrilling +moment of delicious joy. + +'A letter, and there's an answer, and he's waiting,' she cried, running +into the parlour. + +'Less row!' said her father. 'Here, give it me.' + +'It's for Miss Tellwright--that's Anna, isn't it? Oh! Scent!' She +put the grey envelope to her nose like a flower. + +Anna, secretly as excited as her sister, opened the note and +read:--'Lansdowne House, Wednesday. Dear Miss Tellwright,--Mother +gives tea to the Sunday-school Sewing Meeting here _to-morrow_. Will +you give us the pleasure of your company? I do not think you have been +to any of the S.S.S. meetings yet, but we should all be glad to see you +and have your assistance. Everyone is working very hard for the Autumn +Bazaar, and mother has set her mind on the Sunday-school stall being +the best. Do come, will you? Excuse this short notice. Yours +sincerely, BEATRICE SUTTON. P.S.--We begin at 3.30.' + +'They want me to go to their sewing meeting to-morrow,' she exclaimed +timidly to her father, pushing the note towards him across the table. +'Must I go, father?' + +'What dost ask me for? Please thysen. I've nowt do wi' it.' + +'I don't want to go----' + +'Oh! Sis, do go,' Agnes pleaded. + +'Perhaps I'd better,' she agreed, but with the misgivings of +diffidence. 'I haven't a rag to wear. I really must have a new dress, +father, at once.' + +'Hast forgotten as that there coachman's waiting?' he remarked curtly. + +'Shall I run and tell him you'll go?' Agnes suggested. 'It 'll be +splendid for you.' + +'Don't be silly, dear. I must write.' + +'Well, write then,' said the child energetically. 'I'll get you the +ink and paper.' She flew about and hovered over Anna while the answer +to the invitation was being written. Anna made her reply as short and +simple as possible, and then tendered it for her father's inspection. +'Will that do?' + +He pretended to be nonchalant, but in fact he was somewhat interested. + +'Thou's forgotten to put th' date in,' was all his comment, and he +threw the note back. + +'I've put Wednesday.' + +'That's not the date.' + +'Does it matter? Beatrice Sutton only puts Wednesday.' + +His response was to walk out of the room. + +'Is he vexed?' Agnes asked anxiously. There had been a whole week of +almost perfect amenity. + + +The next day at half-past three Anna, having put on her best clothes, +was ready to start. She had seen almost nothing of social life, and +the prospect of taking part in this entertainment of the Suttons filled +her with trepidation. Should she arrive early, in which case she would +have to talk more, or late, in which case there would be the ordeal of +entering a crowded room? She could not decide. She went into her +father's bedroom, whose window overlooked Trafalgar Road, and saw from +behind a curtain that small groups of ladies were continually passing +up the street to disappear into Alderman Sutton's house. Most of the +women she recognised; others she knew but vaguely by sight. Then the +stream ceased, and suddenly she heard the kitchen clock strike four. +She ran downstairs--Agnes, swollen by importance, was carrying her +father's tea into the parlour--and hastened out the back way. In +another moment she was at the Suttons' front-door. A servant in black +alpaca, with white wristbands, cap, streams, and embroidered apron +(each article a _dernier cri_ from Bostock's great shop at Hanbridge), +asked her in a subdued and respectful tone to step within. Externally +there had been no sign of the unusual, but once inside the house Anna +found it a humming hive of activity. Women laden with stuffs and +implements were crossing the picture-hung hall, their footsteps +noiseless on the thick rugs which lay about in rich confusion. On +either hand was an open door, and from each door came the sound of many +eager voices. Beyond these doors a broad staircase rose majestically +to unseen heights, closing the vista of the hall. As the servant was +demanding Anna's name, Beatrice Sutton, radiant and gorgeous, came with +a rush out of the room to the left, the dining-room, and, taking her by +both hands, kissed her. + +'My dear, we thought you were never coming. Everyone's here, except +the men, of course. Come along upstairs and take your things off. I'm +so glad you've kept your promise.' + +'Did you think I should break it?' said Anna, as they ascended the easy +gradient of the stairs. + +'Oh, no, my dear. But you're such a shy little bird.' + +The conception of herself as a shy little bird amused Anna. By a +curious chain of ideas she came to wonder who could clean those stairs +the better, she or this gay and flitting butterfly in a pale green +tea-gown. Beatrice led the way to a large bedroom, crammed with +furniture and knick-knacks. There were three mirrors in this spacious +apartment--one in the wardrobe, a cheval-glass, and a third over the +mantelpiece; the frame of the last was bordered with photographs. + +'This is my room,' said Beatrice. 'Will you put your things on the +bed?' The bed was already laden with hats, bonnets, jackets, and wraps. + +'I hope your mother won't give me anything fancy to do,' Anna said. +'I'm no good at anything except plain sewing.' + +'Oh, that's all right,' Beatrice answered carelessly. 'It's all plain +sewing.' She drew a cardboard box from her pocket, and offered it to +Anna. 'Here, have one.' They were chocolate creams. + +'Thanks,' said Anna, taking one. 'Aren't they very expensive? I've +never seen any like these before.' + +'Oh! Just ordinary. Four shillings a pound. Papa buys them for me: I +simply dote on them. I love to eat them in bed, if I can't sleep.' +Beatrice made these statements with her mouth full. 'Don't you adore +chocolates?' she added. + +'I don't know,' Anna lamely replied. 'Yes, I like them.' She only +adored her sister, and perhaps God; and this was the first time she had +tasted chocolate. + +'I couldn't live without them,' said Beatrice. 'Your hair is lovely. +I never saw such a brown. What wash do you use?' + +'Wash?' Anna repeated. + +'Yes, don't you put anything on it?' + +'No, never.' + +'Well! Take care you don't lose it, that's all. Now, will you come +and have just a peep at my studio--where I paint, you know? I'd like +you to see it before we go down.' + +They proceeded to a small room on the second floor, with a sloping +ceiling and a dormer window. + +'I'm obliged to have this room,' Beatrice explained, 'because it's the +only one in the house with a north light, and of course you can't do +without that. How do you like it?' + +Anna said that she liked it very much. + +The walls of the room were hung with various odd curtains of Eastern +design. Attached somehow to these curtains some coloured plates, bits +of pewter, and a few fans were hung high in apparently precarious +suspense. Lower down on the walls were pictures and sketches, chiefly +unframed, of flowers, fishes, loaves of bread, candlesticks, mugs, +oranges and tea-trays. On an immense easel in the middle of the room +was an unfinished portrait of a man. + +'Who's that?' Anna asked, ignorant of those rules of caution which are +observed by the practised frequenter of studios. + +'Don't you know?' Beatrice exclaimed, shocked. 'That's papa; I'm doing +his portrait; he sits in that chair there. The silly old master at the +school won't let me draw from life yet--he keeps me to the antique--so +I said to myself I would study the living model at home. I'm +dreadfully in earnest about it, you know--I really am. Mother says I +work far too long up here.' + +Anna was unable to perceive that the picture bore any resemblance to +Alderman Sutton, except in the matter of the aldermanic robe, which she +could now trace beneath the portrait's neck. The studies on the walls +pleased her much better. Their realism amazed her. One could make out +not only that here for instance, was a fish--there was no doubt that it +was a hallibut; the solid roundness of the oranges and the glitter on +the tea-trays seemed miraculously achieved. 'Have you actually done +all these?' she asked, in genuine admiration. 'I think they're +splendid.' + +'Oh, yes, they're all mine; they're only still-life studies,' Beatrice +said contemptuously of them, but she was nevertheless flattered. + +'I see now that that is Mr. Sutton,' Anna said, pointing to the easel +picture. + +'Yes, it's pa right enough. But I'm sure I'm boring you. Let's go +down now, or perhaps we shall catch it from mother.' + +As Anna, in the wake of Beatrice, entered the drawing-room, a dozen or +more women glanced at her with keen curiosity, and the even flow of +conversation ceased for a moment, to be immediately resumed. In the +centre of the room, with her back to the fire-place, Mrs. Sutton was +seated at a square table, cutting out. Although the afternoon was warm +she had a white woollen wrap over her shoulders; for the rest she was +attired in plain black silk, with a large stuff apron containing a +pocket for scissors and chalk. She jumped up with the activity of +which Beatrice had inherited a part, and greeted Anna, kissing her +heartily. + +'How are you, my dear? So pleased you have come.' The time-worn +phrases came from her thin, nervous lips full of sincere and kindly +welcome. Her wrinkled face broke into a warm, life-giving smile. +'Beatrice, find Miss Anna a chair.' There were two chairs in the bay +of the window, and one of them was occupied by Miss Dickinson, whom +Anna slightly knew. The other, being empty, was assigned to the +late-comer. + +'Now you want something to do, I suppose,' said Beatrice.' + +'Please.' + +'Mother, let Miss Tellwright have something to get on with at once. +She has a lot of time to make up.' + +Mrs. Sutton, who had sat down again, smiled across at Anna. 'Let me +see, now, what can we give her?' + +'There's several of those boys' nightgowns ready tacked,' said Miss +Dickinson, who was stitching at a boy's nightgown. 'Here's one +half-finished,' and she picked up an inchoate garment from the floor. +'Perhaps Miss Tellwright wouldn't mind finishing it.' + +'Yes, I will do my best at it,' said Anna. + +The thoughtless girl had arrived at the sewing meeting without needles +or thimble or scissors, but one lady or another supplied these +deficiencies, and soon she was at work. She stitched her best and her +hardest, with head bent, and all her wits concentrated on the task. +Most of the others seemed to be doing likewise, though not to the +detriment of conversation. Beatrice sank down on a stool near her +mother, and, threading a needle with coloured silk, took up a long +piece of elaborate embroidery. + +The general subjects of talk were the Revival, now over, with a superb +record of seventy saved souls, the school-treat shortly to occur, the +summer holidays, the fashions, and the change of ministers which would +take place in August. The talkers were the wives and daughters of +tradesmen and small manufacturers, together with a few girls of a +somewhat lower status, employed in shops: it was for the sake of these +latter that the sewing meeting was always fixed for the weekly +half-holiday. The splendour of Mrs. Sutton's drawing-room was a little +dazzling to most of the guests, and Mrs. Sutton herself seemed scarcely +of a piece with it. The fact was that the luxury of the abode was +mainly due to Alderman Sutton's inability to refuse anything to his +daughter, whose tastes lay in the direction of rich draperies, large or +quaint chairs, occasional tables, dwarf screens, hand-painted mirrors, +and an opulence of bric-a-brac. The hand of Beatrice might be +perceived everywhere, even in the position of the piano, whose back, +adorned with carelessly-flung silks and photographs, was turned away +from the wall. The pictures on the walls had been acquired gradually +by Mr. Sutton at auction sales: it was commonly held that he had an +excellent taste in pictures, and that his daughter's aptitude for the +arts came from him, and not from her mother. The gilt clock and side +pieces on the mantelpiece were also peculiarly Mr. Sutton's, having +been publicly presented to him by the directors of a local building +society of which he had been chairman for many years. + +Less intimidated by all this unexampled luxury than she was reassured +by the atmosphere of combined and homely effort, the lowliness of +several of her companions, and the kind, simple face of Mrs. Sutton, +Anna quickly began to feel at ease. She paused in her work, and, +glancing around her, happened to catch the eye of Miss Dickinson, who +offered a remark about the weather. Miss Dickinson was head-assistant +at a draper's in St. Luke's Square, and a pillar of the Sunday-school, +which Sunday by Sunday and year by year had watched her develop from a +rosy-cheeked girl into a confirmed spinster with sallow and warted +face. Miss Dickinson supported her mother, and was a pattern to her +sex. She was lovable, but had never been loved. She would have made +an admirable wife and mother, but fate had decided that this material +was to be wasted. Miss Dickinson found compensation for the rigour of +destiny in gossip, as innocent as indiscreet. It was said that she had +a tongue. + +'I hear,' said Miss Dickinson, lowering her contralto voice to a +confidential tone, 'that you are going into partnership with Mr. +Mynors, Miss Tellwright.' + +The suddenness of the attack took Anna by surprise. Her first +defensive impulse was boldly to deny the statement, or at the least to +say that it was premature. A fortnight ago, under similar +circumstances, she would not have hesitated to do so. But for more +than a week Anna had been 'leading a new life,' which chiefly meant a +meticulous avoidance of the sins of speech. Never to deviate from the +truth, never to utter an unkind or a thoughtless word, under whatever +provocation: these were two of her self-imposed rules. 'Yes,' she +answered Miss Dickinson, 'I am.' + +'Rather a novelty, isn't it?' Miss Dickinson smiled amiably. + +'I don't know,' said Anna. 'It's only a business arrangement; father +arranged it. Really I have nothing to do with it, and I had no idea +that people were talking about it.' + +'Oh! Of course _I_ should never breathe a syllable,' Miss Dickinson +said with emphasis. 'I make a practice of never talking about other +people's affairs. I always find that best, don't you? But I happened +to hear it mentioned in the shop.' + +'It's very funny how things get abroad, isn't it?' said Anna. + +'Yes, indeed,' Miss Dickinson concurred. 'Mr. Mynors hasn't been to +our sewing meetings for quite a long time, but I expect he'll turn up +to-day.' + +Anna took thought. 'Is this a sort of special meeting, then?' + +'Oh, not at all. But we all of us said just now, while you were +upstairs, that he would be sure to come,' Miss Dickinson's features, +skilled in innuendo, conveyed that which was too delicate for +utterance. Anna said nothing. + +'You see a good deal of him at your house, don't you?' Miss Dickinson +continued. + +'He comes sometimes to see father on business,' Anna replied sharply, +breaking one of her rules. + +'Oh! Of course I meant that. You didn't suppose I meant anything +else, did you?' Miss Dickinson smiled pleasantly. She was thirty-five +years of age. Twenty of those years she had passed in a desolating +routine; she had existed in the midst of life and never lived; she knew +no finer joy than that which she at that moment experienced. + +Again Anna offered no reply. The door opened, and every eye was +centred on the stately Mrs. Clayton Vernon, who, with Mrs. Banks, the +minister's wife, was in charge of the other half of the sewing party in +the dining-room. Mrs. Clayton Vernon had heroic proportions, a nose +which everyone admitted to be aristocratic, exquisite tact, and the +calm consciousness of social superiority. In Bursley she was a great +lady: her instincts were those of a great lady; and she would have been +a great lady no matter to what sphere her God had called her. She had +abundant white hair, and wore a flowered purple silk, in the antique +taste. + +'Beatrice, my dear,' she began, 'you have deserted us.' + +'Have I, Mrs. Vernon?' the girl answered with involuntary deference. +'I was just coming in.' + +'Well, I am sent as a deputation from the other room to ask you to sing +something.' + +'I'm very busy, Mrs. Vernon. I shall never get this mantel-cloth +finished in time.' + +'We shall all work better for a little music,' Mrs. Clayton Vernon +urged. 'Your voice is a precious gift, and should be used for the +benefit of all. We entreat, my dear girl.' + +Beatrice arose from the footstool and dropped her embroidery. + +'Thank you,' said Mrs. Clayton Vernon. 'If both doors are left open we +shall hear nicely.' + +'What would you like?' Beatrice asked. + +'I once heard you sing "Nazareth," and I shall never forget it. Sing +that. It will do us all good.' + +Mrs. Clayton Vernon departed with the large movement of an argosy, and +Beatrice sat down to the piano and removed her bracelets. 'The +accompaniment is simply frightful towards the end,' she said, looking +at Anna with a grimace. 'Excuse mistakes.' + +During the song, Mrs. Sutton beckoned with her finger to Anna to come +and occupy the stool vacated by Beatrice. Glad to leave the vicinity +of Miss Dickinson, Anna obeyed, creeping on tiptoe across the +intervening space. 'I thought I would like to have you near me, my +dear,' she whispered maternally. When Beatrice had sung the song and +somehow executed that accompaniment which has terrorised whole +multitudes of drawing-room pianists, there was a great deal of applause +from both rooms. Mrs. Sutton bent down and whispered in Anna's ear: +'Her voice has been very well trained, has it not?' 'Yes, very,' Anna +replied. But, though 'Nazareth' had seemed to her wonderful, she had +neither understood it nor enjoyed it. She tried to like it, but the +effect of it on her was bizarre rather than pleasing. + +Shortly after half-past five the gong sounded for tea, and the ladies, +bidden by Mrs. Sutton, unanimously thronged into the hall and towards a +room at the back of the house. Beatrice came and took Anna by the arm. +As they were crossing the hall there was a ring at the door. 'There's +father--and Mr. Banks, too,' Beatrice exclaimed, opening to them. +Everyone in the vicinity, animated suddenly by this appearance of the +male sex, turned with welcoming smiles. 'A greeting to you all,' the +minister ejaculated with formal suavity as he removed his low hat. The +Alderman beamed a rather absent-minded goodwill on the entire company, +and said: 'Well! I see we're just in time for tea.' Then he kissed +his daughter, and she accepted from him his hat and stick. 'Miss +Tellwright, pa,' Beatrice said, drawing Anna forward: he shook hands +with her heartily, emerging for a moment from the benignant dream in +which he seemed usually to exist. + +That air of being rapt by some inward vision, common in very old men, +probably signified nothing in the case of William Sutton: it was a +habitual pose into which he had perhaps unconsciously fallen. But +people connected it with his humble archaeological, geological, and +zoological hobbies, which had sprung from his membership of the Five +Towns Field Club, and which most of his acquaintances regarded with +amiable secret disdain. At a school-treat once, held at a popular +rural resort, he had taken some of the teachers to a cave, and pointing +out the wave-like formation of its roof had told them that this +peculiar phenomenon had actually been caused by waves of the sea. The +discovery, valid enough and perfectly substantiated by an inquiry into +the levels, was extremely creditable to the amateur geologist, but it +seriously impaired his reputation among the Wesleyan community as a +shrewd man of the world. Few believed the statement, or even tried to +believe it, and nearly all thenceforth looked on him as a man who must +be humoured in his harmless hallucinations and inexplicable +curiosities. On the other hand, the collection of arrowheads, Roman +pottery, fossils and birds' eggs which he had given to the Museum in +the Wedgwood Institution was always viewed with municipal pride. + +The tea-room opened by a large French window into a conservatory, and a +table was laid down the whole length of the room and the conservatory. +Mr. Sutton sat at one end and the minister at the other, but neither +Mrs. Sutton nor Beatrice occupied a distinctive place. The ancient +clumsy custom of having tea-urns on the table itself had been abolished +by Beatrice, who had read in a paper that carving was now never done at +table, but by a neatly-dressed parlour-maid at the sideboard. +Consequently the tea-urns were exiled to the sideboard, and the tea +dispensed by a couple of maids. Thus, as Beatrice had explained to her +mother, the hostess was left free to devote herself to the social arts. +The board was richly spread with fancy breads and cakes, jams of Mrs. +Sutton's own celebrated preserving, diverse sandwiches compiled by +Beatrice, and one or two large examples of the famous Bursley pork-pie. +Numerous as the company was, several chairs remained empty after +everyone was seated. Anna found herself again next to Miss Dickinson, +and five places from the minister, in the conservatory. Beatrice and +her mother were higher up, in the room. Grace was sung, by request of +Mrs. Sutton. At first, silence prevailed among the guests, and the +inquiries of the maids about milk and sugar were almost painfully +audible. Then Mr. Banks, glancing up the long vista of the table and +pretending to descry some object in the distance, called out: + +'Worthy host, I doubt not you are there, but I can only see you with +the eye of faith.' + +At this all laughed, and a natural ease was established. The minister +and Mrs. Clayton Vernon, who sat on his right, exchanged badinage on +the merits and demerits of pork-pies, and their neighbours formed an +appreciative audience. Then there was a sharp ring at the front door, +and one of the maids went out. + +'Didn't I tell you?' Miss Dickinson whispered to Anna. + +'What?' asked Anna. + +'That he would come to-day--Mr. Mynors, I mean.' + +'Who can that be?' Mrs. Sutton's voice was heard from the room. + +'I dare say it's Henry, mother,' Beatrice answered. + +Mynors entered, joyous and self-possessed, a white rose in his coat: he +shook hands with Mr. and Mrs. Sutton, sent a greeting down the table to +Mr. Banks and Mrs. Clayton Vernon, and offered a general apology for +being late. + +'Sit here,' said Beatrice to him, sharply, indicating a chair between +Mrs. Banks and herself. 'Mrs. Banks has a word to say to you about the +singing of that anthem last Sunday.' + +Mynors made some laughing rejoinder, and the voices sank so that Anna +could not catch what was said. + +'That's a new frock that Miss Sutton is wearing to-day,' Miss Dickinson +remarked in an undertone. + +'It looks new,' Anna agreed. + +'Do you like it?' + +'Yes. Don't you?' + +'Hum! Yes. It was made at Brunt's at Hanbridge. It's quite the +fashion to go there now,' said Miss Dickinson, and added, almost +inaudibly, 'She's put it on for Mr. Mynors. You saw how she saved that +chair for him.' + +Anna made no reply. + +'Did you know they were engaged once?' Miss Dickinson resumed. + +'No,' said Anna. + +'At least people said they were. It was all over the town--oh! let me +see, three years ago.' + +'I had not heard,' said Anna. + +During the rest of the meal she said little. On some natures Miss +Dickinson's gossip had the effect of bringing them to silence. Anna +had not seen Mynors since the previous Sunday, and now she was +apparently unperceived by him. He talked gaily with Beatrice and Mrs. +Banks: that group was a centre of animation. Anna envied their ease of +manner, their smooth and sparkling flow of conversation. She had the +sensation of feeling vulgar, clumsy, tongue-tied; Mynors and Beatrice +possessed something which she would never possess. So they had been +engaged! But had they? Or was it an idle rumour, manufactured by one +who spent her life in such creations? Anna was conscious of +misgivings. She had despised Beatrice once, but now it seemed that +after all Beatrice was the natural equal of Henry Mynors. Was it more +likely that Mynors or she, Anna, should be mistaken in Beatrice? That +Beatrice had generous instincts she was sure. Anna lost confidence in +herself; she felt humbled, out-of-place, and shamed. + +'If our hostess and the company will kindly excuse me,' said the +minister with a pompous air, looking at his watch, 'I must go. I have +an important appointment, or an appointment which some people think is +important.' + +He got up and made various adieux. The elaborate meal, complex with +fifty dainties each of which had to be savoured, was not nearly over. +The parson stopped in his course up the room to speak with Mrs. Sutton. +After he had shaken hands with her, he caught the admired violet eyes +of his slim wife, a lady of independent fortune whom the wives of +circuit stewards found it difficult to please in the matter of +furniture, and who despite her forty years still kept something of the +pose of a spoiled beauty. As a minister's spouse this languishing but +impeccable and invariably correct dame was unique even in the +experience of Mrs. Clayton Vernon. + +'Shall you not be home early, Rex?' she asked in the tone of a young +wife lounging amid the delicate odours of a boudoir. + +'My love,' he replied with the stern fixity of a histrionic martyr, +'did you ever know me have a free evening?' + +The Alderman accompanied his pastor to the door. + +After tea, Mynors was one of the first to leave the room, and Anna one +of the last, but he accosted her in the hall, on the way back to the +drawing-room, and asked how she was, and how Agnes was, with such +deference and sincerity of regard for herself and everything that was +hers that she could not fail to be impressed. Her sense of humiliation +and of uncertainty was effaced by a single word, a single glance. +Uplifted by a delicious reassurance, she passed into the drawing-room, +expecting him to follow: strange to say, he did not do so. Work was +resumed, but with less ardour than before. It was in fact impossible +to be strenuously diligent after one of Mrs. Sutton's teas, and in +every heart, save those which beat over the most perfect and vigorous +digestive organs, there was a feeling of repentance. The +building-society's clock on the mantel-piece intoned seven: all +expressed surprise at the lateness of the hour, and Mrs. Clayton +Vernon, pleading fatigue after her recent indisposition, quietly +departed. As soon as she was gone, Anna said to Mrs. Sutton that she +too must go. + +'Why, my dear?' Mrs. Sutton asked. + +'I shall be needed at home,' Anna replied. + +'Ah! In that case---- I will come upstairs with you, my dear,' said +Mrs. Sutton. + +When they were in the bedroom, Mrs. Sutton suddenly clasped her hand. +'How is it with you, dear Anna?' she said, gazing anxiously into the +girl's eyes. Anna knew what she meant, but made no answer. 'Is it +well?' the earnest old woman asked. + +'I hope so,' said Anna, averting her eyes, 'I am trying.' + +Mrs. Sutton kissed her almost passionately. 'Ah! my dear,' she +exclaimed with an impulsive gesture, 'I am glad, so glad. I did so +want to have a word with you. You must "lean hard," as Miss Havergal +says. "Lean hard" on Him. Do not be afraid.' And then, changing her +tone: 'You are looking pale, Anna. You want a holiday. We shall be +going to the Isle of Man in August or September. Would your father let +you come with us?' + +'I don't know,' said Anna. She knew, however, that he would not. +Nevertheless the suggestion gave her much pleasure. + +'We must see about that later,' said Mrs. Sutton, and they went +downstairs. + +'I must say good-bye to Beatrice. Where is she?' Anna said in the +hall. One of the servants directed them to the dining-room. The +Alderman and Henry Mynors were looking together at a large photogravure +of Sant's 'The Soul's Awakening,' which Mr. Sutton had recently bought, +and Beatrice was exhibiting her embroidery to a group of ladies: sundry +stitchers were scattered about, including Miss Dickinson. + +'It is a great picture--a picture that makes you think,' Henry was +saying, seriously, and the Alderman, feeling as the artist might have +felt, was obviously flattered by this sagacious praise. + +Anna said good-night to Miss Dickinson and then to Beatrice. Mynors, +hearing the words, turned round. 'Well, I must go. Good evening,' he +said suddenly to the astonished Alderman. + +'What? Now?' the latter inquired, scarcely pleased to find that Mynors +could tear himself away from the picture with so little difficulty. + +'Yes.' + +'Good-night, Mr. Mynors,' said Anna. + +'If I may I will walk down with you,' Mynors imperturbably answered. + +It was one of those dramatic moments which arrive without the slightest +warning. The gleam of joyous satisfaction in Miss Dickinson's eyes +showed that she alone had foreseen this declaration. For a declaration +it was, and a formal declaration. Mynors stood there calm, confident +with masculine superiority, and his glance seemed to say to those +swiftly alert women, whose faces could not disguise a thrilling +excitation: 'Yes. Let all know that I, Henry Mynors, the desired of +all, am honourably captive to this shy and perfect creature who is +blushing because I have said what I have said.' Even the Alderman +forgot his photogravure. Beatrice hurriedly resumed her explanation of +the embroidery. + +'How did you like the sewing meeting?' Mynors asked Anna when they were +on the pavement. + +Anna paused. 'I think Mrs. Sutton is simply a splendid woman,' she +said enthusiastically. + +When, in a moment far too short, they reached Tellwright's house, +Mynors, obeying a mutual wish to which neither had given expression, +followed Anna up the side entry, and so into the yard, where they +lingered for a few seconds. Old Tellwright could be seen at the +extremity of the long narrow garden--a garden which consisted chiefly +of a grass-plot sown with clothes-props and a narrow bordering of +flower beds without flowers. Agnes was invisible. The kitchen-door +stood ajar, and as this was the sole means of ingress from the yard +Anna, humming an air, pushed it open and entered, Mynors in her wake. +They stood on the threshold, happy, hesitating, confused, and looked at +the kitchen as at something which they had not seen before. Anna's +kitchen was the only satisfactory apartment in the house. Its +furniture included a dresser of the simple and dignified kind which is +now assiduously collected by amateurs of old oak. It had four long +narrow shelves holding plates and saucers; the cups were hung in a row +on small brass hooks screwed into the fronts of the shelves. Below the +shelves were three drawers in a line, with brass handles, and below the +drawers was a large recess which held stone jars, a copper +preserving-saucepan, and other receptacles. Seventy years of +continuous polishing by a dynasty of priestesses of cleanliness had +given to this dresser a rich ripe tone which the cleverest +trade-trickster could not have imitated. In it was reflected the +conscientious labour of generations. It had a soft and assuaged +appearance, as though it had never been new and could never have been +new. All its corners and edges had long lost the asperities of +manufacture, and its smooth surfaces were marked by slight hollows +similar in spirit to those worn by the naked feet of pilgrims into the +marble steps of a shrine. The flat portion over the drawers was +scarred with hundreds of scratches, and yet even all these seemed to be +incredibly ancient, and in some distant past to have partaken of the +mellowness of the whole. The dark woodwork formed an admirable +background for the crockery on the shelves, and a few of the old +plates, hand-painted according to some vanished secret in pigments +which time could only improve, had the look of relationship by birth to +the dresser. There must still be thousands of exactly similar dressers +in the kitchens of the people, but they are gradually being transferred +to the dining rooms of curiosity-hunters. To Anna this piece of +furniture, which would have made the most taciturn collector vocal with +joy, was merely 'the dresser.' She had always lamented that it +contained no cupboard. In front of the fireless range was an old steel +kitchen fender with heavy fire-irons. It had in the middle of its flat +top a circular lodgment for saucepans, but on this polished disc no +saucepan was ever placed. The fender was perhaps as old as the +dresser, and the profound depths of its polish served to mitigate +somewhat the newness of the patent coal-economising range which +Tellwright had had put in when he took the house. On the high +mantelpiece were four tall brass candlesticks which, like the dresser, +were silently awaiting their apotheosis at the hands of some collector. +Beside these were two or three common mustard tins, polished to +counterfeit silver, containing spices; also an abandoned coffee-mill +and two flat-irons. A grandfather's clock of oak to match the dresser +stood to the left of the fireplace; it had a very large white dial with +a grinning face in the centre. Though it would only run for +twenty-four hours, its leisured movement seemed to have the certainty +of a natural law, especially to Agnes, for Mr. Tellwright never forgot +to wind it before going to bed. Under the window was a plain deal +table, with white top and stained legs. Two Windsor chairs completed +the catalogue of furniture. The glistening floor was of red and black +tiles, and in front of the fender lay a list hearthrug made by +attaching innumerable bits of black cloth to a canvas base. On the +painted walls were several grocers' almanacs, depicting sailors in the +arms of lovers, children crossing brooks, or monks swelling themselves +with Gargantuan repasts. Everything in this kitchen was absolutely +bright and spotless, as clean as a cat in pattens, except the ceiling, +darkened by fumes of gas. Everything was in perfect order, and had the +humanised air of use and occupation which nothing but use and +occupation can impart to senseless objects. It was a kitchen where, in +the housewife's phrase, you might eat off the floor, and to any Bursley +matron it would have constituted the highest possible certificate of +Anna's character, not only as housewife but as elder sister--for in her +absence Agnes had washed the tea-things and put them away. + +'This is the nicest room, I know,' said Mynors at length. + +'Whatever do you mean?' Anna smiled, incapable of course of seeing the +place with his eye. + +'I mean there is nothing to beat a clean, straight kitchen,' Mynors +replied, 'and there never will be. It wants only the mistress in a +white apron to make it complete. Do you know, when I came in here the +other night, and you were sitting at the table there, I thought the +place was like a picture.' + +'How funny!' said Anna, puzzled but well satisfied. 'But won't you +come into the parlour?' + +The Persian with one ear met them in the lobby, his tail flying, but +cautiously sidled upstairs at sight of Mynors. When Anna opened the +door of the parlour she saw Agnes seated at the table over her lessons, +frowning and preoccupied. Tears were in her eyes. + +'Why, what's the matter, Agnes?' she exclaimed. + +'Oh! Go away,' said the child crossly. 'Don't bother.' + +'But what's the matter? You're crying.' + +'No, I'm not. I'm doing my sums, and I can't get it--can't---' The +child burst into tears just as Mynors entered. His presence was a +complete surprise to her. She hid her face in her pinafore, ashamed to +be thus caught. + +'Where is it?' said Mynors. 'Where is this sum that won't come right?' +He picked up the slate and examined it while Agnes was finding herself +again. 'Practice!' he exclaimed. 'Has Agnes got as far as practice?' +She gave him an instant's glance and murmured 'Yes.' Before she could +shelter her face he had kissed her. Anna was enchanted by his manner, +and as for Agnes, she surrendered happily to him at once. He worked +the sum, and she copied the figures into her exercise-book. Anna sat +and watched. + +'Now I must go,' said Mynors. + +'But surely you'll stay and see father,' Anna urged. + +'No. I really had not meant to call. Good-night, Agnes.' In a moment +he was gone out of the room and the house. It was as if, in obedience +to a sudden impulse, he had forcibly torn himself away. + +'Was _he_ at the sewing meeting?' Agnes asked, adding in parenthesis, +'I never dreamt he was here, and I was frightfully vexed. I felt such +a baby.' + +'Yes. At least, he came for tea.' + +'Why did he call here like that?' + +'How can I tell?' Anna said. The child looked at her. + +'It's awfully queer, isn't it?' she said slowly. 'Tell me all about +the sewing meeting. Did they have cakes or was it a plain tea? And +did you go into Beatrice Sutton's bedroom?' + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +ON THE BANK + +Anna began to receive her July interest and dividends. During a +fortnight remittances, varying from a few pounds to a few hundred of +pounds, arrived by post almost daily. They were all addressed to her, +since the securities now stood in her own name; and upon her, under the +miser's superintendence, fell the new task of entering them in a book +and paying them into the Bank. This mysterious begetting of money by +money--a strange process continually going forward for her benefit, in +various parts of the world, far and near, by means of activities of +which she was completely ignorant and would always be completely +ignorant--bewildered her and gave her a feeling of its unreality. The +elaborate mechanism by which capital yields interest without suffering +diminution from its original bulk is one of the commonest phenomena of +modern life, and one of the least understood. Many capitalists never +grasp it, nor experience the slightest curiosity about it until the +mechanism through some defect ceases to revolve. Tellwright was of +these; for him the interval between the outlay of capital and the +receipt of interest was nothing but an efflux of time: he planted +capital as a gardener plants rhubarb, tolerably certain of a particular +result, but not dwelling even in thought on that which is hidden. The +productivity of capital was to him the greatest achievement of social +progress--indeed, the social organism justified its existence by that +achievement; nothing could be more equitable than this productivity, +nothing more natural. He would as soon have inquired into it as Agnes +would have inquired into the ticking of the grandfather's clock. But +to Anna, who had some imagination, and whose imagination had been +stirred by recent events, the arrival of moneys out of space, unearned, +unasked, was a disturbing experience, affecting her as a conjuring +trick affects a child, whose sensations hesitate between pleasure and +apprehension. Practically, Anna could not believe that she was rich; +and in fact she was not rich--she was merely a fixed point through +which moneys that she was unable to arrest passed with the rapidity of +trains. If money is a token, Anna was denied the satisfaction of +fingering even the token: drafts and cheques were all that she touched +(touched only to abandon)--the doubly tantalising and insubstantial +tokens of a token. She wanted to test the actuality of this apparent +dream by handling coin and causing it to vanish over counters and into +the palms of the necessitous. And moreover, quite apart from this +curiosity, she really needed money for pressing requirements of Agnes +and herself. They had yet had no new summer clothes, and Whitsuntide, +the time prescribed by custom for the refurnishing of wardrobes, was +long since past. The intercourse with Henry Mynors, the visit to the +Suttons, had revealed to her more plainly than ever the intolerable +shortcomings of her wardrobe, and similar imperfections. She was more +painfully awake to these, and yet, by an unhappy paradox, she was even +less in a position to remedy them, than in previous years. For now, +she possessed her own fortune; to ask her father's bounty was +therefore, she divined, a sure way of inviting a rebuff. But, even if +she had dared, she might not use the income that was privately hers, +for was not every penny of it already allocated to the partnership with +Mynors! So it happened that she never once mentioned the matter to her +father; she lacked the courage, since by whatever avenue she approached +it circumstances would add an illogical and adventitious force to the +brutal snubs which he invariably dealt out when petitioned for money. +To demand his money, having fifty thousand of her own! To spend her +own in the face of that agreement with Mynors! She could too easily +guess his bitter and humiliating retorts to either proposition, and she +kept silence, comforting herself with timid visions of a far distant +future. The balance at the bank crept up to sixteen hundred pounds. +The deed of partnership was drawn; her father pored over the blue +draft, and several times Mynors called and the two men discussed it +together. Then one morning her father summoned her into the front +parlour, and handed to her a piece of parchment on which she dimly +deciphered her own name coupled with that of Henry Mynors, in large +letters. + +'You mun sign, seal, and deliver this,' he said, putting a pen in her +hand. + +She sat down obediently to write, but he stopped her with a scornful +gesture. + +'Thou 'lt sign blind then, eh? Just like a woman!' + +'I left it to you,' she said. + +'Left it to me! Read it.' + +She read through the deed, and after she had accomplished the feat one +fact only stood clear in her mind, that the partnership was for seven +years, a period extensible by consent of both parties to fourteen or +twenty-one years. Then she affixed her signature, the pen moving +awkwardly over the rough surface of the parchment. + +'Now put thy finger on that bit o' wax, and say; "I deliver this as my +act and deed."' + +'I deliver this as my act and deed.' + +The old man signed as witness. 'Soon as I give this to Lawyer Dane,' +he remarked, 'thou'rt bound, willy-nilly. Law's law, and thou'rt +bound.' + +On the following day she had to sign a cheque which reduced her +bank-balance to about three pounds. Perhaps it was the knowledge of +this reduction that led Ephraim Tellwright to resume at once and with +fresh rigour his new policy of 'squeezing the last penny' out of Titus +Price (despite the fact that the latter had already achieved the +incredible by paying thirty pounds in little more than a month), thus +causing the catastrophe which soon afterwards befell. What methods her +father was adopting Anna did not know, since he said no word to her +about the matter: she only knew that Agnes had twice been dispatched +with notes to Edward Street. One day, about noon, a clay-soiled urchin +brought a letter addressed to herself: she guessed that it was some +appeal for mercy from the Prices, and wished that her father had been +at home. The old man was away for the whole day, attending a sale of +property at Axe, the agricultural town in the north of the county, +locally styled 'the metropolis of the moorlands.' Anna read:--'My dear +Miss Tellwright,--Now that our partnership is an accomplished fact, +will you not come and look over the works? I should much like you to +do so. I shall be passing your house this afternoon about two, and +will call on the chance of being able to take you down with me to the +works. If you are unable to come no harm will be done, and some other +day can be arranged; but of course I shall be disappointed.--Believe +me, yours most sincerely, HY. MYNORS.' + +She was charmed with the idea--to her so audacious--and relieved that +the note was not after all from Titus or Willie Price: but again she +had to regret that her father was not at home. He would be capable of +thinking and saying that the projected expedition was a truancy, +contrived to occur in his absence. He might grumble at the house being +left without a keeper. Moreover, according to a tacit law, she never +departed from the fixed routine of her existence without first +obtaining Ephraim's approval, or at least being sure that such a +departure would not make him violently angry. She wondered whether +Mynors knew that her father was away, and, if so, whether he had chosen +that afternoon purposely. She did not care that Mynors should call for +her--it made the visit seem so formal; and as in order to reach the +works, down at Shawport by the canal-side, they would necessarily go +through the middle of the town, she foresaw infinite gossip and rumour +as one result. Already, she knew, the names of herself and Mynors were +everywhere coupled, and she could not even enter a shop without being +made aware, more or less delicately, that she was an object of piquant +curiosity. A woman is profoundly interesting to women at two periods +only--before she is betrothed and before she becomes the mother of her +firstborn. Anna was in the first period; her life did not comprise the +second. When Agnes came home to dinner from school, Anna said nothing +of Mynors' note until they had begun to wash up the dinner-things, when +she suggested that Agnes should finish this operation alone. + +'Yes,' said Agnes, ever compliant. 'But why?' + +'I'm going out, and I must get ready.' + +'Going out? And shall you leave the house all empty? What will father +say? Where are you going to?' + +Agnes's tendency to anticipate the worst, and never to blink their +father's tyranny, always annoyed Anna, and she answered rather curtly: +'I'm going to the works--Mr. Mynors' works. He's sent word he wants me +to.' She despised herself for wishing to hide anything, and added, 'He +will call here for me about two o'clock.' + +'Mr. Mynors! How splendid!' And then Agnes's face fell somewhat. 'I +suppose he won't call before two? If he doesn't, I shall be gone to +school.' + +'Do you want to see him?' + +'Oh, no! I don't want to see him. But--I suppose you'll be out a long +time, and he'll bring you back.' + +'Of course he won't, you silly girl. And I shan't be out long. I +shall be back for tea.' + +Anna ran upstairs to dress. At ten minutes to two she was ready. +Agnes usually left at a quarter to two, but the child had not yet gone. +At five minutes to two, Anna called downstairs to her to ask her when +she meant to depart. + +'I'm just going now,' Agnes shouted back. She opened the front door +and then returned to the foot of the stairs. 'Anna, if I meet him down +the road shall I tell him you're ready waiting for him?' + +'Certainly not. Whatever are you dreaming of?' the elder sister +reproved. 'Besides, he isn't coming from the town.' + +'Oh! All right. Good-bye.' And the child at last went. + +It was something after two--every siren and hooter had long since +finished the summons to work--when Mynors rang the bell. Anna was +still upstairs. She examined herself in the glass, and then descended +slowly. + +'Good afternoon,' he said. 'I see you are ready to come. I'm very +glad. I hope I haven't inconvenienced you, but just this afternoon +seemed to be a good opportunity for you to see the works, and, you +know, you ought to see it. Father in?' + +'No,' she said. 'I shall leave the house to take care of itself. Do +you want to see him?' + +'Not specially,' he replied. 'I think we have settled everything.' + +She banged the door behind her, and they started. As he held open the +gate for her exit, she could not ignore the look of passionate +admiration on his face. It was a look disconcerting by its mere +intensity. The man could control his tongue, but not his eyes. His +demeanour, as she viewed it, aggravated her self-consciousness as they +braved the streets. But she was happy in her perturbation. When they +reached Duck Bank, Mynors asked her whether they should go through the +market-place or along King Street, by the bottom of St. Luke's Square. +'By the market-place,' she said. The shop where Miss Dickinson was +employed was at the bottom of St. Luke's Square, and all the eyes of +the marketplace was preferable to the chance of those eyes. + + +Probably no one in the Five Towns takes a conscious pride in the +antiquity of the potter's craft, nor in its unique and intimate +relation to human life, alike civilised and uncivilised. Man hardened +clay into a bowl before he spun flax and made a garment, and the last +lone man will want an earthen vessel after he has abandoned his ruined +house for a cave, and his woven rags for an animal's skin. This +supremacy of the most ancient of crafts is in the secret nature of +things, and cannot be explained. History begins long after the period +when Bursley was first the central seat of that honoured manufacture: +it is the central seat still--'the mother of the Five Towns,' in our +local phrase--and though the townsmen, absorbed in a strenuous daily +struggle, may forget their heirship to an unbroken tradition of +countless centuries, the seal of their venerable calling is upon their +foreheads. If no other relic of an immemorial past is to be seen in +these modernised sordid streets, there is at least the living legacy of +that extraordinary kinship between workman and work, that instinctive +mastery of clay which the past has bestowed upon the present. The +horse is less to the Arab than clay is to the Bursley man. He exists +in it and by it; it fills his lungs and blanches his cheek; it keeps +him alive and it kills him. His fingers close round it as round the +hand of a friend. He knows all its tricks and aptitudes; when to coax +and when to force it, when to rely on it and when to distrust it. The +weavers of Lancashire have dubbed him with an obscene epithet on +account of it, an epithet whose hasty use has led to many a fight, but +nothing could be more illuminatively descriptive than that epithet, +which names his vocation in terms of another vocation. A dozen decades +of applied science have of course resulted in the interposition of +elaborate machinery between the clay and the man; but no great vulgar +handicraft has lost less of the human than potting. Clay is always +clay, and the steam-driven contrivance that will mould a basin while a +man sits and watches has yet to be invented. Moreover, if in some +coarser process the hands are superseded, the number of processes has +been multiplied tenfold: the ware in which six men formerly +collaborated is now produced by sixty; and thus, in one sense, the +touch of finger on clay is more pervasive than ever before. + +Mynors' works was acknowledged to be one of the best, of its size, in +the district--a model three-oven bank, and it must be remembered that +of the hundreds of banks in the Five Towns the vast majority are small, +like this: the large manufactory with its corps of jacket-men,[1] one +of whom is detached to show visitors round so much of the works as is +deemed advisable for them to see, is the exception. Mynors paid three +hundred pounds a year in rent, and produced nearly three hundred pounds +worth of work a week. He was his own manager, and there was only one +jacket-man on the place, a clerk at eighteen shillings. He employed +about a hundred hands, and devoted all his ingenuity to prevent that +wastage which is at once the easiest to overlook and the most difficult +to check, the wastage of labour. No pains were spared to keep all +departments in full and regular activity, and owing to his judicious +firmness the feast of St. Monday, that canker eternally eating at the +root of the prosperity of the Five Towns, was less religiously observed +on his bank than perhaps anywhere else in Bursley. He had realised +that when a workshop stands empty the employer has not only ceased to +make money, but has begun to lose it. The architect of 'Providence +Works' (Providence stands godfather to many commercial enterprises in +the Five Towns) knew his business and the business of the potter, and +he had designed the works with a view to the strictest economy of +labour. The various shops were so arranged that in the course of its +metamorphosis the clay travelled naturally in a circle from the +slip-house by the canal to the packing-house by the canal: there was no +carrying to and fro. The steam installation was complete: steam once +generated had no respite; after it had exhausted itself in vitalising +fifty machines, it was killed by inches in order to dry the unfired +ware and warm the dinners of the workpeople. + +Henry took Anna to the canal-entrance, because the buildings looked +best from that side. + +'Now how much is a crate worth?' she asked, pointing to a crate which +was being swung on a crane direct from the packing-house into a boat. + +'That?' Mynors answered. 'A crateful of ware may be worth anything. +At Minton's I have seen a crate worth three hundred pounds. But that +one there is only worth eight or nine pounds. You see you and I make +cheap stuff.' + +'But don't you make any really good pots--are they all cheap?' + +'All cheap,' he said. + +'I suppose that's business?' He detected a note of regret in her voice. + +'I don't know,' he said, with the slightest impatient warmth. 'We make +the stuff as good as we can for the money. We supply what everyone +wants. Don't you think it's better to please a thousand folks than to +please ten? I like to feel that my ware is used all over the country +and the colonies. I would sooner do as I do than make swagger ware for +a handful of rich people.' + +'Oh, yes,' she exclaimed, eagerly accepting the point of view, 'I quite +agree with you.' She had never heard him in that vein before, and was +struck by his enthusiasm. And Mynors was in fact always very +enthusiastic concerning the virtues of the general markets. He had no +sympathy with specialities, artistic or otherwise. He found his +satisfaction in honestly meeting the public taste. He was born to be a +manufacturer of cheap goods on a colossal scale. He could dream of +fifty ovens, and his ambition blinded him to the present absurdity of +talking about a three-oven bank spreading its productions all over the +country and the colonies; it did not occur to him that there were yet +scarcely enough plates to go round. + +'I suppose we had better start at the start,' he said, leading the way +to the slip-house. He did not need to be told that Anna was perfectly +ignorant of the craft of pottery, and that every detail of it, so stale +to him, would acquire freshness under her naive and inquiring gaze. + +In the slip-house begins the long manipulation which transforms raw +porous friable clay into the moulded, decorated and glazed vessel. The +large whitewashed place was occupied by ungainly machines and +receptacles through which the four sorts of clay used in the common +'body'--ball clay, China clay, flint clay and stone clay--were +compelled to pass before they became a white putty-like mixture meet +for shaping by human hands. The blunger crushed the clay, the sifter +extracted the iron from it by means of a magnet, the press expelled the +water, and the pug-mill expelled the air. From the last reluctant +mouth slowly emerged a solid stream nearly a foot in diameter, like a +huge white snake. Already the clay had acquired the uniformity +characteristic of a manufactured product. + +Anna moved to touch the bolts of the enormous twenty-four-chambered +press. + +'Don't stand there,' said Mynors. 'The pressure is tremendous, and if +the thing were to burst----' + +She fled hastily. 'But isn't it dangerous for the workmen?' she asked. + +Eli Machin, the engineman, the oldest employee on the works, a moneyed +man and the pattern of reliability, allowed a vague smile to flit +across his face at this remark. He had ascended from the engine-house +below in order to exhibit the tricks of the various machines, and that +done he disappeared. Anna was awed by the sensation of being +surrounded by terrific forces always straining for release and held in +check by the power of a single wall. + +'Come and see a plate made: that is one of the simplest things, and the +batting-machine is worth looking at,' said Mynors, and they went into +the nearest shop, a hot interior in the shape of four corridors round a +solid square middle. Here men and women were working side by side, the +women subordinate to the men. All were preoccupied, wrapped up in +their respective operations, and there was the sound of irregular +whirring movements from every part of the big room. The air was laden +with whitish dust, and clay was omnipresent--on the floor, the walls, +the benches, the windows, on clothes, hands and faces. It was in this +shop, where both hollow-ware pressers and flat pressers were busy as +only craftsmen on piecework can be busy, that more than anywhere else +clay was to be seen 'in the hand of the potter.' Near the door a stout +man with a good-humoured face flung some clay on to a revolving disc, +and even as Anna passed a jar sprang into existence. One instant the +clay was an amorphous mass, the next it was a vessel perfectly +circular, of a prescribed width and a prescribed depth; the flat and +apparently clumsy fingers of the craftsman had seemed to lose +themselves in the clay for a fraction of time, and the miracle was +accomplished. The man threw these vessels with the rapidity of a Roman +candle throwing off coloured stars, and one woman was kept busy in +supplying him with material and relieving his bench of the finished +articles. Mynors drew Anna along to the batting-machines for plate +makers, at that period rather a novelty and the latest invention of the +dead genius whose brain has reconstituted a whole industry on new +lines. Confronted with a piece of clay, the batting-machine descended +upon it with the ferocity of a wild animal, worried it, stretched it, +smoothed it into the width and thickness of a plate, and then desisted +of itself and waited inactive for the flat presser to remove its victim +to his more exact shaping machine. Several men were producing plates, +but their rapid labours seemed less astonishing than the preliminary +feat of the batting-machine. All the ware as it was moulded +disappeared into the vast cupboards occupying the centre of the shop, +where Mynors showed Anna innumerable rows of shelves full of pots in +process of steam-drying. Neither time nor space nor material was +wasted in this ant-heap of industry. In order to move to and fro, the +women were compelled to insinuate themselves past the stationary bodies +of the men. Anna marvelled at the careless accuracy with which they +fed the batting-machines with lumps precisely calculated to form a +plate of a given diameter. Everyone exerted himself as though the +salvation of the world hung on the production of so much stuff by a +certain hour; dust, heat, and the presence of a stranger were alike +unheeded in the mad creative passion. + +'Now,' said Mynors the cicerone, opening another door which gave into +the yard, 'when all that stuff is dried and fettled--smoothed, you +know--it goes into the biscuit oven: that's the first firing. There's +the biscuit oven, but we can't inspect it because it's just being +drawn.' + +He pointed to the oven near by, in whose dark interior the forms of +men, naked to the waist, could dimly be seen struggling with the weight +of saggars[2] full of ware. It seemed like some release of martyrs, +this unpacking of the immense oven, which, after being flooded with a +sea of flame for fifty-four hours, had cooled for two days, and was yet +hotter than the Equator. The inertness and pallor of the saggers +seemed to be the physical result of their fiery trial, and one wondered +that they should have survived the trial. Mynors went into the place +adjoining the oven and brought back a plate out of an open sagger; it +was still quite warm. It had the _matt_ surface of a biscuit, and +adhered slightly to the fingers: it was now a 'crook'; it had exchanged +malleability for brittleness, and nothing mortal could undo what the +fire had done. Mynors took the plate with him to the +biscuit-warehouse, a long room where one was forced to keep to narrow +alleys amid parterres of pots. A solitary biscuit-warehouseman was +examining the ware in order to determine the remuneration of the +pressers. + +They climbed a flight of steps to the printing-shop, where, by means of +copper-plates, printing-presses, mineral colours, and transfer-papers, +most of the decoration was done. The room was filled by a little crowd +of people--oldish men, women and girls, divided into printers, cutters, +transferors and apprentices. Each interminably repeated some trifling +process, and every article passed through a succession of hands until +at length it was washed in a tank and rose dripping therefrom with its +ornament of flowers and scrolls fully revealed. The room smelt of oil +and flannel and humanity; the atmosphere was more languid, more like +that of a family party, than in the pressers' shop: the old women +looked stern and shrewish, the pretty young women pert and defiant, the +younger girls meek. The few men seemed out of place. By what trick +had they crept into the very centre of that mass of femineity? It +seemed wrong, scandalous that they should remain. Contiguous with the +printing-shop was the painting-shop, in which the labours of the former +were taken to a finish by the brush of the paintress, who filled in +outlines with flat colour, and thus converted mechanical printing into +handiwork. The paintresses form the _noblesse_ of the banks. Their +task is a light one, demanding deftness first of all; they have +delicate fingers, and enjoy a general reputation for beauty: the wages +they earn may be estimated from their finery on Sundays. They come to +business in cloth jackets, carry dinner in little satchels; in the shop +they wear white aprons, and look startlingly neat and tidy. Across the +benches over which they bend their coquettish heads gossip flies and +returns like a shuttle; they are the source of a thousand intrigues, +and one or other of them is continually getting married or omitting to +get married. On the bank they constitute 'the sex.' An infinitesimal +proportion of them, from among the branch known as ground-layers, die +of lead-poisoning--a fact which adds pathos to their frivolous charm. +In a subsidiary room off the painting-shop a single girl was seated at +a revolving table actuated by a treadle. She was doing the +'band-and-line' on the rims of saucers. Mynors and Anna watched her as +with her left hand she flicked saucer after saucer into the exact +centre of the table, moved the treadle, and, holding a brush firmly +against the rim of the piece, produced with infallible exactitude the +band and the line. She was a brunette, about twenty-eight: she had a +calm, vacuously contemplative face; but God alone knew whether she +thought. Her work represented the summit of monotony; the regularity +of it hypnotised the observer, and Mynors himself was impressed by this +stupendous phenomenon of absolute sameness, involuntarily assuming +towards it the attitude of a showman. + +'She earns as much as eighteen shillings a week sometimes,' he +whispered. + +'May I try?' Anna timidly asked of a sudden, curious to experience what +the trick was like. + +'Certainly,' said Mynors, in eager assent. 'Priscilla, let this lady +have your seat a moment, please.' + +The girl got up, smiling politely. Anna took her place. + +'Here, try on this,' said Mynors, putting on the table the plate which +he still carried. + +'Take a full brush,' the paintress suggested, not attempting to hide +her amusement at Anna's unaccustomed efforts. 'Now push the treadle. +There! It isn't in the middle yet. Now!' + +Anna produced a most creditable band, and a trembling but passable +line, and rose flushed with the small triumph. + +'You have the gift,' said Mynors; and the paintress respectfully +applauded. + +'I felt I could do it,' Anna responded. 'My mother's mother was a +paintress, and it must be in the blood.' + +Mynors smiled indulgently. They descended again to the ground floor, +and following the course of manufacture came to the 'hardening-on' +kiln, a minor oven where for twelve hours the oil is burnt out of the +colour in decorated ware. A huge, jolly man in shirt and trousers, +with an enormous apron, was in the act of drawing the kiln, assisted by +two thin boys. He nodded a greeting to Mynors and exclaimed, 'Warm!' +The kiln was nearly emptied. As Anna stopped at the door, the man +addressed her. + +'Step inside, miss, and try it.' + +'No, thanks!' she laughed. + +'Come now,' he insisted, as if despising this hesitation. 'An ounce of +experience----' The two boys grinned and wiped their foreheads with +their bare skeleton-like arms. Anna, challenged by the man's look, +walked quickly into the kiln. A blasting heat seemed to assault her on +every side, driving her back; it was incredible that any human being +could support such a temperature. + +'There!' said the jovial man, apparently summing her up with his +bright, quizzical eyes. 'You know summat as you didn't know afore, +miss. Come along, lads,' he added with brisk heartiness to the boys, +and the drawing of the kiln proceeded. + +Next came the dipping-house, where a middle-aged woman, enveloped in a +protective garment from head to foot, was dipping jugs into a vat of +lead-glaze, a boy assisting her. The woman's hands were covered with +the grey, slimy glaze. She alone of all the employees appeared to be +cool. + +'That is the last stage but one,' said Mynors. 'There is only the +glost-firing,' and they passed out into the yard once more. One of the +glost-ovens was empty; they entered it and peered into the lofty inner +chamber, which seemed like the cold crater of an exhausted volcano, or +like a vault, or like the ruined seat of some forgotten activity. The +other oven was firing, and Anna could only look at its exterior, +catching glimpses of the red glow at its twelve mouths, and guess at +the Tophet, within, where the lead was being fused into glass. + +'Now for the glost-warehouse, and you will have seen all,' said Mynors, +'except the mould-shop, and that doesn't matter.' + +The warehouse was the largest place on the works, a room sixty-feet +long and twenty broad, low, whitewashed, bare and clean. Piles of ware +occupied the whole of the walls and of the immense floorspace, but +there was no trace here of the soilure and untidiness incident to +manufacture; all processes were at an end, clay had vanished into +crock: and the calmness and the whiteness atoned for the disorder, +noise and squalor which had preceded. Here was a sample of the total +and final achievement towards which the thousands of small, disjointed +efforts that Anna had witnessed, were directed. And it seemed a +miraculous, almost impossible, result; so definite, precise and regular +after a series of acts apparently variable, inexact and casual; so +inhuman after all that intensely inhuman labour; so vast in comparison +with the minuteness of the separate endeavours. As Anna looked, for +instance, at a pile of tea-sets, she found it difficult even to +conceive that, a fortnight or so before, they had been nothing but +lumps of dirty clay. No stage of the manufacture was incredible by +itself, but the result was incredible. It was the result that appealed +to the imagination, authenticating the adage that fools and children +should never see anything till it is done. + +Anna pondered over the organising power, the forethought, the wide +vision, and the sheer ingenuity and cleverness which were implied by +the contents of this warehouse. 'What brains!' she thought, of Mynors; +'what quantities of all sorts of things he must know!' It was a humble +and deeply-felt admiration. + +Her spoken words gave no clue to her thoughts. 'You seem to make a +fine lot of tea-sets,' she remarked. + +'Oh, no,' he said carelessly. 'These few that you see here are a +special order. I don't go in much for tea-sets: they don't pay; we +lose fifteen per cent. of the pieces in making. It's toilet-ware that +pays, and that is our leading line.' He waved an arm vaguely towards +rows and rows of ewers and basins in the distance. They walked to the +end of the warehouse, glancing at everything. + +'See here,' said Mynors, 'isn't that pretty?' He pointed through the +last window to a view of the canal, which could be seen thence in +perspective, finishing in a curve. On one side, close to the water's +edge, was a ruined and fragmentary building, its rich browns reflected +in the smooth surface of the canal. On the other side were a few grim, +grey trees bordering the towpath. Down the vista moved a boat steered +by a woman in a large mob-cap. 'Isn't that picturesque?' he said. + +'Very,' Anna assented willingly. 'It's really quite strange, such a +scene right in the middle of Bursley.' + +'Oh! There are others,' he said. 'But I always take a peep at that +whenever I come into the warehouse.' + +'I wonder you find time to notice it--with all this place to see +after,' she said. 'It's a splendid works!' + +'It will do--to be going on with,' he answered, satisfied. 'I'm very +glad you've been down. You must come again. I can see you would be +interested in it, and there are plenty of things you haven't looked at +yet, you know.' + +He smiled at her. They were alone in the warehouse. + +'Yes,' she said; 'I expect so. Well, I must go, at once; I'm afraid +it's very late now. Thank you for showing me round, and explaining, +and--I'm frightfully stupid and ignorant. Good-bye.' + +Vapid and trite phrases: what unimaginable messages the hearer heard in +you! + +Anna held out her hand, and he seized it almost convulsively, his +incendiary eyes fastened on her face. + +'I must see you out,' he said, dropping that ungloved hand. + +It was ten o'clock that night before Ephraim Tellwright returned home +from Axe. He appeared to be in a bad temper. Agnes had gone to bed. +His supper of bread-and-cheese and water was waiting for him, and Anna +sat at the table while he consumed it. He ate in silence, somewhat +hungrily, and she did not deem the moment propitious for telling him +about her visit to Mynors' works. + +'Has Titus Price sent up?' he asked at length, gulping down the last of +the water. + +'Sent up?' + +'Yes. Art fond, lass? I told him as he mun send up some more o' thy +rent to-day--twenty-five pun. He's not sent?' + +'I don't know,' she said timidly. 'I was out this afternoon.' + +'Out, wast?' + +'Mr. Mynors sent word to ask me to go down and look over the works; so +I went. I thought it would be all right.' + +'Well, it was'na all right. And I'd like to know what business thou +hast gadding out, as soon as my back's turned. How can I tell whether +Price sent up or not? And what's more, thou know's as th' house hadn't +ought to be left.' + +'I'm sorry,' she said pleasantly, with a determination to be meek and +dutiful. + +He grunted. 'Happen he didna' send. And if he did, and found th' +house locked up, he should ha' sent again. Bring me th' inkpot, and +I'll write a note as Agnes must take when her goes to school to-morrow +morning.' + +Anna obeyed. 'They'll never be able to pay twenty-five pounds, +father,' she ventured. 'They've paid thirty already, you know.' + +'Less gab,' he said shortly, taking up the pen. 'Here--write it +thysen.' He threw the pen towards her. 'Tell Titus if he doesn't pay +five-and-twenty this wik, us'll put bailiffs in.' + +'Won't it come better from you, father?' she pleaded. + +'Whose property is it?' The laconic question was final. She knew she +must obey, and began to write. But, realising that she would perforce +meet both Titus Price and Willie on Sunday, she merely demanded the +money, omitting the threat. Her hand trembled as she passed the note +to him to read. + +'Will that do?' + +His reply was to tear the paper across. 'Put down what I tell ye,' he +ordered, 'and don't let's have any more paper wasted.' Then he +dictated a letter which was an ultimatum in three lines. 'Sign it,' he +said. + +She signed it, weeping. She could see the wistful reproach in Willie +Price's eyes. + +'I suppose,' her father said, when she bade him 'Good-night,' 'I +suppose if I hadn't asked, I should ha' heard nowt o' this +gadding-about wi' Mynors?' + +'I was going to tell you I had been to the works, father,' she said. + +'Going to!' That was his final blow, and having delivered it, he +loosed the victim. 'Go to bed,' he said. + +She went upstairs, resolutely read her Bible, and resolutely prayed. + + + +[1] _Jacket-man_: the artisan's satiric term for anyone who does not +work in shirt-sleeves, who is not actually a producer, such as a clerk +or a pretentious foreman. + +[2] _Saggars_: large oval receptacles of coarse clay, in which the ware +is placed for firing. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE TREAT + +This surly and terrorising ferocity of Tellwright's was as instinctive +as the growl and spring of a beast of prey. He never considered his +attitude towards the women of his household as an unusual phenomenon +which needed justification, or as being in the least abnormal. The +women of a household were the natural victims of their master: in his +experience it had always been so. In his experience the master had +always, by universal consent, possessed certain rights over the +self-respect, the happiness and the peace of the defenceless souls set +under him--rights as unquestioned as those exercised by Ivan the +Terrible. Such rights were rooted in the secret nature of things. It +was futile to discuss them, because their necessity and their propriety +were equally obvious. Tellwright would not have been angry with any +man who impugned them: he would merely have regarded the fellow as a +crank and a born fool, on whom logic or indignation would be entirely +wasted. He did as his father and uncles had done. He still thought of +his father as a grim customer, infinitely more redoubtable than +himself. He really believed that parents spoiled their children +nowadays: to be knocked down by a single blow was one of the +punishments of his own generation. He could recall the fearful +timidity of his mother's eyes without a trace of compassion. His +treatment of his daughters was no part of a system, nor obedient to any +defined principles, nor the expression of a brutal disposition, nor the +result of gradually-acquired habit. It came to him like eating, and +like parsimony. He belonged to the great and powerful class of +house-tyrants, the backbone of the British nation, whose views on +income-tax cause ministries to tremble. If you had talked to him of +the domestic graces of life, your words would have conveyed to him no +meaning. If you had indicted him for simple unprovoked rudeness, he +would have grinned, well knowing that, as the King can do no wrong, so +a man cannot be rude in his own house. If you had told him that he +inflicted purposeless misery not only on others but on himself, he +would have grinned again, vaguely aware that he had not tried to be +happy, and rather despising happiness as a sort of childish gewgaw. He +had, in fact, never been happy at home: he had never known that +expansion of the spirit which is called joy; he existed continually +under a grievance. The atmosphere of Manor Terrace afflicted him, too, +with a melancholy gloom--him, who had created it. Had he been capable +of self-analysis, he would have discovered that his heart lightened +whenever he left the house, and grew dark whenever he returned; but he +was incapable of the feat. His case, like every similar case, was +irremediable. + +The next morning his preposterous displeasure lay like a curse on the +house; Anna was silent, and Agnes moved on timid feet. In the +afternoon Willie Price called in answer to the note. The miser was in +the garden, and Agnes at school. Willie's craven and fawning humility +was inexpressibly touching and shameful to Anna. She longed to say to +him, as he stood hesitant and confused in the parlour: 'Go in peace. +Forget this despicable rent. It sickens me to see you so.' She +foresaw, as the effect of her father's vindictive pursuit of her +tenants, an interminable succession of these mortifying interviews. + +'You're rather hard on us,' Willie Price began, using the old phrases, +but in a tone of forced and propitiatory cheerfulness, as though he +feared to bring down a storm of anger which should ruin all. 'You'll +not deny that we've been doing our best.' + +'The rent is due, you know, Mr. William,' she replied, blushing. + +'Oh, yes,' he said quickly. 'I don't deny that. I admit that. I--did +you happen to see Mr. Tellwright's postscript to your letter?' + +'No,' she answered, without thinking. + +He drew the letter, soiled and creased, from his pocket, and displayed +it to her. At the foot of the page she read, in Ephraim's thick and +clumsy characters: 'P.S. This is final.' + +'My father,' said Willie, 'was a little put about. He said he'd never +received such a letter before in the whole of his business career. It +isn't as if----' + +'I needn't tell you,' she interrupted, with a sudden determination to +get to the worst without more suspense, 'that of course I am in +father's hands.' + +'Oh! Of course, Miss Tellwright; we quite understand that--quite. +It's just a matter of business. We owe a debt and we must pay it. All +we want is time.' He smiled piteously at her, his blue eyes full of +appeal. She was obliged to gaze at the floor. + +'Yes,' she said, tapping her foot on the rug. 'But father means what +he says.' She looked up at him again, trying to soften her words by +means of something more subtle than a smile. + +'He means what he says,' Willie agreed; 'and I admire him for it.' + +The obsequious, truckling lie was odious to her. + +'Perhaps I could see him,' he ventured. + +'I wish you would,' Anna said, sincerely. 'Father, you're wanted,' she +called curtly through the window. + +'I've got a proposal to make to him,' Price continued, while they +awaited the presence of the miser, 'and I can't hardly think he'll +refuse it.' + +'Well, young sir,' Tellwright said blandly, with an air almost +insinuating, as he entered. Willie Price, the simpleton, was deceived +by it, and, taking courage, adopted another line of defence. He +thought the miser was a little ashamed of his postscript. + +'About your note, Mr. Tellwright; I was just telling Miss Tellwright +that my father said he had never received such a letter in the whole of +his business career.' The youth assumed a discreet indignation. + +'Thy feyther's had dozens o' such letters, lad,' the miser said with +cold emphasis, 'or my name's not Tellwright. Dunna tell me as Titus +Price's never heard of a bumbailiff afore.' + +Willie was crushed at a blow, and obliged to retreat. He smiled +painfully. 'Come, Mr. Tellwright. Don't talk like that. All we want +is time.' + +'Time is money,' said Tellwright, 'and if us give you time us give you +money. 'Stead o' that, it's you as mun give us money. That's right +reason.' + +Willie laughed with difficulty. 'See here, Mr. Tellwright. To cut a +long story short, it's like this. You ask for twenty-five pounds. +I've got in my pocket a bill of exchange drawn by us on Mr. Sutton and +endorsed by him, for thirty pounds, payable in three months. Will you +take that? Remember it's for thirty, and you only ask for twenty-five.' + +'So Mr. Sutton has dealings with ye, eh?' Tellwright remarked. + +'Oh, yes,' Willie answered proudly. 'He buys off us regularly. We've +done business for years.' + +'And pays i' bills at three months, eh?' The miser grinned. + +'Sometimes,' said Willie. + +'Let's see it,' said the miser. + +'What--the bill?' + +'Ay!' + +'Oh! The bill's all right.' Willie took it from his pocket, and +opening out the blue paper, gave it to old Tellwright. Anna perceived +the anxiety on the youth's face. He flushed and his hand trembled. +She dared not speak, but she wished to tell him to be at ease. She +knew from infallible signs that her father would take the bill. +Ephraim gazed at the stamped paper as at something strange and +unprecedented in his experience. + +'Father would want you not to negotiate that bill,' said Willie. 'The +fact is, we promised Mr. Sutton that that particular bill should not +leave our hands--unless it was absolutely necessary. So father would +like you not to discount it, and he will redeem it before it matures. +You quite understand--we don't care to offend an old customer like Mr. +Sutton.' + +'Then this bit o' paper's worth nowt for welly[1] three months?' the +old man said, with an affectation of bewildered simplicity. + +Happily inspired for once, Willie made no answer, but put the question: +'Will you take it?' + +'Ay! Us'll tak' it,' said Tellwright, 'though it is but a promise.' +He was well pleased. + +Young Price's face showed his relief. It was now evident that he had +been passing through an ordeal. Anna guessed that perhaps everything +had depended on the acceptance by Tellwright of that bill. Had he +refused it, Prices, she thought, might have come to sudden disaster. +She felt glad and disburdened for the moment; but immediately it +occurred to her that her father would not rest satisfied for long; a +few weeks, and he would give another turn to the screw. + + +The Tellwrights were destined to have other visitors that afternoon. +Agnes, coming from school, was accompanied by a lady. Anna, who was +setting the tea-table, saw a double shadow pass the window, and heard +voices. She ran into the kitchen, and found Mrs. Sutton seated on a +chair, breathing quickly. + +'You'll excuse me coming in so unceremoniously, Anna,' she said, after +having kissed her heartily. 'But Agnes said that she always came in by +the back way, so I came that way too. Now I'm resting a minute. I've +had to walk to-day. Our horse has gone lame.' + +This kind heart radiated a heavenly goodwill, even in the most ordinary +phrases. Anna began to expand at once. + +'Now do come into the parlour,' she said, 'and let me make you +comfortable.' + +'Just a minute, my dear,' Mrs. Sutton begged, fanning herself with her +handkerchief, 'Agnes's legs are so long.' + +'Oh, Mrs. Sutton,' Agnes protested, laughing, 'how can you? I could +scarcely keep up with you!' + +'Well, my dear, I never could walk slowly. I'm one of them that go +till they drop. It's very silly.' She smiled, and the two girls +smiled happily in return. + +'Agnes,' said the housewife, 'set another cup and saucer and plate.' +Agnes threw down her hat and satchel of books, eager to show +hospitality. + +'It still keeps very warm,' Anna remarked, as Mrs. Sutton was silent. + +'It's beautifully cool here,' said Mrs. Sutton. 'I see you've got your +kitchen like a new pin, Anna, if you'll excuse me saying so. Henry was +very enthusiastic about this kitchen the other night, at our house.' + +'What! Mr. Mynors?' Anna reddened to the eyes. + +'Yes, my dear; and he's a very particular young man, you know.' + +The kettle conveniently boiled at that moment, and Anna went to the +range to make the tea. + +'Tea is all ready, Mrs. Sutton,' she said at length. 'I'm sure you +could do with a cup.' + +'That I could,' said Mrs. Sutton. 'It's what I've come for.' + +'We have tea at four. Father will be glad to see you.' The clock +struck, and they went into the parlour, Anna carrying the tea-pot and +the hot-water jug. Agnes had preceded them. The old man was sitting +expectant in his chair. + +'Well, Mr. Tellwright,' said the visitor, 'you see I've called to see +you, and to beg a cup of tea. I overtook Agnes coming home from +school--overtook her, mind--me, at my age!' Ephraim rose slowly and +shook hands. + +'You're welcome,' he said curtly, but with a kindliness that amazed +Anna. She was unaware that in past days he had known Mrs. Sutton as a +young and charming girl, a vision that had stirred poetic ideas in +hundreds of prosaic breasts, Tellwright's included. There was scarcely +a middle-aged male Wesleyan in Bursley and Hanbridge who had not a +peculiar regard for Mrs. Sutton, and who did not think that he alone +truly appreciated her. + +'What an' you bin tiring yourself with this afternoon?' he asked, when +they had begun tea, and Mrs. Sutton had refused a second piece of +bread-and-butter. + +'What have I been doing? I've been seeing to some inside repairs to +the superintendent's house. Be thankful you aren't a circuit-steward's +wife, Anna.' + +'Why, does she have to see to the repairs of the minister's house?' +Anna asked, surprised. + +'I should just think she does. She has to stand between the minister's +wife and the funds of the society. And Mrs. Reginald Banks has been +used to the very best of everything. She's just a bit exacting, though +I must say she's willing enough to spend her own money too. She wants +a new boiler in the scullery now, and I'm sure her boiler is a great +deal better than ours. But we must try to please her. She isn't used +to us rough folks and our ways. Mr. Banks said to me this afternoon +that he tried always to shield her from the worries of this world.' +She smiled almost imperceptibly. + +There was a ring at the bell, and Agnes, much perturbed by the august +arrival, let in Mr. Banks himself. + +'Shall I enter, my little dear?' said Mr. Banks. 'Your father, your +sister, in?' + +'It ne'er rains but it pours,' said Tellwright, who had caught the +minister's voice. + +'Speak of angels----' said Mrs. Sutton, laughing quietly. + +The minister came grandly into the parlour. 'Ah! How do you do, +brother Tellwright, and you, Miss Tellwright? Mrs. Sutton, we two seem +happily fated to meet this afternoon. Don't let me disturb you, I +beg--I cannot stay. My time is very limited. I wish I could call +oftener, brother Tellwright; but really the new _regime_ leaves no time +for pastoral visits. I was saying to my wife only this morning that I +haven't had a free afternoon for a month.' He accepted a cup of tea. + +'Us'n have a tea-party this afternoon,' said Tellwright +_quasi_-privately to Mrs. Sutton. + +'And now,' the minister resumed, 'I've come to beg. The special fund, +you know, Mr. Tellwright, to clear off the debt on the new +school-buildings. I referred to it from the pulpit last Sabbath. It's +not in my province to go round begging, but someone must do it.' + +'Well, for me, I'm beforehand with you, Mr. Banks,' said Mrs. Sutton, +'for it's on that very errand I've called to see Mr. Tellwright this +afternoon. His name is on my list.' + +'Ah! Then I leave our brother to your superior persuasions.' + +'Come, Mr. Tellwright,' said Mrs. Sutton, 'you're between two fires, +and you'll get no mercy. What will you give?' + +The miser foresaw a probable discomfiture, and sought for some means of +escape. + +'What are others giving?' he asked. + +'My husband is giving fifty pounds, and you could buy him up, lock, +stock, and barrel.' + +'Nay, nay!' said Tellwright, aghast at this sum. He had underrated the +importance of the Building Fund. + +'And I,' said the parson solemnly, 'I have but fifty pounds in the +world, but I am giving twenty to this fund.' + +'Then you're giving too much,' said Tellwright with quick brusqueness. +'You canna' afford it.' + +'The Lord will provide,' said the parson. + +'Happen He will, happen not. It's as well you've gotten a rich wife, +Mr. Banks.' + +The parson's dignity was obviously wounded, and Anna wondered timidly +what would occur next. Mrs. Sutton interposed. 'Come now, Mr. +Tellwright,' she said again, 'to the point: what will you give?' + +'I'll think it over and let you hear,' said Ephraim. + +'Oh, no! That won't do at all, will it, Mr. Banks? I, at any rate, am +not going away without a definite promise. As an old and good +Wesleyan, of course you will feel it your duty to be generous with us.' + +'You used to be a pillar of the Hanbridge circuit--was it not so?' said +Mr. Banks to the miser, recovering himself. + +'So they used to say,' Tellwright replied grimly. 'That was because I +cleared 'em of debt in ten years. But they've slipped into th' ditch +again sin' I left 'em.' + +'But if I am right, you do not meet[2] with us,' the minister pursued +imperturbably. + +'No.' + +'My own class is at three on Saturdays,' said the minister. 'I should +be glad to see you.' + +'I tell you what I'll do,' said the miser to Mrs. Sutton. 'Titus Price +is a big man at th' Sunday-school. I'll give as much as he gives to +th' school buildings. That's fair.' + +'Do you know what Mr. Price is giving?' Mrs. Sutton asked the minister. + +'I saw Mr. Price yesterday. He is giving twenty-five pounds.' + +'Very well, that's a bargain,' said Mrs. Sutton, who had succeeded +beyond her expectations. + +Ephraim was the dupe of his own scheming. He had made sure that +Price's contribution would be a small one. This ostentatious +munificence on the part of the beggared Titus filled him with secret +anger. He determined to demand more rent at a very early date. + +'I'll put you down for twenty-five pounds as a first subscription,' +said the minister, taking out a pocket-book. Perhaps you will give +Mrs. Sutton or myself the cheque to-day?' + +'Has Mr. Price paid?' the miser asked, warily. + +'Not yet.' + +'Then come to me when he has.' Ephraim perceived the way of escape. + +When the minister was gone, as Mrs. Sutton seemed in no hurry to +depart, Anna and Agnes cleared the table. + +'I've just been telling your father, Anna,' said Mrs. Sutton, when Anna +returned to the room, 'that Mr. Sutton and myself and Beatrice are +going to the Isle of Man soon for a fortnight or so, and we should very +much like you to come with us.' + +Anna's heart began to beat violently, though she knew there was no hope +for her. This, then, doubtless, was the main object of Mrs. Sutton's +visit! 'Oh! But I couldn't, really!' said Anna, scarcely aware what +she did say. + +'Why not?' asked Mrs. Sutton. + +'Well--the house.' + +'The house? Agnes could see to what little housekeeping your father +would want. The schools will break up next week.' + +'What do these young folks want holidays for?' Tellwright inquired with +philosophic gruffness. 'I never had one. And what's more, I wouldn't +thank ye for one. I'll pig on at Bursley. When ye've gotten a roof of +your own, where's the sense o' going elsewhere and pigging?' + +'But we really want Anna to go,' Mrs. Sutton went on. 'Beatrice is +very anxious about it. Beatrice is very short of suitable friends.' + +'I should na' ha' thought it,' said Tellwright. 'Her seems to know +everyone.' + +'But she is,' Mrs. Sutton insisted. + +'I think as you'd better leave Anna out this year,' said the miser +stubbornly. + +Anna wished profoundly that Mrs. Sutton would abandon the futile +attempt. Then she perceived that the visitor was signalling to her to +leave the room. Anna obeyed, going into the kitchen to give an eye to +Agnes, who was washing up. + +'It's all right,' said Mrs. Sutton contentedly, when Anna returned to +the parlour. 'Your father has consented to your going with us. It is +very kind of him, for I'm sure he'll miss you.' + +Anna sat down, limp, speechless. She could not believe the news. + +'You are awfully good,' she said to Mrs. Sutton in the lobby, as the +latter was leaving the house. 'I'm ever so grateful--you can't think.' +And she threw her arms round Mrs. Sutton's neck. + +Agnes ran up to say good-bye. + +Mrs. Sutton kissed the child. 'Agnes will be the little housekeeper, +eh?' The little housekeeper was almost as pleased at the prospect of +housekeeping as if she too had been going to the Isle of Man. 'You'll +both be at the school-treat next Tuesday,' suppose,' Mrs. Sutton said, +holding Agnes by the hand. Agnes glanced at her sister in inquiry. + +'I don't know,' Anna replied. 'We shall see.' + +The truth was, that not caring to ask her father for the money for the +tickets, she had given no thought to the school-treat. + +'Did I tell you that Henry Mynors will most likely come with us to the +Isle of Man?' said Mrs. Sutton from the gate. + +Anna retired to her bedroom to savour an astounding happiness in +quietude. At supper the miser was in a mood not unbenevolent. She +expected a reaction the next morning, but Ephraim, strange to say, +remained innocuous. She ventured to ask him for the money for the +treat tickets, two shillings. He made no immediate reply. Half an +hour afterwards, he ejaculated: 'What i' th' name o' fortune dost thee +want wi' school-treats?' + +'It's Agnes,' she answered; 'of course Agnes can't go alone.' + +In the end he threw down a florin. He became perilous for the rest of +the day, but the florin was an indisputable fact in Anna's pocket. + +The school-treat was held in a twelve-acre field near Sneyd, the seat +of a marquis, and a Saturday afternoon resort very popular in the Five +Towns. The children were formed at noon on Duck Bank into a +procession, which marched to the railway station to the singing of +'Shall we gather at the river?' Thence a special train carried them, +in seething compartments, excited and strident, to Sneyd, where there +had been two sharp showers in the morning, the procession was reformed +along a country road, and the vacillating sky threatened more rain; but +because the sun had shone dazzlingly at eleven o'clock all the women +and girls, too easily tempted by the glory of the moment, blossomed +forth in pale blouses and parasols. The chattering crowd, bright and +defenceless as flowers, made at Sneyd a picture at once gay and +pathetic. It had rained there at half-past twelve; the roads were wet; +and among the two hundred and fifty children and thirty teachers there +were less than a score umbrellas. The excursion was theoretically in +charge of Titus Price, the Senior Superintendent, but this dignitary +had failed to arrive on Duck Bank, and Mynors had taken his place. In +the train Anna heard that some one had seen Mr. Price, wearing a large +grey wide-awake, leap into the guard's van at the very instant of +departure. He had not been at school on the previous Sunday, and Anna +was somewhat perturbed at the prospect of meeting the man who had +defined her letter to him as unique in the whole of his business +career. She caught a glimpse of the grey wideawake on the platform at +Sneyd, and steered her own scholars so as to avoid its vicinity. But +on the march to the field Titus reviewed the procession, and she was +obliged to meet his eyes and return his salutation. The look of the +man was a shock to her. He seemed thinner, nervous, restless, +preoccupied, and terribly careworn; except the new brilliant hat, all +his summer clothes were soiled and shabby. It was as though he had +forced himself, out of regard for appearances, to attend the fete, but +had left his thoughts in Edward Street. His uneasy and hollow +cheerfulness was painful to watch. Anna realised the intensity of the +crisis through which Mr. Price was passing. She perceived in a single +glance, more clearly than she could have done after a hundred +interviews with the young and unresponsible William--however +distressing these might be--that Titus must for weeks have been engaged +in a truly frightful struggle. His face was a proof of the tragic +sincerity of William's appeals to herself and to her father. That +Price should have contrived to pay seventy pounds of rent in a little +more than a month seemed to her, imperfectly acquainted alike with +Ephraim's ruthless compulsions and with the financial jugglery often +practised by hard-pressed debtors, to be an almost miraculous effort +after honesty. Her conscience smote her for conniving at which she now +saw to be a persecution. She felt as sorry for Titus as she had felt +for his son. The obese man, with his reputation in rags about him, was +acutely wistful in her eyes, as a child might have been. + +A carriage rolled by, raising the dust in places where the strong sun +had already dried the road. It was Mr. Sutton's landau, driven by +Barrett. Beatrice, in white, sat solitary amid cushions, while two +large hampers occupied most of the coachman's box. The carriage seemed +to move with lordly ease and rapidity, and the teachers, already weary +and fretted by the endless pranks of the children, bitterly envied the +enthroned maid who nodded and smiled to them with such charming +condescension. It was a social triumph for Beatrice. She disappeared +ahead like a goddess in a cloud, and scarcely a woman who saw her from +the humble level of the roadway but would have married a satyr to be +able to do as Beatrice did. Later, when the field was reached, and the +children bursting through the gate had spread like a flood over the +daisied grass, the landau was to be seen drawn up near the refreshment +tent; Barrett was unpacking the hampers, which contained delicate +creamy confectionery for the teachers' tea; Beatrice explained that +these were her mother's gift, and that she had driven down in order to +preserve the fragile pasties from the risks of a railway journey. +Gratitude became vocal, and Beatrice's success was perfected. + +Then the more conscientious teachers set themselves seriously to the +task of amusing the smaller children, and the smaller children +consented to be amused according to the recipes appointed by long +custom for school-treats. Many round-games, which invariably comprised +singing or kissing, being thus annually resuscitated by elderly people +from the deeps of memory, were preserved for a posterity which +otherwise would never have known them. Among these was Bobby-Bingo. +For twenty-five years Titus Price had played at Bobby-Bingo with the +infant classes at the school-treat, and this year he was bound by the +expectations of all to continue the practice. Another diversion which +he always took care to organise was the three-legged race for boys. +Also, he usually joined in the tut-ball, a quaint game which owes its +surprising longevity to the fact that it is equally proper for both +sexes. Within half an hour the treat was in full career; football, +cricket, rounders, tick, leap-frog, prison-bars, and round-games, +transformed the field into a vast arena of complicated struggles and +emulations. All were occupied, except a few of the women and older +girls, who strolled languidly about in the _role_ of spectators. The +sun shone generously on scores of vivid and frail toilettes, and +parasols made slowly-moving hemispheres of glowing colour against the +rich green of the grass. All around were yellow cornfields, and +meadows where cows of a burnished brown indolently meditated upon the +phenomena of a school-treat. Every hedge and ditch and gate and stile +was in that ideal condition of plenary correctness which denotes that a +great landowner is exhibiting the beauties of scientific farming for +the behoof of his villagers. The sky, of an intense blue, was a sea in +which large white clouds sailed gently but capriciously; on the +northern horizon a low range of smoke marked the sinister region of the +Five Towns. + +'Will you come and help with the bags and cups?' Henry Mynors asked +Anna. She was standing by herself, watching Agnes at play with some +other girls. Mynors had evidently walked across to her from the +refreshment tent, which was at the opposite extremity of the field. In +her eyes he was once more the exemplar of style. His suit of grey +flannel, his white straw hat, became him to admiration. He stood at +ease with his hands in his coat-pockets, and smiled contentedly. + +'After all,' he said, 'the tea is the principal thing, and, although it +wants two hours to tea-time yet, it's as well to be beforehand.' + +'I should like something to do,' Anna replied. + +'How are you?' he said familiarly, after this abrupt opening, and then +shook hands. They traversed the field together, with many deviations +to avoid trespassing upon areas of play. + +The flapping refreshment tent seemed to be full of piles of baskets and +piles of bags and piles of cups, which the contractor had brought in a +waggon. Some teachers were already beginning to put the paper bags +into the baskets; each bag contained bread-and-butter, currant cake, an +Eccles-cake, and a Bath-bun. At the far end of the tent Beatrice +Sutton was arranging her dainties on a small trestle-table. + +'Come along quick, Anna,' she exclaimed, 'and taste my tarts, and tell +me what you think of them. I do hope the good people will enjoy them.' +And then, turning to Mynors, 'Hello! Are you seeing after the bags and +things? I thought that was always Willie Price's favourite job!' + +'So it is,' said Mynors. 'But, unfortunately, he isn't here to-day.' + +'How's that, pray? I never knew him miss a school-treat before.' + +'Mr. Price told me they couldn't both be away from the works just now. +Very busy, I suppose.' + +'Well, William would have been more use than his father, anyhow.' + +'Hush, hush!' Mynors murmured with a subdued laugh. + +Beatrice was in one of her 'downright' moods, as she herself called +them. + +Mynors's arrangements for the prompt distribution of tea at the +appointed hour were very minute, and involved a considerable amount of +back bending and manual labour. But, though they were enlivened by +frequent intervals of gossip, and by excursions into the field to +observe this and that amusing sight, all was finished half an hour +before time. + +'I will go and warn Mr. Price,' said Mynors. 'He is quite capable of +forgetting the clock.' Mynors left the tent, and proceeded to the +scene of an athletic meeting, at which Titus Price, in shirt-sleeves, +was distributing prizes of sixpences and pennies. The famous +three-legged race had just been run. Anna followed at a saunter, and +shortly afterwards Beatrice overtook her. + +'The great Titus looks better than he did when he came on the field,' +Beatrice remarked. And indeed the superintendent had put on quite a +merry appearance--flushed, excited, and jocular in his elephantine +way--it seemed as if he had not a care in the world. The boys crowded +appreciatively round him. But this was his last hour of joy. + +'Why! Willie Price _is_ here,' Anna exclaimed, perceiving William in +the fringe of the crowd. The lanky fellow stood hesitatingly, his left +hand busy with his moustache. + +'So he is,' said Beatrice. 'I wonder what that means.' + +Titus had not observed the newcomer, but Henry Mynors saw William, and +exchanged a few words with him. Then Mr. Mynors advanced into the +crowd and spoke to Mr. Price, who glanced quickly round at his son. +The girls, at a distance of forty yards, could discern the swift change +in the man's demeanour. In a second he had reverted to the deplorable +Titus of three hours ago. He elbowed his way roughly to William, +getting into his coat as he went. The pair talked, William glanced at +his watch, and in another moment they were leaving the field. Henry +Mynors had to finish the prize distribution. So much Anna and Beatrice +plainly saw. Others, too, had not been blind to this sudden and +dramatic departure. It aroused universal comment among the teachers. + +'Something must be wrong at Price's works,' Beatrice said, 'and Willie +has had to fetch his papa.' This was the conclusion of all the +gossips. Beatrice added: 'Dad has mentioned Price's several times +lately, now I think of it.' + +Anna grew extremely self-conscious and uncomfortable. She felt as +though all were saying of her: 'There goes the oppressor of the poor!' +She was fairly sure, however, that her father was not responsible for +this particular incident. There must, then, be other implacable +creditors. She had been thoroughly enjoying the afternoon, but now her +pleasure ceased. + +The treat ended disastrously. In the middle of the children's meal, +while yet the enormous double-handled tea-cans were being carried up +and down the thirsty rows, and the boys were causing their bags to +explode with appalling detonations, it began to rain sharply. The +fickle sun withdrew his splendour from the toilettes, and was seen no +more for a week afterwards. 'It's come at last,' ejaculated Mynors, +who had watched the sky with anxiety for an hour previously. He +mobilised the children and ranked them under a row of elms. The +teachers, running to the tent for their own tea, said to one another +that the shower could only be a brief one. The wish was father to the +thought, for they were a little ashamed to be under cover while their +charges precariously sheltered beneath dripping trees--yet there was +nothing else to be done; the men took turns in the rain to keep the +children in their places. The sky was completely overcast. 'It's set +in for a wet evening, and so we may as well make the best of it,' +Beatrice said grimly, and she sent the landau home empty. She was +right. A forlorn and disgusted snake of a procession crawled through +puddles to the station. The platform resounded with sneezes. None but +a dressmaker could have discovered a silver lining to the black and +all-pervading cloud which had ruined so many dozens of fair costumes. +Anna, melancholy and taciturn, exerted herself to minimise the +discomfort of her scholars. A word from Mynors would have been balm to +her; but Mynors, the general of a routed army, was parleying by +telephone with the traffic-manager of the railway for the expediting of +the special train. + + + +[1] _Welly_: nearly. + +[2] _Meet_: meet in class--a gathering for the exchange of religious +counsel and experience. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE ISLE + +About this time Anna was not seeing very much of Henry Mynors. At +twenty a man is rash in love, and again, perhaps, at fifty; a man of +middle-age enamoured of a young girl is capable of sublime follies. +But the man of thirty who loves for the first time is usually the +embodiment of cautious discretion. He does not fall in love with a +violent descent, but rather lets himself gently down, continually +testing the rope. His social value, especially if he have achieved +worldly success, is at its highest, and, without conceit, he is aware +of it. He has lost many illusions concerning women; he has seen more +than one friend wrecked in the sea of foolish marriage; he knows the +joys of a bachelor's freedom, without having wearied of them; he +perceives risks where the youth perceives only ecstasy, and the oldster +only a blissful release from solitude. Instead of searching, he is +sought for; accordingly he is selfish and exacting. All these things, +combine to tranquillize passion at thirty. Mynors was in love with +Anna, and his love had its ardent moments; but in the main it was a +temperate affection, an affection that walked circumspectly, with its +eyes open, careful of its dignity, too proud to seem in a hurry; if, by +impulse, it chanced now and then to leap forward, the involuntary +movement was mastered and checked. Mynors called at Manor Terrace once +a week, never on the same day of the week, nor without discussing +business with the miser. Occasionally he accompanied Anna from school +or chapel. Such methods were precisely to Anna's taste. Like him, she +loved prudence and decorum, preferring to make haste slowly. Since the +Revival, they had only once talked together intimately; on that sole +occasion Henry had suggested to her that she might care to join Mrs. +Sutton's class, which met on Monday nights; she accepted the hint with +pleasure, and found a well of spiritual inspiration in Mrs. Sutton's +modest and simple yet fervent homilies. Mynors was not guilty of +blowing both hot and cold. She was sure of him. She waited calmly for +events, existing, as her habit was, in the future. + +The future, then, meant the Isle of Man. Anna dreamed of an enchanted +isle and hours of unimaginable rapture. For a whole week after Mrs. +Sutton had won Ephraim's consent, her vision never stooped to practical +details. Then Beatrice called to see her; it was the morning after the +treat, and Anna was brushing her muddy frock; she wore a large white +apron, and held a cloth-brush in her hand as she opened the door. + +'You're busy?' said Beatrice. + +'Yes,' said Anna, 'but come in. Come into the kitchen--do you mind?' + +Beatrice was covered from neck to heel with a long mackintosh, which +she threw off when entering the kitchen. + +'Anyone else in the house?' she asked. + +'No,' said Anna, smiling, as Beatrice seated herself, with a sigh of +content, on the table. + +'Well, let's talk, then.' Beatrice drew from her pocket the +indispensable chocolates and offered them to Anna. 'I say, wasn't last +night perfectly awful? Henry got wet through in the end, and mother +made him stop at our house, as he was at the trouble to take me home. +Did you see him go down this morning?' + +'No; why?' said Anna, stiffly. + +'Oh--no reason. Only I thought perhaps you did. I simply can't tell +you how glad I am that you're coming with us to the Isle of Man; we +shall have rare fun. We go every year, you know--to Port Erin, a +lovely little fishing village. All the fishermen know us there. Last +year Henry hired a yacht for the fortnight, and we all went +mackerel-fishing, every day; except sometimes Pa. Now and then Pa had +a tendency to go fiddling in caves and things. I do hope it will be +fine weather again by then, don't you?' + +'I'm looking forward to it, I can tell you,' Anna said. 'What day are +we supposed to start?' + +'Saturday week.' + +'So soon?' Anna was surprised at the proximity of the event. + +'Yes; and quite late enough, too. We should start earlier, only the +Dad always makes out he can't. Men always pretend to be so frightfully +busy, and I believe it's all put on.' Beatrice continued to chat about +the holiday, and then of a sudden she asked: 'What are you going to +wear?' + +'Wear!' Anna repeated; and added, with hesitation: 'I suppose one will +want some new clothes?' + +'Well, just a few! Now let me advise you. Take a blue serge skirt. +Sea-water won't harm it, and if it's dark enough it will look well to +any mortal blouse. Secondly, you can't have too many blouses; they're +always useful at the seaside. Plain straw-hats are my tip. A coat for +nights, and thick boots. There! Of course no one ever _dresses_ at +Port Erin. It isn't like Llandudno, and all that sort of thing. You +don't have to meet your young man on the pier, because there isn't a +pier.' + +There was a pause. Anna did not know what to say. At length she +ventured: 'I'm not much for clothes, as I dare say you've noticed.' + +'I think you always look nice, my dear,' Beatrice responded. Nothing +was said as to Anna's wealth, no reference made as to the discrepancy +between that and the style of her garments. By a fiction, there was +supposed to be no discrepancy. + +'Do you make your own frocks?' Beatrice asked, later. + +'Yes.' + +'Do you know I thought you did. But they do you great credit. There's +few people can make a plain frock look decent.' + +This conversation brought Anna with a shock to the level of earth. She +perceived--only too well--a point which she had not hitherto fairly +faced in her idyllic meditations: that her father was still a factor in +the case. Since Mrs. Sutton's visit both Anna and the miser avoided +the subject of the holiday. 'You can't have too many blouses.' Did +Beatrice, then, have blouses by the dozen? A coat, a serge skirt, +straw hats (how many?)--the catalogue frightened her. She began to +suspect that she would not be able to go to the Isle of Man. + +'About me going with Suttons to the Isle of Man?' she accosted her +father, in the afternoon, outwardly calm, but with secret trembling. + +'Well?' he exclaimed savagely. + +'I shall want some money--a little.' She would have given much not to +have added that 'little,' but it came out of itself. + +'It's a waste o' time and money--that's what I call it. I can't think +why Suttons asked ye. Ye aren't ill, are ye?' His savagery changed to +sullenness. + +'No, father; but as it's arranged, I suppose I shall have to go.' + +'Well, I'm none so set up with the idea mysen.' + +'Shan't you be all right with Agnes?' + +'Oh, yes. _I_ shall be all right. _I_ don't want much. _I_'ve no +fads and fal-lals. How long art going to be away?' + +'I don't know. Didn't Mrs. Sutton tell you? You arranged it.' + +'That I didna'. Her said nowt to me.' + +'Well, anyhow I shall want some clothes.' + +'What for? Art naked?' + +'I must have some money.' Her voice shook, She was getting near tears. + +'Well, thou's gotten thy own money, hast na'?' + +'All I want is that you shall let me have some of my own money. +There's forty odd pounds now in the bank.' + +'Oh!' he repeated, sneering, 'all ye want is as I shall let thee have +some o' thy own money. And there's forty odd pound i' the bank. Oh!' + +'Will you give me my cheque-book out of the bureau? And I'll draw a +cheque; I know how to.' She had conquered the instinct to cry, and +unwillingly her tones became somewhat peremptory. Ephraim seized the +chance. + +'No, I won't give ye the cheque-book out o' th' bureau,' he said +flatly. 'And I'll thank ye for less sauce.' + +That finished the episode. Proudly she took an oath with herself not +to re-open the question, and resolved to write a note to Mrs. Sutton +saying that on consideration she found it impossible to go to the Isle +of Man. + +The next morning there came to Anna a letter from the secretary of a +limited company enclosing a post-office order for ten pounds. Some +weeks previously her father had discovered an error of that amount in +the deduction of income-tax from the dividend paid by this company, and +had instructed Anna to demand the sum. She had obeyed, and then +forgotten the affair. Here was the answer. Desperate at the thought +of missing the holiday, she cashed the order, bought and made her +clothes in secret, and then, two days before the arranged date of +departure told her father what she had done. He was enraged; but since +his anger was too illogical to be rendered effectively coherent in +words, he had the wit to keep silence. With bitterness Anna reflected +that she owed her holiday to the merest accident--for if the remittance +had arrived a little earlier or a little later, or in the form of a +cheque, she could not have utilised it. + + +It was an incredible day, the following Saturday, a warm and benign day +of earliest autumn. The Suttons, in a hired cab, called for Anna at +half-past eight, on the way to the main line station at Shawport. +Anna's tin box was flung on to the roof of the cab amid the trunks and +portmanteaux already there. + +'Why should not Agnes ride with us to the station?' Beatrice suggested. + +'Nay, nay; there's no room,' said Tellwright, who stood at the door, +impelled by an unacknowledged awe of Mrs. Sutton thus to give official +sanction to Anna's departure. + +'Yes, yes,' Mrs. Sutton exclaimed. 'Let the little thing come, Mr. +Tellwright.' + +Agnes, far more excited than any of the rest, seized her straw hat, and +slipping the elastic under her small chin, sprang into the cab, and +found a haven between Mr. Sutton's short, fat legs. The driver drew +his whip smartly across the aged neck of the cream mare. They were +off. What a rumbling, jolting, delicious journey, down the first hill, +up Duck Bank, through the market-place, and down the steep declivity of +Oldcastle Street! Silent and shy, Agnes smiled ecstatically at the +others. Anna answered remarks in a dream. She was conscious only of +present happiness and happy expectation. All bitterness had +disappeared. At least thirty thousand Bursley folk were not going to +the Isle of Man that day--their preoccupied and cheerless faces swam in +a continuous stream past the cab window--and Anna sympathised with +every unit of them. Her spirit overflowed with universal compassion. +What haste and exquisite confusion at the station! The train was +signalled, and the porter, crossing the line with the luggage, ran his +truck perilously under the very buffers of the incoming engine. Mynors +was awaiting them, admirably attired as a tourist. He had got the +tickets, and secured a private compartment in the through-coach for +Liverpool; and he found time to arrange with the cabman to drive Agnes +home on the box-seat. Certainly there was none like Mynors. From the +footboard of the carriage Anna bent down to kiss Agnes. The child had +been laughing and chattering. Suddenly, as Anna's lips touched hers, +she burst into tears, sobbed passionately as though overtaken by some +terrible and unexpected misfortune. Tears stood also in Anna's eyes. +The sisters had never been parted before. + +'Poor little thing!' Mrs. Sutton murmured; and Beatrice told her father +to give Agnes a shilling to buy chocolates at Stevenson's in St. Luke's +Square, that being the best shop. The shilling fell between the +footboard and the platform. A scream from Beatrice! The attendant +porter promised to rescue the shilling in due course. The engine +whistled, the silver-mounted guard asserted his authority, Mynors +leaped in, and amid laughter and tears the brief and unique joy of +Anna's life began. + +In a moment, so it seemed, the train was thundering through the mile of +solid rock which ends at Lime Street Station, Liverpool. +Thenceforward, till she fell asleep that night, Anna existed in a state +of blissful bewilderment, stupefied by an overdose of novel and +wondrous sensations. They lunched in amazing magnificence at the +Bear's Paw, and then walked through the crowded and prodigious streets +to Prince's landing-stage. The luggage had disappeared by some +mysterious agency--Mynors said that they would find it safe at Douglas; +but Anna could not banish the fear that her tin box had gone for ever. + +The great, wavy river, churned by thousands of keels; the monstrous +steamer--the 'Mona's Isle'--whose side rose like solid wall out of the +water; the vistas of its decks; its vast saloons, story under story, +solid and palatial (could all this float?); its high bridge; its +hawsers as thick as trees; its funnels like sloping towers; the +multitudes of passengers; the whistles, hoots, cries; the +far-stretching panorama of wharves and docks; the squat ferry-craft +carrying horses and carts, and no one looking twice at the feat--it was +all too much, too astonishing, too lovely. She had not guessed at this. + +'They call Liverpool the slum of Europe,' said Mynors. + +'How can you!' she exclaimed, shocked. + +Beatrice, seeing her radiant and rapt face, walked to and fro with +Anna, proud of the effect produced on her friend's inexperience by +these sights. One might have thought that Beatrice had built Liverpool +and created its trade by her own efforts. + +Suddenly the landing-stage and all the people on it moved away bodily +from the ship; there was green water between; a tremor like that of an +earthquake ran along the deck; handkerchiefs were waved. The voyage +had commenced. Mynors found chairs for all the Suttons, and tucked +them up on the lee-side of a deck-house; but Anna did not stir. They +passed New Brighton, Seaforth, and the Crosby and Formby lightships. + +'Come and view the ship,' said Mynors, at her side. 'Suppose we go +round and inspect things a bit?' + +'It's a very big one, isn't it?' she asked. + +'Pretty big,' he said; 'of course not as big as the Atlantic liners--I +wonder we didn't meet one in the river--but still pretty big. Three +hundred and twenty feet over all. I sailed on her last year on her +maiden voyage. She was packed, and the weather very bad.' + +'Will it be rough to-day?' Anna inquired timidly. + +'Not if it keeps like this,' he laughed. 'You don't feel queer, do +you?' + +'Oh, no. It's as firm as a house. No one could be ill with this?' + +'Couldn't they?' he exclaimed. 'Beatrice could be.' + +They descended into the ship, and he explained all its internal +economy, with a knowledge that seemed to her encyclopaedic. They stayed +a long time watching the engines, so Titanic, ruthless, and deliberate; +even the smell of the oil was pleasant to Anna. When they came on deck +again the ship was at sea. For the first time Anna beheld the ocean. +A strong breeze blew from prow to stern, yet the sea was absolutely +calm, the unruffled mirror of effulgent sunlight. The steamer moved +alone on the waters, exultantly, leaving behind it an endless track of +white froth in the green, and the shadow of its smoke. The sun, the +salt breeze, the living water, the proud gaiety of the ship, produced a +feeling of intense, inexplicable joy, a profound satisfaction with the +present, and a negligence of past and future. To exist was enough, +then. As Anna and Henry leaned over the starboard quarter and watched +the torrent of foam rush madly and ceaselessly from under the +paddle-box to be swallowed up in the white wake, the spectacle of the +wild torrent almost hypnotised them, destroying thought and reason, and +all sense of their relation to other things. With difficulty Anna +raised her eyes, and perceived the dim receding line of the Lancashire +coast. + +'Shall we get quite out of sight of land?' she asked. + +'Yes, for a little while, about half an hour or so. Just as much out +of sight of land as if we were in the middle of the Atlantic.' + +'I can scarcely believe it.' + +'Believe what?' + +'Oh! The idea of that--of being out of sight of land--nothing but sea.' + +When at last it occurred to them to reconnoitre the Suttons, they found +all three still in their deck-chairs, enwrapped and languid. Mr. +Sutton and Beatrice were apparently dozing. This part of the deck was +occupied by somnolent, basking figures. + +'Don't wake them,' Mrs. Sutton enjoined, whispering out of her hood. +Anna glanced curiously at Beatrice's yellow face. + +'Go away, do,' Beatrice exclaimed, opening her eyes and shutting them +again, wearily. + +So they went away, and discovered two empty deck-chairs on the +fore-deck. Anna was innocently vain of her immunity from malaise. +Mynors appeared to appoint himself little errands about the deck, +returning frequently to his chair. 'Look over there. Can you see +anything?' + +Anna ran to the rail, with the infantile idea of getting nearer, and +Mynors followed, laughing. What looked like a small slate-coloured +cloud lay on the horizon. + +'I seem to see something,' she said. + +'That is the Isle of Man.' + +By insensible gradations the contours of the land grew clearer in the +afternoon haze. + +'How far are we off now?' + +'Perhaps twenty miles.' + +Twenty miles of uninterrupted flatness, and the ship steadily invading +that separating solitude, yard by yard, furlong by furlong! The +conception awed her. There, a morsel in the waste of the deep, a speck +under the infinite sunlight, lay the island, mysterious, enticing, +enchanted, a glinting jewel on, the sea's bosom, a remote entity +fraught with strange secrets. It was all unspeakable. + + +'Anna, you have covered yourself with glory,' said Mrs. Sutton, when +they were in the diminutive and absurd train which by breathless +plunges annihilates the sixteen miles between Douglas and Port Erin in +sixty-five minutes. + +'Have I?' she answered. 'How?' + +'By not being ill.' + +'That's always the beginner's luck,' said Beatrice, pale and +dishevelled. They all relapsed into the silence of fatigue. It was +growing dusk when the train stopped at the tiny terminus. The station +was a hive of bustling activity, the arrival of this train being the +daily event at that end of the world. Mynors and the Suttons were +greeted familiarly by several sailors, and one of these, Tom Kelly, a +tall, middle-aged man, with grey beard, small grey eyes, a wrinkled +skin of red mahogany, and an enormous fist, was introduced to Anna. He +raised his cap, and shook hands. She was touched by the sad, kind look +on his face, the melancholy impress of the sea. Then they drove to +their lodging, and here again the party was welcomed as being old and +tried friends. A fire was burning in the parlour. Throwing herself +down in front of it, Mrs. Sutton breathed, 'At last! Oh, for some +tea.' Through the window, Anna had a glimpse of a deeply indented bay +at the foot of cliffs below them, with a bold headland to the right. +Fishing vessels with flat red sails seemed to hang undecided just +outside the bay. From cottage chimneys beneath the road blue smoke +softly ascended. + +All went early to bed, for the weariness of Mr. and Mrs. Sutton seemed +to communicate itself to the three young people, who might otherwise +have gone forth into the village in search of adventures. Anna and +Beatrice shared a room. Each inspected the other's clothes, and +Beatrice made Anna try on the new serge skirt. Through the thin wall +came the sound of Mr. and Mrs. Sutton talking, a high voice, then a +bass reply, in continual alternation. Beatrice said that these two +always discussed the day's doings in such manner. In a few moments +Beatrice was snoring; she had the subdued but steady and serious snore +characteristic of some muscular men. Anna felt no inclination to +sleep. She lived again hour by hour through the day, and beneath +Beatrice's snore her ear caught the undertone of the sea. + +The next morning was as lovely as the last. It was Sunday, and every +activity of the village was stilled. Sea and land were equally folded +in a sunlit calm. During breakfast--a meal abundant in fresh herrings, +fresh eggs and fresh rolls, eaten with the window wide open--Anna was +puzzled by the singular amenity of her friends to one another and to +her. They were as polite as though they had been strangers; they +chatted amiably, were full of goodwill, and as anxious to give +happiness as to enjoy it. She thought at first, so unusual was it to +her as a feature of domestic privacy, that this demeanour was affected, +or at any rate a somewhat exaggerated punctilio due to her presence; +but she soon came to see that she was mistaken. After breakfast Mr. +Sutton suggested that they should attend the Wesleyan Chapel on the +hill leading to the Chasms. Here they met the sailors of the night +before, arrayed now in marvellous blue Melton coats with velveteen +collars. Tom Kelly walked back with them to the beach, and showed them +the yacht 'Fay' which Mynors had arranged to hire for mackerel-fishing; +it lay on the sands speckless in new white paint. All the afternoon +they dozed on the cliffs, doing nothing whatever, for this Sunday was +tacitly regarded, not as part of the holiday, but as a preparation for +the holiday; all felt that the holiday, with its proper exertions and +appointed delights, would really begin on Monday morning. + +'Let us go for a walk,' said Mynors, after tea, to Beatrice and Anna. +They stood at the gate of the lodging-house. The old people were +resting within. + +'You two go,' Beatrice replied, looking at Anna. 'You know I hate +walking, Henry. I'll stop with mother and dad.' + +Throughout the day Anna had been conscious of the fact that all the +Suttons showed a tendency, slight but perceptible, to treat Henry and +herself as a pair desirous of opportunities for being alone together. +She did not like it. She flushed under the passing glance with which +Beatrice accompanied the words: 'You two go.' Nevertheless, when +Mynors placidly remarked: 'Very well,' and his eyes sought hers for a +consent, she could not refuse it. One part of her nature would have +preferred to find an excuse for staying at home; but another, and a +stronger, part insisted on seizing this offered joy. + +They walked straight up out of the village toward the high coast-range +which stretches peak after peak from Port Erin to Peel. The stony and +devious lanes wound about the bleak hillside, passing here and there +small, solitary cottages of whitewashed stone, with children, fowls, +and dogs at the doors, all embowered in huge fuchsia trees. Presently +they had surmounted the limit of habitation and were on the naked flank +of Bradda, following a narrow track which crept upwards amid short +mossy turf of the most vivid green. Nothing seemed to flourish on this +exposed height except bracken, sheep, and boulders that, from a +distance, resembled sheep; there was no tree, scarcely a shrub; the +immense contours, stark, grim, and unrelieved, rose in melancholy and +defiant majesty against the sky: the hand of man could coax no harvest +from these smooth but obdurate slopes; they had never relented, and +they would never relent. The spirit was braced by the thought that +here, to the furthest eternity of civilisation more and more intricate, +simple and strong souls would always find solace and repose. + +Mynors bore to the left for a while, striking across the moor in the +direction of the sea. Then he said: + +'Look down, now.' + +The little bay lay like an oblong swimming-bath five hundred feet below +them. The surface of the water was like glass; the strand, with its +phalanx of boats drawn up in Sabbath tidiness, glittered like marble in +the living light, and over this marble black dots moved slowly two and +fro; behind the boats were the houses--dolls' houses--each with a +curling wisp of smoke; further away the railway and the high road ran +out in a black and white line to Port St. Mary; the sea, a pale grey, +encompassed all; the southern sky had a faint sapphire tinge, rising to +delicate azure. The sight of this haven at rest, shut in by the +restful sea and by great moveless hills, a calm within a calm, aroused +profound emotion. + +'It's lovely,' said Anna, as they stood gazing. Tears came to her eyes +and hung there. She wondered that scenery should cause tears, felt +ashamed, and turned her face so that Mynors should not see. But he had +seen. + +'Shall we go on to the top?' he suggested, and they set their faces +northwards to climb still higher. At length they stood on the rocky +summit of Bradda, seven hundred feet from the sea. The Hill of the +Night Watch lifted above them to the north, but on east, south, and +west, the prospect was bounded only by the ocean. The coast-line was +revealed for thirty miles, from Peel to Castletown. Far to the east +was Castletown Bay, large, shallow and inhospitable, its floor strewn +with a thousand unseen wrecks; the lighthouse at Scarlet Point flashed +dimly in the dusk; thence the beach curved nearer in an immense arc, +without a sign of life, to the little cove of Port St. Mary, and jutted +out again into a tongue of land at the end of which lay the Calf of Man +with its single white cottage and cart-track. The dangerous Calf +Sound, where the vexed tide is forced to run nine hours one way and +three the other, seemed like a grey ribbon, and the Chicken Rock like a +tiny pencil on a vast slate. Port Erin was hidden under their feet. +They looked westward. The darkening sky was a labyrinth of purple and +crimson scarves drawn pellucid, as though by the finger of God, across +a sheet of pure saffron. These decadent tints of the sunset faded in +every direction to the same soft azure which filled the south, and one +star twinkled in the illimitable field. Thirty miles off, on the +horizon, could be discerned the Mourne Mountains of Ireland. + +'See!' Mynors exclaimed, touching her arm. + +The huge disc of the moon was rising in the east, and as this mild lamp +passed up the sky, the sense of universal quiescence increased. +Lovely, Anna had said. It was the loveliest sight her eyes had ever +beheld, a panorama of pure beauty transcending all imagined visions. +It overwhelmed her, thrilled her to the heart, this revelation of the +loveliness of the world. Her thoughts went back to Hanbridge and +Bursley and her life there; and all the remembered scenes, bathed in +the glow of a new ideal, seemed to lose their pain. It was as if she +had never been really unhappy, as if there was no real unhappiness on +the whole earth. She perceived that the monotony, the austerity, the +melancholy of her existence had been sweet and beautiful of its kind, +and she recalled, with a sort of rapture, hours of companionship with +the beloved Agnes, when her father was equable and pacific. Nothing +was ugly nor mean. Beauty was everywhere, in everything. + +In silence they began to descend, perforce walking quickly because of +the steep gradient. At the first cottage they saw a little girl in a +mob-cap playing with two kittens. + +'How like Agnes!' Mynors said. + +'Yes. I was just thinking so,' Anna answered. + +'I thought of her up on the hill,' he continued. 'She will miss you, +won't she?' + +'I know she cried herself to sleep last night. You mightn't guess it, +but she is extremely sensitive.' + +'Not guess it? Why not? I am sure she is. Do you know--I am very +fond of your sister. She's a simply delightful child. And there's a +lot in her, too. She's so quick and bright, and somehow like a little +woman.' + +'She's exactly like a woman sometimes,' Anna agreed. 'Sometimes I +fancy she's a great deal older than I am.' + +'Older than any of us,' he corrected. + +'I'm glad you like her,' Anna said, content. 'She thinks all the world +of you.' And she added: 'My word, wouldn't she be vexed if she knew I +had told you that!' + +This appreciation of Agnes brought them into closer intimacy, and they +talked the more easily of other things. + +'It will freeze to-night,' Mynors said; and then, suddenly looking at +her in the twilight: 'You are feeling chill.' + +'Oh, no!' she protested. + +'But you are. Put this muffler round your neck.' He took a muffler +from his pocket. + +'Oh, no, really! You will need it yourself.' She drew a little away +from him, as if to avoid the muffler. + +'Please take it.' + +She did so, and thanked him, tying it loosely and untidily round her +throat. That feeling of the untidiness of the muffler, of its being +something strange to her skin, something with the rough virtue of +masculinity, which no one could detect in the gloom, was in itself +pleasant. + +'I wager Mrs. Sutton has a good fire burning when we get in,' he said. + +She thought with joyous anticipation of the warm, bright, sitting-room, +the supper, and the vivacious good-natured conversation. Though the +walk was nearly at an end, other delights were in store. Of the +holiday, thirteen complete days yet remained, each to be as happy as +the one now closing. It was an age! At last they entered the human +cosiness of the village. As they walked up the steps of their lodging +and he opened the door for her, she quickly drew off the muffler and +returned it to him with a word of thanks. + +On Monday morning, when Beatrice and Anna came downstairs, they found +the breakfast odorously cooling on the table, and nobody in the room. + +'Where are they all, I wonder. Any letters?' Beatrice said. + +'There's your mother, out on the front--and Mr. Mynors too.' + +Beatrice threw up the window, and called: 'Come along, Henry; come +along, mother. Everything's going cold.' + +'Is it?' Mynors cheerfully replied. 'Come out here, both of you, and +begin the day properly with a dose of ozone.' + +'I loathe cold bacon,' said Beatrice, glancing at the table, and they +went out into the road, where Mrs. Sutton kissed them with as much +fervour as if they had arrived from a long journey. + +'You look pale, Anna,' she remarked. + +'Do I?' said Anna, 'I don't feel pale.' + +'It's that long walk last night,' Beatrice put in. 'Henry always goes +too far.' + +'I don't----' Anna began; but at that moment Mr. Sutton, lumbering and +ponderous, joined the party. + +'Henry,' he said, without greeting anyone, 'hast noticed those +half-finished houses down the road yonder by the "Falcon"? I've been +having a chat with Kelly, and he tells me the fellow that was building +them has gone bankrupt, and they're at a stand-still. The Receiver +wants to sell 'em. In fact Kelly says they're going cheap. I believe +they'd be a good spec.' + +'Eh, dear!' Mrs. Sutton interrupted him. 'Father, I wish you would +leave your specs alone when you're on your holiday.' + +'Now, missis!' he affectionately protested, and continued: 'They're +fairly well built, seemingly, and the rafters are on the roof. Anna,' +he turned to her quickly, as if counting on her sympathy, 'you must +come with me and look at 'em after breakfast. Happen they might suit +your father--or you. I know your father's fond of a good spec.' + +She assented with a ready smile. This was the beginning of a fancy +which the Alderman always afterwards showed for Anna. + +After breakfast Mrs. Sutton, Beatrice, and Anna arranged to go shopping: + +'Father--brass,' Mrs. Sutton ejaculated in two monosyllables to her +husband. + +'How much will content ye?' he asked mildly. + +'Give me five or ten pounds to go on with.' + +He opened the left-hand front pocket of his trousers--a pocket which +fastened with a button; and leaning back in his chair drew out a fat +purse, and passed it to his wife with a preoccupied air. She helped +herself, and then Beatrice intercepted the purse and lightened it of +half a sovereign. + +'Pocket-money,' Beatrice said; 'I'm ruined.' + +The Alderman's eyes requested Anna to observe how he was robbed. At +last the purse was safely buttoned up again. + +Mrs. Sutton's purchases of food at the three principal shops of the +village seemed startlingly profuse to Anna, but gradually she became +accustomed to the scale, and to the amazing habit of always buying the +very best of everything, from beefsteak to grapes. Anna calculated +that the housekeeping could not cost less than six pounds a week for +the five. At Manor Terrace three people existed on a pound. With her +half-sovereign Beatrice bought a belt and a pair of sand-shoes, and +some cigarettes for Henry. Mrs. Sutton bought a pipe with a nickel +cap, such as is used by sailors. When they returned to the house, Mr. +Sutton and Henry were smoking on the front. All five walked in a row +down to the harbour, the Alderman giving an arm each to Beatrice and +Anna. Near the 'Falcon' the procession had to be stopped in order to +view the unfinished houses. Tom Kelly had a cabin partly excavated out +of the rock behind the little quay. Here they found him entangled amid +nets, sails, and oars. All crowded into the cabin and shook hands with +its owner, who remarked with severity on their pallid faces, and +insisted that a change of complexion must be brought about. Mynors +offered him his tobacco-pouch, but on seeing the light colour of the +tobacco he shook his head and refused it, at the same time taking from +within his jersey a lump of something that resembled leather. + +'Give him this, Henry,' Mrs. Sutton whispered, handing Mynors the pipe +which she had bought. + +'Mrs. Sutton wishes you to accept this,' said Mynors. + +'Eh, thank ye,' he exclaimed. 'There's a leddy that knows my taste.' +He cut some shreds from his plug with a clasp-knife and charged and +lighted the pipe, filling the cabin with asphyxiating fumes. + +'I don't know how you can smoke such horrid, nasty stuff,' said +Beatrice, coughing. + +He laughed condescendingly at Beatrice's petulant manner. 'That stuff +of Henry's is boy's tobacco,' he said shortly. + +It was decided that they should go fishing in the 'Fay.' There was a +light southerly breeze, a cloudy sky, and smooth water. Under charge +of young Tom Kelly, a sheepish lad of sixteen, with his father's smile, +they all got into an inconceivably small dinghy, loading it down till +it was almost awash. Old Tom himself helped Anna to embark, told her +where to tread, and forced her gently into a seat at the stern. No one +else seemed to be disturbed, but Anna was in a state of desperate fear. +She had never committed herself to a boat before, and the little waves +spat up against the sides in a most alarming way as young Tom jerked +the dinghy along with the short sculls. She went white, and clung in +silence fiercely to the gunwale. In a few moments they were tied up to +the 'Fay,' which seemed very big and safe in comparison with the +dinghy. They clambered on board, and in the deep well of the two-ton +yacht Anna contrived to collect her wits. She was reassured by the +painted legend in the well, 'Licensed to carry eleven.' Young Tom and +Henry busied themselves with ropes, and suddenly a huge white sail +began to ascend the mast; it flapped like thunder in the gentle breeze. +Tom pulled up the anchor, curling the chain round and round on the +forward deck, and then Anna noticed that, although the wind was +scarcely perceptible, they were gliding quickly past the embankment. +Henry was at the tiller. The next minute Tom had set the jib, and by +this time the 'Fay' was approaching the breakwater at a great pace. +There was no rolling or pitching, but simply a smooth, swift +progression over the calm surface. Anna thought it the ideal of +locomotion. As soon as they were beyond the breakwater and the sails +caught the breeze from the Sound, the 'Fay' lay over as if shot, and a +little column of green water flung itself on the lee coaming of the +well. Anna screamed as she saw the water and felt the angle of the +floor suddenly change, but when everyone laughed, she laughed too. +Henry, noticing the whiteness of her knuckles as she gripped the +coaming, explained the disconcerting phenomena. Anna tried to be at +ease, but she was not. She could not for a long time dismiss the +suspicion that all these people were foolishly blind to a peril which +she alone had the sagacity to perceive. + +They cruised about while Tom prepared the lines. The short waves +chopped cheerfully against the carvel sides of the yacht; the clouds +were breaking at a hundred points; the sea grew lighter in tone; gaiety +was in the air; no one could possibly be indisposed in that innocuous +weather. At length the lines were ready, but Tom said the yacht was +making at least a knot too much for serious fishing, so Henry took a +reef in the mainsail, showing Anna how to tie the short strings. The +Alderman, lying on the fore-deck, was placidly smoking. The lines were +thrown out astern, and Mrs. Sutton and Beatrice each took one. But +they had no success; young Tom said it was because the sun had appeared. + +'Caught anything?' Mr. Sutton inquired at intervals. After a time he +said: + +'Suppose Anna and I have a try?' + +It was agreed. + +'What must I do?' asked Anna, brave now. + +'You just hold the line--so. And if you feel a little jerk-jerk, +that's a mackerel.' These were the instructions of Beatrice. Anna was +becoming excited. She had not held the line ten seconds before she +cried out: + +'I've got one.' + +'Nonsense,' said Beatrice. 'Everyone thinks at first that the motion +of the waves against the line is a fish.' + +'Well,' said Henry, giving the tiller to young Tom. 'Let's haul in and +see, anyway.' Before doing so he held the line for a moment, testing +it, and winked at Anna. While Anna and Henry were hauling in, the +Alderman, dropping his pipe, began also to haul in his own line with +great fury. + +'Got one, father?' Mrs. Sutton asked. + +'Ay!' + +Both lines came in together, and on each was a pounder. Anna saw her +fish gleam and flash like silver in the clear water as it neared the +surface. Henry held the line short, letting the mackerel plunge and +jerk, and then seized and unhooked the catch. + +'How cruel!' Anna cried, startled at the nearness of the two fish as +they sprang about in an old sugar box at her feet. Young Tom laughed +loud at her exclamation. 'They cairn't feel, miss,' he sniggered. +Anna wondered that a mouth so soft and kind could utter such heartless +words. + +In an hour the united efforts of the party had caught nine mackerel; it +was not a multitude, but the sun, in perfecting the weather, had spoilt +the sport. Anna had ceased to commiserate the captured fish. She was +obliged, however, to avert her head when Tom cut some skin from the +side of one of the mackerel to provide fresh bait; this device seemed +to her the extremest refinement of cruelty. Beatrice grew ominously +silent and inert, and Mrs. Sutton glanced first at her daughter and +then at her husband; the latter nodded. + +'We'd happen better be getting back, Henry,' said the Alderman. + +The 'Fay' swept home like a bird. They were at the quay, and Kelly was +dragging them one by one from the black dinghy on to what the Alderman +called _terra-firma_. Henry had the fish on a string. + +'How many did ye catch, Miss Tellwright?' Kelly asked benevolently. + +'I caught four,' Anna replied. Never before had she felt so proud, +elated, and boisterous. Never had the blood so wildly danced in her +veins. She looked at her short blue skirt which showed three inches of +ankle, put forward her brown-shod foot like a vain coquette, and darted +a covert look at Henry. When he caught it she laughed instead of +blushing. + +'Ye're doing well,' Tom Kelly approved. 'Ye'll make a famous +mackerel-fisher.' + +Five of the mackerel were given to young Tom, the other four preceded a +fowl in the menu of dinner. They were called Anna's mackerel, and all +the diners agreed that better mackerel had never been lured out of the +Irish Sea. + +In the afternoon the Alderman and his wife slept as usual, Mr. Sutton +with a bandanna handkerchief over his face. The rest went out +immediately; the invitation of the sun and the sea was far too +persuasive to be resisted. + +'I'm going to paint,' said Beatrice, with a resolute mien. 'I want to +paint Bradda Head frightfully. I tried last year, but I got it too +dark, somehow. I've improved since then. What are you going to do?' + +'We'll come and watch you,' said Henry. + +'Oh, no, you won't. At least you won't; you're such a critic. Anna +can if she likes.' + +'What! And me be left all afternoon by myself?' + +'Well, suppose you go with him, Anna, just to keep him from being +bored?' + +Anna hesitated. Once more she had the uncomfortable suspicion that +Mynors and herself were being manoeuvred. + +'Look here,' said Mynors to Beatrice. 'Have you decided absolutely to +paint?' + +'Absolutely.' The finality of the answer seemed to have a touch of +resentment. + +'Then'--he turned to Anna--'let's go and get that dinghy and row about +the bay. Eh?' + +She could offer no rational objection, and they were soon putting off +from the jetty, impelled seaward by a mighty push from Kelly's arm. It +was very hot. Mynors wore white flannels. He removed his coat, and +turned up his sleeves, showing thick, hairy arms. He sculled in a +manner almost dramatic, and the dinghy shot about like a water-spider +on a brook. Anna had nothing to do except to sit still and enjoy. +Everything was drowned in dazzling sunlight, and both Henry and Anna +could feel the process of tanning on their faces. The bay shimmered +with a million diamond points; it was impossible to keep the eyes open +without frowning, and soon Anna could see the beads of sweat on Henry's +crimson brow. + +'Warm?' she said. This was the first word of conversation. He merely +smiled in reply. Presently they were at the other side of the bay, in +a cave whose sandy and rock-strewn floor trembled clear under a fathom +of blue water. They landed on a jutting rock; Henry pushed his straw +hat back, and wiped his forehead. 'Glorious! glorious!' he exclaimed. +'Do you swim? No? You should get Beatrice to teach you. I swam out +here this morning at seven o'clock. It was chilly enough then. Oh! I +forgot, I told you at breakfast.' + +She could see him in the translucent water, swimming with long, +powerful strokes. Dozens of boats were moving lazily in the bay, each +with a cargo of parasols. + +'There's a good deal of the sunshade afloat,' he remarked. 'Why +haven't you got one? You'll get as brown as Tom Kelly.' + +'That's what I want,' she said. + +'Look at yourself in the water there,' he said, pointing to a little +pool left on the top of the rock by the tide. She did so, and saw two +fiery cheeks, and a forehead divided by a horizontal line into halves +of white and crimson; the tip of the nose was blistered. + +'Isn't it disgraceful?' he suggested. + +'Why,' she exclaimed, 'they'll never know me when I get home!' + +It was in such wise that they talked, endlessly exchanging trifles of +comment. Anna thought to herself: 'Is this love-making?' It could not +be, she decided; but she infinitely preferred it so. She was content. +She wished for nothing better than this apparently frivolous and +irresponsible dalliance. She felt that if Mynors were to be tender, +sentimental, and serious, she would become wretchedly self-conscious. + +They re-embarked, and, skirting the shore, gradually came round to the +beach. Up above them, on the cliffs, they could discern the +industrious figure of Beatrice, with easel and sketching-umbrella, and +all the panoply of the earnest amateur. + +'Do you sketch?' she asked him. + +'Not I!' he said scornfully. + +'Don't you believe in that sort of thing, then?' + +'It's all right for professional artists,' he said; 'people who can +paint. But---- Well, I suppose it's harmless for the amateurs--finds +them something to do.' + +'I wish I could paint, anyway,' she retorted. + +'I'm glad you can't,' he insisted. + +When they got back to the cliffs, towards tea-time, Beatrice was still +painting, but in a new spot. She seemed entirely absorbed in her work, +and did not hear their approach. + +'Let's creep up and surprise her,' Mynors whispered. 'You go first, +and put your hands over her eyes.' + +'Oh!' exclaimed Beatrice, blindfolded; 'how horrid you are, Henry! I +know who it is--I know who it is.' + +'You just don't, then,' said Henry, now in front of her. Anna removed +her hands. + +'Well, you told her to do it, I'm sure of that. And I was getting on +so splendidly! I shan't do another stroke now.' + +'That's right,' said Henry. 'You've wasted quite enough time as it is.' + +Beatrice pouted. She was evidently annoyed with both of them. She +looked from one to the other, jealous of their mutual understanding and +agreement. Mr. and Mrs. Sutton issued from the house, and the five +stood chatting till tea was ready; but the shadow remained on +Beatrice's face. Mynors made several attempts to laugh it away, and at +dusk these two went for a stroll to Port St. Mary. They returned in a +state of deep intimacy. During supper Beatrice was consciously and +elaborately angelic, and there was that in her voice and eyes, when +sometimes she addressed Mynors, which almost persuaded Anna that he +might once have loved his cousin. At night, in the bedroom, Anna +imagined that she could detect in Beatrice's attitude the least shade +of condescension. She felt hurt, and despised herself for feeling hurt. + +So the days passed, without much variety, for the Suttons were not +addicted to excursions. Anna was profoundly happy; she had forgotten +care. She agreed to every suggestion for amusement; each moment had +its pleasure, and this pleasure was quite independent of the thing +done; it sprang from all activities and idlenesses. She was at special +pains to fraternise with Mr. Sutton. He made an interesting companion, +full of facts about strata, outcrops, and breaks, his sole weakness +being the habit of quoting extremely sentimental scraps of verse when +walking by the sea-shore. He frankly enjoyed Anna's attention to him, +and took pride in her society. Mrs. Sutton, that simple heart, devoted +herself to the attainment of absolute quiescence. She had come for a +rest, and she achieved her purpose. Her kindliness became for the time +passive instead of active. Beatrice was a changing quantity in the +domestic equation. Plainly her parents had spoiled their only child, +and she had frequent fits of petulance, particularly with Mynors; but +her energy and spirits atoned well for these. As for Mynors, he +behaved exactly as on the first Monday. He spent many hours alone with +Anna--(Beatrice appeared to insist on leaving them together, even while +showing a faint resentment at the loneliness thus entailed on +herself)--and his attitude was such as Anna, ignorant of the ways of +brothers, deemed a brother might adopt. + +On the second Monday an incident occurred. In the afternoon Mr. Sutton +had asked Beatrice to go with him to Port St. Mary, and she had refused +on the plea that the light was of a suitable grey for painting. Mr. +Sutton had slipped off alone, unseen by Anna and Henry, who had meant +to accompany him in place of Beatrice. Before tea, while Anna, +Beatrice and Henry were awaiting the meal in the parlour, Mynors +referred to the matter. + +'I hope you've done some decent work this afternoon,' he said to +Beatrice. + +'I haven't,' she replied shortly; 'I haven't done a stroke.' + +'But you said you were going to paint hard!' + +'Well, I didn't.' + +'Then why couldn't you have gone to Port St. Mary, instead of breaking +your fond father's heart by a refusal?' + +'He didn't want me, really.' + +Anna interjected: 'I think he did, Bee.' + +'You, know you're very self-willed, not to say selfish,' Mynors said. + +'No, I'm not,' Beatrice protested seriously. 'Am I, Anna?' + +'Well----' Anna tried to think of a diplomatic pronouncement. +Beatrice took offence at the hesitation. + +'Oh! You two are bound to agree, of course. You're as thick as +thieves.' + +She gazed steadily out of the window, and there was a silence. Mynors' +lip curled. + +'Oh! There's the loveliest yacht just coming into the bay,' Beatrice +cried suddenly, in a tone of affected enthusiasm. 'I'm going out to +sketch it.' She snatched up her hat and sketching-block, and ran +hastily from the room. The other two saw her sitting on the grass, +sharpening a pencil. The yacht, a large and luxurious craft, had +evidently come to anchor for the night. + +Mrs. Sutton arrived from her bedroom, and then Mr. Sutton also came in. +Tea was served. Mynors called to Beatrice through the window and +received no reply. Then Mrs. Sutton summoned her. + +'Go on with your tea,' Beatrice shouted, without turning her head. +'Don't wait for me. I'm bound to finish this now.' + +'Fetch her, Anna dear,' said Mrs. Sutton after another interval. Anna +rose to obey, half-fearful. + +'Aren't you coming in, Bee?' She stood by the sketcher's side, and +observed nothing but a few meaningless lines on the block. + +'Didn't you hear what I said to mother?' + +Anna retired in discomfiture. + +Tea was finished. They went out, but kept at a discreet distance from +the artist, who continued to use her pencil until dusk had fallen. +Then they returned to the sitting-room, where a fire had been lighted, +and Beatrice at length followed. As the others sat in a circle round +the fire, Beatrice, who occupied the sofa in solitude, gave a shiver. + +'Beatrice, you've taken cold,' said her mother, sitting out there like +that.' + +'Oh, nonsense, mother--what a fidget you are!' + +'A fidget I certainly am not, my darling, and that you know very well. +As you've had no tea, you shall have some gruel at once, and go to bed +and get warm.' + +'Oh no, mother!' But Mrs. Sutton was resolved, and in half an hour she +had taken Beatrice to bed and tucked her up. + +When Anna went to the bedroom Beatrice was awake. + +'Can't you sleep?' she inquired kindly. + +'No,' said Beatrice, in a feeble voice, 'I'm restless, somehow.' + +'I wonder if it's influenza,' said Mrs. Sutton, on the following +morning, when she learnt from Anna that Beatrice had had a bad night, +and would take breakfast in bed. She carried the invalid's food +upstairs herself. 'I hope it isn't influenza,' she said later. 'The +girl is very hot.' + +'You haven't a clinical thermometer?' Mynors suggested. + +'Go, see if you can buy one at the little chemist's,' she replied +eagerly. In a few minutes he came back with the instrument. + +'She's at over a hundred,' Mrs. Sutton reported, having used the +thermometer. 'What do you say, father? Shall we send for a doctor? +I'm not so set up with doctors as a general rule,' she added, as if in +defence, to Anna. 'I brought Beatrice through measles and scarlet +fever without a doctor--we never used to think of having a doctor in +those days for ordinary ailments; but influenza--that's different. Eh, +I dread it; you never know how it will end. And poor Beatrice had such +a bad attack last Martinmas.' + +'If you like, I'll run for a doctor now,' said Mynors. + +'Let be till to-morrow,' the Alderman decided. 'We'll see how she goes +on. Happen it's nothing but a cold.' + +'Yes,' assented Mrs. Sutton; 'it's no use crying out before you're +hurt.' + +Anna was struck by the placidity with which they covered their +apprehension. Towards noon, Beatrice, who said that she felt better, +insisted on rising. A fire was lighted at once in the parlour, and she +sat in front of it till tea-time, when she was obliged to go to bed +again. On the Wednesday morning, after a night which had been almost +sleepless for both girls, her temperature stood at 103 deg., and Henry +fetched the doctor, who pronounced it a case of influenza, severe, +demanding very careful treatment. Instantly the normal movement of the +household was changed. The sickroom became a mysterious centre round +which everything revolved, and the parlour, without the alteration of a +single chair, took on a deserted, forlorn appearance. Meals were eaten +like the passover, with loins girded for any sudden summons. Mrs. +Sutton and Anna, as nurses, grew important in the eyes of the men, who +instinctively effaced themselves, existing only like messenger-boys +whose business it is to await a call. Yet there was no alarm, flurry, +nor excitement. In the evening the doctor returned. The patient's +temperature had not fallen. It was part of the treatment that a +medicine should be administered every two hours with absolute +regularity, and Mrs. Sutton said that she should sit up through the +night. + +'I shall do that,' said Anna. + +'Nay, I won't hear of it,' Mrs. Sutton replied, smiling. + +But the three men (the doctor had remained to chat in the parlour), +recognising Anna's capacity and reliability, and perhaps impressed also +by her business-like appearance as, arrayed in a white apron, she stood +with firm lips before them, gave a unanimous decision against Mrs. +Sutton. + +'We'st have you ill next, lass,' said the Alderman to his wife; 'and +that'll never do.' + +'Well,' Mrs. Sutton surrendered, 'if I can leave her to anyone, it's +Anna.' + +Mynors smiled appreciatively. + +On the Thursday morning there was still no sign of recovery. The +temperature was 104 deg., and the patient slightly delirious. Anna left +the sickroom at eight o'clock to preside at breakfast, and Mrs. Sutton +took her place. + +'You look tired, my dear,' said the Alderman affectionately. + +'I feel perfectly well,' she replied with cheerfulness. + +'And you aren't afraid of catching it?' Mynors asked. + +'Afraid?' she said; 'there's no fear of me catching it.' + +'How do you know?' + +'I know, that's all. I'm never ill.' + +'That's the right way to keep well,' the Alderman remarked. + +The quiet admiration of these two men was very pleasant to her. She +felt that she had established herself for ever in their esteem. After +breakfast, in obedience to them, she slept for several hours on Mrs. +Sutton's bed. In the afternoon Beatrice was worse. The doctor called, +and found her temperature at 105.9. + +'This can't last,' he remarked briefly. + +'Well, Doctor,' Mr. Sutton said, 'it's i' your hands.' + +'Nay,' Mrs. Sutton murmured with a smile, 'I've left it with God. It's +with Him.' + +This was the first and only word of religion, except grace at table, +that Anna heard from the Suttons during her stay in the Isle of Man. +She had feared lest vocal piety might form a prominent feature of their +daily life, but her fear had proved groundless. She, too, from reason +rather than instinct, had tried to pray for Beatrice's recovery. She +had, however, found much more satisfaction in the activity of nursing. + +Again that night she sat up, and on the Friday morning Beatrice was +better. At noon all immediate danger was past; the patient slept; her +temperature was almost correct. Anna went to bed in the afternoon and +slept soundly till supper-time, when she awoke very hungry. For the +first time in three days Beatrice could be left alone. The other four +had supper together, cheerful and relieved after the tension. + +'She'll be as right as a trivet in a few days,' said the Alderman. + +'A few weeks,' said Mrs. Sutton. + +'Of course,' said Mynors, 'you'll stay on here, now?' + +'We shall stay until Beatrice is quite fit to travel,' Mr. Sutton +answered. 'I might have to run over to th' Five Towns for a day or two +middle of next week, but I can come back immediately.' + +'Well, I must go tomorrow,' Mynors sighed. + +'Surely you can stay over Sunday, Henry?' + +'No; I've no one to take my place at school.' + +'And I must go to-morrow, too,' said Anna suddenly. + +'Fiddle-de-dee, Anna!' the Alderman protested. + +'I must,' she insisted. 'Father will expect me. You know I came for a +fortnight. Besides, there's Agnes.' + +'Agnes will be all right.' + +'I must go.' They saw that she was fixed. + +'Won't a short walk do you good?' Mynors suggested to her, with +singular gravity, after supper. 'You've not been outside for two days.' + +She looked inquiringly at Mrs. Sutton. + +'Yes, take her, Henry; she'll sleep better for it. Eh, Anna, but it's +a shame to send you home with those rings round your eyes.' + +She went upstairs for a jacket. Beatrice was awake. 'Anna,' she +exclaimed in a weak voice, without any preface, 'I was awfully silly +and cross the other afternoon, before all this business. Just now, +when you came into the room, I was feeling quite ashamed.' + +'Oh! Bee!' she answered, bending over her, 'what nonsense! Now go off +to sleep at once.' She was very happy. Beatrice, victim of a +temperament which had the childishness and the impulsiveness of the +artist without his higher and sterner traits, sank back in facile +content. + +The night was still and very dark. When Anna and Mynors got outside +they could distinguish neither the sky nor the sea; but the faint, +restless murmur of the sea came up the cliffs. Only the lights of the +houses disclosed the direction of the road. + +'Suppose we go down to the jetty, and then along as far as the +breakwater?' he said, and she concurred. 'Won't you take my +muffler--again?' he added, pulling this ever-present article from his +pocket. + +'No, thanks,' she said, almost coldly, 'it's really quite warm.' She +regarded the offer of the muffler as an indiscretion--his sole +indiscretion during their acquaintance. As they walked down the hill +to the shore she though how Beatrice's illness had sharply interrupted +their relations. If she had come to the Isle of Man with a vague idea +that he would possibly propose to her, the expectation was +disappointed; but she felt no disappointment. She felt that events had +lifted her to a higher plane than that of love-making. She was filled +with the proud satisfaction of a duty accomplished. She did not seek +to minimise to herself the fact that she had been of real value to her +friends in the last few days, had probably saved Mrs. Sutton from +illness, had certainly laid them all under an obligation. Their +gratitude, unexpressed, but patent on each face, gave her infinite +pleasure. She had won their respect by the manner in which she had +risen to the height of an emergency that demanded more than devotion. +She had proved, not merely to them but to herself, that she could be +calm under stress, and could exert moral force when occasion needed. +Such were the joyous and exultant reflections which passed through her +brain--unnaturally active in the factitious wakefulness caused by +excessive fatigue. She was in an extremely nervous and excitable +condition--and never guessed it, fancying indeed that her emotions were +exceptionally tranquil that night. She had not begun to realise the +crisis through which she had just lived. + +The uneven road to the ruined breakwater was quite deserted. Having +reached the limit of the path, they stood side by side, solitary, +silent, gazing at the black and gently heaving surface of the sea. The +eye was foiled by the intense gloom; the ear could make nothing of the +strange night-noises of the bay and the ocean beyond; but the +imagination was stimulated by the appeal of all this mystery and +darkness. Never had the water seemed so wonderful, terrible, and +austere. + +'We are going away to-morrow,' he said at length. + +Anna started and shook with apprehension at the tremor in his voice. +She had read that a woman was always well warned by her instincts when +a man meant to propose to her. But here was the proposal imminent, and +she had not suspected. In a flash of insight she perceived that the +very event which had separated them for three days had also impelled +the lover forward in his course. It was the thought of her vigils, her +fortitude, her compassion, that had fanned the flame. She was not +surprised, only made uncomfortable, when he took her hand. + +'Anna,' he said, 'it's no use making a long story of it. I'm +tremendously in love with you; you know I am.' + +He stepped back, still holding her hand. She could say nothing. + +'Well?' he ventured. 'Didn't you know?' + +'I thought--I thought,' she murmured stupidly, 'I thought you liked me.' + +'I can't tell you how I admire you. I'm not going to praise you to +your face, but I simply never met anyone like you. From the very first +moment I saw you, it was the same. It's something in your face, +Anna---- Anna, will you be my wife?' + +The actual question was put in a precise, polite, somewhat conventional +tone. To Anna he was never more himself than at that moment. + +She could not speak; she could not analyse her feelings; she could not +even think. She was adrift. At last she stammered: 'We've only known +each other----' + +'Oh, dear,' he exclaimed masterfully, 'what does that matter? If it +had been a dozen years instead of one, that would have made no +difference.' She drew her hand timidly away, but he took it again. +She felt that he dominated her and would decide for her. 'Say yes.' + +'Yes,' she said. + +She saw pictures of her career as his wife, and resolved that one of +the first acts of her freedom should be to release Agnes from the more +ignominious of her father's tyrannies. + +They walked home almost in silence. She was engaged, then. Yet she +experienced no new sensation. She felt as she had felt on the way +down, except that she was sorely perturbed. There was no ineffable +rapture, no ecstatic bliss. Suddenly the prospect of happiness swept +over her like a flood. + +At the gate she wished to make a request to him, but hesitated, because +she could not bring herself to use his Christian name. It was proper +for her to use his Christian name, however, and she would do so, or +perish. + +'Henry,' she said, 'don't tell anyone here.' He merely kissed her once +more. She went straight upstairs. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE DOWNFALL + +In order to catch the Liverpool steamer at Douglas it was necessary to +leave Port Erin at half-past six in the morning. The freshness of the +morning, and the smiles of the Alderman and his wife as they waved +God-speed from the doorstep, filled Anna with a serene content which +she certainly had not felt during the wakeful night. She forgot, then, +the hours passed with her conscience in realising how serious and +solemn a thing was this engagement, made in an instant on the previous +evening. All that remained in her mind, as she and Henry walked +quickly down the road, was the tonic sensation of high resolves to be a +worthy wife. The duties, rather than the joys, of her condition, had +lain nearest her heart until that moment of setting out, giving her an +anxious and almost worried mien which at breakfast neither Henry nor +the Suttons could quite understand. But now the idea of duty ceased +for a time to be paramount, and she loosed herself to the pleasures of +the day in store. The harbour was full of low wandering mists, through +which the brown sails of the fishing-smacks played at hide-and-seek. +High above them the round forms of immense clouds were still carrying +the colours of sunrise. The gentle salt wind on the cheek was like the +touch of a life-giver. It was impossible, on such a morning, not to +exult in life, not to laugh childishly from irrational glee, not to +dismiss the memory of grief and the apprehension of grief as morbid +hallucinations. Mynor's face expressed the double happiness of present +and anticipated pleasure. He had once again succeeded, he who had +never failed; and the voyage back to England was for him a triumphal +progress. Anna responded eagerly to his mood. The day was an ecstasy, +a bright expanse unstained. To Anna in particular it was a unique day, +marking the apogee of her existence. In the years that followed she +could always return to it and say to herself: 'That day I was happy, +foolishly, ignorantly, but utterly. And all that I have since learnt +cannot alter it--I was happy.' + +When they reached Shawport Station a cab was waiting for Anna. Unknown +to her, Henry had ordered it by telegraph. This considerateness was of +a piece, she thought, with his masterly conduct of the entire +journey--on the steamer, at Liverpool, in the train; nothing that an +experienced traveller could devise had been lacking to her comfort. +She got into the cab alone, while Mynors, followed by a boy and his +bag, walked to his rooms in Mount Street. It had been arranged, at +Anna's wish, that he should not appear at Manor Terrace till +supper-time. Ephraim opened for her the door of her home. It seemed +to her that he was pleased. + +'Well, father, here I am again, you see.' + +'Ay, lass.' They shook hands, and she indicated to the cabman where to +deposit her tin-box. She was glad and relieved to be back. Nothing +had changed, except herself, and this absolute sameness was at once +pleasant and pathetic to her. + +'Where's Agnes?' she asked, smiling at her father. In the glow of +arrival she had a vague notion that her relations with him had been +permanently softened by absence. + +'I see thou's gotten into th' habit o' flitting about in cabs,' he +said, without answering her question. + +'Well, father,' she said, smiling yet, 'there was the box. I couldn't +carry the box.' + +'I reckon thou couldst ha' hired a lad to carry it for sixpence.' + +She did not reply. The cabman had gone to his vehicle. + +'Art'na going to pay th' cabby?' + +'I've paid him, father.' + +'How much?' + +She paused. 'Eighteen-pence, father.' It was a lie; she had paid two +shillings. + +She went eagerly into the kitchen, and then into the parlour, where tea +was set for one. Agnes was not there. 'Her's upstairs,' Ephraim said, +meeting Anna as she came into the lobby again. She ran softly +upstairs, and into the bedroom. Agnes was replacing ornaments on the +mantelpiece with mathematical exactitude; under her arm was a duster. +The child turned, startled, and gave a little shriek. + +'Eh, I didn't know you'd come. How early you are!' + +They rushed towards each other, embraced, and kissed. Anna was +overcome by the pathos of her sister's loneliness in that grim house +for fourteen days, while she, the elder, had been absorbed in selfish +gaiety. The pale face, large, melancholy eyes, and long, thin arms, +were a silent accusation. She wondered that she could ever have +brought herself to leave Agnes even for a day. Sitting down on the +bed, she drew the child on her knee in a fury of love, and kissed her +again, weeping. Agnes cried too, for sympathy. + +'Oh, my dear, dear Anna, I'm so glad you've come back!' She dried her +eyes, and in quite a different tone of voice asked: 'Has Mr. Mynors +proposed to you?' + +Anna could not avoid a blush at this simple and astounding query. She +said: 'Yes.' It was the one word of which she was capable, under the +circumstances. That was not the moment to tax Agnes with too much +precocity and abruptness. + +'You're engaged, then? Oh, Anna, does it feel nice? It must. I knew +you would be!' + +'How did you know, Agnes?' + +'I mean I knew he would ask you, some time. All the girls at school +knew too.' + +'I hope you didn't talk about it,' said the elder sister. + +'Oh, no! But they did; they were always talking about it.' + +'You never told me that.' + +'I--I didn't like to. Anna, shall I have to call him Henry now?' + +'Yes, of course. When we're married he will be your brother-in-law.' + +'Shall you be married soon, Anna?' + +'Not for a very long time.' + +'When you are--shall I keep house alone? I can, you know---- I shall +never dare to call him Henry. But he's awfully nice; isn't he, Anna? +Yes, when you are married, I shall keep house here, but I shall come to +see you every day. Father will have to let me do that. Does father +know you're engaged?' + +'Not yet. And you mustn't say anything. Henry is coming for supper. +And then father will be told.' + +'Did he kiss you, Anna?' + +'Who--father?' + +'No, silly! Henry, of course--I mean when he'd asked you?' + +'I think you are asking all the questions. Suppose I ask you some now. +How have you managed with father? Has he been nice?' + +'Some days--yes,' said Agnes, after thinking a moment. 'We have had +some new cups and saucers up from Mr. Mynors works. And father has +swept the kitchen chimney. And, oh Anna! I asked him to-day if I'd +kept house well, and he said "Pretty well," and he gave me a penny. +Look! It's the first money I've ever had, you know. I wanted you at +nights, Anna--and all the time, too. I've been frightfully busy. I +cleaned silvers all afternoon. Anna, I _have_ tried---- And I've got +some tea for you. I'll go down and make it. Now you mustn't come into +the kitchen. I'll bring it to you in the parlour.' + +'I had my tea at Crewe,' Anna was about to say, but refrained, in due +course drinking the cup prepared by Agnes. She felt passionately sorry +for Agnes, too young to feel the shadow which overhung her future. +Anna would marry into freedom, but Agnes would remain the serf. Would +Agnes marry? Could she? Would her father allow it? Anna had noticed +that in families the youngest, petted in childhood, was often +sacrificed in maturity. It was the last maid who must keep her +maidenhood, and, vicariously filial, pay out of her own life the debt +of all the rest. + +'Mr. Mynors is coming up for supper to-night. He wants to see you;' +Anna said to her father, as calmly as she could. The miser grunted. +But at eight o'clock, the hour immutably fixed for supper, Henry had +not arrived. The meal proceeded, of course, without him. To Anna his +absence was unaccountable and disturbing, for none could be more +punctilious than he in the matter of appointments. She expected him +every moment, but he did not appear. Agnes, filled full of the great +secret confided to her, was more openly impatient than her sister. +Neither of them could talk, and a heavy silence fell upon the family +group, a silence which her father, on that particular evening of Anna's +return, resented. + +'You dunna' tell us much,' he remarked, when the supper was finished. + +She felt that the complaint was a just one. Even before supper, when +nothing had occurred to preoccupy her, she had spoken little. There +had seemed so much to tell--at Port Erin, and now there seemed nothing +to tell. She ventured into a flaccid, perfunctory account of +Beatrice's illness, of the fishing, of the unfinished houses which had +caught the fancy of Mr. Sutton; she said the sea had been smooth, that +they had had something to eat at Liverpool, that the train for Crewe +was very prompt; and then she could think of no more. Silence fell +again. The supper-things were cleared away and washed up. At a +quarter-past nine, Agnes, vainly begging permission to stay up in order +to see Mr. Mynors, was sent to bed, only partially comforted by a +clothes-brush, long desired, which Anna had brought for her as a +present from the Isle of Man. + +'Shall you tell father yourself, now Henry hasn't come?' the child +asked Anna, who had gone upstairs to unpack her box. + +'Yes,' said Anna, briefly. + +'I wonder what he'll say,' Agnes reflected, with that habit, always +annoying to Anna, of meeting trouble half-way. + +At a quarter to ten Anna ceased to expect Mynors, and finally braced +herself to the ordeal of a solemn interview with her father, well +knowing that she dared not leave him any longer in ignorance of her +engagement. Already the old man was locking and bolting the door; he +had wound up the kitchen clock. When he came back to the parlour to +extinguish the gas she was standing by the mantelpiece. + +'Father,' she began, 'I've something I must tell you.' + +'Eh, what's that ye say?' his hand was on the gas-tap. He dropped it, +examining her face curiously. + +'Mr. Mynors has asked me to marry him; he asked me last night. We +settled he should come up to-night to see you--I can't think why he +hasn't. It must be something very unexpected and important, or he'd +have come.' She trembled, her heart beat violently; but the words were +out, and she thanked God. + +'Asked ye to marry him, did he?' The miser gazed at her quizzically +out of his small blue eyes. + +'Yes, father.' + +'And what didst say?' + +'I said I would.' + +'Oh! Thou saidst thou wouldst! I reckon it was for thatten as thou +must go gadding off to seaside, eh?' + +'Father, I never dreamt of such a thing when Suttons asked me to go. I +do wish Henry'--the cost of that Christian name!--'had come. He quite +meant to come to-night.' She could not help insisting on the propriety +of Henry's intentions. + +'Then I am for be consulted, eh?' + +'Of course, father.' + +'Ye've soon made it up, between ye.' + +His tone was, at the best, brusque; but she breathed more easily, +divining instantly from his manner that he meant to offer no violent +objection to the engagement. She knew that only tact was needed now. +The miser had, indeed, foreseen the possibility of this marriage for +months past, and had long since decided in his own mind that Henry +would make a satisfactory son-in-law. Ephraim had no social +ambitions--with all his meanness, he was above them; he had nothing but +contempt for rank, style, luxury, and 'the theory of what it is to be a +lady and a gentleman.' Yet, by a curious contradiction, Henry's +smartness of appearance--the smartness of an unrivalled commercial +traveller--pleased him. He saw in Henry a young and sedate man of +remarkable shrewdness, a man who had saved money, had made money for +others, and was now making it for himself; a man who could be trusted +absolutely to perform that feat of 'getting on'; a 'safe' and +profoundly respectable man, at the same time audacious and +imperturbable. He was well aware that Henry had really fallen in love +with Anna, but nothing would have convinced him that Anna's money was +not the primal cause of Henry's genuine passion for Anna's self. + +'You like Henry, don't you, father?' Anna said. It was a failure in +the desired tact, for Ephraim had never been known to admit that he +liked anyone or anything. Such natures are capable of nothing more +positive than toleration. + +'He's a hard-headed chap, and he knows the value o' money. Ay! that he +does; he knows which side his bread's buttered on.' A sinister +emphasis marked the last sentence. + +Instead of remaining silent, Anna, in her nervousness, committed +another imprudence. 'What do you mean, father?' she asked, pretending +that she thought it impossible he could mean what he obviously did mean. + +'Thou knows what I'm at, lass. Dost think he isna' marrying thee for +thy brass? Dost think as he canna' make a fine guess what thou'rt +worth? But that wunna' bother thee as long as thou'st hooked a +good-looking chap.' + +'Father!' + +'Ay! thou mayst bridle; but it's true. Dunna' tell me.' + +Securely conscious of the perfect purity of Mynors' affection, she was +not in the least hurt. She even thought that her father's attitude was +not quite sincere, an attitude partially due to mere wilful +churlishness. 'Henry has never even mentioned money to me,' she said +mildly. + +'Happen not; he isna' such a fool as that.' He paused, and continued: +'Thou'rt free to wed, for me. Lasses will do it, I reckon, and thee +among th' rest.' She smiled, and on that smile he suddenly turned out +the gas. Anna was glad that the colloquy had ended so well. +Congratulations, endearments, loving regard for her welfare: she had +not expected these things, and was in no wise grieved by their absence. +Groping her way towards the lobby, she considered herself lucky, and +only wished that nothing had happened to keep Mynors away. She wanted +to tell him at once that her father had proved tractable. + + +The next morning, Tellwright, whose attendance at chapel was losing the +strictness of its old regularity, announced that he should stay at +home. Sunday's dinner was to be a cold repast, and so Anna and Agnes +went to chapel. Anna's thoughts were wholly occupied with the prospect +of seeing Mynors, and hearing the explanation of his absence on +Saturday night. + +'There he is!' Agnes exclaimed loudly, as they were approaching the +chapel. + +'Agnes,' said Anna, 'when will you learn to behave in the street?' + +Mynors stood at the chapel-gates; he was evidently awaiting them. He +looked grave, almost sad. He raised his hat and shook hands, with a +particular friendliness for Agnes, who was speculating whether he would +kiss Anna, as his betrothed, or herself, as being only a little girl, +or both or neither of them. Her eyes already expressed a sort of +ownership in him. + +'I should like to speak to you a moment,' Henry said. 'Will you come +into the school-yard?' + +'Agnes, you had better go straight into chapel,' said Anna. It was an +ignominious disaster to the child, but she obeyed. + +'I didn't give you up last night till nearly ten o'clock,' Anna +remarked as they passed into the school-yard. She was astonished to +discover in herself an inclination to pout, to play the offended fair +one, because Mynors had failed in his appointment. Contemptuously she +crushed it. + +'Have you heard about Mr. Price?' Mynors began. + +'No. What about him? Has anything happened?' + +'A very sad thing has happened. Yes----' He stopped, from emotion. +'Our superintendent has committed suicide!' + +'Killed himself?' Anna gasped. + +'He hanged himself yesterday afternoon at Edward Street, in the +slip-house after the works were closed. Willie had gone home, but he +came back, when his father didn't turn up for dinner, and found him. +Mr. Price was quite dead. He ran in to my place to fetch me just as I +was getting my tea. That was why I never came last night.' + +Anna was speechless. + +'I thought I would tell you myself,' Henry resumed. 'It's an awful +thing for the Sunday-school, and the whole society, too. He, a +prominent Wesleyan, a worker among us! An awful thing!' he repeated, +dominated by the idea of the blow thus dealt to the Methodist connexion +by the man now dead. + +'Why did he do it?' Anna demanded, curtly. + +Mynors shrugged his shoulders, and ejaculated: 'Business troubles, I +suppose; it couldn't be anything else. At school this morning I simply +announced that he was dead.' Henry's voice broke, but he added, after +a pause: 'Young Price bore himself splendidly last night.' + +Anna turned away in silence. 'I shall come up for tea, if I may,' +Henry said, and then they parted, he to the singing-seat, she to the +portico of the chapel. People were talking in groups on the broad +steps and in the vestibule. All knew of the calamity, and had received +from it a new interest in life. The town was aroused as if from a +lethargy. Consternation and eager curiosity were on every face. Those +who arrived in ignorance of the event were informed of it in impressive +tones, and with intense satisfaction to the informer; nothing of equal +importance had happened in the society for decades. Anna walked up the +aisle to her pew, filled with one thought: + +'We drove him to it, father and I.' + +Her fear was that the miser had renewed his terrible insistence during +the previous fortnight. She forgot that she had disliked the dead man, +that he had always seemed to her mean, pietistic, and two-faced. She +forgot that in pressing him for rent many months overdue she and her +father had acted within their just rights--acted as Price himself would +have acted in their place. She could think only of the strain, the +agony, the despair that must have preceded the miserable tragedy. Old +Price had atoned for all in one sublime sin, the sole deed that could +lend dignity and repose to such a figure as his. Anna's feverish +imagination reconstituted the scene in the slip-house: she saw it as +something grand, accusing, and unanswerable; and she could not dismiss +a feeling of acute remorse that she should have been engaged in +pleasure at that very hour of death. Surely some instinct should have +warned her that the hare which she had helped to hunt was at its last +gasp! + +Mr. Sargent, the newly-appointed second minister, was in the pulpit--a +little, earnest bachelor, who emphasised every sentence with a +continual tremor of the voice. 'Brethren,' he said, after the second +hymn--and his tones vibrated with a singular effect through the +half-empty building: 'Before I proceed to my sermon I have one word to +say in reference to the awful event which is doubtless uppermost in the +minds of all of you. It is not for us to judge the man who is now gone +from us, ushered into the dread presence of his Maker with the crime of +self-murder upon his soul. I say it is not for us to judge him. The +ways of the Almighty are past finding out. Therefore at such a moment +we may fitly humble ourselves before the Throne, and while prostrate +there let us intercede for the poor young man who is left behind, +bereft, and full of grief and shame. We will engage in silent prayer.' +He lifted his hand, and closed his eyes, and the congregation leaned +forward against the fronts of the pews. The appealing face of Willie +presented itself vividly to Anna. + +'Who is it?' Agnes asked, in a whisper of appalling distinctness. Anna +frowned angrily, and gave no reply. + +While the last hymn was being sung, Anna signed to Agnes that she +wished to leave the chapel. Everyone would be aware that she was among +Price's creditors, and she feared that if she stayed till the end of +the service some chatterer might draw her into a distressing +conversation. The sisters went out, and Agnes's burning curiosity was +at length relieved. + +'Mr. Price has hanged himself,' Anna said to her father when they +reached home. + +The miser looked through the window for a moment. 'I am na' +surprised,' he said. 'Suicide's i' that blood. Titus's uncle 'Lijah +tried to kill himself twice afore he died o' gravel. Us'n have to do +summat wi' Edward Street at last.' + +She wanted to ask Ephraim if he had been demanding more rent lately, +but she could not find courage to do so. + +Agnes had to go to Sunday-school alone that afternoon. Without saying +anything to her father, Anna decided to stay at home. She spent the +time in her bedroom, idle, preoccupied; and did not come downstairs +till half-past three. Ephraim had gone out. Agnes presently returned, +and then Henry came in with Mr. Tellwright. They were conversing +amicably, and Anna knew that her engagement was finally and +satisfactorily settled. During tea no reference was made to it, nor to +the suicide. Mynors' demeanour was quiet but cheerful. He had partly +recovered from the morning's agitation, and gave Ephraim and Agnes a +vivacious account of the attractions of Port Erin. Anna noticed the +amusement in his eyes when Agnes, reddening, said to him: 'Will you +have some more bread-and-butter, Henry?' It seemed to be tacitly +understood afterwards that Agnes and her father would attend chapel, +while Henry and Anna kept house. No one was ingenious enough to detect +an impropriety in the arrangement. For some obscure reason, +immediately upon the departure of the chapel-goers, Anna went into the +kitchen, rattled some plates, stroked her hair mechanically, and then +stole back again to the parlour. It was a chilly evening, and instead +of walking up and down the strip of garden the betrothed lovers sat +together under the window. Anna wondered whether or not she was happy. +The presence of Mynors was, at any rate, marvellously soothing. + +'Did your father say anything about the Price affair?' he began, +yielding at once to the powerful hypnotism of the subject which +fascinated the whole town that night, and which Anna could bear neither +to discuss nor to ignore. + +'Not much,' she said, and repeated to him her father's remark. + +Mynors told her all he knew; how Willie had discovered his father with +his toes actually touching the floor, leaning slightly forward, quite +dead; how he had then cut the rope and fetched Mynors, who went with +him to the police-station; how they had tied up the head of the corpse, +and then waited till night to wheel the body on a hand-cart from Edward +Street to the mortuary chamber at the police-station; how the police +had telephoned to the coroner, and settled at once that the inquest +should be held on Tuesday in the court-room at the town-hall; and how +quiet, self-contained, and dignified Willie had been, surprising +everyone by this new-found manliness. It all seemed hideously real to +Anna, as Henry added detail to detail. + +'I think I ought to tell you,' she said very calmly, when he had +finished the recital, 'that I--I'm dreadfully upset over it. I can't +help thinking that I--that father and I, I mean--are somehow partly +responsible for this.' + +'For Price's death? How?' + +'We have been so hard on him for his rent lately, you know.' + +My dearest girl! What next?' He took her hand in his. 'I assure you +the idea is absurd. You've only got it because you're so sensitive and +high-strung. I undertake to say Price was stuck fast everywhere--every +where--hadn't a chance.' + +'Me high-strung!' she exclaimed. He kissed her lovingly. But, beneath +the feeling of reassurance, which by superior force he had imposed on +her, there lay a feeling that she was treated like a frightened child +who must be tranquillized in the night. Nevertheless, she was grateful +for his kindness, and when she went to bed she obtained relief from the +returning obsession of the suicide by making anew her vows to him. + +As a theatrical effect the death of Titus Price could scarcely have +been surpassed. The town was profoundly moved by the spectacle of this +abject yet heroic surrender of all those pretences by which society +contrives to tolerate itself. Here was a man whom no one respected, +but everyone pretended to respect--who knew that he was respected by +none, but pretended that he was respected by all; whose whole career +was made up of dissimulations: religious, moral, and social. If any +man could have been trusted to continue the decent sham to the end, and +so preserve the general self-esteem, surely it was this man. But no! +Suddenly abandoning all imposture, he transgresses openly, brazenly; +and, snatching a bit of hemp cries: 'Behold me; this is real human +nature. This is the truth; the rest was lies. I lied; you lied. I +confess it, and you shall confess it.' Such a thunderclap shakes the +very base of the microcosm. The young folk in particular could with +difficulty believe their ears. It seemed incredible to them that Titus +Price, the Methodist, the Sunday-school superintendent, the loud +champion of the highest virtues, should commit the sin of all +sins--murder. They were dazed. The remembrance of his insincerity did +nothing to mitigate the blow. In their view it was perhaps even worse +that he had played false to his own falsity. The elders were a little +less disturbed. The event was not unique in their experience. They +had lived longer and felt these seismic shocks before. They could go +back into the past and find other cases where a swift impulse had +shattered the edifice of a lifetime. They knew that the history of +families and of communities is crowded with disillusion. They had +discovered that character is changeless, irrepressible, incurable. +They were aware of the astonishing fact, which takes at least thirty +years to learn, that a Sunday-school superintendent is a man. And the +suicide of Titus Price, when they had realised it, served but to +confirm their most secret and honest estimate of humanity, that +estimate which they never confided to a soul. The young folk thought +the Methodist Society shamed and branded by the tragic incident, and +imagined that years must elapse before it could again hold up its head +in the town. The old folk were wiser, foreseeing with certainty that +in only a few days this all-engrossing phenomenon would lose its +significance, and be as though it had never been. Even in two days, +time had already begun its work, for by Tuesday morning the interest of +the affair--on Sunday at the highest pitch--had waned so much that the +thought of the inquest was capable of reviving it. Although everyone +knew that the case presented no unusual features, and that the +coroner's inquiry would be nothing more than a formal ceremony, the +almost greedy curiosity of Methodist circles lifted it to the level of +a _cause celebre_. The court was filled with irreproachable +respectability when the coroner drove into the town, and each animated +face said to its fellow: 'So you're here, are you?' Late comers of the +official world--councillors, guardians of the poor, members of the +school board, and one or two of their ladies, were forced to intrigue +for room with the police and the town-hall keeper, and, having +succeeded, sank into their narrow seats with a sigh of expectancy and +triumph. Late comers with less influence had to retire, and by a kind +of sinister fascination were kept wandering about the corridor before +they could decide to go home. The market-place was occupied by +hundreds of loafers, who seemed to find a mystic satisfaction in +beholding the coroner's dogcart and the exterior of the building which +now held the corpse. + +It was by accident that Anna was in the town. She knew that the +inquest was to occur that morning, but had not dreamed of attending it. +When, however, she saw the stir of excitement in the market-place, and +the police guarding the entrances of the town-hall, she walked directly +across the road, past the two officers at the east door, and into the +dark main corridor of the building, which was dotted with small groups +idly conversing. She was conscious of two things: a vehement +curiosity, and the existence somewhere in the precincts of a dead body, +unsightly, monstrous, calm, silent, careless--the insensible origin of +all this simmering ferment which disgusted her even while she shared in +it. At a small door, half hidden by a curtain, she was startled to see +Mynors. + +'You here!' he exclaimed, as if painfully surprised, and shook hands +with a preoccupied air. 'They are examining Willie. I came outside +while he was in the witness-box.' + +'Is the inquest going on in there?' she asked, pointing to the door. +Each appeared to be concealing a certain resentment against the other; +but this appearance was due only to nervous agitation. + +A policeman down the corridor called: 'Mr. Mynors, a moment.' Henry +hurried away, answering Anna's question as he went: 'Yes, in there. +That's the witnesses' and jurors' door; but please don't go in. I +don't like you to, and it is sure to upset you.' + +She opened the door and went in. None said nay, and she found a few +inches of standing-room behind the jury-box. A terrible stench +nauseated her; the chamber was crammed, and not a window open. There +was silence in the court--no one seemed to be doing anything; but at +last she perceived that the coroner, enthroned on the bench justice was +writing in a book with blue leaves. In the witness-box stood William +Price, dressed in black, with kid gloves, not lounging in an ungainly +attitude, as might have been expected, but perfectly erect; he kept his +eyes fixed on the coroner's head. Sarah Vodrey, Price's aged +housekeeper, sat on a chair near the witness-box, weeping into a +black-bordered handkerchief; at intervals she raised her small, +wrinkled, red face, with its glistening, inflamed eyes, and then buried +it again in the handkerchief. The members of the jury, whom Anna could +see only in profile, shuffled to and fro on their long, pew-like +seats--they were mostly working men, shabbily clothed; but the foreman +was Mr. Leal, the provision dealer, a freemason, and a sidesman at the +parish church. The general public sat intent and vacuous; their minds +gaped, if not their mouths; occasionally one whispered inaudibly to +another; the jury, conscious of an official status, exchanged remarks +in a whisper courageously loud. Several tall policemen, helmet in +hand, stood in various corners of the room, and the coroner's officer +sat near the witness-box to administer the oath. At length the coroner +lifted his head. He was rather a young man, with a large, intelligent +face; he wore eyeglasses, and his chin was covered with a short, wavy +beard. His manner showed that, while secretly proud of his supreme +position in that assemblage, he was deliberately trying to make it +appear that this exercise of judicial authority was nothing to him, +that in truth these eternal inquiries, which interested others so +deeply, were to him a weariness conscientiously endured. + +'Now, Mr. Price,' the coroner said blandly, and it was plain that he +was being ceremoniously polite to an inferior, in obedience to the +rules of good form, 'I must ask you some more questions. They may be +inconvenient, even painful; but I am here simply as the instrument of +the law, and I must do my duty. And these gentlemen here,' he waved a +hand in the direction of the jury, 'must be told the whole facts of the +case. We know, of course, that the deceased committed suicide--that +has been proved beyond doubt; but, as I say, we have the right to know +more.' He paused, well satisfied with the sound of his voice, and +evidently thinking that he had said something very weighty and +impressive. + +'What do you want to know?' Willie Price demanded, his broad Five Towns +speech contrasting with the Kensingtonian accents of the coroner. The +latter, who came originally from Manchester, was irritated by the +brusque interruption; but he controlled his annoyance, at the same time +glancing at the public as if to signify to them that he had learnt not +to take too seriously the unintentional rudeness characteristic of +their district. + +'You say it was probably business troubles that caused your late father +to commit the rash act?' + +'Yes.' + +'You are sure there was nothing else?' + +'What else could there be?' + +'Your late father was a widower?' + +'Yes.' + +'Now as to these business troubles--what were they?' + +'We were being pressed by creditors.' + +'Were you a partner with your late father?' + +'Yes.' + +'Oh! You were a partner with him!' + +The jury seemed surprised, and the coroner wrote again: 'What was your +share in the business?' + +'I don't know.' + +'You don't know? Surely that is rather singular?' + +'My father took me in Co. not long since. We signed a deed, but I +forget what was in it. My place was principally on the bank, not in +the office.' + +'And so you were being pressed by creditors?' + +'Yes. And we were behind with the rent.' + +'Was the landlord pressing you, too?' + +Anna lowered her eyes, fearful lest every head had turned towards her. + +'Not then; he had been--she, I mean.' + +'The landlord is a lady?' Here the coroner faintly smiled. 'Then, as +regards the landlord, the pressure was less than it had been?' + +'Yes; we had paid some rent, and settled some other claims.' + +'Does it not seem strange----?' the coroner began, with a suave air of +suggesting an idea. + +'If you must know,' Willie surprisingly burst out, 'I believe it was +the failure of a firm in London that owed us money that caused father +to hang himself.' + +'Ah!' exclaimed the coroner. 'When did you hear of that failure?' + +'By second post on Friday. Eleven in the morning.' + +'I think we have heard enough, Mr. Coroner,' said Leal, standing up in +the jury-box. 'We have decided on our verdict.' + +'Thank you, Mr. Price,' said the coroner, dismissing Willie. He added, +in a tone of icy severity to the foreman: 'I had concluded my +examination of the witness.' Then he wrote further in his book. + +'Now, gentlemen of the jury,' the coroner resumed, having first cleared +his throat; 'I think you will agree with me that this is a peculiarly +painful case. Yet at the same time----' + +Anna hastened from the court as impulsively as she had entered it. She +could think of nothing but the quiet, silent, pitiful corpse; and all +this vapid mouthing exasperated her beyond sufferance. + + +On the Thursday afternoon, Anna was sitting alone in the house, with +the Persian cat and a pile of stockings on her knee, darning. Agnes +had with sorrow returned to school; Ephraim was out. The bell sounded +violently, and Anna, thinking that perhaps for some reason her father +had chosen to enter by the front door, ran to open it. The visitor was +Willie Price; he wore the new black suit which had figured in the +coroner's court. She invited him to the parlour and they both sat +down, tongue-tied. Now that she had learnt from his evidence given at +the inquest that Ephraim had not been pressing for rent during her +absence in the Isle of Man, she felt less like a criminal before Willie +than she would have felt without that assurance. But at the best she +was nervous, self-conscious, and shamed. She supposed that he had +called to make some arrangement with reference to the tenure of the +works, or, more probably, to announce a bankruptcy and stoppage. + +'Well, Miss Tellwright,' Willie began, 'I've buried him. He's gone.' + +The simple and profound grief, and the restrained bitterness against +all the world, which were expressed in these words--the sole epitaph of +Titus Price--nearly made Anna cry. She would have cried, if the cat +had not opportunely jumped on her knee again; she controlled herself by +dint of stroking it. She sympathised with him more intensely in that +first moment of his loneliness than she had ever sympathised with +anyone, even Agnes. She wished passionately to shield, shelter, and +comfort him, to do something, however small, to diminish his sorrow and +humiliation; and this despite his size, his ungainliness, his coarse +features, his rough voice, his lack of all the conventional +refinements. A single look from his guileless and timid eyes atoned +for every shortcoming. Yet she could scarcely open her mouth. She +knew not what to say. She had no phrases to soften the frightful blow +which Providence had dealt him. + +'I'm very sorry,' she said. 'You must be relieved it's all over.' + +If she could have been Mrs. Sutton for half an hour! But she was Anna, +and her feelings could only find outlet in her eyes. Happily young +Price was of those meek ones who know by instinct the language of the +eyes. + +'You've come about the works, I suppose?' she went on. + +'Yes,' he said. 'Is your father in? I want to see him very +particular.' + +'He isn't in now,' she replied: 'but he will be back by four o'clock.' + +'That's an hour. You don't know where he is?' + +She shook her head. 'Well,' he continued, 'I must tell you, then. +I've come up to do it, and do it I must. I can't come up again; +neither can I wait. You remember that bill of exchange as we gave you +some weeks back towards rent?' + +'Yes,' she said. There was a pause. He stood up, and moved to the +mantelpiece. Her gaze followed him intently, but she had no idea what +he was about to say. + +'It's forged, Miss Tellwright.' He sat down again, and seemed calmer, +braver, ready to meet any conceivable set of consequences. + +'Forged!' she repeated, not immediately grasping the significance of +the avowal. + +'Mr. Sutton's name is forged on it. So I came to tell your father; but +you'll do as well. I feel as if I should like to tell you all about +it,' he said, smiling sadly. 'Mr. Sutton had really given us a bill +for thirty pounds, but we'd paid that away when Mr. Tellwright sent +word down--you remember--that he should put bailiffs in if he didn't +have twenty-five pounds next day. We were just turning the corner +then, father said to me. There was a goodish sum due to us from a +London firm in a month's time, and if we could only hold out till then, +father said he could see daylight for us. But he knew as there'd be no +getting round Mr. Tellwright. So he had the idea of using Mr. Sutton's +name--just temporary like. He sent me to the post-office to buy a bill +stamp, and he wrote out the bill all but the name. "You take this up +to Tellwright's," he says, "and ask 'em to take it and hold it, and +we'll redeem it, and that'll be all right. No harm done there, Will!" +he says. Then he tries Sutton's name on the back of an envelope. It's +an easy signature, as you know; but he couldn't do it. "Here, Will," +he says, "my old hand shakes; you have a go," and he gives me a letter +of Sutton's to copy from. I did it easy enough after a try or two. +"That'll be all right, Will," he says, and I put my hat on and brought +the bill up here. That's the truth, Miss Tellwright. It was the smash +of that London firm that finished my poor old father off.' + +Her one feeling was the sense of being herself a culprit. After all, +it was her father's action, more than anything else, that had led to +the suicide, and he was her agent. + +'Oh, Mr. Price,' she said foolishly, 'whatever shall you do?' + +'There's nothing to be done,' he replied. 'It was bound to be. It's +our luck. We'd no thought but what we should bring you thirty pound in +cash and get that bit of paper back, and rip it up, and no one the +worse. But we were always unlucky, me and him. All you've got to do +is just to tell your father, and say I'm ready to go to the +police-station when he gives the word. It's a bad business, but I'm +ready for it.' + +'Can't we do something?' she naively inquired, with a vision of a trial +and sentence, and years of prison. + +'Your father keeps the bill, doesn't he? Not you?' + +'I could ask him to destroy it.' + +'He wouldn't,' said Willie. 'You'll excuse me saying that, Miss +Tellwright, but he wouldn't.' + +He rose as if to go, bitterly. As for Anna, she knew well that her +father would never permit the bill to be destroyed. But at any cost +she meant to comfort him then, to ease his lot, to send him away less +grievous than he came. + +'Listen!' she said, standing up, and abandoning the cat, 'I will see +what can be done. Yes. Something _shall_ be done--something or other. +I will come and see you at the works to-morrow afternoon. You may rely +on me.' + +She saw hope brighten his eyes at the earnestness and resolution of her +tone, and she felt richly rewarded. He never said another word, but +gripped her hand with such force that she flinched in pain. When he +had gone, she perceived clearly the dire dilemma; but cared nothing, in +the first bliss of having reassured him. + +During tea it occurred to her that as soon as Agnes had gone to bed she +would put the situation plainly before her father, and, for the first +and last time in her life, assert herself. She would tell him that the +affair was, after all, entirely her own, she would firmly demand +possession of the bill of exchange, and she would insist on it being +destroyed. She would point out to the old man that, her promise having +been given to Willie Price, no other course than this was possible. In +planning this night-surprise on her father's obstinacy, she found +argument after argument auspicious of its success. The formidable +tyrant was at last to meet his equal, in force, in resolution, and in +pugnacity. The swiftness of her onrush would sweep him, for once, off +his feet. At whatever cost, she was bound to win, even though victory +resulted in eternal enmity between father and daughter. She saw +herself towering over him, morally, with blazing eye and scornful +nostril. And, thus meditating on the grandeur of her adventure, she +fed her courage with indignation. By the act of death, Titus Price had +put her father for ever in the wrong. His corpse accused the miser, +and Anna, incapable now of seeing aught save the pathos of suicide, +acquiesced in the accusation with all the strength of her remorse. She +did not reason--she felt; reason was shrivelled up in the fire of +emotion. She almost trembled with the urgency of her desire to protect +from further shame the figure of Willie Price, so frank, simple, +innocent, and big; and to protect also the lifeless and dishonoured +body of his parent. She reviewed the whole circumstances again and +again, each time finding less excuse for her father's implacable and +fatal cruelty. + +So her thoughts ran until the appointed hour of Agnes's bedtime. It +was always necessary to remind Agnes of that hour; left to herself, the +child would have stayed up till the very Day of Judgment. The clock +struck, but Anna kept silence. To utter the word 'bedtime' to Agnes +was to open the attack on her father, and she felt as the conductor of +an opera feels before setting in motion a complicated activity which +may end in either triumph or an unspeakable fiasco. The child was +reading; Anna looked and looked at her, and at length her lips were set +for the phrase, 'Now Agnes,' when, suddenly, the old man forestalled +her: + +'Is that wench going for sit here all night?' he asked of Anna, +menacingly. + +Agnes shut her book and crept away. + +This accident was the ruin of Anna's scheme. Her father, always the +favourite of circumstance, had by chance struck the first blow; +ignorant of the battle that awaited him, he had unwittingly won it by +putting her in the wrong, as Titus Price had put him in the wrong. She +knew in a flash that her enterprise was hopeless; she knew that her +father's position in regard to her was impregnable, that no moral +force, no consciousness of right, would avail to overthrow that +authority which she had herself made absolute by a life-long +submission; she knew that face to face with her father she was, and +always would be, a coward. And now, instead of finding arguments for +success, she found arguments for failure. She divined all the retorts +that he would fling at her. What about Mr. Sutton--in a sense the +victim of this fraud? It was not merely a matter of thirty pounds. A +man's name had been used. Was he, Ephraim Tellwright, and she, his +daughter, to connive at a felony? The felony was done, and could not +be undone. Were they to render themselves liable, even in theory, to a +criminal prosecution? If Titus Price had killed himself, what of that? +If Willie Price was threatened with ruin, what of that? Them as made +the bed must lie on it. At the best, and apart from any forgery, the +Prices had swindled their creditors; even in dying, old Price had been +guilty of a commercial swindle. And was the fact that father and son +between them had committed a direct and flagrant crime to serve as an +excuse for sympathising with the survivor? Why was Anna so anxious to +shield the forger? What claim had he? A forger was a forger, and that +was the end of it. + +She went to bed without opening her mouth. Irresolute, shamed, and +despairing, she tried to pray for guidance, but she could bring no +sincerity of appeal into this prayer; it seemed an empty form. Where, +indeed, was her religion? She was obliged to acknowledge that the +fervour of her aspirations had been steadily cooling for weeks. She +was not a whit more a true Christian now than she had been before the +Revival; it appeared that she was incapable of real religion, possibly +one of those souls foreordained to damnation. This admission added to +the general sense of futility, and increased her misery. She lay awake +for hours, confronting her deliberate promise to Willie Price. +_Something shall be done_. _Rely on me_. He was relying on her, then. +But on whom could she rely? To whom could she turn? It is significant +that the idea of confiding in Henry Mynors did not present itself for a +single moment as practical. Mynors had been kind to Willie in his +trouble, but Anna almost resented this kindness on account of the +condescending superiority which she thought she detected therein. It +was as though she had overheard Mynors saying to himself: 'Here is this +poor, crushed worm. It is my duty as a Christian to pity and succour +him. I will do so. I am a righteous man.' The thought of anyone +stooping to Willie was hateful to her. She felt equal with him, as a +mother feels equal with her child when it cries and she soothes it. +And she felt, in another way, that he was equal with her, as she +thought of his sturdy and simple confession, and of the loyal love in +his voice when he spoke of his father. She liked him for hurting her +hand, and for refusing to snatch at the slender chance of her father's +clemency. She could never reveal Willie's sin, if it was a sin, to +Henry Mynors--that symbol of correctness and of success. She had +fraternised with sinners, like Christ; and, with amazing injustice, she +was capable of deeming Mynors a Pharisee because she could not find +fault with him, because he lived and loved so impeccably and so +triumphantly. There was only one person from whom she could have asked +advice and help, and that wise and consoling heart was far away in the +Isle of Man. + +'Why won't father give up the bill?' she demanded, half aloud, in +sullen wrath. She could not frame the answer in words, but +nevertheless she knew it and felt it. Such an act of grace would have +been impossible to her father's nature--that was all. + +Suddenly the expression of her face changed from utter disgust into a +bitter and proud smile. Without thinking further, without daring to +think, she rose out of bed and, night-gowned and bare-footed, crept +with infinite precaution downstairs. The oilcloth on the stairs froze +her feet; a cold, grey light issuing through the glass square over the +front door showed that dawn was beginning. The door of the +front-parlour was shut; she opened it gently, and went within. Every +object in the room was faintly visible, the bureau, the chair, the +files of papers, the pictures, the books on the mantelshelf, and the +safe in the corner. The bureau, she knew, was never locked; fear of +their father had always kept its privacy inviolate from Anna and Agnes, +without the aid of a key. As Anna stood in front of it, a shaking +figure with hair hanging loose, she dimly remembered having one day +seen a blue paper among white in the pigeon-holes. But if the bill was +not there she vowed that she would steal her father's keys while he +slept, and force the safe. She opened the bureau, and at once saw the +edge of a blue paper corresponding with her recollection. She pulled +it forth and scanned it. 'Three months after date pay to our order ... +Accepted payable, _William Sutton_.' So here was the forgery, here the +two words for which Willie Price might have gone to prison! What a +trifle! She tore the flimsy document to bits, and crumpled the bits +into a little ball. How should she dispose of the ball? After a +moment's reflection she went into the kitchen, stretched on tiptoe to +reach the match-box from the high mantelpiece, struck a match, and +burnt the ball in the grate. Then, with a restrained and sinister +laugh, she ran softly upstairs. + +'What's the matter, Anna?' Agnes was sitting up in bed, wide awake. + +'Nothing; go to sleep, and don't bother,' Anna angrily whispered. + +Had she closed the lid of the bureau? She was compelled to return in +order to make sure. Yes, it was closed. When at length she lay in +bed, breathless, her heart violently beating, her feet like icicles, +she realised what she had done. She had saved Willie Price, but she +had ruined herself with her father. She knew well that he would never +forgive her. + +On the following afternoon she planned to hurry to Edward Street and +back while Ephraim and Agnes were both out of the house. But for some +reason her father sat persistently after dinner, conning a sale +catalogue. At a quarter to three he had not moved. She decided to go +at any risks. She put on her hat and jacket, and opened the front +door. He heard her. + +'Anna!' he called sharply. She obeyed the summons in terror. 'Art +going out?' + +'Yes, father.' + +'Where to?' + +'Down town to buy some things.' + +'Seems thou'rt always buying.' + +That was all; he let her free. In an unworthy attempt to appease her +conscience she did in fact go first into the town; she bought some +wool; the trick was despicable. Then she hastened to Edward Street. +The decrepit works seemed to have undergone no change. She had +expected the business would be suspended, and Willie Price alone on the +bank; but manufacture was proceeding as usual. She went direct to the +office, fancying, as she climbed the stairs, that every window of all +the workshops was full of eyes to discern her purpose. Without +knocking, she pushed against the unlatched door and entered. Willie +was lolling in his father's chair, gloomy, meditative, apparently idle. +He was coatless, and wore a dirty apron; a battered hat was at the back +of his head, and his great hands which lay on the desk in front of him, +were soiled. He sprang up, flushing red, and she shut the door; they +were alone together. + +'I'm all in my dirt,' he murmured apologetically. Simple and silly +creature, to imagine that she cared for his dirt! + +'It's all right,' she said; 'you needn't worry any more. It's all +right.' They were glorious words for her, and her face shone. + +'What do you mean?' he asked gruffly. + +'Why,' she smiled, full of happiness, 'I got that paper and burnt it!' + +He looked at her exactly as if he had not understood. 'Does your +father know?' + +She still smiled at him happily. 'No; but I shall tell him this +afternoon. It's all right. I've burnt it.' + +He sank down in the chair, and, laying his head on the desk, burst into +sobbing tears. She stood over him, and put a hand on the sleeve of his +shirt. At that touch he sobbed more violently. + +'Mr. Price, what is it?' She asked the question in a calm, soothing +tone. + +He glanced up at her, his face wet, yet apparently not shamed by the +tears. She could not meet his gaze without herself crying, and so she +turned her head. 'I was only thinking,' he stammered, 'only +thinking--what an angel you are.' + +Only the meek, the timid, the silent, can, in moments of deep feeling, +use this language of hyperbole without seeming ridiculous. + +He was her great child, and she knew that ha worshipped her. Oh, +ineffable power, that out of misfortune canst create divine happiness! + +Later, he remarked in his ordinary tone: 'I was expecting your father +here this afternoon about the lease. There is to be a deed of +arrangement with the creditors.' + +'My father!' she exclaimed, and she bade him good-bye. + +As she passed under the archway she heard a familiar voice: 'I reckon I +shall find young Mester Price in th' office?' Ephraim, who had +wandered into the packing-house, turned and saw her through the +doorway; a second's delay, and she would have escaped. She stood +waiting the storm, and then they walked out into the road together. + +'Anna, what art doing here?' + +She did not know what to say. + +'What art doing here?' he repeated coldly. + +'Father, I--was just going back home.' + +He hesitated an instant. 'I'll go with thee,' he said. They walked +back to Manor Terrace in silence. They had tea in silence; except that +Agnes, with dreadful inopportuneness, continually worried her father +for a definite promise that she might leave school at Christmas. The +idea was preposterous; but Agnes, fired by her recent success as a +housekeeper, clung to it. Ignorant of her imminent danger, and +misinterpreting the signs of his face, she at last pushed her +insistence too far. + +'Get to bed, this minute,' he said, in a voice suddenly terrible. She +perceived her error then, but it was too late. Looking wistfully at +Anna, the child fled. + +'I was told this morning, miss,' Ephraim began, as soon as Agnes was +gone, 'that young Price had bin seen coming to this house 'ere +yesterday afternoon. I thought as it was strange as thoud'st said nowt +about it to thy feyther; but I never suspected as a daughter o' mine +was up to any tricks. There was a hang-dog look on thy face this +afternoon when I asked where thou wast going, but I didna' think thou +wast lying to me.' + +'I wasn't,' she began, and stopped. + +'Thou wast! Now, what is it? What's this carrying-on between thee and +Will Price? I'll have it out of thee.' + +'There is no carrying-on, father.' + +'Then why hast thou gotten secrets? Why dost go sneaking about to see +him--sneaking, creeping, like any brazen moll?' + +The miser was wounded in the one spot where there remained to him any +sentiment capable of being wounded: his faith in the irreproachable, +absolute chastity, in thought and deed, of his womankind. + +'Willie Price came in here yesterday,' Anna began, white and calm, 'to +see you. But you weren't in. So he saw me. He told me that bill of +exchange, that blue paper, for thirty pounds, was forged. He said he +had forged Mr. Sutton's name on it.' She stopped, expecting the +thunder. + +'Get on with thy tale,' said Ephraim, breathing loudly. + +'He said he was ready to go to prison as soon as you gave the word. +But I told him, "No such thing!" I said it must be settled quietly. I +told him to leave it to me. He was driven to the forgery, and I +thought----' + +'Dost mean to say,' the miser shouted, 'as that blasted scoundrel came +here and told thee he'd forged a bill, and thou told him to leave it to +thee to settle?' Without waiting for an answer, he jumped up and +strode to the door, evidently with the intention of examining the +forged document for himself. + +'It isn't there--it isn't there!' Anna called to him wildly. + +'What isna' there?' + +'The paper. I may as well tell you, father. I got up early this +morning and burnt it.' + +The man was staggered at this audacious and astounding impiety. + +'It was mine, really,' she continued; 'and I thought----' + +'Thou thought!' + +Agnes, upstairs, heard that passionate and consuming roar. 'Shame on +thee, Anna Tellwright! Shame on thee for a shameless hussy! A +daughter o' mine, and just promised to another man! Thou'rt an +accomplice in forgery. Thou sees the scamp on the sly! Thou----' He +paused, and then added, with furious scorn: 'Shalt speak o' this to +Henry Mynors?' + +'I will tell him if you like,' she said proudly. + +'Look thee here!' he hissed, 'if thou breathes a word o' this to Henry +Mynors, or any other man, I'll cut thy tongue out. A daughter o' mine! +If thou breathes a word----' + +'I shall not, father.' + +It was finished; grey with frightful anger, Ephraim left the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +AT THE PRIORY + +She was not to be pardoned: the offence was too monstrous, daring, and +final. At the same time, the unappeasable ire of the old man tended to +weaken his power over her. All her life she had been terrorised by the +fear of a wrath which had never reached the superlative degree until +that day. Now that she had seen and felt the limit of his anger, she +became aware that she could endure it; the curse was heavy, and perhaps +more irksome than heavy, but she survived; she continued to breathe, +eat, drink, and sleep; her father's power stopped short of +annihilation. Here, too, was a satisfaction: that things could not be +worse. And still greater comfort lay in the fact that she had not only +accomplished the deliverance of Willie Price, but had secured absolute +secrecy concerning the episode. + +The next day was Saturday, when, after breakfast, it was Ephraim's +custom to give Anna the weekly sovereign for housekeeping. + +'Here, Agnes,' he said, turning in his armchair to face the child, and +drawing a sovereign from his waistcoat-pocket, 'take charge o' this, +and mind ye make it go as far as ye can.' His tone conveyed a +subsidiary message: 'I am terribly angry, but I am not angry with you. +However, behave yourself.' + +The child mechanically took the coin, scared by this proof of an +unprecedented domestic convulsion. Anna, with a tightening of the +lips, rose and went into the kitchen. Agnes followed, after a discreet +interval, and in silence gave up the sovereign. + +'What is it all about, Anna?' she ventured to ask that night. + +'Never mind,' said Anna curtly. + +The question had needed some courage, for, at certain times, Agnes +would as easily have trifled with her father as with Anna. From that +moment, with the passive fatalism characteristic of her years, Agnes' +spirits began to rise again to the normal level. She accepted the new +situation, and fitted herself into it with a child's adaptability. If +Anna naturally felt a slight resentment against this too impartial and +apparently callous attitude on the part of the child, she never showed +it. + +Nearly a week later, Anna received a postcard from Beatrice announcing +her complete recovery, and the immediate return of her parents and +herself to Bursley. That same afternoon, a cab encumbered with much +luggage passed up the street as Anna was fixing clean curtains in her +father's bedroom. Beatrice, on the look-out, waved a hand and smiled, +and Anna responded to the signals. She was glad now that the Suttons +had come back, though for several days she had almost forgotten their +existence. On the Saturday afternoon, Mynors called. Anna was in the +kitchen; she heard him scuffling with Agnes in the lobby, and then +talking to her father. Three times she had seen him since her +disgrace, and each time the secret bitterness of her soul, despite +conscientious effort to repress it, had marred the meeting--it had been +plain, indeed, that she was profoundly disturbed; he had affected at +first not to observe the change in her, and she, anticipating his +questions, hinted briefly that the trouble was with her father, and had +no reference to himself, and that she preferred not to discuss it at +all; reassured, and too young in courtship yet to presume on a lover's +rights, he respected her wish, and endeavoured by every art to restore +her to equanimity. This time, as she went to greet him in the parlour, +she resolved that he should see no more of the shadow. He noticed +instantly the difference in her face. + +'I've come to take you into Sutton's for tea--and for the evening,' he +said eagerly. 'You must come. They are very anxious to see you. I've +told your father,' he added. Ephraim had vanished into his office. + +'What did he say, Henry?' she asked timidly. + +'He said you must please yourself, of course. Come along, love. +Mustn't she, Agnes?' + +Agnes concurred, and said that she would get her father's tea, and his +supper too. + +'You will come,' he urged. She nodded, smiling thoughtfully, and he +kissed her, for the first time in front of Agnes, who was filled with +pride at this proof of their confidence in her. + +'I'm ready, Henry,' Anna said, a quarter of an hour later, and they +went across to Sutton's. + +'Anna, tell me all about it,' Beatrice burst out when she and Anna had +fled to her bedroom. 'I'm so glad. Do you love him really--truly? +He's dreadfully fond of you. He told me so this morning; we had quite +a long chat in the market. I think you're both very lucky, you know.' +She kissed Anna effusively for the third time. Anna looked at her +smiling but silent. + +'Well?' Beatrice said. + +'What do you want me to say?' + +'Oh! You are the funniest girl, Anna, I ever met. "What do you want +me to say," indeed!' Beatrice added in a different tone: 'Don't +imagine this affair was the least bit of a surprise to us. It wasn't. +The fact is, Henry had--oh! well, never mind. Do you know, mother and +dad used to think there was something between Henry and me. But there +wasn't, you know--not really. I tell you that, so that you won't be +able to say you were kept in the dark. When shall you be married, +Anna?' + +'I haven't the least idea,' Anna replied, and began to question +Beatrice about her convalescence. + +'I'm perfectly well,' Beatrice said. 'It's always the same. If I +catch anything I catch it bad and get it over quickly.' + +'Now, how long are you two chatterboxes going to stay here?' It was +Mrs. Sutton who came into the room. 'Bee, you've got those +sewing-meeting letters to write. Eh, Anna, but I'm glad of this. +You'll make him a good wife. You two'll just suit each other.' + +Anna could not but be impressed by this unaffected joy of her friends +in the engagement. Her spirits rose, and once more she saw visions of +future happiness. At tea, Alderman Sutton added his felicitations to +the rest, with that flattering air of intimate sympathy and +comprehension which some middle-aged men can adopt towards young girls. +The tea, made specially magnificent in honour of the betrothal, was +such a meal as could only have been compassed in Staffordshire or +Yorkshire--a high tea of the last richness and excellence, exquisitely +gracious to the palate, but ruthless in its demands on the stomach. At +one end of the table, which glittered with silver, glass, and Longshaw +china, was a fowl which had been boiled for four hours; at the other, a +hot pork-pie, islanded in liquor, which might have satisfied a +regiment. Between these two dishes were all the delicacies which +differentiate high tea from tea, and on the quality of which the +success of the meal really depends; hot pikelets, hot crumpets, hot +toast, sardines with tomatoes, raisin-bread, current-bread, seed-cake, +lettuce, home-made marmalade and home-made jams. The repast occupied +over an hour, and even then not a quarter of the food was consumed. +Surrounded by all that good fare and good-will, with the Alderman on +her left, Henry on her right, and a bright fire in front of her, Anna +quickly caught the gaiety of the others. She forgot everything but the +gladness of reunion, the joy of the moment, the luxurious comfort of +the house. Conversation was busy with the doings of the Suttons at +Port Erin after Anna and Henry had left. A listener would have caught +fragments like this:--'You know such-and-such a point.... No, not +there, over the hill. Well, we hired a carriage and drove.... The +weather was simply.... Tom Kelly said he'd never.... And that little +guard on the railway came all the way down to the steamer.... Did you +see anything in the "Signal" about the actress being drowned? Oh! It +was awfully sad. We saw the corpse just after.... Beatrice, will you +hush?' + +'Wasn't it terrible about Titus Price?' Beatrice exclaimed. + +'Eh, my!' sighed Mrs. Sutton, glancing at Anna. 'You can never tell +what's going to happen next. I'm always afraid to go away for fear of +something happening.' + +A silence followed. When tea was finished Beatrice was taken away by +her mother to write the letters concerning the immediate resumption of +sewing-meetings, and for a little time Anna was left in the +drawing-room alone with the two men, who began to talk about the +affairs of the Prices. It appeared that Mr. Sutton had been asked to +become trustee for the creditors under a deed of arrangement, and that +he had hopes of being able to sell the business as a going concern. In +the meantime it would need careful management. + +'Will Willie Price manage it?' Anna inquired. The question seemed to +divert Henry and the Alderman, to afford them a contemptuous and +somewhat inimical amusement at the expense of Willie. + +'No,' said the Alderman, quietly, but emphatically. + +'Master William is fairly good on the works,' said Henry; 'but in the +office, I imagine, he is worse than useless.' + +Grieved and confused, Anna bent down and moved a hassock in order to +hide her face. The attitude of these men to Willie Price, that victim +of circumstances and of his own simplicity, wounded Anna inexpressibly. +She perceived that they could see in him only a defaulting debtor, that +his misfortune made no appeal to their charity. She wondered that men +so warm-hearted and kind in some relations could be so hard in others. + +'I had a talk with your father at the creditors' meeting yesterday,' +said the Alderman. 'You won't lose much. Of course you've got a +preferential claim for six months' rent.' He said this reassuringly, +as though it would give satisfaction. Anna did not know what a +preferential claim might be, nor was she aware of any creditors' +meeting. She wished ardently that she might lose as much as +possible--hundreds of pounds. She was relieved when Beatrice swept in, +her mother following. + +'Now, your worship,' said Beatrice to her father, 'seven stamps for +these letters, please.' Anna glanced up inquiringly on hearing the +form of address. 'You don't mean to say that you didn't know that +father is going to be mayor this year?' Beatrice asked, as if shocked +at this ignorance of affairs. 'Yes, it was all settled rather late, +wasn't it, dad? And the mayor-elect pretends not to care much, but +actually he is filled with pride, isn't he, dad? As for the +mayoress----?' + +'Eh, Bee!' Mrs. Sutton stopped her, smiling; 'you'll tumble over that +tongue of yours some day.' + +'Mother said I wasn't to mention it,' said Beatrice, 'lest you should +think we were putting on airs.' + +'Nay, not I!' Mrs. Sutton protested. 'I said no such thing. Anna +knows us too well for that. But I'm not so set up with this mayor +business as some people will think I am.' + +'Or as Beatrice is,' Mynors added. + +At half-past eight, and again at nine, Anna said that she must go home; +but the Suttons, now frankly absorbed in the topic of the mayoralty, +their secret preoccupation, would not spoil the confidential talk which +had ensued by letting the lovers depart. It was nearly half-past nine +before Anna and Henry stood on the pavement outside, and Beatrice, +after facetious farewells, had shut the door. + +'Let us just walk round by the Manor Farm,' Henry pleaded. 'It won't +take more than a quarter of an hour or so.' + +She agreed dutifully. The footpath ran at right angles to Trafalgar +Road, past a colliery whose engine-fires glowed in the dark, moonless, +autumn night, and then across a field. They stood on a knoll near the +old farmstead, that extraordinary and pathetic survival of a vanished +agriculture. Immediately in front of them stretched acres of burning +ironstone--a vast tremulous carpet of flame woven in red, purple, and +strange greens. Beyond were the skeleton-like silhouettes of +pit-heads, and the solid forms of furnace and chimney-shaft. In the +distance a canal reflected the gigantic illuminations of Cauldon Bar +Ironworks. It was a scene mysterious and romantic enough to kindle the +raptures of love, but Anna felt cold, melancholy, and apprehensive of +vague sorrows. 'Why am I so?' she asked herself, and tried in vain to +shake off the mood. + +'What will Willie Price do if the business is sold?' she questioned +Mynors suddenly. + +'Surely,' he said to soothe her, 'you aren't still worrying about that +misfortune. I wish you had never gone near the inquest; the thing +seems to have got on your mind.' + +'Oh, no!' she protested, with an air of cheerfulness. 'But I was just +wondering.' + +'Well, Willie will have to do the best he can. Get a place somewhere, +I suppose. It won't be much, at the best.' + +Had he guessed what perhaps hung on that answer, Mynors might have +given it in a tone less callous and perfunctory. Could he have seen +the tightening of her lips, he might even afterwards have repaired his +error by some voluntary assurance that Willie Price should be watched +over with a benevolent eye and protected with a strong arm. But how +was he to know that in misprizing Willie Price before her, he was +misprizing a child to its mother? He had done something for Willie +Price, and considered mat he had done enough. His thoughts, moreover, +were on other matters. + +'Do you remember that day we went up to the park?' he murmured fondly; +'that Sunday? I have never told you that that evening I came out of +chapel after the first hymn, when I noticed you weren't there, and +walked up past your house. I couldn't help it. Something drew me. I +nearly called in to see you. Then I thought I had better not.' + +'I saw you,' she said calmly. His warmth made her feel sad. 'I saw +you stop at the gate.' + +'You did? But you weren't at the window?' + +'I saw you through the glass of the front-door.' Her voice grew +fainter, more reluctant. + +'Then you were watching?' In the dark he seized her with such +violence, and kissed her so vehemently, that she was startled out of +herself. + +'Oh! Henry!' she exclaimed. + +'Call me Harry,' he entreated, his arm still round her waist; 'I want +you to call me Harry. No one else does or ever has done, and no one +shall, now.' + +'Harry,' she said deliberately, bracing her mind to a positive +determination. She must please him, and she said it again: 'Harry; +yes, it has a nice sound.' + +Ephraim sat reading the 'Signal' in the parlour when she arrived home +at five minutes to ten. Imbued then with ideas of duty, submission, +and systematic kindliness, she had an impulse to attempt a +reconciliation with her father. + +'Good-night, father,' she said, 'I hope I've not kept you up.' + +He was deaf. + +She went to bed resigned; sad, but not gloomy. It was not for nothing +that during all her life she had been accustomed to infelicity. +Experience had taught her this: to be the mistress of herself. She +knew that she could face any fact--even the fact of her dispassionate +frigidity under Mynors' caresses. It was on the firm, almost rapturous +resolve to succour Willie Price, if need be, that she fell asleep. + +The engagement, which had hitherto been kept private, became the theme +of universal gossip immediately upon the return of the Suttons from the +Isle of Man. Two words let fall by Beatrice in the St. Luke's covered +market on Saturday morning had increased and multiplied till the whole +town echoed with the news. Anna's private fortune rose as high as a +quarter of a million. As for Henry Mynors, it was said that Henry +Mynors knew what he was about. After all, he was like the rest. +Money, money! Of course it was inconceivable that a fine, prosperous +figure of a man, such as Mynors, would have made up to _her_, if she +had not been simply rolling in money. Well, there was one thing to be +said for young Mynors, he would put money to good use; you might rely +he would not hoard it up same as it had been hoarded up. However, the +more saved, the more for young Mynors, so he needn't grumble. It was +to be hoped he would make her dress herself a bit better--though indeed +it hadn't been her fault she went about so shabby; the old skinflint +would never allow her a penny of her own. So tongues wagged. + +The first Sunday was a tiresome ordeal for Anna, both at school and at +chapel. 'Well, I never!' seemed to be written like a note of +exclamation on every brow; the monotony of the congratulations fatigued +her as much as her involuntary efforts to grasp what each speaker had +left unsaid of innuendo, malice, envy or sycophancy. Even the people +in the shops, during the next few days, could not serve her without +direct and curious reference to her private affairs. The general +opinion that she was a cold and bloodless creature was strengthened by +her attitude at this period. But the apathy which she displayed was +neither affected nor due to an excessive diffidence. As she seemed, so +she felt. She often wondered what would have happened to her if that +vague 'something' between Henry and Beatrice, to which Beatrice had +confessed, had ever taken definite shape. + +'Hancock came back from Lancashire last night,' said Mynors, when he +arrived at Manor Terrace on the next Saturday afternoon. Ephraim was +in the room, and Henry, evidently joyous and triumphant, addressed both +him and Anna. + +'Is Hancock the commercial traveller?' Anna asked. She knew that +Hancock was the commercial traveller, but she experienced a nervous +compulsion to make idle remarks in order to hide the breach of +intercourse between her father and herself. + +'Yes,' said Mynors; 'he's had a magnificent journey.' + +'How much?' asked the miser. + +Henry named the amount of orders taken in a fortnight's journey. + +'Humph!' the miser ejaculated. 'That's better than a bat in the eye +with a burnt stick.' From him, this was the superlative of praise. +'You're making good money at any rate?' + +'We are,' said Mynors. + +'That reminds me,' Ephraim remarked gruffly. 'When dost think o' +getting wed? I'm not much for long engagements, and so I tell ye.' He +threw a cold glance sideways at Anna. The idea penetrated her heart +like a stab: 'He wants to get me out of the house!' + +'Well,' said Mynors, surprised at the question and the tone, and, +looking at Anna as if for an explanation: 'I had scarcely thought of +that. What does Anna say?' + +'I don't know,' she murmured; and then, more bravely, in a louder +voice, and with a smile: 'The sooner the better.' She thought, in her +bitter and painful resentment: 'If he wants me to go, go I will.' + +Henry tactfully passed on to another phase of the subject: 'I met Mr. +Sutton yesterday, and he was telling me of Price's house up at Toft +End. It belonged to Mr. Price, but of course it was mortgaged up to +the hilt. The mortgagees have taken possession, and Mr. Sutton said it +would be to let cheap at Christmas. Of course Willie and old Sarah +Vodrey, the housekeeper, will clear out. I was thinking it might do +for us. It's not a bad sort of house, or, rather, it won't be when +it's repaired.' + +'What will they ask for it?' Ephraim inquired. + +'Twenty-five or twenty-eight. It's a nice large house--four bedrooms, +and a very good garden.' + +'Four bedrooms!' the miser exclaimed. 'What dost want wi' four +bedrooms? You'd have for keep a servant.' + +'Naturally we should keep a servant,' Mynors said, with calm politeness. + +'You could get one o' them new houses up by th' park for fifteen pounds +as would do you well enough'; the miser protested against these dreams +of extravagance. + +'I don't care for that part of the town,' said Mynors. 'It's too new +for my taste.' + +After tea, when Henry and Anna went out for the Saturday evening +stroll, Mynors suddenly suggested: 'Why not go up and look through that +house of Price's?' + +'Won't it seem like turning them out if we happen to take it?' she +asked. + +'Turning them out! Willie is bound to leave it. What use is it to +him? Besides, it's in the hands of the mortgagees now. Why shouldn't +we take it just as well as anybody else, if it suits us?' + +Anna had no reply, and she surrendered herself placidly enough to his +will; nevertheless she could not entirely banish a misgiving that +Willie Price was again to be victimised. Infinitely more disturbing +than this illogical sensation, however, was the instinctive and sure +knowledge, revealed in a flash, that her father wished to be rid of +her. So implacable, then, was his animosity against her! Never, never +had she been so deeply hurt. The wound, in fact, was so severe that at +first she felt only a numbness that reduced everything to unimportance, +robbing her of volition. She walked up to Toft End as if walking in +her sleep. + +Price's house, sometimes called Priory House, in accordance with a +legend that a priory had once occupied the site, stood in the middle of +the mean and struggling suburb of Toft End, which was flung up the +hillside like a ragged scarf. Built of red brick, towards the end of +the eighteenth century, double-fronted, with small, evenly disposed +windows, and a chimney stack at either side, it looked westward over +the town smoke towards a horizon of hills. It had a long, narrow +garden, which ran parallel with the road. Behind it, adjoining, was a +small, disused potworks, already advanced in decay. On the north side, +and enclosed by a brick wall which surrounded also the garden, was a +small orchard of sterile and withered fruit trees. In parts the wall +had crumpled under the assaults of generations of boys, and from the +orchard, through the gaps, could be seen an expanse of grey-green +field, with a few abandoned pit-shafts scattered over it. These +shafts, imperfectly protected by ruinous masonry, presented an +appearance strangely sinister and forlorn, raising visions in the mind +of dark and mysterious depths peopled with miserable ghosts of those +who had toiled there in the days when to be a miner was to be a slave. +The whole place, house and garden, looked ashamed and sad, with a +shabby mournfulness acquired gradually from its inmates during many +years. But, nevertheless, the house was substantial, and the air on +that height fresh and pure. + +Mynors rang in vain at the front door, and then they walked round the +house to the orchard, and discovered Sarah Vodrey taking in clothes +from a line--a diminutive and wasted figure, with scanty, grey hair, a +tiny face permanently soured, and bony hands contorted by rheumatism. + +'My rheumatism's that bad,' she said in response to greetings, 'I can +scarce move about, and this house is a regular barracks to keep clean. +No; Willie's not in. He's at th' works, as usual--Saturday like any +other day. I'm by myself here all day and every day. But I reckon +us'n be flitting soon, and me lived here eight-and-twenty year! Praise +God, there's a mansion up there for me at last. And not sorry shall I +be when He calls.' + +'It must be very lonely for you, Miss Vodrey,' said Mynors. He knew +exactly how to speak to this dame who lived her life like a fly between +two panes of glass, and who could find room in her head for only three +ideas, namely: that God and herself were on terms of intimacy; that she +was, and had always been, indispensable to the Price family; and that +her social status was far above that of a servant. 'It's a pity you +never married,' Mynors added. + +'Me, marry! What would _they_ ha' done without me? No, I'm none for +marriage and never was. I'd be shamed to be like some o' them +spinsters down at chapel, always hanging round chapel-yard on the +off-chance of a service, to catch that there young Mr. Sargent, the new +minister. It's a sign of a hard winter, Miss Terrick, when the hay +runs after the horse, that's what I say.' + +'Miss Tellwright and myself are in search of a house,' Mynors gently +interrupted the flow, and gave her a peculiar glance which she +appreciated. 'We heard you and Willie were going to leave here, and so +we came up just to look over the place, if it's quite convenient to +you.' + +'Eh, I understand ye,' she said; 'come in. But ye mun tak' things as +ye find 'em, Miss Terrick.' + +Dismal and unkempt, the interior of the house matched the exterior. +The carpets were threadbare, the discoloured wall-papers hung loose on +the walls, the ceilings were almost black, the paint had nearly been +rubbed away from the woodwork; the exhausted furniture looked as if it +would fall to pieces in despair if compelled to face the threatened +ordeal of an auction-sale. But to Anna the rooms were surprisingly +large, and there seemed so many of them! It was as if she were +exploring an immense abode, like a castle, with odd chambers +continually showing themselves in unexpected places. The upper story +was even less inviting than the ground-floor--barer, more chill, +utterly comfortless. + +'This is the best bedroom,' said Miss Vodrey. 'And a rare big room +too! It's not used now. _He_ slept here. Willie sleeps at back.' + +'A very nice room,' Mynors agreed blandly, and measured it, as he had +done all the others, with a two-foot, entering the figures in his +pocket-book. + +Anna's eye wandered uneasily across the room, with its dismantled bed +and decrepit mahogany suite. + +'I'm glad he hanged himself at the works, and not here,' she thought. +Then she looked out at the window. 'What a splendid view!' she +remarked to Mynors. + +She saw that he had taken a fancy to the house. The sagacious fellow +esteemed it, not as it was, but as it would be, re-papered, re-painted, +re-furnished, the outer walls pointed, the garden stocked; everything +cleansed, brightened, renewed. And there was indeed much to be said +for his fancy. The house was large, with plenty of ground; the +boundary wall secured that privacy which young husbands and young wives +instinctively demand; the outlook was unlimited, the air the purest in +the Five Towns. And the rent was low, because the great majority of +those who could afford such a house would never deign to exist in a +quarter so poverty-stricken and unfashionable. + +After leaving the house they continued their walk up the hill, and then +turned off to the left on the high road from Hanbridge to Moorthorne. +The venerable but not dignified town lay below them, a huddled medley +of brown brick under a thick black cloud of smoke. The gold angel of +the town-hall gleamed in the evening light, and the dark, squat tower +of the parish church, sole relic of the past stood out grim and +obdurate amid the featureless buildings which surrounded it. To the +north and east miles of moorland, defaced by collieries and murky +hamlets, ran to the horizon. Across the great field at their feet a +figure slouched along, past the abandoned pit-shafts. They both +recognised the man. + +'There's Willie Price going home!' said Mynors. + +'He looks tired,' she said. She was relieved that they had not met him +at the house. + +'I say,' Mynors began earnestly, after a pause, 'why shouldn't we get +married soon, since the old gentleman seems rather to expect it? He's +been rather awkward lately, hasn't he?' + +This was the only reference made by Mynors to her father's temper. She +nodded. 'How soon? she asked. + +'Well, I was just thinking. Suppose, for the sake of argument, this +house turns out all right. I couldn't get it thoroughly done up much +before the middle of January--couldn't begin till these people had +moved. Suppose we said early in February?' + +'Yes!' + +'Could you be ready by that time?' + +'Oh, yes,' she answered, 'I could be ready.' + +'Well, why shouldn't we fix February, then?' + +'There's the question of Agnes,' she said. + +'Yes; and there will always be the question of Agnes. Your father will +have to get a housekeeper. You and I will be able to see after little +Agnes, never fear.' So, with tenderness in his voice, he reassured her +on that point. + +'Why not February?' she reflected. 'Why not to-morrow, as father wants +me out of the house?' + +It was agreed. + +'I've taken the Priory, subject to your approval,' Henry said, less +than a fortnight later. From that time he invariably referred to the +place as the Priory. + + +It was on the very night after this eager announcement that the +approaching tragedy came one step nearer. Beatrice, in a modest +evening-dress, with a white cloak--excited, hurried, and important--ran +in to speak to Anna. The carriage was waiting outside. She and her +father and mother had to attend a very important dinner at the mayor's +house at Hillport, in connection with Mr. Sutton's impending mayoralty. +Old Sarah Vodrey had just sent down a girl to say that she was unwell, +and would be grateful if Mrs. Sutton or Beatrice would visit her. It +was a most unreasonable time for such a summons, but Sarah was a +fidgety old crotchet, and knew how frightfully good-natured Mrs. Sutton +was. Would Anna mind going up to Toft End? And would Anna come out to +the carriage and personally assure Mrs. Sutton that old Sarah should be +attended to? If not, Beatrice was afraid her mother would take it into +her head to do something stupid. + +'It's very good of you, Anna,' said Mrs. Sutton, when Anna went outside +with Beatrice. 'But I think I'd better go myself. The poor old thing +may feel slighted if I don't, and Beatrice can well take my place at +this affair at Hillport, which I've no mind for.' She was already half +out of the carriage. + +'Nothing of the kind,' said Anna firmly, pushing her back. 'I shall be +delighted to go and do what I can.' + +'That's right, Anna,' said the Alderman from the darkness of the +carriage, where his shirt-front gleamed; 'Bee said you'd go, and we're +much obliged to ye.' + +'I expect it will be nothing,' said Beatrice, as the vehicle drove off; +'Sarah has served mother this trick before now.' + +As Anna opened the garden-gate of the Priory she discerned a figure +amid the rank bushes, which had been allowed to grow till they almost +met across the narrow path leading to the front door of the house. + +It was a thick and mysterious night--such a night as death chooses; and +Anna jumped in vague terror at the apparition. + +'Who's there?' said a voice sharply. + +'It's me,' said Anna. 'Miss Vodrey sent down to ask Mrs. Sutton to +come up and see her, but Mrs. Sutton had an engagement, so I came +instead.' + +The figure moved forward; it was Willie Price. + +He peered into her face, and she could see the mortal pallor of his +cheeks. + +'Oh!' he exclaimed, 'it's Miss Tellwright, is it? Will ye come in, +Miss Tellwright?' + +She followed him with beating heart, alarmed, apprehensive. The front +door stood wide open, and at the far end of the gloomy passage a faint +light shone from the open door of the kitchen. 'This way,' he said. +In the large, bare, stone-floored kitchen Sarah Vodrey sat limp and +with closed eyes in an old rocking-chair close to the fireless range. +The window, which gave on to the street, was open; through that window +Sarah, in her extremity, had called the child who ran down to Mrs. +Sutton's. On the deal table were a dirty cup and saucer, a tea-pot, +bread, butter, and a lighted candle--sole illumination of the chamber. + +'I come home, and I find this,' he said. + +Daunted for a moment by the scene of misery, Anna could say nothing. + +'I find this,' he repeated, as if accusing God of spitefulness; and he +lifted the candle to show the apparently insensible form of the woman. +Sarah's wrinkled and seamed face had the flush of fever, and the +features were drawn into the expression of a terrible anxiety; her +hands hung loose; she breathed like a dog after a run. + +'I wanted her to have the doctor yesterday,' he said, 'but she +wouldn't. Ever since you and Mr. Mynors called she's been cleaning the +house down. She said you'd happen be coming again soon, and the place +wasn't fit to be seen. No use me arguing with her.' + +'You had better run for a doctor,' Anna said. + +'I was just going off when you came. She's been complaining more of +her rheumatism, and pain in her hips, lately.' + +'Go now; fetch Mr. Macpherson, and call at our house and say I shall +stay here all night. Wait a moment.' Seeing that he was exhausted +from lack of food, she cut a thick piece of bread-and-butter. 'Eat +this as you go,' she said. + +'I can't eat; it'll choke me.' + +'Let it choke you,' she said. 'You've got to swallow it.' + +Child of a hundred sorrows, he must be treated as a child. As soon as +Willie was gone she took off her hat and jacket, and lit a lamp; there +was no gas in the kitchen. + +'What's that light?' the old woman asked peevishly, rousing herself and +sitting up. 'I doubt I'll be late with Willie's tea. Eh, Miss +Terrick, what's amiss?' + +'You're not quite well, Miss Vodrey,' Anna answered. 'If you'll show +me your room, I'll see you into bed.' Without giving her a moment for +hesitation, Anna seized the feeble creature under the arms, and so, +coaxing, supporting, carrying, got her to bed. At length she lay on +the narrow mattress, panting, exhausted. It was Sarah's final effort. + +Anna lit fires in the kitchen and in the bedroom, and when Willie +returned with Dr. Macpherson, water was boiling and tea made. + +'You'd better get a woman in,' said the doctor curtly, in the kitchen, +when he had finished his examination of Sarah. 'Some neighbour for +to-night, and I'll send a nurse up from the cottage-hospital early +to-morrow morning. Not that it will be the least use. She must have +been dying for the last two days at least. She's got pericarditis and +pleurisy. She's breathing I don't know how many to the minute, and her +temperature is just about as high as it can be. It all follows from +rheumatism, and then taking cold. Gross carelessness and neglect all +through! I've no patience with such work.' He turned angrily to +Willie. 'I don't know what on earth you were thinking of, Mr. Price, +not to send for me earlier.' + +Willie, abashed and guilty, found nothing to say. His eye had the meek +wistfulness of Holman Hunt's 'Scapegoat.' + +'Mr. Price wanted her to have the doctor,' said Anna, defending him +with warmth; 'but she wouldn't. He is out at the works all day till +late at night. How was he to know how she was? She could walk about.' + +The tall doctor glanced at Anna in surprise, and at once modified his +tone. 'Yes,' he said, 'that's the curious thing. It passes me how she +managed to get about. But there is no knowing what an obstinate woman +won't force herself to do. I'll send the medicine up to-night, and +come along myself with the nurse early to-morrow. Meantime, keep +carefully to my instructions.' + +That night remains for ever fixed in Anna's memory: the grim rooms, +echoing and shadowy; the countless journeys up and down dark stairs and +passages; Willie sitting always immovable in the kitchen, idle because +there was nothing for him to do; Sarah incessantly panting on the +truckle-bed; the hired woman from up the street, buxom, kindly, useful, +but fatuous in the endless monotony of her commiserations. + +Towards morning, Sarah Vodrey gave sign of a desire to talk. + +'I've fought the fight,' she murmured to Anna, who alone was in the +bedroom with her, 'I've fought the fight; I've kept the faith. In that +box there ye'll see a purse. There's seventeen pounds six in it. That +will pay for the funeral, and Willie must have what's over. There +would ha' been more for the lad, but he never paid me no wages this two +years past. I never troubled him.' + +'Don't tell Willie that,' Anna said impetuously. + +'Eh, bless ye, no!' said the dying drudge, and then seemed to doze. + +Anna went to the kitchen, and sent the woman upstairs. + +'How is she?' asked Willie, without stirring. Anna shook her head. +'Neither her nor me will be here much longer, I'm thinking,' he said, +smiling wearily. + +'What?' she exclaimed, startled. + +'Mr. Sutton has arranged to sell our business as a going-concern--some +people at Turnhill are buying it. I shall go to Australia; there's no +room for me here. The creditors have promised to allow me twenty-five +pounds, and I can get an assisted passage. Bursley'll know me no more. +But--but--I shall always remember you and what you've done.' + +She longed to kneel at his feet, and to comfort him, and to cry: 'It is +I who have ruined you--driven your father to cheating his servant, to +crime, to suicide; driven you to forgery, and turned you out of your +house which your old servant killed herself in making clean for me. I +have wronged you, and I love you like a mother because I have wronged +you and because I saved you from prison.' + +But she said nothing except: 'Some of us will miss you.' + +The next day Sarah Vodrey died--she who had never lived save in the +fetters of slavery and fanaticism. After fifty years of ceaseless +labour, she had gained the affection of one person, and enough money to +pay for her own funeral. Willie Price took a cheap lodging with the +woman who had been called in on the night of Sarah's collapse. Before +Christmas he was to sail for Melbourne. The Priory, deserted, gave up +its rickety furniture to a van from Hanbridge, where, in an +auction-room, the frail sticks lost their identity in a medley of other +sticks, and ceased to be. Then the bricklayer, the plasterer, the +painter, and the paper-hanger came to the Priory, and whistled and sang +in it. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE BAZAAR + +The Wesleyan Bazaar, the greatest undertaking of its kind ever known in +Bursley, gradually became a cloud which filled the entire social +horizon. Mrs. Sutton, organiser of the Sunday-school stall, pressed +all her friends into the service, and a fortnight after the death of +Sarah Vodrey, Anna and even Agnes gave much of their spare time to the +work, which was carried on under pressure increasing daily as the final +moments approached. This was well for Anna, in that it diverted her +thoughts by keeping her energies fully engaged. One morning, however, +it occurred to Mrs. Sutton to reflect that Anna, at such a period of +life, should be otherwise employed. Anna had called at the Suttons' to +deliver some finished garments. + +'My dear,' she said, 'I am very much obliged to you for all this +industry. But I've been thinking that as you are to be married in +February you ought to be preparing your things.' + +'My things!' Anna repeated idly; and then she remembered Mynors' +phrase, on the hill, 'Can you be ready by that time?' + +'Yes,' said Mrs. Sutton; 'but possibly you've been getting forward with +them on the quiet.' + +'Tell me,' said Anna, with an air of interest; 'I've meant to ask you +before: Is it the bride's place to provide all the house-linen, and +that sort of thing?' + +'It was in my day; but those things alter so. The bride took all the +house-linen to her husband, and as many clothes for herself as would +last a year; that was the rule. We used to stitch everything at home +in those days--everything; and we had what we called a "bottom drawer" +to store them in. As soon as a girl passed her fifteenth birthday, she +began to sew for the "bottom drawer." But all those things change so, +I dare say it's different now.' + +'How much will it cost to buy everything, do you think?' Anna asked. + +Just then Beatrice entered the room. + +'Beatrice, Anna is inquiring how much it will cost to buy her +trousseau, and the house-linen. What do you say?' + +'Oh!' Beatrice replied, without any hesitation, 'a couple of hundred at +least.' + +Mrs. Sutton, reading Anna's face, smiled reassuringly. 'Nonsense, Bee! +I dare say you could do it on a hundred with care, Anna.' + +'Why should Anna want to do it with care?' Beatrice asked curtly. + +Anna went straight across the road to her father, and asked him for a +hundred pounds of her own money. She had not spoken to him, save under +necessity, since the evening spent at the Suttons'. + +'What's afoot now?' he questioned savagely. + +'I must buy things for the wedding--clothes and things, father.' + +'Ay! clothes! clothes! What clothes dost want? A few pounds will +cover them.' + +'There'll be all the linen for the house.' + +'Linen for---- It's none thy place for buy that.' + +'Yes, father, it is.' + +'I say it isna',' he shouted. + +'But I've asked Mrs. Sutton, and she says it is.' + +'What business an' ye for go blabbing thy affairs all over Bosley? I +say it isna' thy place for buy linen, and let that be sufficient. Go +and get dinner. It's nigh on twelve now.' + +That evening, when Agnes had gone to bed, she resumed the struggle. + +'Father, I must have that hundred pounds. I really must. I mean it.' + +'_Thou means it_! What?' + +'I mean I must have a hundred pounds.' + +'I'd advise thee to tak' care o' thy tongue, my lass. _Thou means it_!' + +'But you needn't give it me all at once,' she pursued. + +He gazed at her, glowering. + +'I shanna' give it thee. It's Henry's place for buy th' house-linen.' + +'Father, it isn't.' Her voice broke, but only for an instant. 'I'm +asking you for my own money. You seem to want to make me miserable +just before my wedding.' + +'I wish to God thou 'dst never seen Henry Mynors. It's given thee +pride and made thee undutiful.' + +'I'm only asking you for my own money.' + +Her calm insistence maddened him. Jumping up from his chair, he +stamped out of the room, and she heard him strike a match in his +office. Presently he returned, and threw angrily on to the table in +front of her a cheque-book and pass-book. The deposit-book she had +always kept herself for convenience of paying into the bank. + +'Here,' he said scornfully, 'tak' thy traps and ne'er speak to me +again. I wash my hands of ye. Tak' 'em and do what ye'n a mind. +Chuck thy money into th' cut[1] for aught I care.' + +The next evening Henry came up. She observed that his face had a grave +look, but intent on her own difficulties she did not remark on it, and +proceeded at once to do what she resolved to do. It was a cold night +in November, yet the miser, wrathfully sullen, chose to sit in his +office without a fire. Agnes was working sums in the kitchen. + +'Henry,' Anna began, 'I've had a difficulty with father, and I must +tell you.' + +'Not about the wedding, I hope,' he said. + +'It was about money. Of course, Henry, I can't get married without a +lot of money.' + +'Why not?' he inquired. + +'I've my own things to get,' she said, 'and I've all the house-linen to +buy.' + +'Oh! You buy the house-linen, do you?' She saw that he was relieved +by that information. + +'Of course. Well, I told father I must have a hundred pounds, and he +wouldn't give it me. And when I stuck to him he got angry--you know he +can't bear to see money spent--and at last he get a little savage and +gave me my bank-books, and said he'd have nothing more to do with my +money.' + +Henry's face broke into a laugh, and Anna was obliged to smile. +'Capital!' he said. 'Couldn't be better.' + +'I want you to tell me how much I've got in the bank,' she said. 'I +only know I'm always paying in odd cheques.' + +He examined the three books. 'A very tidy bit,' he said; 'something +over two hundred and fifty pounds. So you can draw cheques at your +ease.' + +'Draw me a cheque for twenty pounds,' she said; and then, while he +wrote: 'Henry, after we're married, I shall want you to take charge of +all this.' + +'Yes, of course; I will do that, dear. But your money will be yours. +There ought to be a settlement on you. Still, if your father says +nothing, it is not for me to say anything.' + +'Father will say nothing--now,' she said. 'You've never shown any +interest in it, Henry; but as we're talking of money, I may as well +tell you that father says I'm worth fifty thousand pounds.' + +The man of business was astonished and enraptured beyond measure. His +countenance shone with delight. + +'Surely not!' he protested formally. + +'That's what father told me, and he made me read a list of shares, and +so on.' + +'We will go slow, to begin with,' said Mynors solemnly. He had not +expected more than fifteen, or twenty thousand pounds, and even this +sum had dazzled his imagination. He was glad that he had only taken +the house at Toft End on a yearly tenancy. He now saw himself the +dominant figure in all the Five Towns. + +Later in the evening he disclosed, perfunctorily, the matter which had +been a serious weight on his mind when he entered the house, but which +this revelation of vast wealth had diminished to a trifle. Titus Price +had been the treasurer of the building fund which the bazaar was +designed to assist. Mynors had assumed the position of the dead man, +and that day, in going through the accounts, he had discovered that a +sum of fifty pounds was missing. + +'It's a dreadful thing for Willie, if it gets about,' he said; 'a tale +of that sort would follow him to Australia.' + +'Oh, Henry, it is!' she exclaimed, sorrow-stricken, 'but we mustn't let +it get about. Let us pay the money ourselves. You must enter it in +the books and say nothing.' + +'That is impossible,' he said firmly. 'I can't alter the accounts. At +least I can't alter the bank-book and the vouchers. The auditor would +detect it in a minute. Besides, I should not be doing my duty if I +kept a thing like this from the Superintendent-minister. He, at any +rate, must know, and perhaps the stewards.' + +'But you can urge them to say nothing. Tell them that you will make it +good. I will write a cheque at once.' + +'I had meant to find the fifty myself,' he said. It was a peddling sum +to him now. + +'Let me pay half, then,' she asked. + +'If you like,' he urged, smiling faintly at her eagerness. 'The thing +is bound to be kept quiet--it would create such a frightful scandal. +Poor old chap!' he added, carelessly, 'I suppose he was hard run, and +meant to put it back--as they all do mean.' + +But it was useless for Mynors to affect depression of spirits, or +mournful sympathy with the errors of a dead sinner. The fifty thousand +danced a jig in his brain that night. + +Anna was absorbed in contemplating the misfortune of Willie Price. She +prayed wildly that he might never learn the full depth of his father's +fall. The miserable robbery of Sarah's wages was buried for evermore, +and this new delinquency, which all would regard as flagrant sacrilege, +must be buried also. A soul less loyal than Anna's might have feared +that Willie, a self-convicted forger, had been a party to the +embezzlement; but Anna knew that it could not be so. + +It was characteristic of Mynors' cautious prudence that, the first +intoxication having passed, he made no further reference of any kind to +Anna's fortune. The arrangements for their married life were planned +on a scale which ignored the fifty thousand pounds. For both their +sakes he wished to avoid all friction with the miser, at any rate until +his status as Anna's husband would enable him to enforce her rights, if +that should be necessary, with dignity and effectiveness. He did not +precisely anticipate trouble, but the fact had not escaped him that +Ephraim still held the whole of Anna's securities. He was in no hurry +to enlarge his borders. He knew that there were twenty-four hours in +every day, three hundred and sixty-five days in every year, and thirty +good years in life still left to him; and therefore that there would be +ample time, after the wedding, for the execution of his purposes in +regard to that fifty thousand pounds. Meanwhile, he told Anna that he +had set aside two hundred pounds for the purchase of furniture for the +Priory--a modest sum; but he judged it sufficient. His method was to +buy a piece at a time, always second-hand, but always good. The +bargain-hunt was up, and Anna soon yielded to its mild satisfactions. +In the matter of her trousseau and the house-linen, Anna, having +obtained the needed money--at so dear a cost--found yet another +obstacle in the imminent bazaar, which occupied Mrs. Sutton and +Beatrice so completely that they could not contrive any opportunity to +assist her in shopping. It was decided between them that every article +should be bought ready-made and seamed, and that the first week of the +New Year, if indeed Mrs. Sutton survived the bazaar, should be entirely +and absolutely devoted to Anna's business. + +At nights, when she had leisure to think, Anna was astonished how +during the day she had forgotten her preoccupations in the activities +precendent to the bazaar, or in choosing furniture with Mynors. But +she never slept without thinking of Willie Price, and hoping that no +further disaster might overtake him. The incident of the embezzled +fifty pounds had been closed, and she had given a cheque for +twenty-five pounds to Mynors. He had acquainted the minister with the +facts, and Mr. Banks had decided that the two circuit stewards must be +informed. Beyond these the scandalous secret was not to go. But Anna +wondered whether a secret shared by five persons could long remain a +secret. + +The bazaar was a triumphant and unparalleled success, and, of the seven +stalls, the Sunday-school stall stood first each night in the nightly +returns. The scene in the town-hall, on the fourth and final night, a +Saturday, was as delirious and gay as a carnival. Four hundred and +twenty pounds had been raised up to tea-time, and it was the +impassioned desire of everyone to achieve five hundred. The price of +admission had been reduced to threepence, in order that the artisan +might enter and spend his wages in an excellent cause. The seven +stalls, ranged round the room like so many bowers of beauty, draped and +frilled and floriated, and still laden with countless articles of use +and ornament, were continually reinforced with purchasers by emissaries +canvassing the crowd which filled the middle of the paper-strewn floor. +The horse was not only taken to the water, but compelled to drink; and +many a man who, outside, would have laughed at the risk of being +robbed, was robbed openly, shamelessly, under the gaze of ministers and +class-leaders. Bouquets were sold at a shilling each, and at the +refreshment stall a glass of milk cost sixpence. The noise rivalled +that of a fair; there was no quiet anywhere, save in the farthest +recess of each stall, where the lady in supreme charge of it, like a +spider in the middle of its web, watched customers and cash-box with +equal cupidity. + +Mrs. Sutton, at seven o'clock, had not returned from tea, and Anna and +Beatrice, who managed the Sunday-school stall in her absence, feared +that she had at last succumbed under the strain. But shortly +afterwards she hurried back breathless to her place. + +'See that, Anna? It will be reckoned in our returns,' she said, +exhibiting a piece of paper. It was Ephraim's cheque for twenty-five +pounds promised months ago, but on a condition which had not been +fulfilled. + +'She has the secret of persuading him,' thought Anna. 'Why have I +never found it?' + +Then Agnes, in a new white frock, came up with three shillings, +proceeds of bouquets. + +'But you must take that to the flower-stall, my pet,' said Mrs. Sutton. + +'Can't I give it to you?' the child pleaded. 'I want your stall to be +the best.' + +Mynors arrived next, with something concealed in tissue-paper. He +removed the paper, and showed, in a frame of crimson plush, a common +white plate decorated with a simple band and line, and a monogram in +the centre--'A.T.' Anna blushed, recognising the plate which she had +painted that afternoon in July at Mynors' works. + +'Can you sell this?' Mynors asked Mrs. Sutton. + +'I'll try to,' said Mrs. Sutton doubtfully--not in the secret. 'What's +it meant for?' + +'Try to sell it to me,' said Mynors. + +'Well,' she laughed, 'what will you give?' + +'A couple of sovereigns.' + +'Make it guineas.' + +He paid the money, and requested Anna to keep the plate for him. + +At nine o'clock it was announced that, though raffling was forbidden, +the bazaar would be enlivened by an auction. A licensed auctioneer was +brought, and the sale commenced. The auctioneer, however, failed to +attune himself to the wild spirit of the hour, and his professional +efforts would have resulted in a fiasco had not Mynors, perceiving the +danger, leaped to the platform and masterfully assumed the hammer. +Mynors surpassed himself in the kind of wit that amuses an excited +crowd, and the auction soon monopolised the attention of the room; it +was always afterwards remembered as the crowning success of the bazaar. +The incredible man took ten pounds in twenty minutes. During this +episode Anna, who had been left alone in the stall, first noticed +Willie Price in the room. His ship sailed on the Monday, but steerage +passengers had to be aboard on Sunday, and he was saying good-bye to a +few acquaintances. He seemed quite cheerful, as he walked about with +his hands in his pockets, chatting with this one and that; it was the +false and hysterical gaiety that precedes a final separation. As soon +as he saw Anna he came towards her. + +'Well, good-bye, Miss Tellwright,' he said jauntily. 'I leave for +Liverpool to-morrow morning. Wish me luck.' + +Nothing more; no word, no accent, to recall the terrible but sublime +past. + +'I do,' she answered. They shook hands. Others approaching, he +drifted away. Her glance followed him like a beneficent influence. + +For three days she had carried in her pocket an envelope containing a +bank-note for a hundred pounds, intending by some device to force it on +him as a parting gift. Now the last chance was lost, and she had not +even attempted this difficult feat of charity. Such futility, she +reflected, self-scorning, was of a piece with her life. 'He hasn't +really gone. He hasn't really gone,' she kept repeating, and yet knew +well that he had gone. + +'Do you know what they are saying, Anna?' said Beatrice, when, after +eleven o'clock, the bazaar was closed to the public, and the +stall-holders and their assistants were preparing to depart, their +movements hastened by the stern aspect of the town-hall keeper. + +'No. What?' said Anna; and in the same moment guessed. + +'They say old Titus Price embezzled fifty pounds from the building +fund, and Henry made it up, privately, so that there shouldn't be a +scandal. Just fancy! Do you believe it?' + +The secret was abroad. She looked round the room, and saw it in every +face. + +'Who says?' Anna demanded fiercely. + +'It's all over the place. Miss Dickinson told me.' + +'You will be glad to know, ladies,' Mynors' voice sang out from the +platform, 'that the total proceeds, so far as we can calculate them +now, exceed five hundred and twenty-five pounds.' + +There was clapping of hands, which died out suddenly. + +'Now Agnes,' Anna called, 'come along, quick; you're as white as a +sheet. Good-night, Mrs. Sutton; good-night, Bee.' + +Mynors was still occupied on the platform. + +The town-hall keeper extinguished some of the lights. The bazaar was +over. + + + +[1] _Cut_: canal. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +END OF A SIMPLE SOUL + +The next morning, at half-past seven, Anna was standing in the +garden-doorway of the Priory. The sun had just risen, the air was +cold; roof and pavement were damp; rain had fallen, and more was to +fall. A door opened higher up the street, and Willie Price came out, +carrying a small bag. He turned to speak to some person within the +house, and then stepped forward. As he passed Anna she sprang forth. + +'Oh!' she cried, 'I had just come up here to see if the workmen had +locked up properly. We have some of our new furniture in the house, +you know.' She was as red as the sun over Hillport. + +He glanced at her. 'Have _you_ heard?' he asked simply. + +'About what?' she whispered. + +'About my poor old father.' + +'Yes. I was hoping--hoping you would never know.' + +By a common impulse they went into the garden of the Priory, and he +shut the door. + +'Never know?' he repeated. 'Oh! they took care to tell me.' + +A silence followed. + +'Is that your luggage?' she inquired. He lifted up the handbag, and +nodded. + +'All of it?' + +'Yes,' he said. 'I'm only an emigrant.' + +'I've got a note here for you,' she said. 'I should have posted it to +the steamer; but now you can take it yourself. I want you not to read +it till you get to Melbourne.' + +'Very well,' he said, and crumpled the proffered envelope into his +pocket. He was not thinking of the note at all. Presently he asked: +'Why didn't you tell me about my father? If I had to hear it, I'd +sooner have heard it from you.' + +'You must try to forget it,' she urged him. 'You are not your father.' + +'I wish I had never been born,' he said. 'I wish I'd gone to prison.' + +Now was the moment when, if ever, the mother's influence should be +exerted. + +'Be a man,' she said softly. 'I did the best I could for you. I shall +always think of you, in Australia, getting on.' + +She put a hand on his shoulder. 'Yes,' she said again, passionately: +'I shall always remember you--always.' + +The hand with which he touched her arm shook like an old man's hand. +As their eyes met in an intense and painful gaze, to her, at least, it +was revealed that they were lovers. What he had learnt in that instant +can only be guessed from his next action.... + + +Anna ran out of the garden into the street, and so home, never looking +behind to see if he pursued his way to the station. + +Some may argue that Anna, knowing she loved another man, ought not to +have married Mynors. But she did not reason thus; such a notion never +even occurred to her. She had promised to marry Mynors, and she +married him. Nothing else was possible. She who had never failed in +duty did not fail then. She who had always submitted and bowed the +head, submitted and bowed the head then. She had sucked in with her +mother's milk the profound truth that a woman's life is always a +renunciation, greater or less. Hers by chance was greater. Facing the +future calmly and genially, she took oath with herself to be a good +wife to the man whom, with all his excellences, she had never loved. +Her thoughts often dwelt lovingly on Willie Price, whom she deemed to +be pursuing in Australia an honourable and successful career, quickened +at the outset by her hundred pounds. This vision of him was her stay. +But neither she nor anyone in the Five Towns or elsewhere ever heard of +Willie Price again. And well might none hear! The abandoned pitshaft +does not deliver up its secret. And so--the Bank of England is the +richer by a hundred pounds unclaimed, and the world the poorer by a +simple and meek soul stung to revolt only in its last hour. + + + + +_Jamieson & Munro, Ltd., Printers, Stirling._ + + + + + Uniform with this Volume + + + 36 De Profundis Oscar Wilde + 37 Lord Arthur Savile's Crime Oscar Wilde + 38 Selected Poems Oscar Wilde + 39 An Ideal Husband Oscar Wilde + 40 Intentions Oscar Wilde + 41 Lady Windermere's Fan Oscar Wilde + 42 Charmides and other Poems Oscar Wilde + 43 Harvest Home E. V. Lucas + 44 A Little of Everything E. V. Lucas + 45 Vallima Letters Robert Louis Stevenson + 46 Hills and the Sea Hilaire Belloc + 47 The Blue Bird Maurice Maeterlinck + 50 Charles Dickens G. K. Chesterton + 53 Letters from Self-Made Merchant to his Son George Horace Larimer + 54 The Life of John Ruskin W. G. Collingwood + 57 Sevastopol and other Stories Leo Tolstoy + 58 The Lore of the Honey-Bee Tickner Edwardes + 60 From Midshipman to Field Marshal Sir Evelyn Wood + 63 Oscar Wilde Arthur Ransome + 64 The Vicar of Morwenstow S. Baring-Gould + 65 Old Country Life S. Baring-Gould + 76 Home Life in France M. Betham-Edwards + 77 Selected Prose Oscar Wilde + 78 The Best of Lamb E. V. Lucas + 80 Selected Letters Robert Louis Stevenson + 83 Reason and Belief Sir Oliver Lodge + 85 The Importance of Being Earnest Oscar Wilde + 91 Social Evils and their Remedy Leo Tolstoy + 93 The Substance of Faith Sir Oliver Lodge + 94 All Things Considered G. K. Chesterton + 95 The Mirror of the Sea Joseph Conrad + 96 A Picked Company Hilaire Belloc + 116 The Survival of Man Sir Oliver Lodge + 126 Science from an Easy Chair Sir Ray Lankester + 141 Variety Lane E. V. Lucas + 144 A Shilling for my Thoughts G. K. Chesterton + 146 A Woman of No Importance Oscar Wilde + 149 A Shepherd's Life W. H. Hudson + 193 On Nothing Hilaire Belloc + 300 Jane Austen and her Times G. E. Mitton + 114 Select Essays Maurice Maeterlinck + 218 R. L. S. Francis Watt + 223 Two Generations Leo Tolstoy + 126 On Everything Hilaire Belloc + 934 Records and Reminiscences Sir Francis Burnand + 253 My Childhood and Boyhood Leo Tolstoy + 254 On Something Hilaire Belloc + + + A Selection only. + + + Uniform with this Volume + + + 1 The Mighty Atom Marie Corelli + 2 Jane Marie Corelli + 3 Boy Marie Corelli + 4 Spanish Gold G. A. Birmingham + 5 The Search Party G. A. Birmingham + 6 Teresa of Watling Street Arnold Bennett + 9 The Unofficial Honeymoon Dolf Wyllarde + 12 The Demon C. N. and A. M. Williamson + 17 Joseph Frank Danby + 18 Round the Red Lamp Sir A. Conan Doyle + 20 Light Freights W. W. Jacobs + 22 The Long Road John Oxenham + 71 The Gates of Wrath Arnold Bennett + 72 Short Cruises W. W. Jacobs + 81 The Card Arnold Bennett + 87 Lalage's Lovers G. A. Birmingham + 93 White Fang Jack London + 105 The Wallet of Kai Lung Ernest Bramah + 108 The Adventures of Dr. Whitty G. A. Birmingham + 113 Lavender and Old Lace Myrtle Reed + 115 Old Rose and Silver Myrtle Reed + 122 The Double Life of Mr. Alfred Burton E. Phillips Oppenheim + 125 The Regent Arnold Bennett + 127 Sally Dorothea Conyers + 129 The Lodger Mrs. Belloc Lowndes + 135 A Spinner In the Sun Myrtle Reed + 137 The Mystery of Dr. Fu-Manchu Sax Rohmer + 139 The Golden Centipede Louise Gerard + 140 The Love Pirate C. N. and A. M. Williamson + 143 The Way of these Women E. Phillips Oppenheim + 143 Sandy Married Dorothea Conyers + 145 Chance Joseph Conrad + 148 Flower of the Dusk Myrtle Reed + 150 The Gentleman Adventurer H. C. Bailey + 154 The Hyena of Kallu Louise Gerard + 190 The Happy Hunting Ground Mrs. Alice Perrin + 191 My Lady of Shadows John Oxenham + 211 Max Carrados Ernest Bramah + 212 Under Western Eyes Joseph Conrad + 213 The Kloof Bride Ernest Glanville + 215 Mr. Grex of Monte Carlo E. Phillips Oppenheim + 216 The Wonder of Love E. M. Albanesi + 217 A Weaver of Dreams Myrtle Reed + 219 The Family Elinor Mordaunt + 220 A Heritage of Peril A. W. Marchmont + 221 The Kinsman Mrs. Sidgwick + 222 Emmanuel Burden Hilaire Belloc + 224 Broken Shackles John Oxenham + 225 A Knight of Spain Marjorie Bowen + 227 Byeways Robert Hichens + 228 Gossamer G. A. Birmingham + 230 The Salving of a Derelict Maurice Drake + 231 Cameos Marie Corelli + 232 The Happy Valley B. M. Croker + 245 The Shop Girl C. N. and A. M. Williamson + 250 The Lost Regiment Ernest Glanville + 261 Tarzan of the Apes Edgar Rice Burroughs + + + + A Selection only. + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Anna of the Five Towns, by Arnold Bennett + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANNA OF THE FIVE TOWNS *** + +***** This file should be named 35505.txt or 35505.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/5/0/35505/ + +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. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.net + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/old/35505-20110306.zip b/old/35505-20110306.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..26e8978 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/35505-20110306.zip diff --git a/old/35505-8-20110306.txt b/old/35505-8-20110306.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fabeae4 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/35505-8-20110306.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9286 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Anna of the Five Towns, by Arnold Bennett + +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.net + + +Title: Anna of the Five Towns + +Author: Arnold Bennett + +Release Date: March 6, 2011 [EBook #35505] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANNA OF THE FIVE TOWNS *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + + + + + +ANNA OF THE FIVE TOWNS + + +BY + +ARNOLD BENNETT + + + + +THIRTEENTH EDITION + + + + +METHUEN & CO. LTD. + +36 ESSEX STREET W.C. + +LONDON + + + + + First issued in this Cheap Form (Third Edition) - September 5th 1912 + Fourth Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - September 1912 + Fifth Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - February 1913 + Sixth Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - July 1913 + Seventh Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - April 1914 + Eighth Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - September 1914 + Ninth Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - November 1915 + Tenth Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - July 1916 + Eleventh Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - March 1917 + Twelfth Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - February 1918 + Thirteenth Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 1919 + + + + This Book was First Published by Messrs Chatto & + Windus - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - September 11th, 1902 + Second Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - November 1902 + + + + +I DEDICATE THIS BOOK + +WITH AFFECTION AND ADMIRATION + +TO + +HERBERT SHARPE + +AN ARTIST + +WHOSE INDIVIDUALITY AND ACHIEVEMENT + +HAVE CONTINUALLY INSPIRED ME + + + + + 'Therefore, although it be a history + Homely and rude, I will relate the same + For the delight of a few natural hearts.' + + + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER + + I. THE KINDLING OF LOVE + II. THE MISER'S DAUGHTER + III. THE BIRTHDAY + IV. A VISIT + V. THE REVIVAL + VI. WILLIE + VII. THE SEWING MEETING + VIII. ON THE BANK + IX. THE TREAT + X. THE ISLE + XI. THE DOWNFALL + XII. AT THE PRIORY + XIII. THE BAZAAR + XIV. END OF A SIMPLE SOUL + + + + +ANNA OF THE FIVE TOWNS + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE KINDLING OF LOVE + +The yard was all silent and empty under the burning afternoon heat, +which had made its asphalt springy like turf, when suddenly the +children threw themselves out of the great doors at either end of the +Sunday-school--boys from the right, girls from the left--in two +howling, impetuous streams, that widened, eddied, intermingled and +formed backwaters until the whole quadrangle was full of clamour and +movement. Many of the scholars carried prize-books bound in vivid +tints, and proudly exhibited these volumes to their companions and to +the teachers, who, tall, languid, and condescending, soon began to +appear amid the restless throng. Near the left-hand door a little girl +of twelve years, dressed in a cream coloured frock, with a wide and +heavy straw hat, stood quietly kicking her foal-like legs against the +wall. She was one of those who had won a prize, and once or twice she +took the treasure from under her arm to glance at its frontispiece with +a vague smile of satisfaction. For a time her bright eyes were fixed +expectantly on the doorway; then they would wander, and she started to +count the windows of the various Connexional buildings which on three +sides enclosed the yard--chapel, school, lecture-hall, and +chapel-keeper's house. Most of the children had already squeezed +through the narrow iron gate into the street beyond, where a steam-car +was rumbling and clattering up Duck Bank, attended by its immense +shadow. The teachers remained a little behind. Gradually dropping the +pedagogic pose, and happy in the virtuous sensation of duty +accomplished, they forgot the frets and fatigues of the day, and grew +amiably vivacious among themselves. With an instinctive mutual +complacency the two sexes mixed again after separation. Greetings and +pleasantries were exchanged, and intimate conversations begun; and +then, dividing into small familiar groups, the young men and women +slowly followed their pupils out of the gate. The chapel-keeper, who +always had an injured expression, left the white step of his residence, +and, walking with official dignity across the yard, drew down the +side-windows of the chapel one after another. As he approached the +little solitary girl in his course he gave her a reluctant acid +recognition; then he returned to his hearth. Agnes was alone. + +'Well, young lady?' + +She looked round with a jump, and blushed, smiling and screwing up her +little shoulders, when she recognised the two men who were coming +towards her from the door of the lecture-hall. The one who had called +out was Henry Mynors, morning superintendent of the Sunday-school and +conductor of the men's Bible-class held in the lecture-hall on Sunday +afternoons. The other was William Price, usually styled Willie Price, +secretary of the same Bible-class, and son of Titus Price, the +afternoon superintendent. + +'I'm sure you don't deserve that prize. Let me see if it isn't too +good for you.' Mynors smiled playfully down upon Agnes Tellwright as +he idly turned the leaves of the book which she handed to him. 'Now, +do you deserve it? Tell me honestly.' + +She scrutinised those sparkling and vehement black eyes with the +fearless calm of infancy. 'Yes, I do,' $he answered in her high, thin +voice, having at length decided within herself that Mr. Mynors was +joking. + +'Then I suppose you must have it,' he admitted, with a fine air of +giving way. + +As Agnes took the volume from him she thought how perfect a man Mr. +Mynors was. His eyes, so kind and sincere, and that mysterious, +delicious, inexpressible something which dwelt behind his eyes: these +constituted an ideal for her. + +Willie Price stood somewhat apart, grinning, and pulling a thin +honey-coloured moustache. He was at the uncouth, disjointed age, +twenty-one, and nine years younger than Henry Mynors. Despite a +continual effort after ease of manner, he was often sheepish and +self-conscious, even, as now, when he could discover no reason for such +a condition of mind. But Agnes liked him too. His simple, pale blue +eyes had a wistfulness which made her feel towards him as she felt +towards her doll when she happened to find it lying neglected on the +floor. + +'Your big sister isn't out of school yet?' Mynors remarked. + +Agnes shook her head. 'I've been waiting ever so long,' she said +plaintively. + +At that moment a grey-haired woman with a benevolent but rather pinched +face emerged with much briskness from the girls' door. This was Mrs. +Sutton, a distant relative of Mynors'--his mother had been her second +cousin. The men raised their hats. + +'I've just been down to make sure of some of you slippery folks for the +sewing-meeting,' she said, shaking hands with Mynors, and including +both him and Willie Price in an embracing maternal smile. She was +short-sighted and did not perceive Agnes, who had fallen back. + +'Had a good class this afternoon, Henry?' Mrs. Sutton's breathing was +short and quick. + +'Oh, yes,' he said, 'very good indeed.' + +'You're doing a grand work.' + +'We had over seventy present,' he added. + +'Eh!' she said, 'I make nothing of numbers. Henry. I meant a _good_ +class. Doesn't it say--Where _two or three_ are gathered together...? +But I must be getting on. The horse will be restless. I've to go up +to Hillport before tea. Mrs. Clayton Vernon is ill.' + +Scarcely having stopped in her active course, Mrs. Sutton drew the men +along with her down the yard, she and Mynors in rapid talk: Willie +Price fell a little to the rear, his big hands half-way into his +pockets and his eyes diffidently roving. It appeared as though he +could not find courage to take a share in the conversation, yet was +anxious to convince himself of his right to do so. + +Mynors helped Mrs. Sutton into her carriage, which had been drawn up +outside the gate of the school yard. Only two families of the Bursley +Wesleyan Methodists kept a carriage, the Suttons and the Clayton +Vernons. The latter, boasting lineage and a large house in the +aristocratic suburb of Hillport, gave to the society monetary aid and a +gracious condescension. But though indubitably above the operation of +any unwritten sumptuary law, even the Clayton Vernons ventured only in +wet weather to bring their carriage to chapel. Yet Mrs. Sutton, who +was a plain woman, might with impunity use her equipage on Sundays. +This license granted by Connexional opinion was due to the fact that +she so obviously regarded her carriage, not as a carriage, but as a +contrivance on four wheels for enabling an infirm creature to move +rapidly from place to place. When she got into it she had exactly the +air of a doctor on his rounds. Mrs. Sutton's bodily frame had long ago +proved inadequate to the ceaseless demands of a spirit indefatigably +altruistic, and her continuance in activity was a notable illustration +of the dominion of mind over matter. Her husband, a potter's valuer +and commission agent, made money with facility in that lucrative +vocation, and his wife's charities were famous, notwithstanding her +attempts to hide them. Neither husband nor wife had allowed riches to +put a factitious gloss upon their primal simplicity. They were as they +were, save that Mr. Sutton had joined the Five Towns Field Club and +acquired some of the habits of an archaeologist. The influence of +wealth on manners was to be observed only in their daughter Beatrice, +who, while favouring her mother, dressed at considerable expense, and +at intervals gave much time to the arts of music and painting. Agnes +watched the carriage drive away, and then turned to look up the stairs +within the school doorway. She sighed, scowled, and sighed again, +murmured something to herself, and finally began to read her book. + +'Not come out yet?' Mynors was at her side once more, alone this time. + +'No, not yet,' said Agnes, wearied. 'Yes. Here she is. Anna, what +ages you've been!' + +Anna Tellwright stood motionless for a second in the shadow of the +doorway. She was tall, but not unusually so, and sturdily built up. +Her figure, though the bust was a little flat, had the lenient curves +of absolute maturity. Anna had been a woman since seventeen, and she +was now on the eve of her twenty-first birthday. She wore a plain, +home-made light frock checked with brown and edged with brown velvet, +thin cotton gloves of cream colour, and a broad straw hat like her +sister's. Her grave face, owing to the prominence of the cheekbones +and the width of the jaw, had a slight angularity; the lips were thin, +the brown eyes rather large, the eyebrows level, the nose fine and +delicate; the ears could scarcely be seen for the dark brown hair which +was brushed diagonally across the temples, leaving of the forehead only +a pale triangle. It seemed a face for the cloister, austere in +contour, fervent in expression, the severity of it mollified by that +resigned and spiritual melancholy peculiar to women who through the +error of destiny have been born into a wrong environment. + +As if charmed forward by Mynors' compelling eyes, Anna stepped into the +sunlight, at the same time putting up her parasol. 'How calm and +stately she is,' he thought, as she gave him her cool hand and murmured +a reply to his salutation. But even his aquiline gaze could not +surprise the secrets of that concealing breast: this was one of the +three great tumultuous moments of her life--she realised for the first +time that she was loved. + +'You are late this afternoon, Miss Tellwright,' Mynors began, with the +easy inflections of a man well accustomed to prominence in the society +of women. Little Agnes seized Anna's left arm, silently holding up the +prize, and Anna nodded appreciation. + +'Yes,' she said as they walked across the yard, 'one of my girls has +been doing wrong. She stole a Bible from another girl, so of course I +had to mention it to the superintendent. Mr. Price gave her a long +lecture, and now she is waiting upstairs till he is ready to go with +her to her home and talk to her parents. He says she must be +dismissed.' + +'Dismissed!' + +Anna's look flashed a grateful response to him. By the least possible +emphasis he had expressed a complete disagreement with his senior +colleague which etiquette forbade him to utter in words. + +'I think it's a very great pity,' Anna said firmly. 'I rather like the +girl,' she ventured in haste; 'you might speak to Mr. Price about it.' + +'If he mentions it to me.' + +'Yes, I meant that. Mr. Price said--if it had been anything else but a +_Bible_----' + +'Um!' he murmured very low, but she caught the significance of his +intonation. They did not glance at each other: it was unnecessary. +Anna felt that comfortable easement of the spirit which springs from +the recognition of another spirit capable of understanding without +explanations and of sympathising without a phrase. Under that calm +mask a strange and sweet satisfaction thrilled through her as her +precious instinct of common sense--rarest of good qualities, and pining +always for fellowship--found a companion in his own. She had dreaded +the overtures which for a fortnight past she had foreseen were +inevitably to come from Mynors: he was a stranger, whom she merely +respected. Now in a sudden disclosure she knew him and liked him. The +dire apprehension of those formal 'advances' which she had watched +other men make to other women faded away. It was at once a release and +a reassurance. + +They were passing through the gate, Agnes skipping round her sister's +skirts, when Willie Price reappeared front the direction of the chapel. + +'Forgotten something?' Mynors inquired of him blandly. + +'Ye-es,' he stammered, clumsily raising his hat to Anna. She thought +of him exactly as Agnes had done. He hesitated for a fraction of time, +and then went up the yard-towards the lecture-hall. + +'Agnes has been showing me her prize,' said Mynors, as the three stood +together outside the gate. 'I ask her if she thinks she really +deserves it, and she says she does. What do you think, Miss Big +Sister?' + +Anna gave the little girl an affectionate smile of comprehension. +'What is it called, dear?' + +'"Janey's Sacrifice or the Spool of Cotton, and other stories for +children,"' Agnes read out in a monotone: then she clutched Anna's +elbow and aimed a whisper at her ear. + +'Very well, dear,' Anna answered loud, 'but we must be back by a +quarter-past four.' And turning to Mynors: 'Agnes wants to go up to +the Park to hear the band play.' + +'I'm going up there, too,' he said. 'Come along, Agnes, take my arm +and show me the way.' Shyly Agnes left her sister's side and put a +pink finger into Mynors' hand. + +Moor Road, which climbs over the ridge to the mining village of +Moorthorne and passes the new Park on its way, was crowded with people +going up to criticise and enjoy this latest outcome of municipal +enterprise in Bursley: sedate elders of the borough who smiled grimly +to see one another on Sunday afternoon in that undignified, idly +curious throng; white-skinned potters, and miners with the swarthy +pallor of subterranean toil; untidy Sabbath loafers whom neither church +nor chapel could entice, and the primly-clad respectable who had not +only clothes but a separate deportment for the seventh day; house-wives +whose pale faces, as of prisoners free only for a while, showed a naïve +and timorous pleasure in the unusual diversion; young women made +glorious by richly-coloured stuffs and carrying themselves with the +defiant independence of good wages earned in warehouse or +painting-shop; youths oppressed by stiff new clothes bought at +Whitsuntide, in which the bright necktie and the nosegay revealed a +thousand secret aspirations; young children running and yelling with +the marvellous energy of their years; here and there a small +well-dressed group whose studious repudiation of the crowd betrayed a +conscious eminence of rank; louts, drunkards, idiots, beggars, waifs, +outcasts, and every oddity of the town: all were more or less under the +influence of a new excitement, and all with the same face of pleased +expectancy looked towards the spot where, half-way up the hill, a +denser mass of sightseers indicated the grand entrance to the Park. + +'What stacks of folks!' Agnes exclaimed. 'It's like going to a +football match.' + +'Do you go to football matches, Agnes?' Mynors asked. The child gave a +giggle. + +Anna was relieved when these two began to chatter. She had at once, by +a firm natural impulse, subdued the agitation which seized her when she +found Mynors waiting with such an obvious intention at the school door; +she had conversed with him in tones of quiet ease; his attitude had +even enabled her in a few moments to establish a pleasant familiarity +with him. Nevertheless, as they joined the stream of people in Moor +Road, she longed to be at home, in her kitchen, in order to examine +herself and the new situation thus created by Mynors. And yet also she +was glad that she must remain at his side, but it was a fluttered joy +that his presence gave her, too strange for immediate appreciation. As +her eye, without directly looking at him, embraced the suave and +admirable male creature within its field of vision, she became aware +that he was quite inscrutable to her. What were his inmost thoughts, +his ideals, the histories of his heart? Surely it was impossible that +she should ever know these secrets! He--and she: they were utterly +foreign to each other. So the primary dissonances of sex vibrated +within her, and her own feelings puzzled her. Still, there was an +instant pleasure, delightful, if disturbing and inexplicable. And also +there was a sensation of triumph, which, though she tried to scorn it, +she could not banish. That a man and a woman should saunter together +on that road was nothing; but the circumstance acquired tremendous +importance when the man happened to be Henry Mynors and the woman Anna +Tellwright. Mynors--handsome, dark, accomplished, exemplary and +prosperous--had walked for ten years circumspect and unscathed amid the +glances of a whole legion of maids. As for Anna, the peculiarity of +her position had always marked her for special attention: ever since +her father settled in Bursley, she had felt herself to be the object of +an interest in which awe and pity were equally mingled. She guessed +that the fact of her going to the Park with Mynors that afternoon would +pass swiftly from mouth to mouth like the rumour of a decisive event. +She had no friends; her innate reserve had been misinterpreted, and she +was not popular among the Wesleyan community. Many people would say, +and more would think, that it was her money which was drawing Mynors +from the narrow path of his celibate discretion. She could imagine all +the innuendoes, the expressive nods, the pursing of lips, the lifting +of shoulders and of eyebrows. 'Money 'll do owt': that was the +proverb. But she cared not. She had the just and unshakable +self-esteem which is fundamental in all strong and righteous natures; +and she knew beyond the possibility of doubt that, though Mynors might +have no incurable aversion to a fortune, she herself, the spirit and +body of her, had been the sole awakener of his desire. + +By a common instinct, Mynors and Anna made little Agnes the centre of +attraction. Mynors continued to tease her, and Agnes growing +courageous, began to retort. She was now walking between them, and the +other two smiled to each other at the child's sayings over her head, +interchanging thus messages too subtle and delicate for the coarse +medium of words. + +As they approached the Park the bandstand came into sight over the +railway cutting, and they could hear the music of 'The Emperor's Hymn.' +The crude, brazen sounds were tempered in their passage through the +warm, still air, and fell gently on the ear in soft waves, quickening +every heart to unaccustomed emotions. Children leaped forward, and old +people unconsciously assumed a lightsome vigour. The Park rose in +terraces from the railway station to a street of small villas almost on +the ridge of the hill. From its gilded gates to its smallest +geranium-slips it was brand-new, and most of it was red. The keeper's +house, the bandstand, the kiosks, the balustrades, the shelters--all +these assailed the eye with a uniform redness of brick and tile which +nullified the pallid greens of the turf and the frail trees. The +immense crowd, in order to circulate, moved along in tight processions, +inspecting one after another the various features of which they had +read full descriptions in the 'Staffordshire Signal'--waterfall, +grotto, lake, swans, boat, seats, faience, statues--and scanning with +interest the names of the donors so clearly inscribed on such objects +of art and craft as from divers motives had been presented to the town +by its citizens. Mynors, as he manoeuvred a way for the two girls +through the main avenue up to the topmost terrace, gravely judged each +thing upon its merits, approving this, condemning that. In deciding +that under all the circumstances the Park made a very creditable +appearance he only reflected the best local opinion. The town was +proud of its achievement, and it had the right to be; for, though this +narrow pleasaunce was in itself unlovely, it symbolised the first faint +renascence of the longing for beauty in a district long given up to +unredeemed ugliness. + +At length, Mynors having encountered many acquaintances, they got past +the bandstand and stood on the highest terrace, which was almost +deserted. Beneath them, in front, stretched a maze of roofs, dominated +by the gold angel of the Town Hall spire. Bursley, the ancient home of +the potter, has an antiquity of a thousand years. It lies towards the +north end of an extensive valley, which must have been one of the +fairest spots in Alfred's England, but which is now defaced by the +activities of a quarter of a million of people. Five contiguous +towns--Turnhill, Bursley, Hanbridge, Knype, and Longshaw--united by a +single winding thoroughfare some eight miles in length, have inundated +the valley like a succession of great lakes. Of these five Bursley is +the mother, but Hanbridge is the largest. They are mean and forbidding +of aspect--sombre, hard-featured, uncouth; and the vaporous poison of +their ovens and chimneys has soiled and shrivelled the surrounding +country till there is no village lane within a league but what offers a +gaunt and ludicrous travesty of rural charms. Nothing could be more +prosaic than the huddled, red-brown streets; nothing more seemingly +remote from romance. Yet be it said that romance is even here--the +romance which, for those who have an eye to perceive it, ever dwells +amid the seats of industrial manufacture, softening the coarseness, +transfiguring the squalor, of these mighty alchemic operations. Look +down into the valley from this terrace-height where love is kindling, +embrace the whole smoke-girt amphitheatre in a glance, and it may be +that you will suddenly comprehend the secret and superb significance of +the vast Doing which goes forward below. Because they seldom think, +the townsmen take shame when indicted for having disfigured half a +county in order to live. They have not understood that this +disfigurement is merely an episode in the unending warfare of man and +nature, and calls for no contrition. Here, indeed, is nature repaid +for some of her notorious cruelties. She imperiously bids man sustain +and reproduce himself, and this is one of the places where in the very +act of obedience he wounds and maltreats her. Out beyond the municipal +confines, where the subsidiary industries of coal and iron prosper amid +a wreck of verdure, the struggle is grim, appalling, heroic--so +ruthless is his havoc of her, so indomitable her ceaseless +recuperation. On the one side is a wresting from nature's own bowels +of the means to waste her; on the other, an undismayed, enduring +fortitude. The grass grows; though it is not green, it grows. In the +very heart of the valley, hedged about with furnaces, a farm still +stands, and at harvest-time the sooty sheaves are gathered in. + +The band stopped playing. A whole population was idle in the Park, and +it seemed, in the fierce calm of the sunlight, that of all the +strenuous weekday vitality of the district only a murmurous hush +remained. But everywhere on the horizon, and nearer, furnaces cast +their heavy smoke across the borders of the sky: the Doing was never +suspended. + +'Mr. Mynors,' said Agnes, still holding his hand, when they had been +silent a moment, 'when do those furnaces go out?' + +'They don't go out,' he answered, 'unless there is a strike. It costs +hundreds and hundreds of pounds to light them again.' + +'Does it?' she said vaguely. 'Father says it's the smoke that stops my +gilliflowers from growing.' + +Mynors turned to Anna. 'Your father seems the picture of health. I +saw him out this morning at a quarter to seven, as brisk as a boy. +What a constitution!' + +'Yes,' Anna replied, 'he is always up at six.' + +'But you aren't, I suppose?' + +'Yes, I too.' + +'And me too,' Agnes interjected. + +'And how does Bursley compare with Hanbridge?' Mynors continued. Anna +paused before replying. + +'I like it better,' she said. 'At first--last year--I thought I +shouldn't.' + +'By the way, your father used to preach in Hanbridge circuit-----' + +'That was years ago,' she said quickly. + +'But why won't he preach here? I dare say you know that we are rather +short of local preachers--good ones, that is.' + +'I can't say why father doesn't preach now:' Anna flushed as she spoke. +'You had better ask him that.' + +'Well, I will do,' he laughed. 'I am coming to see him soon--perhaps +one night next week.' + +Anna looked at Henry Mynors as he uttered the astonishing words. The +Tellwrights had been in Bursley a year, but no visitor had crossed +their doorsteps except the minister, once, and such poor defaulters as +came, full of excuse and obsequious conciliation, to pay rent overdue. + +'Business, I suppose?' she said, and prayed that he might not be +intending to make a mere call of ceremony. + +'Yes, business,' he answered lightly. 'But you will be in?' + +'I am always in,' she said. She wondered what the business could be, +and felt relieved to know that his visit would have at least some +assigned pretext; but already her heart beat with apprehensive +perturbation at the thought of his presence in their household. + +'See!' said Agnes, whose eyes were everywhere, 'There's Miss Sutton.' + +Both Mynors and Anna looked sharply round. Beatrice Sutton was coming +towards them along the terrace. Stylishly clad in a dress of pink +muslin, with harmonious hat, gloves, and sunshade, she made an +agreeable and rather effective picture, despite her plain, round face +and stoutish figure. She had the air of being a leader. Grafted on to +the original simple honesty of her eyes there was the +unconsciously-acquired arrogance of one who had always been accustomed +to deference. Socially, Beatrice had no peer among the young women who +were active in the Wesleyan Sunday-school. Beatrice had been used to +teach in the afternoon school, but she had recently advanced her +labours from the afternoon to the morning in response to a hint that if +she did so the force of her influence and example might lessen the +chronic dearth of morning teachers. + +'Good afternoon, Miss Tellwright,' Beatrice said as she came up. 'So +you have come to look at the Park.' + +'Yes,' said Anna, and then stopped awkwardly. In the tone of each +there was an obscure constraint, and something in Mynors' smile of +salute to Beatrice showed that he too shared it. + +'Seen you before,' Beatrice said to him familiarly, without taking his +hand; then she bent down and kissed Agnes. + +'What are you doing here, mademoiselle?' Mynors asked her. + +'Father's just down below, near the lake. He caught sight of you, and +sent me up to say that you were to be sure to come in to supper +to-night. You will, won't you?' + +'Yes, thanks. I had meant to.' + +Anna knew that they were related, and also that Mynors was constantly +at the Suttons' house, but the close intimacy between these two came +nevertheless like a shock to her. She could not conquer a certain +resentment of it, however absurd such a feeling might seem to her +intelligence. And this attitude extended not only to the intimacy, but +to Beatrice's handsome clothes and facile urbanity, which by contrast +emphasised her own poor little frock and tongue-tied manner. The mere +existence of Beatrice so near to Mynors was like an affront to her. +Yet at heart, and even while admiring this shining daughter of success, +she was conscious within herself of a fundamental superiority. The +soul of her condescended to the soul of the other one. + +They began to discuss the Park. + +'Papa says it will send up the value of that land over there +enormously,' said Beatrice, pointing with her ribboned sunshade to some +building plots which lay to the north, high up the hill. 'Mr. +Tellwright owns most of that, doesn't he?' she added to Anna. + +'I dare say he does,' said Anna. It was torture to her to refer to her +father's possessions. + +'Of course it will be covered with streets in a few months. Will he +build himself, or will he sell it?' + +'I haven't the least idea,' Anna answered, with an effort after gaiety +of tone, and then turned aside to look at the crowd. There, close +against the bandstand, stood her father, a short, stout, ruddy, +middle-aged man in a shabby brown suit. He recognised her, stared +fixedly, and nodded with his grotesque and ambiguous grin. Then he +sidled off towards the entrance of the Park. None of the others had +seen him. 'Agnes dear,' she said abruptly, 'we must go now, or we +shall be late for tea.' + +As the two women said good-bye their eyes met, and in the brief second +of that encounter each tried to wring from the other the true answer to +a question which lay unuttered in her heart. Then, having bidden adieu +to Mynors, whose parting glance sang its own song to her, Anna took +Agnes by the hand and left him and Beatrice together. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE MISER'S DAUGHTER + +Anna sat in the bay-window of the front parlour, her accustomed place +on Sunday evenings in summer, and watched Mr. Tellwright and Agnes +disappear down the slope of Trafalgar Road on their way to chapel. +Trafalgar Road is the long thoroughfare which, under many aliases, runs +through the Five Towns from end to end, uniting them as a river might +unite them. Ephraim Tellwright could remember the time when this part +of it was a country lane, flanked by meadows and market gardens. Now +it was a street of houses up to and beyond Bleakridge, where the +Tellwrights lived; on the other side of the hill the houses came only +in patches until the far-stretching borders of Hanbridge were reached. +Within the municipal limits Bleakridge was the pleasantest quarter of +Bursley--Hillport, abode of the highest fashion, had its own government +and authority--and to reside 'at the top of Trafalgar Road' was still +the final ambition of many citizens, though the natural growth of the +town had robbed Bleakridge of some of that exclusive distinction which +it once possessed. Trafalgar Road, in its journey to Bleakridge from +the centre of the town, underwent certain changes of character. First +came a succession of manufactories and small shops; then, at the +beginning of the rise, a quarter of a mile of superior cottages; and +lastly, on the brow, occurred the houses of the comfortable-detached, +semi-detached, and in terraces, with rentals from 25_l._ to 60_l._ a +year. The Tellwrights lived in Manor Terrace (the name being a last +reminder of the great farmstead which formerly occupied the western +hill side): their house, of light yellow brick, was two-storied, with a +long narrow garden behind, and the rent 30_l_. Exactly opposite was an +antique red mansion, standing back in its own ground--home of the +Mynors family for two generations, but now a school, the Mynors family +being extinct in the district save for one member. Somewhat higher up, +still on the opposite side to Manor Terrace, came an imposing row of +four new houses, said to be the best planned and best built in the +town, each erected separately and occupied by its owner. The nearest +of these four was Councillor Sutton's, valued at 60_l._ a year. Lower +down, below Manor Terrace and on the same side, lived the Wesleyan +superintendent minister, the vicar of St. Luke's Church, an alderman, +and a doctor. + +It was nearly six o'clock. The sun shone, but gentlier; and the earth +lay cooling in the mild, pensive effulgence of a summer evening. Even +the onrush of the steam-car, as it swept with a gay load of passengers +to Hanbridge, seemed to be chastened; the bell of the Roman Catholic +chapel sounded like the bell of some village church heard in the +distance; the quick but sober tramp of the chapel-goers fell peacefully +on the ear. The sense of calm increased, and, steeped in this +meditative calm, Anna from the open window gazed idly down the +perspective of the road, which ended a mile away in the dim concave +forms of ovens suffused in a pale mist. A book from the Free Library +lay on her lap; she could not read it. She was conscious of nothing +save the quiet enchantment of reverie. Her mind, stimulated by the +emotions of the afternoon, broke the fetters of habitual +self-discipline, and ranged voluptuously free over the whole field of +recollection and anticipation. To remember, to hope: that was +sufficient joy. + +In the dissolving views of her own past, from which the rigour and pain +seemed to have mysteriously departed, the chief figure was always her +father--that sinister and formidable individuality, whom her mind hated +but her heart disobediently loved. Ephraim Tellwright[1] was one of +the most extraordinary and most mysterious men in the Five Towns. The +outer facts of his career were known to all, for his riches made him +notorious; but of the secret and intimate man none knew anything except +Anna, and what little Anna knew had come to her by divination rather +than discernment. A native of Hanbridge, he had inherited a small +fortune from his father, who was a prominent Wesleyan Methodist. At +thirty, owing mainly to investments in property which his calling of +potter's valuer had helped him to choose with advantage, he was worth +twenty thousand pounds, and he lived in lodgings on a total expenditure +of about a hundred a year. When he was thirty-five he suddenly +married, without any perceptible public wooing, the daughter of a wood +merchant at Oldcastle, and shortly after the marriage his wife +inherited from her father a sum of eighteen thousand pounds. The pair +lived narrowly in a small house up at Pireford, between Hanbridge and +Oldcastle. They visited no one, and were never seen together except on +Sundays. She was a rosy-cheeked, very unassuming and simple woman, who +smiled easily and talked with difficulty, and for the rest lived +apparently a servile life of satisfaction and content. After five +years Anna was born, and in another five years Mrs. Tellwright died of +erysipelas. The widower engaged a housekeeper: otherwise his existence +proceeded without change. No stranger visited the house, the +housekeeper never gossiped; but tales will spread, and people fell into +the habit of regarding Tellwright's child and his housekeeper with +commiseration. + +During all this period he was what is termed 'a good Wesleyan,' +preaching and teaching, and spending himself in the various activities +of Hanbridge chapel. For many years he had been circuit treasurer. +Among Anna's earliest memories was a picture of her father arriving +late for supper one Sunday night in autumn after an anniversary +service, and pouring out on the white tablecloth the contents of +numerous chamois-leather money-bags. She recalled the surprising +dexterity with which he counted the coins, the peculiar smell of the +bags, and her mother's bland exclamation, 'Eh, Ephraim!' Tellwright +belonged by birth to the Old Guard of Methodism; there was in his +family a tradition of holy valour for the pure doctrine: his father, a +Bursley man, had fought in the fight which preceded the famous +Primitive Methodist Secession of 1808 at Bursley, and had also borne a +notable part in the Warren affrays of '28, and the disastrous trouble +of the Fly-Sheets in '49, when Methodism lost a hundred thousand +members. As for Ephraim, he expounded the mystery of the Atonement in +village conventicles and grew garrulous with God at prayer-meetings in +the big Bethesda chapel; but he did these things as routine, without +skill and without enthusiasm, because they gave him an unassailable +position within the central group of the society. He was not, in fact, +much smitten with either the doctrinal or the spiritual side of +Methodism. His chief interest lay in those fiscal schemes of +organisation without whose aid no religious propaganda can possibly +succeed. It was in the finance of salvation that he rose supreme--the +interminable alternation of debt-raising and new liability which +provides a lasting excitement for Nonconformists. In the negotiation +of mortgages, the artful arrangement of appeals, the planning of +anniversaries and of mighty revivals, he was an undisputed leader. To +him the circuit was a 'going concern,' and he kept it in motion, +serving the Lord in committee and over statements of account. The +minister by his pleading might bring sinners to the penitent form, but +it was Ephraim Tellwright who reduced the cost per head of souls saved, +and so widened the frontiers of the Kingdom of Heaven. + +Three years after the death of his first wife it was rumoured that he +would marry again, and that his choice had fallen on a young orphan +girl, thirty years his junior, who 'assisted' at the stationer's shop +where he bought his daily newspaper. The rumour was well-founded. +Anna, then eight years of age, vividly remembered the home-coming of +the pale wife, and her own sturdy attempts to explain, excuse, or +assuage to this wistful and fragile creature the implacable harshness +of her father's temper. Agnes was born within a year, and the pale +girl died of puerperal fever. In that year lay a whole tragedy, which +could not have been more poignant in its perfection if the year had +been a thousand years. Ephraim promptly re-engaged the old +housekeeper, a course which filled Anna with secret childish revolt, +for Anna was now nine, and accomplished in all domesticity. In another +seven years the housekeeper died, a gaunt grey ruin, and Anna at +sixteen became mistress of the household, with a small sister to +cherish and control. About this time Anna began to perceive that her +father was generally regarded as a man of great wealth, having few +rivals in the entire region of the Five Towns, Definite knowledge, +however, she had none: he never spoke of his affairs; she knew only +that he possessed houses and other property in various places, that he +always turned first to the money article in the newspaper, and that +long envelopes arrived for him by post almost daily. But she had once +heard the surmise that he was worth sixty thousand of his own, apart +from the fortune of his first wife, Anna's mother. Nevertheless, it +did not occur to her to think of her father, in plain terms, as a +miser, until one day she happened to read in the 'Staffordshire Signal' +some particulars of the last will and testament of William Wilbraham, +J.P., who had just died. Mr. Wilbraham had been a famous magnate and +benefactor of the Five Towns; his revered name was in every mouth; he +had a fine seat, Hillport House, at Hillport; and his superb horses +were constantly seen, winged and nervous, in the streets of Bursley and +Hanbridge. The 'Signal' said that the net value of his estate was +sworn at fifty-nine thousand pounds. This single fact added a definite +and startling significance to figures which had previously conveyed +nothing to Anna except an idea of vastness. The crude contrast between +the things of Hillport House and the things of the six-roomed abode in +Manor Terrace gave food for reflection, silent but profound. + +Tellwright had long ago retired from business, and three years after +the housekeeper died he retired, practically, from religious work, to +the grave detriment of the Hanbridge circuit. In reply to sorrowful +questioners, he said merely that he was petting old and needed rest, +and that there ought to be plenty of younger men to fill his shoes. He +gave up everything except his pew in the chapel. The circuit was +astounded by this sudden defection of a class-leader, a local preacher, +and an officer. It was an inexplicable fall from grace. Yet the +solution of the problem was quite simple. Ephraim had lost interest in +his religious avocations; they had ceased to amuse him, the old ardour +had cooled. The phenomenon is a common enough experience with men who +have passed their fiftieth year--men, too, who began with the true and +sacred zeal, which Tellwright never felt. The difference in +Tellwright's case was that, characteristically, he at once yielded to +the new instinct, caring naught for public opinion. Soon afterwards, +having purchased a lot of cottage property in Bursley, he decided to +migrate to the town of his fathers. He had more than one reason for +doing so, but perhaps the chief was that he found the atmosphere of +Hanbridge Wesleyan chapel rather uncongenial. The exodus from it was +his silent and malicious retort to a silent rebuke. + +He appeared now to grow younger, discarding in some measure a certain +morose taciturnity which had hitherto marked his demeanour. He went +amiably about in the manner of a veteran determined to enjoy the brief +existence of life's winter. His stout, stiff, deliberate yet alert +figure became a familiar object to Bursley: that ruddy face, with its +small blue eyes, smooth upper lip, and short grey beard under the +smooth chin, seemed to pervade the streets, offering everywhere the +conundrum of its vague smile. Though no friend ever crossed his +doorstep, he had dozens of acquaintances of the footpath. He was not, +however, a facile talker, and he seldom gave an opinion; nor were his +remarks often noticeably shrewd. He existed within himself, +unrevealed. To the crowd, of course, he was a marvellous legend, and +moving always in the glory of that legend he received their wondering +awe--an awe tinged with contempt for his lack of ostentation and public +splendour. Commercial men with whom he had transacted business liked +to discuss his abilities, thus disseminating that solid respect for him +which had sprung from a personal experience of those abilities, and +which not even the shabbiness of his clothes could weaken. + +Anna was disturbed by the arrival at the front door of the milk-girl. +Alternately with her father, she stayed at home on Sunday evenings, +partly to receive the evening milk and partly to guard the house. The +Persian cat with one ear preceded her to the door as soon as he heard +the clatter of the can. The stout little milk-girl dispensed one pint +of milk into Anna's jug, and spilt an eleemosynary supply on the step +for the cat. 'He does like it fresh, Miss,' said the milk-girl, +smiling at the greedy cat, and then, with a 'Lovely evenin',' departed +down the street, one fat red arm stretched horizontally out to balance +the weight of the can in the other. Anna leaned idly against the +doorpost, waiting while the cat finished, until at length the swaying +figure of the milk-girl disappeared in the dip of the road. Suddenly +she darted within, shutting the door, and stood on the hall-mat in a +startled attitude of dismay. She had caught sight of Henry Mynors in +the distance, approaching the house. At that moment the kitchen clock +struck seven, and Mynors, according to the rule of a lifetime, should +have been in his place in the 'orchestra' (or, as some term it, the +'singing-seat') of the chapel, where he was an admired baritone. Anna +dared not conjecture what impulse had led him into this extraordinary, +incredible deviation. She dared not conjecture, but despite herself +she knew, and the knowledge shocked her sensitive and peremptory +conscience. Her heart began to beat rapidly; she was in distress. +Aware that her father and sister had left her alone, did he mean to +call? It was absolutely impossible, yet she feared it, and blushed, +all solitary there in the passage, for shame. Now she heard his sharp, +decided footsteps, and through the glazed panels of the door she could +see the outline of his form. He stopped; his hand was on the gate, and +she ceased to breathe. He pushed the gate open, and then, at the +whisper of some blessed angel, he closed it again and continued his way +up the street. After a few moments Anna carried the milk into the +kitchen, and stood by the dresser, moveless, each muscle braced in the +intensity of profound contemplation. Gradually the tears rose to her +eyes and fell; they were the tincture of a strange and mystic joy, too +poignant to be endured. As it were under compulsion she ran outside, +and down the garden path to the low wall which looked over the grey +fields of the valley up to Hillport. Exactly opposite, a mile and a +half away, on the ridge, was Hillport Church, dark and clear against +the orange sky. To the right, and nearer, lay the central masses of +the town, tier on tier of richly-coloured ovens and chimneys. Along +the field-paths couples moved slowly. All was quiescent, languorous, +beautiful in the glow of the sun's stately declension. Anna put her +arms on the wall. Far more impressively than in the afternoon she +realised that this was the end of one epoch in her career and the +beginning of another. Enthralled by austere traditions and that stern +conscience of hers, she had never permitted herself to dream of the +possibility of an escape from the parental servitude. She had never +looked beyond the horizons of her present world, but had sought +spiritual satisfaction in the ideas of duty and sacrifice. The worst +tyrannies of her father never dulled the sense of her duty to him; and, +without perhaps being aware of it, she had rather despised love and the +dalliance of the sexes. In her attitude towards such things there had +been not only a little contempt but also some disapproval, as though +man were destined for higher ends. Now she saw, in a quick revelation, +that it was the lovers, and not she, who had the right to scorn. She +saw how miserably narrow, tepid, and trickling the stream of her life +had been, and had threatened to be. Now it gushed forth warm, +impetuous, and full, opening out new and delicious vistas. She lived; +and she was finding the sight to see, the courage to enjoy. Now, as +she leaned over the wall, she would not have cared if Henry Mynors +indeed had called that night. She perceived something splendid and +free in his abandonment of habit and discretion at the bidding of a +desire. To be the magnet which could draw that pattern and exemplar of +seemliness from the strict orbit of virtuous custom! It was she, the +miser's shabby daughter, who had caused this amazing phenomenon. The +thought intoxicated her. Without the support of the wall she might +have fallen. In a sort of trance she murmured these words: 'He loves +me.' + +This was Anna Tellwright, the ascetic, the prosaic, the impassive. + +After an interval which to her was as much like a minute as a century, +she went back into the house. As she entered by the kitchen she heard +an impatient knocking at the front door. + +'At last,' said her father grimly, when she opened the door. In two +words he had resumed his terrible sway over her. Agnes looked timidly +from one to the other and slipped past them into the house. + +'I was in the garden,' Anna explained. 'Have you been here long?' She +tried to smile apologetically. + +'Only about a quarter of an hour,' he answered, with a grimness still +more portentous. + +'He won't speak again to-night,' she thought fearfully. But she was +mistaken. After he had carefully hung his best hat on the hat-rack, he +turned towards her, and said, with a queer smile: + +'Ye've been day-dreaming, eh, Sis?' + +'Sis' was her pet name, used often by Agnes, but by her father only at +the very rarest intervals. She was staggered at this change of front, +so unaccountable in this man, who, when she had unwittingly annoyed +him, was capable of keeping an awful silence for days together. What +did he know? What had those old eyes seen? + +'I forgot,' she stammered, gathering herself together happily, 'I +forgot the time.' She felt that after all there was a bond between +them which nothing could break--the tie of blood. They were father and +daughter, united by sympathies obscure but fundamental. Kissing was +not in the Tellwright blood, but she had a fleeting wish to hug the +tyrant. + + + +[1] Tellwright: tile-wright, a name specially characteristic of, and +possibly originating in, this clay-manufacturing district. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE BIRTHDAY + +The next morning there was no outward sign that anything unusual had +occurred. As the clock in the kitchen struck eight Anna carried to the +back parlour a tray on which were a dish of bacon and a coffee-pot. +Breakfast was already laid for three. She threw a housekeeper's glance +over the table, and called: 'Father!' Mr. Tellwright was re-setting +some encaustic tiles in the lobby. He came in, coatless, and, dropping +a trowel on the hearth, sat down at the end of the table nearest the +fireplace. Anna sat opposite to him, and poured out the coffee. + +On the dish were six pieces of bacon. He put one piece on a plate, and +set it carefully in front of Agnes's vacant chair, two he passed to +Anna, three he kept for himself. + +'Where's Agnes?' he inquired. + +'Coming--she's finishing her arithmetic.' + +In the middle of the table was an unaccustomed small jug containing +gilly-flowers. Mr. Tellwright noticed it instantly. + +'What an we gotten here?' he said, indicating the jug. + +'Agnes gave me them first thing when she got up. She's grown them +herself, you know,' Anna said, and then added: 'It's my birthday.' + +'Ay!' he exclaimed, with a trace of satire in his voice. 'Thou'rt a +woman now, lass.' + +No further remark on that matter was made during the meal. + +Agnes ran in, all pinafore and legs. With a toss backwards of her +light golden hair she slipped silently into her seat, cautiously +glancing at the master of the house. Then she began to stir her coffee. + +'Now, young woman,' Tellwright said curtly. + +She looked a startled interrogative. + +'We're waiting,' he explained. + +'Oh!' said Agnes, confused. 'I thought you'd said it. "God sanctify +this food to our use and us to His service for Christ's sake, Amen."' + +The breakfast proceeded in silence. Breakfast at eight, dinner at +noon, tea at four, supper at eight: all the meals in this house +occurred with absolute precision and sameness. Mr. Tellwright seldom +spoke, and his example imposed silence on the girls, who felt as nuns +feel when assisting at some grave but monotonous and perfunctory rite. +The room was not a cheerful one in the morning, since the window was +small and the aspect westerly. Besides the table and three horse-hair +chairs, the furniture consisted of an arm-chair, a bent-wood rocking +chair, and a sewing-machine. A fatigued Brussels carpet covered the +floor. Over the mantelpiece was an engraving of 'The Light of the +World,' in a frame of polished brown wood. On the other walls were +some family photographs in black frames. A two-light chandelier hung +from the ceiling, weighed down on one side by a patent gas-saving +mantle and a glass shade; over this the ceiling was deeply discoloured. +On either side of the chimney-breast were cupboards about three feet +high; some cardboard boxes, a work-basket, and Agnes's school books lay +on the tops of these cupboards. On the window-sill was a pot of +mignonette in a saucer. The window was wide open, and flies buzzed to +and fro, constantly rebounding from the window panes with terrible +thuds. In the blue-paved yard beyond the cat was licking himself in +the sunlight with an air of being wholly absorbed in his task. + +Mr. Tellwright demanded a second and last cup of coffee, and having +drunk it pushed away his plate as a sign that he had finished. Then he +took from the mantelpiece at his right hand a bundle of letters and +opened them methodically. When he had arranged the correspondence in a +flattened pile, he put on his steel-rimmed spectacles and began to read. + +'Can I return thanks, father?' Agnes asked, and he nodded, looking at +her fixedly over his spectacles. + +'Thank God for our good breakfast, Amen.' + +In two minutes the table was cleared, and Mr. Tellwright was alone. As +he read laboriously through communications from solicitors, secretaries +of companies, and tenants, he could hear his daughters talking together +in the kitchen. Anna was washing the breakfast things while Agnes +wiped. Then there were flying steps across the yard: Agnes had gone to +school. + +After he had mastered his correspondence, Mr. Tellwright took up the +trowel again and finished the tile-setting in the lobby. Then he +resumed his coat, and, gathering together the letters from the table in +the back parlour, went into the front parlour and shut the door. This +room was his office. The principal things in it were an old oak bureau +and an old oak desk-chair which had come to him from his first wife's +father; on the walls were some sombre landscapes in oil, received from +the same source; there was no carpet on the floor, and only one other +chair. A safe stood in the corner opposite the door. On the +mantelpiece were some books--Woodfall's 'Landlord and Tenant,' Jordan's +'Guide to Company Law,' Whitaker's Almanack, and a Gazetteer of the +Five Towns. Several wire files, loaded with papers, hung from the +mantelpiece. With the exception of a mahogany what-not with a Bible on +it, which stood in front of the window, there was nothing else whatever +in the room. He sat down to the bureau and opened it, and took from +one of the pigeon-holes a packet of various documents: these he +examined one by one, from time to time referring to a list. Then he +unlocked the safe and extracted from it another bundle of documents +which had evidently been placed ready. With these in his hand, he +opened the door, and called out: + +'Anna.' + +'Yes, father;' her voice came from the kitchen. + +'I want ye.' + +'In a minute. I'm peeling potatoes.' + +When she came in, she found him seated at the bureau as usual. He did +not look round. + +'Yes, father.' + +She stood there in her print dress and white apron, full in the eye of +the sun, waiting for him. She could not guess what she had been +summoned for. As a rule, she never saw her father between breakfast +and dinner. At length he turned. + +'Anna,' he said in his harsh, abrupt tones, and then stopped for a +moment before continuing. His thick, short fingers held the list which +he had previously been consulting. She waited in bewilderment. 'It's +your birthday, ye told me. I hadna' forgotten. Ye're of age to-day, +and there's summat for ye. Your mother had a fortune of her own, and +under your grandfeyther's will it comes to you when you're twenty-one. +I'm the trustee. Your mother had eighteen thousand pounds i' +Government stock.' He laid a slight sneering emphasis on the last two +words. 'That was near twenty-five year ago. I've nigh on trebled it +for ye, what wi' good investments and interest accumulating. Thou'rt +worth'--here he changed to the second personal singular, a habit with +him--'thou'rt worth this day as near fifty thousand as makes no matter, +Anna. And that's a tidy bit.' + +'Fifty thousand--_pounds_!' she exclaimed aghast. + +'Ay, lass.' + +She tried to speak calmly. 'Do you mean it's mine, father?' + +'It's thine, under thy grandfeyther's will--haven't I told thee? I'm +bound by law for to give it to thee this day, and thou mun give me a +receipt in due form for the securities. Here they are, and here's the +list. Tak' the list, Anna, and read it to me while I check off.' + +She mechanically took the blue paper and read: 'Toft End Colliery and +Brickworks Limited, five hundred shares of ten pounds.' + +'They paid ten per cent. last year,' he said, 'and with coal up as it +is they'll pay fiftane this. Let's see what thy arithmetic is worth, +lass. How much is fiftane per cent. on five thousand pun?' + +'Seven hundred and fifty pounds,' she said, getting the correct answer +by a superhuman effort worthy of that occasion. + +'Right,' said her father, pleased. 'Recollect that's more till two pun +a day. Go on.' + +'North Staffordshire Railway Company ordinary stock, ten thousand and +two hundred pounds.' + +'Right. Th' owd North Stafford's getting up i' th' world. It'll be a +five per cent. line yet. Then thou mun sell out.' + +She had only a vague idea of his meaning, and continued: 'Five Towns +Waterworks Company Limited consolidated stock, eight thousand five +hundred pounds.' + +'That's a tit-bit, lass,' he interjected, looking absently over his +spectacles at something outside in the road. 'You canna' pick that up +on shardrucks.' + +'Norris's Brewery Limited, six hundred ordinary shares of ten pounds.' + +'Twenty per cent.,' said the old man. 'Twenty per cent. regular.' He +made no attempt to conceal his pride in these investments. And he had +the right to be proud of them. They were the finest in the market, the +aristocracy of investments, based on commercial enterprises of which +every business man in the Five Towns knew the entire soundness. They +conferred distinction on the possessor, like a great picture or a rare +volume. They stifled all questions and insinuations. Put before any +jury of the Five Towns as evidence of character, they would almost have +exculpated a murderer. + +Anna continued reading the list, which seemed endless: long before she +had reached the last item her brain was a menagerie of monstrous +figures. The list included, besides all sorts of shares English and +American, sundry properties in the Five Towns, and among these was the +earthenware manufactory in Edward Street occupied by Titus Price, the +Sunday-school superintendent. Anna was a little alarmed to find +herself the owner of this works; she knew that her father had had some +difficult moments with Titus Price, and that the property was not +without grave disadvantages. + +'That all!' Tellwright asked, at length. + +'That's all.' + +'Total face value,' he went on, 'as I value it, forty-eight thousand +and fifty pounds, producing a net annual income of three thousand two +hundred and ninety pounds or thereabouts. There's not many in this +district as 'as gotten that to their names, Anna--no, nor half +that--let 'em be who they will.' + +Anna had sensations such as a child might have who has received a +traction-engine to play with in a back yard. 'What am I to do with +it?' she asked plaintively. + +'Do wi' it?' he repeated, and stood up and faced her, putting his lips +together: 'Do wi' it, did ye say?' + +'Yes.' + +'Tak' care on it, my girl. Tak' care on it. And remember it's thine. +Thou mun sign this list, and all these transfers and fal-lals, and then +thou mun go to th' Bank, and tell Mester Lovatt I've sent thee. +There's four hundred pound there. He'll give thee a cheque-book. I've +told him all about it. Thou'll have thy own account, and be sure thou +keeps it straight.' + +'I shan't know a bit what to do, father, and so it's no use talking,' +she said quietly. + +'I'll learn ye,' he replied. 'Here, tak' th' pen, and let's have thy +signature.' + +She signed her name many times and put her finger on many seals. Then +Tellwright gathered up everything into a bundle, and gave it to her to +hold. + +'That's the lot,' he said. 'Have ye gotten 'em?' + +'Yes,' she said. + +They both smiled, self-consciously. As for Tellwright, he was +evidently impressed by the grandeur of this superb renunciation on his +part. 'Shall I keep 'em for ye?' + +'Yes, please.' + +'Then give 'em me.' + +He took back all the documents. + +'When shall I call at the Bank, father?' + +'Better call this afternoon--afore three, mind ye.' + +'Very well. But I shan't know what to do.' + +'You've gotten a tongue in that noddle of yours, haven't ye?' he said. +'Now go and get along wi' them potatoes.' + +Anna returned to the kitchen. She felt no elation or ferment of any +kind; she had not begun to realise the significance of what had +occurred. Like the soldier whom a bullet has struck, she only knew +vaguely that something had occurred. She peeled the potatoes with more +than her usual thrifty care; the peel was so thin as to be almost +transparent. It seemed to her that she could not arrange or examine +her emotions until after she had met Henry Mynors again. More than +anything else she wished to see him: it was as if out of the mere sight +of him something definite might emerge, as if when her eyes had rested +on him, and not before, she might perceive some simple solution of the +problems which she had obscurely discerned ahead of her. + +During dinner a boy brought a note for her father. He read it, +snorted, and threw it across the table to Anna. + +'Here,' he said, 'that's your affair.' + +The letter was from Titus Price: it said that he was sorry to be +compelled to break his promise, but it was quite impossible for him to +pay twenty pounds on account of rent that day; he would endeavour to +pay at least twenty pounds in a week's time. + +'You'd better call there, after you've been to th' Bank,' said +Tellwright, 'and get summat out of him, if it's only ten pun.' + +'Must I go to Edward Street?' + +'Yes.' + +'What am I to say? I've never been there before.' + +'Well, it's high time as ye began to look after your own property. You +mun see owd Price, and tell him ye canna accept any excuses.' + +'How much does he owe?' + +'He owes ye a hundred and twenty-five pun altogether--he's five +quarters in arrear.' + +'A hundred and----! Well, I never!' Anna was aghast. The sum +appeared larger to her than all the thousands and tens of thousands +which she had received in the morning. She reflected that the weekly +bills of the household amounted to about a sovereign, and that the +total of this debt of Price's would therefore keep them in food for two +years. The idea of being in debt was abhorrent to her. She could not +conceive how a man who was in debt could sleep at nights. 'Mr. Price +ought to be ashamed of himself,' she said warmly. 'I'm sure he's quite +able to pay.' The image of the sleek and stout superintendent of the +Sunday-school, arrayed in his rich, almost voluptuous, broadcloth, +offended her profoundly. That he, debtor and promise-breaker, should +have the effrontery to pray for the souls of children, to chastise +their petty furtive crimes, was nearly incredible. + +'Oh! Price is all _right_,' her father remarked, with an apparent +benignity which surprised her. 'He'll pay when he can.' + +'I think it's a shame,' she repeated emphatically. + +Agnes looked with a mystified air from one to the other, instinctively +divining that something very extraordinary had happened during her +absence at school. + +'Ye mun'na be too hard, Anna,' said Tellwright. 'Supposing ye sold owd +Titus up? What then? D'ye reckon ye'd get a tenant for them +ramshackle works? A thousand pound spent wouldn't 'tice a tenant. +That Edward Street property was one o' ye grandfeyther's specs; 'twere +none o' mine. You'd best tak' what ye can get.' + +Anna felt a little ashamed of herself, not because of her bad policy, +but because she saw that Mr. Price might have been handicapped by the +faults of her property. + +That afternoon it was a shy and timid Anna who swung back the heavy +polished and glazed portals of the Bursley branch of the Birmingham, +Sheffield and district Bank, the opulent and spacious erection which +stands commandingly at the top of St. Luke's Square. She looked about +her, across broad counters, enormous ledgers, and rows of bent heads, +and wondered whom she should address. Then a bearded gentleman, who +was weighing gold in a balance, caught sight of her: he slid the gold +into a drawer, and whisked round the end of the counter with a celerity +which was, at any rate, not born of practice, for he, the cashier, had +not done such a thing for years. + +'Good afternoon, Miss Tellwright.' + +'Good afternoon. I----' + +'May I trouble you to step into the manager's room?' and he drew her +forward, while every clerk's eye watched. Anna tried not to blush, but +she could feel the red mounting even to her temples. + +'Delightful weather we're having. But of course we've the right to +expect it at this time of year.' He opened a door on the glass of +which was painted 'Manager,' and bowed. 'Mr. Lovatt--Miss Tellwright.' + +Mr. Lovatt greeted his new customer with a formal and rather fatigued +politeness, and invited her to sit in a large leather armchair in front +of a large table; on this table lay a large open book. Anna had once +in her life been to the dentist's; this interview reminded her of that +experience. + +'Your father told me I might expect you to-day,' said Mr. Lovatt in his +high-pitched, perfunctory tones. Richard Lovatt was probably the most +influential man in Bursley. Every Saturday morning he irrigated the +whole town with fertilising gold. By a single negative he could have +ruined scores of upright merchants and manufacturers. He had only to +stop a man in the street and murmur, 'By the way, your overdraft----,' +in order to spread discord and desolation through a refined and pious +home. His estimate of human nature was falsified by no common +illusions; he had the impassive and frosty gaze of a criminal judge. +Many men deemed they had cause to hate him, but no one did hate him: +all recognised that he was set far above hatred. + +'Kindly sign your full name here,' he said, pointing to a spot on the +large open page of the book, 'and your ordinary signature, which you +will attach to cheques, here.' + +Anna wrote, but in doing so she became aware that she had no ordinary +signature; she was obliged to invent one. + +'Do you wish to draw anything out now? There is already a credit of +four hundred and twenty pounds in your favour,' said Mr. Lovatt, after +he had handed her a cheque-book, a deposit-book, and a pass-book. + +'Oh, no, thank you,' Anna answered quickly. She keenly desired some +money, but she well knew that courage would fail her to demand it +without her father's consent; moreover, she was in a whirl of +uncertainty as to the uses of the three books, though Mr. Lovatt had +expounded them severally to her in simple language. + +'Good-day.' + +'Good-day, Miss Tellwright.' + +'My compliments to your father.' + +His final glance said half cynically, half in pity: 'You are naïve and +unspoilt now, but these eyes will see yours harden like the rest. +Wretched victim of gold, you are only one in a procession, after all.' + +Outside, Anna thought that everyone had been very agreeable to her. +Her complacency increased at a bound. She no longer felt ashamed of +her shabby cotton dress. She surmised that people would find it +convenient to ignore any difference which might exist between her +costume and that of other girls. + +She went on to Edward Street, a short steep thoroughfare at the eastern +extremity of the town, leading into a rough road across unoccupied land +dotted with the mouths of abandoned pits: this road climbed up to Toft +End, a mean annexe of the town about half a mile east of Bleakridge. +From Toft End, lying on the highest hill in the district, one had a +panoramic view of Hanbridge and Bursley, with Hillport to the west, and +all the moorland and mining villages to the north and north-east. +Titus Price and his son lived in what had once been a farm-house at +Toft End; every morning and evening they traversed the desolate and +featureless grey road between their dwelling and the works. + +Anna had never been in Edward Street before. It was a miserable +quarter--two rows of blackened infinitesimal cottages, and her +manufactory at the end--a frontier post of the town. Price's works was +small, old-fashioned, and out of repair--one of those properties which +are forlorn from the beginning, which bring despair into the hearts of +a succession of owners, and which, being ultimately deserted, seem to +stand for ever in pitiable ruin. The arched entrance for carts into +the yard was at the top of the steepest rise of the street, when it +might as well have been at the bottom; and this was but one example of +the architect's fine disregard for the principle of economy in +working--that principle to which in the scheming of manufactories +everything else is now so strictly subordinated. Ephraim Tellwright +used to say (but not to Titus Price) that the situation of that archway +cost five pounds a year in horseflesh, and that five pounds was the +interest on a hundred. The place was badly located, badly planned and +badly constructed. Its faults defied improvement. Titus Price +remained in it only because he was chained there by arrears of rent; +Tellwright hesitated to sell it only because the rent was a hundred a +year, and the whole freehold would not have fetched eight hundred. He +promised repairs in exchange for payment of arrears which he knew would +never be paid, and his policy was to squeeze the last penny out of +Price without forcing him into bankruptcy. Such was the predicament +when Anna assumed ownership. As she surveyed the irregular and huddled +frontage from the opposite side of the street, her first feeling was +one of depression at the broken and dirty panes of the windows. A man +in shirt-sleeves was standing on the weighing platform under the +archway; his back was towards her, but she could see the smoke issuing +in puffs from his pipe. She crossed the road. Hearing her footfalls, +the man turned round: it was Titus Price himself. He was wearing an +apron, but no cap; the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, exposing +forearms covered with auburn hair. His puffed, heavy face, and general +bigness and untidiness, gave the idea of a vast and torpid male +slattern. Anna was astounded by the contrast between the Titus of +Sunday and the Titus of Monday: a single glance compelled her to +readjust all her notions of the man. She stammered a greeting, and he +replied, and then they were both silent for a moment: in the pause Mr. +Price thrust his pipe between apron and waistcoat. + +'Come inside, Miss Tellwright,' he said, with a sickly, conciliatory +smile. 'Come into the office, will ye?' + +She followed him without a word through the archway. To the right was +an open door into the packing-house, where a man surrounded by straw +was packing basins in a crate: with swift, precise movements, twisting +straw between basin and basin, he forced piles of ware into a space +inconceivably small. Mr. Price lingered to watch him for a few +seconds, and passed on. They were in the yard, a small quadrangle +paved with black, greasy mud. In one corner a load of coal had been +cast; in another lay a heap of broken saggars. Decrepit doorways led +to the various 'shops' on the ground floor; those on the upper floor +were reached by narrow wooden stairs, which seemed to cling insecurely +to the exterior walls. Up one of these stairways Mr. Price climbed +with heavy, elephantine movements: Anna prudently waited till he had +reached the top before beginning to ascend. He pushed open a flimsy +door, and with a nod bade her enter. The office was a long narrow +room, the dirtiest that Anna had ever seen. If such was the condition +of the master's quarters, she thought, what must the workshops be like? +The ceiling, which bulged downwards, was as black as the floor, which +sank away in the middle till it was hollow like a saucer. The +revolution of an engine somewhere below shook everything with a +periodic muffled thud. A greyish light came through one small window. +By the window was a large double desk, with chairs facing each other. +One of these chairs was occupied by Willie Price. The youth did not +observe at first that another person had come in with his father. He +was casting up figures in an account book, and murmuring numbers to +himself. He wore an office coat, short at the wrists and torn at the +elbows, and a battered felt hat was thrust far back over his head so +that the brim rested on his dirty collar. He turned round at length, +and, on seeing Anna, blushed brilliant crimson, and rose, scraping the +legs of his chair horribly across the floor. Tall, thin, and ungainly +in every motion, he had the look of a ninny: it was the fact that at +school all the boys by a common instinct had combined to tease him, and +that on the works the young paintresses continually made private sport +of him. Anna, however, had not the least impulse to mock him in her +thoughts. For her there was nothing in his blue eyes but simplicity +and good intentions. Beside him she felt old, sagacious, crafty: it +seemed to her that some one ought to shield that transparent and +confiding soul from his father and the intriguing world. + +He spoke to her and lifted his hat, holding it afterwards in his great +bony hand. + +'Get down to th' entry, Will,' said his father, and Willie, with an +apologetic sort of cough, slipped silently away through the door. + +'Sit down, Miss Tellwright,' said old Price, and she took the Windsor +chair that had been occupied by Willie. Her tenant fell into the seat +opposite--a leathern chair from which the stuffing had exuded, and with +one of its arms broken. 'I hear as ye father is going into partnership +with young Mynors--Henry Mynors.' + +Anna started at this surprising item of news, which was entirely fresh +to her. 'Father has said nothing to me about it,' she replied, coldly. + +'Oh! Happen I've said too much. If so, you'll excuse me, Miss. A +smart fellow, Mynors. Now you should see _his_ little works: not very +much bigger than this, but there's everything you can think of +there--all the latest machinery and dodges, and not over-rented, I'm +told. The biggest fool i' Bursley couldn't help but make money there. +This 'ere works 'ere, Miss Tellwright, wants mendin' with a new 'un.' + +'It looks very dirty, I must say,' said Anna. + +'Dirty!' he laughed--a short, acrid laugh--'I suppose you've called +about the rent.' + +'Yes, father asked me to call.' + +'Let me see, this place belongs to you i' your own right, doesn't it, +Miss?' + +'Yes,' said Anna. 'It's mine--from my grandfather, you know.' + +'Ah! Well, I'm sorry for to tell ye as I can't pay anything now--no, +not a cent. But I'll pay twenty pounds in a week. Tell ye father I'll +pay twenty pound in a week.' + +'That's what you said last week,' Anna remarked, with more brusqueness +than she had intended. At first she was fearful at her own temerity in +thus addressing a superintendent of the Sunday-school; then, as nothing +happened, she felt reassured, and strong in the justice of her position. + +'Yes,' he admitted obsequiously. 'But I've been disappointed. One of +our best customers put us off, to tell ye the truth. Money's tight, +very tight. It's got to be give and take in these days, as ye father +knows. And I may as well speak plain to ye, Miss Tellwright. We +canna' stay here; we shall be compelled to give ye notice. What's +amiss with this bank[1] is that it wants pullin' down.' He went off +into a rapid enumeration of ninety-and-nine alterations and repairs +that must be done without the loss of a moment, and concluded: 'You +tell ye father what I've told ye, and say as I'll send up twenty pounds +next week. I can't pay anything now; I've nothing by me at all.' + +'Father said particularly I was to be sure and get something on +account.' There was a flinty hardness in her tone which astonished +herself perhaps more than Titus Price. A long pause followed, and then +Mr. Price drew a breath, seeming to nerve himself to a tremendous +sacrificial deed. + +'I tell ye what I'll do. I'll give ye ten pounds now, and I'll do what +I can next week. I'll do what I can. There!' + +'Thank you,' said Anna. She was amazed at her success. + +He unlocked the desk, and his head disappeared under the lifted lid. +Anna gazed through the window. Like many women, and not a few men, in +the Five Towns, she was wholly ignorant of the staple manufacture. The +interior of a works was almost as strange to her as it would have been +to a farm-hand from Sussex. A girl came out of a door on the opposite +side of the quadrangle: the creature was clothed in clayey rags, and +carried on her right shoulder a board laden with biscuit[2] cups. She +began to mount one of the wooden stairways, and as she did so the +board, six feet in length, swayed alarmingly to and fro. Anna expected +to see it fall with a destructive crash, but the girl went up in +safety, and with a nonchalant jerk of the shoulder aimed the end of the +board through another door and vanished from sight. To Anna it was a +thrilling feat, but she noticed that a man who stood in the yard did +not even turn his head to watch it. Mr. Price recalled her to the +business of her errand. + +'Here's two fives,' he said, shutting down the desk with the sigh of a +crocodile. + +'Liar! You said you had nothing!' her unspoken thought ran, and at the +same instant the Sunday-school and everything connected with it +grievously sank in her estimation; she contrasted this scene with that +on the previous day with the peccant schoolgirl: it was an hour of +disillusion. Taking the notes, she gave a receipt and rose to go. + +'Tell ye father'--it seemed to Anna that this phrase was always on his +lips--'tell ye father he must come down and look at the state this +place is in,' said Mr. Price, enheartened by the heroic payment of ten +pounds. Anna said nothing; she thought a fire would do more good than +anything else to the foul, squalid buildings: the passing fancy +coincided with Mr. Price's secret and most intense desire. + +Outside she saw Willie Price superintending the lifting of a crate on +to a railway lorry. After twirling in the air, the crate sank safely +into the waggon. Young Price was perspiring. + +'Warm afternoon, Miss Tellwright,' he called to her as she passed, with +his pleasant bashful smile. She gave an affirmative. Then he came to +her, still smiling, his face full of an intention to say something, +however insignificant. + +'I suppose you'll be at the Special Teachers' Meeting to-morrow night,' +he remarked. + +'I hope to be,' she said. That was all: William had achieved his +small-talk: they parted. + +'So father and Mr. Mynors are going into partnership,' she kept saying +to herself on the way home. + + + +[1] Bank: manufactory. + +[2] Biscuit: a term applied to ware which has been fired only once. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +A VISIT + +The Special Teachers' Meeting to which Willie Price had referred was +one of the final preliminaries to a Revival--that is, a revival of +godliness and Christian grace--about to be undertaken by the Wesleyan +Methodist Society in Bursley. Its object was to arrange for a personal +visitation of the parents of Sunday-school scholars in their homes. +Hitherto Anna had felt but little interest in the Revival: it had +several times been brought indirectly before her notice, but she had +regarded it as a phenomenon which recurred at intervals in the cycle of +religious activity, and as not in any way affecting herself. The +gradual centring of public interest, however--that mysterious movement +which, defying analysis, gathers force as it proceeds, and ends by +coercing the most indifferent--had already modified her attitude +towards this forthcoming event. It got about that the preacher who had +been engaged, a specialist in revivals, was a man of miraculous powers: +the number of souls which he had snatched from eternal torment was +precisely stated, and it amounted to tens of thousands. He played the +cornet to the glory of God, and his cornet was of silver: his more +distant past had been ineffably wicked, and the faint rumour of that +dead wickedness clung to his name like a piquant odour. As Anna walked +up Trafalgar Road from Price's she observed that the hoardings had been +billed with great posters announcing the Revival and the revivalist, +who was to commence his work on Friday night. + +During tea Mr. Tellwright interrupted his perusal of the evening +'Signal' to give utterance to a rather remarkable speech. + +'Bless us!' he said. 'Th' old trumpeter 'll turn the town upside down!' + +'Do you mean the revivalist, father?' Anna asked. + +'Ay!' + +'He's a beautiful man,' Agnes exclaimed with enthusiasm. 'Our teacher +showed us his portrait after school this afternoon. I never saw such a +beautiful man.' + +Her father gazed hard at the child for an instant, cup in hand, and +then turned to Anna with a slightly sardonic air. + +'What are you doing i' this Revival, Anna?' + +'Nothing,' she said. 'Only there's a teachers' meeting about it +to-morrow night, and I have to go to that. Young Mr. Price mentioned +it to me specially to-day.' + +A pause followed. + +'Didst get anything out o' Price?' Tellwright asked. + +'Yes; he gave me ten pounds. He wants you to go and look over the +works--says they're falling to pieces.' + +'Cheque, I reckon?' + +She corrected the surmise. + +'Better give me them notes, Anna,' he said after tea. 'I'm going to +th' Bank i' th' morning, and I'll pay 'em in to your account.' + +There was no reason why she should not have suggested the propriety of +keeping at least one of the notes for her private use. But she dared +not. She had never any money of her own, not a penny; and the +effective possession of five pounds seemed far too audacious a dream. +She hesitated to imagine her father's reply to such a request, even to +frame the request to herself. The thing, viewed close, was utterly +impossible. And when she relinquished the notes she also, without +being asked, gave up her cheque-book, deposit-book, and pass-book. She +did this while ardently desiring to refrain from doing it, as it were +under the compulsion of an invincible instinct. Afterwards she felt +more at ease, as though some disturbing question had been settled once +and for all. + +During the whole of that evening she timorously expected Mynors, saying +to herself however that he certainly would not call before Thursday. +On Tuesday evening she started early for the teachers' meeting. Her +intention was to arrive among the first and to choose a seat in +obscurity, since she knew well that every eye would be upon her. She +was divided between the desire to see Mynors and the desire to avoid +the ordeal of being seen by her colleagues in his presence. She +trembled lest she should be incapable of commanding her mien so as to +appear unconscious of this inspection by curious eyes. + +The meeting was held in a large class-room, furnished with wooden +seats, a chair and a small table. On the grey distempered walls hung a +few Biblical cartoons depicting scenes in the life of Joseph and his +brethren--but without reference to Potiphar's wife. From the +whitewashed ceiling depended a T-shaped gas-fitting, one burner of +which showed a glimmer, though the sun had not yet set. The evening +was oppressively warm, and through the wide-open window came the faint +effluvium of populous cottages and the distant but raucous cries of +children at play. When Anna entered a group of young men were talking +eagerly round the table; among these was Willie Price, who greeted her. +No others had come: she sat down in a corner by the door, invisible +except from within the room. Gradually the place began to fill. Then +at last Mynors entered: Anna recognised his authoritative step before +she saw him. He walked quickly to the chair in front of the table, +and, including all in a friendly and generous smile, said that in the +absence of Mr. Titus Price it fell to him to take the chair; he was +glad that so many had made a point of being present. Everyone sat +down. He gave out a hymn, and led the singing himself, attacking the +first note with an assurance born of practice. Then he prayed, and as +he prayed Anna gazed at him intently. He was standing up, the ends of +his fingers pressed against the top of the table. Very carefully +dressed as usual, he wore a brilliant new red necktie, and a gardenia +in his button-hole. He seemed happy, wholesome, earnest, and +unaffected. He had the elasticity of youth with the firm wisdom of +age. And it was as if he had never been younger and would never grow +older, remaining always at just thirty and in his prime. Incomparable +to the rest, he was clearly born to lead. He fulfilled his functions +with tact, grace, and dignity. In such an affair as this present he +disclosed the attributes of the skilled workman, whose easy and exact +movements are a joy and wonder to the beholder. And behind all was the +man, his excellent and strong nature, his kindliness, his sincerity. +Yes, to Anna, Mynors was perfect that night; the reality of him +exceeded her dreamy meditations. Fearful on the brink of an ecstatic +bliss, she could scarcely believe that from the enticements of a +thousand woman this paragon had been preserved for her. Like most of +us, she lacked the high courage to grasp happiness boldly and without +apprehension; she had not learnt that nothing is too good to be true. + +Mynors' prayer was a cogent appeal for the success of the Revival. He +knew what he wanted, and confidently asked for it, approaching God with +humility but with self-respect. The prayer was punctuated by Amens +from various parts of the room. The atmosphere became suddenly +fervent, emotional and devout. Here was lofty endeavour, idealism, a +burning spirituality; and not all the pettinesses unavoidable in such +an organisation as a Sunday-school could hide the difference between +this impassioned altruism and the ignoble selfishness of the worldly. +Anna felt, as she had often felt before, but more acutely now, that she +existed only on the fringe of the Methodist society. She had not been +converted; technically she was a lost creature: the converted knew it, +and in some subtle way their bearing towards her, and others in her +case, always showed that they knew it. Why did she teach? Not from +the impulse of religious zeal. Why was she allowed to have charge of a +class of immortal souls? The blind could not lead the blind, nor the +lost save the lost. These considerations troubled her. Conscience +pricked, accusing her of a continual pretence. The _rôle_ of +professing Christian, through false shame, had seemed distasteful to +her: she had said that she could never stand up and say, 'I am for +Christ,' without being uncomfortable. But now she was ashamed of her +inability to profess Christ. She could conceive herself proud and +happy in the very part which formerly she had despised. It was these +believers, workers, exhorters, wrestlers with Satan, who had the right +to disdain; not she. At that moment, as if divining her thoughts, +Mynors prayed for those among them who were not converted. She +blushed, and when the prayer was finished she feared lest every eye +might seek hers in inquiry; but no one seemed to notice her. + +Mynors sat down, and, seated, began to explain the arrangements for the +Revival. He made it plain that prayers without industry would not +achieve success. His remarks revealed the fact that underneath the +broad religious structure of the enterprise, and supporting it, there +was a basis of individual diplomacy and solicitation. The town had +been mapped out into districts, and each of these was being importuned, +as at an election: by the thoroughness and instancy of this canvass, +quite as much as by the intensity of prayerful desire, would Christ +conquer. The affair was a campaign before it was a prostration at the +Throne of Grace. He spoke of the children, saying that in connection +with these they, the teachers, had at once the highest privilege and +the most sacred responsibility. He told of a special service for the +children, and the need of visiting them in their homes and inviting the +parents also to this feast of God. He wished every teacher during +to-morrow and the next day and the next day to go through the list of +his or her scholars' names, and call if possible at every house. There +must be no shirking. 'Will you ladies do that?' he exclaimed with an +appealing, serious smile. 'Will you, Miss Dickinson? Will you, Miss +Machin? Will you, Mrs. Salt? Will you, Miss Sutton? Will you----' +Until at last it came: 'Will you, Miss Tellwright?' 'I will,' she +answered, with averted eyes. 'Thank you. Thank you all.' + +Some others spoke, hopefully, enthusiastically, and one or two prayed. +Then Mynors rose: 'May the blessing of God the Father, the Son, and the +Holy Ghost rest upon us now and for ever.' 'Amen,' someone ejaculated. +The meeting was over. + +Anna passed rapidly out of he door, down the Quadrangle, and into +Trafalgar Road. She was the first to leave, daring not to stay in the +room a moment. She had seen him; he had not altered since Sunday; +there was no disillusion, but a deepening of the original impression. +Caught up by the soaring of his spirit, her spirit lifted, and she was +conscious of vague but intense longing skyward. She could not reason +or think in that dizzying hour, but she made resolutions which had no +verbal form, yielding eagerly to his influence and his appeal. Not +till she had reached the bottom of Duck Bank and was breasting the +first rise towards Bleakridge did her pace slacken. Then a voice +called to her from behind. She recognised it, and turned sharply +beneath the shock. Mynors raised his hat and greeted her. + +'I'm coming to see your father,' he said. + +'Yes?' she said, and gave him her hand. + +'It was a very satisfactory meeting to-night,' he began, and in a +moment they were talking seriously of the Revival. With the most +oblique delicacy, the most perfect assumption of equality between them, +he allowed her to perceive his genuine and profound anxiety for her +spiritual welfare. The atmosphere of the meeting was still round about +him, the divine fire still uncooled. 'I hope you will come to the +first service on Friday night,' he pleaded. + +'I must,' she replied. 'Oh, yes. I shall come.' + +'That is good,' he said. 'I particularly wanted your promise.' + +They were at the door of the house. Agnes, obviously expectant and +excited, answered the bell. With an effort Anna and Mynors passed into +a lighter mood. + +'Father said you were coming, Mr. Mynors,' said Agnes, and, turning to +Anna, 'I've set supper all myself.' + +'Have you?' Mynors laughed. 'Capital! You must let me give you a +kiss for that.' He bent down and kissed her, she holding up her face +to his with no reluctance. Anna looked on, smiling. + +Mr. Tellwright sat near the window of the back parlour, reading the +paper. Twilight was at hand. He lowered his head as Mynors entered +with Agnes in train, so as to see over his spectacles, which were +half-way down his nose. + +'How d'ye do, Mr. Mynors? I was just going to begin my supper. I +don't wait, you know,' and he glanced at the table. + +'Quite right,' said Mynors, 'so long as you wouldn't eat it all. Would +he have eaten it all, Agnes, do you think?' Agnes pressed her head +against Mynors' arm and laughed shyly. The old man sardonically +chuckled. + +Anna, who was still in the passage, wondered what could be on the +table. If it was only the usual morsel of cheese she felt that she +should expire of mortification. She peeped: the cheese was at one end, +and at the other a joint of beef, scarcely touched. + +'Nay, nay,' said Tellwright, as if he had been engaged some seconds +upon the joke, 'I'd have saved ye the bone.' + +Anna went upstairs to take off her hat, and immediately Agnes flew +after her. The child was breathless with news. + +'Oh, Anna! As soon as you'd gone out father told me that Mr. Mynors +was coming for supper. Did you know before?' + +'Not till Mr. Mynors told me, dear.' It was characteristic of her +father to say nothing until the last moment. + +'Yes, and he told me to put an extra plate, and I asked him if I had +better put the beef on the table, and first he said "No," cross--you +know--and then he said I could please myself, so I put it on. Why has +Mr. Mynors come, Anna?' + +'How should I know? Some business between him and father, I expect.' + +'It's very _queer_,' said Agnes positively, with the child's aptitude +for looking a fact squarely in the face. + +'Why "queer"?' + +'You know it is, Anna,' she frowned, and then breaking into a joyous +anile: 'But isn't he nice? I think he's lovely.' + +'Yes,' Anna assented coldly. + +'But really?' Agnes persisted. + +Anna brushed her hair and determined not to put on the apron which she +usually wore in the house. + +'Am I tidy, Anna?' + +'Yes. Run downstairs now. I am coming directly.' + +'I want to wait for you,' Agnes pouted. + +'Very well, dear.' + +They entered the parlour together, and Henry Mynors jumped up from his +chair, and would not sit at table until they were seated. Then Mr. +Tellwright carved the beef, giving each of them a very small piece, and +taking only cheese for himself. Agnes handed the water-jug and the +bread. Mynors talked about nothing in especial, but he talked and +laughed the whole time; he even made the old man laugh, by a comical +phrase aimed at Agnes's mad passion for gilly-flowers. He seemed not +to have detected any shortcomings in the table appointments--the coarse +cloth and plates, the chipped tumblers, the pewter cruet, and the +stumpy knives--which caused anguish in the heart of the housewife. He +might have sat at such a table every night of his life. + +'May I trouble you for a little more beef?' he asked presently, and +Anna fancied a shade of mischief in his tone as he thus forced the old +man into a tardy hospitality. 'Thanks. _And_ a morsel of fat.' + +She wondered whether he guessed that she was worth fifty thousand +pounds, and her father worth perhaps more. + +But on the whole Anna enjoyed the meal. She was sorry when they had +finished and Agnes had thanked God for the beef. It was not without +considerable reluctance that she rose and left the side of the man +whose arm she could have touched at any time during the previous twenty +minutes. She had felt happy and perturbed in being so near to him, so +intimate and free; already she knew his face by heart. The two girls +carried the plates and dishes into the kitchen, Agnes making the last +journey with the tablecloth, which Mynors had assisted her to fold. + +'Shut the door, Agnes,' said the old man, getting up to light the gas. +It was an order of dismissal to both his daughters. 'Let me light +that,' Mynors exclaimed, and the gas was lighted before Mr. Tellwright +had struck a match. Mynors turned on the full force of gas. Then Mr. +Tellwright carefully lowered it. The summer quarter's gas-bill at that +house did not exceed five shillings. + +Through the open windows of the kitchen and parlour, Anna could hear +the voices of the two men in conversation, Mynors' vivacious and +changeful, her father's monotonous, curt, and heavy. Once she caught +the old man's hard dry chuckle. The washing-up was done, Agnes had +accomplished her home-lessons; the grandfather's clock chimed the +half-hour after nine. + +'You must go to bed, Agnes.' + +'Mustn't I say good-night to him?' + +'No, I will say good-night for you.' + +'Don't forget to. I shall ask you in the morning.' + +The regular sound of talk still came from the parlour. A full moon +passed along the cloudless sky. By its light and that of a glimmer of +gas, Anna sat cleaning silver, or rather nickel, at the kitchen table. +The spoons and forks were already clean, but she felt compelled to busy +herself with something. At length the talk stopped and she heard the +scraping of chair-legs. Should she return to the parlour? Or should +she----? Even while she hesitated, the kitchen door opened. + +'Excuse me coming in here,' said Mynors. 'I wanted to say good-night +to you.' + +She sprang up and he took her hand. Could he feel the agitation of +that hand? + +'Good-night.' + +'Good-night.' He said it again. + +'And Agnes wished me to say good-night to you for her.' + +'Did she?' He smiled; till then his face had been serious. 'You won't +forget Friday?' + +'As if I could!' she murmured after he had gone. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE REVIVAL + +Anna spent the two following afternoons in visiting the houses of her +school-children. She had no talent for such work, which demands the +vocal rather than the meditative temperament, and the apparent futility +of her labours would have disgusted and disheartened her had she not +been sustained and urged forward by the still active influence of +Mynors and the teachers' meeting. There were fifteen names in her +class-book, and she went to each house, except four whose tenants were +impeccable Wesleyan families and would have considered themselves +insulted by a quasi-didactic visit from an upstart like Anna. Of the +eleven, some parents were rude to her; others begged, and she had +nothing to give; others made perfunctory promises; only two seemed to +regard her as anything but a somewhat tiresome impertinence. The fault +was doubtless her own. Nevertheless she found joy in the uncongenial +and ill-performed task--the cold, fierce joy of the nun in her penance. +When it was done she said 'I have done it,' as one who has sworn to do +it come what might, yet without quite expecting to succeed. + +On the Friday afternoon, during tea, a boy brought up a large foolscap +packet addressed to Mr. Tellwright. 'From Mr. Mynors,' the boy said. +Tellwright opened it leisurely after the boy had gone, and took out +some sheets covered with figures which he carefully examined. 'Anna,' +he said, as she was clearing away the tea things, 'I understand thou'rt +going to the Revival meeting to-night. I shall have a message as thou +mun give to Mr. Mynors.' + +When she went upstairs to dress, she saw the Suttons' landau standing +outside their house on the opposite side of the road. Mrs. Sutton came +down the front steps and got into the carriage, and was followed by a +little restless, nervous, alert man who carried in his hand a black +case of peculiar form. 'The Revivalist!' Anna exclaimed, remembering +that he was to stay with the Suttons during the Revival week. Then +this was the renowned crusader, and the case held his renowned cornet! +The carriage drove off down Trafalgar Road, and Anna could see that the +little man was talking vehemently and incessantly to Mrs. Sutton, who +listened with evident interest; at the same time the man's eyes were +everywhere, absorbing all details of the street and houses with +unquenchable curiosity. + +'What is the message for Mr. Mynors, father?' she asked in the parlour, +putting on her cotton gloves. + +'Oh!' he said, and then paused. 'Shut th' door, lass.' + +She shut it, not knowing what this cautiousness foreshadowed. Agnes +was in the kitchen. + +'It's o' this'n,' Tellwright began. 'Young Mynors wants a partner wi' +a couple o' thousand pounds, and he come to me. Ye understand; 'tis +what they call a sleeping partner he's after. He'll give a third share +in his concern for two thousand pound now. I've looked into it and +there's money in it. He's no fool and he's gotten hold of a good +thing. He sent me up his stock-taking and balance sheet to-day, and +I've been o'er the place mysen. I'm telling thee this, lass, because I +have na' two thousand o' my own idle just now, and I thought as thou +might happen like th' investment.' + +'But father----' + +'Listen. I know as there's only four hundred o' thine in th' Bank now, +but next week 'll see the beginning o' July and dividends coming in. +I've reckoned as ye'll have nigh on fourteen hundred i' dividends and +interests, and I can lend ye a couple o' hundred in case o' necessity. +It's a rare chance; thou's best tak' it.' + +'Of course, if you think it's all right, father, that's enough,' she +said without animation. + +'Am' na I telling thee I think it's all right?' he remarked sharply. +'You mun tell Mynors as I say it's satisfactory. Tell him that, see? +I say it's satisfactory. I shall want for to see him later on. He +told me he couldna' come up any night next week, so ask him to make it +the week after. There's no hurry. Dunna' forget.' + +What surprised Anna most in the affair was that Henry Mynors should +have been able to tempt her father into a speculation. Ephraim +Tellwright the investor was usually as shy as a well-fed trout, and +this capture of him by a youngster only two years established in +business might fairly be regarded as a prodigious feat. It was indeed +the highest distinction of Mynors' commercial career. Henry was so +prominently active in the Wesleyan Society that the members of that +society, especially the women, were apt to ignore the other side of his +individuality. They knew him supreme as a religious worker; they did +not realise the likelihood of his becoming supreme in the staple +manufacture. Left an orphan at seventeen, Mynors belonged to a family +now otherwise extinct in the Five Towns--one of those families which by +virtue of numbers, variety, and personal force seem to permeate a whole +district, to be a calculable item of it, an essential part of its +identity. The elders of the Mynors blood had once occupied the red +house opposite Tellwright's, now used as a school, and had there reared +many children: the school building was still known as 'Mynors's' by +old-fashioned people. Then the parents died in middle age: one +daughter married in the North, another in the South; a third went to +China as a missionary and died of fever; the eldest son died; the +second had vanished into Canada and was reported a scapegrace; the +third was a sea-captain. Henry (the youngest) alone was left, and of +all the family Henry was the only one to be connected with the +earthenware trade. There was no inherited money, and during ten years +he had worked for a large firm in Turnhill, as clerk, as traveller, and +last as manager, living always quietly in lodgings. In the fullness of +time he gave notice to leave, was offered a partnership, and refused +it. Taking a newly erected manufactory in Bursley near the canal, he +started in business for himself, and it became known that, at the age +of twenty-eight, he had saved fifteen hundred pounds. Equally expert +in the labyrinths of manufacture and in the niceties of the markets (he +was reckoned a peerless traveller), Mynors inevitably flourished. His +order-books were filled and flowing over at remunerative prices, and +insufficiency of capital was the sole peril to which he was exposed. +By the raising of a finger he could have had a dozen working and +moneyed partners, but he had no desire for a working partner. What he +wanted was a capitalist who had confidence in him, Mynors. In Ephraim +Tellwright he found the man. Whether it was by instinct, good luck, or +skilful diplomacy that Mynors secured this invaluable prize no one +could positively say, and perhaps even he himself could not have +catalogued all the obscure motives that had guided him to the shrewd +miser of Manor Terrace. + +Anna had meant to reach chapel before the commencement of the meeting, +but the interview with her father threw her late. As she entered the +porch an officer told her that the body of the chapel was quite full +and that she should go into the gallery, where a few seats were left +near the choir. She obeyed: pew-holders had no rights at that service. +The scene in the auditorium astonished her, effectually putting an end +to the worldly preoccupation caused by her father's news. The historic +chapel was crowded almost in every part, and the +congregation--impressed, excited, eager--sang the opening hymn with +unprecedented vigour and sincerity; above the rest could be heard the +trained voices of a large choir, and even the choir, usually +perfunctory, seemed to share the general fervour. In the vast mahogany +pulpit the Reverend Reginald Banks, the superintendent minister, a +stout pale-faced man with pendent cheeks and cold grey eyes, stood +impassively regarding the assemblage, and by his side was the +revivalist, a manikin in comparison with his colleague; on the broad +balustrade of the pulpit lay the cornet. The fiery and inquisitive +eyes of the revivalist probed into the furthest corners of the chapel; +apparently no detail of any single face or of the florid decoration +escaped him, and as Anna crept into a small empty pew next to the cast +wall she felt that she too had been separately observed. Mr. Banks +gave out the last verse of the hymn, and simultaneously with the +leading chord from the organ the revivalist seized his cornet and +joined the melody. Massive yet exultant, the tones rose clear over the +mighty volume of vocal sound, an incitement to victorious effort. The +effect was instant: an ecstatic tremor seemed to pass through the +congregation, like wind through ripe corn, and at the close of the hymn +it was not until the revivalist had put down his cornet that the people +resumed their seats. Amid the _frou-frou_ of dresses and subdued +clearing of throats, Mr. Banks retired softly to the back of the +pulpit, and the revivalist, mounting a stool, suddenly dominated the +congregation. His glance swept masterfully across the chapel and round +the gallery. He raised one hand with the stilling action of a +mesmerist, and the people, either kneeling or inclined against the +front of the pews, hid their faces from those eyes. It was as though +the man had in a moment measured their iniquities, and had courageously +resolved to intercede for them with God, but was not very sanguine as +to the result. Everyone except the organist, who was searching his +tune-book for the next tune, seemed to feel humbled, bitterly ashamed, +as it were caught in the act of sin. There was a solemn and terrible +pause. + +Then the revivalist began: + +'Behold us, O dread God, suppliants for Thy mercy--' + +His voice was rich and full, but at the same time sharp and decisive. +The burning eyes were shut tight, and Anna, who had a profile view of +his face, saw that every muscle of it was drawn tense. The man +possessed an extraordinary histrionic gift, and he used it with +imagination. He had two audiences, God and the congregation. God was +not more distant from him than the congregation, or less real to him, +or less a heart to be influenced. Declamatory and full of effects +carefully calculated--a work of art, in fact--his appeal showed no +error of discretion in its approach to the Eternal. There was no +minimising of committed sin, nor yet an insincere and grovelling +self-accusation. A tyrant could not have taken offence at its tone, +which seemed to pacify God while rendering the human audience still +more contrite. The conclusion of the catalogue of wickedness and swift +confident turn to Christ's Cross was marvellously impressive. The +congregation burst out into sighs, groans, blessings, and Amens; and +the pillars of distant rural conventicles who had travelled from the +confines of the circuit to its centre in order to partake of this +spiritual excitation began to feel that they would not be disappointed. + +'Let the Holy Ghost descend upon us now,' the revivalist pleaded with +restrained passion; and then, opening his eyes and looking at the clock +in front of the gallery, he repeated, 'Now, now, at twenty-one minutes +past seven.' Then his eyes, without shifting, seemed to ignore the +clock, to gaze through it into some unworldly dimension, and he +murmured in a soft dramatic whisper: 'I see the Divine Dove!----' + +The doors, closed during prayer, were opened, and more people entered. +A youth came into Anna's pew. + +The superintendent minister gave out another hymn, and when this was +finished the revivalist, who had been resting in a chair, came forward +again. 'Friends and fellow-sinners,' he said, 'a lot of you, fools +that you are, have come here to-night to hear me play my cornet. Well, +you have heard me. I have played the cornet, and I will play it again. +I would play it on my head if by so doing I could bring sinners to +Christ. I have been called a mountebank. I am one. I glory in it. I +am God's mountebank, doing God's precious business in my own way. But +God's precious business cannot be carried on, even by a mountebank, +without money, and there will be a collection towards the expenses of +the Revival. During the collection we will sing "Rock of Ages," and +you shall hear my cornet again. If you feel willing to give us your +sixpences, give; but if you resent a collection,' here he adopted a +tone of ferocious sarcasm, 'keep your miserable sixpences and get +sixpenny-worth of miserable enjoyment out of them elsewhere.' + +As the meeting proceeded, submitting itself more and more to the +imperious hypnotism of the revivalist, Anna gradually became oppressed +by a vague sensation which was partly sorrow and partly an inexplicable +dull anger--anger at her own penitence. She felt as if everything was +wrong and could never by any possibility be righted. After two +exhortations, from the minister and the revivalist, and another hymn, +the revivalist once more prayed, and as he did so Anna looked +stealthily about in a sick, preoccupied way. The youth at her side +stared glumly in front of him. In the orchestra Henry Mynors was +whispering to the organist. Down in the body of the chapel the +atmosphere was electric, perilous, overcharged with spiritual emotion. +She was glad she was not down there. The voice of the revivalist +ceased, but he kept the attitude of supplication. Sobs were heard in +various quarters, and here and there an elder of the chapel could be +seen talking quietly to some convicted sinner. The revivalist began +softly to sing 'Jesu, lover of my soul,' and most of the congregation, +standing up, joined him; but the sinners stricken of the Spirit +remained abjectly bent, tortured by conscience, pulled this way by +Christ and that by Satan. A few rose and went to the Communion rails, +there to kneel in the sight of all. Mr. Banks descended from the +pulpit and opening the wicket which led to the Communion table spoke to +these over the rails, reassuringly, as a nurse to a child. Other +sinners, desirous of fuller and more intimate guidance, passed down the +aisles and so into the preacher's vestry at the eastern end of the +chapel, and were followed thither by class-leaders and other proved +servants of God: among these last were Titus Price and Mr. Sutton. + +'The blood of Christ atones,' said the revivalist solemnly at the end +of the hymn. 'The spirit of Christ is working among us. Let us engage +in private prayer. Let us drive the devil out of this chapel.' + +More sighs and groans followed. Then someone cried out in sharp, +shrill tones, 'Praise Him;' and another cried, 'Praise Him;' and an old +woman's quavering voice sang the words, 'I know that my Redeemer +liveth.' Anna was in despair at her own predicament, and the sense of +sin was not more strong than the sense of being confused and publicly +shamed. A man opened the pew-door, and sitting down by the youth's +side began to talk with him. It was Henry Mynors. Anna looked +steadily away, at the wall, fearful lest he should address her too. +Presently the youth got up with a frenzied gesture and walked out of +the gallery, followed by Mynors. In a moment she saw the youth +stepping awkwardly along the aisle beneath, towards the inquiry room, +his head forward, and the lower lip hanging as though he were sulky. + +Anna was now in the profoundest misery. The weight of her sins, of her +ingratitude to God, lay on her like a physical and intolerable load, +and she lost all feeling of shame, as a sea-sick voyager loses shame +after an hour of nausea. She knew then that she could no longer go on +living as aforetime. She shuddered at the thought of her tremendous +responsibility to Agnes--Agnes who took her for perfection. She +recollected all her sins individually--lies, sloth, envy, vanity, even +theft in her infancy. She heaped up all the wickedness of a lifetime, +hysterically augmented it, and found a horrid pleasure in the +exaggeration. Her virtuous acts shrank into nothingness. + +A man, and then another, emerged from the vestry door with beaming, +happy face. These were saved; they had yielded to Christ's persuasive +invitation. Anna tried to imagine herself converted, or in the process +of being converted. She could not. She could only sit moveless, dull, +and abject. She did not stir, even when the congregation rose for +another hymn. In what did conversion consist? Was it to say the +words, 'I believe'? She repeated to herself softly, 'I believe; I +believe.' But nothing happened. Of course she believed. She had +never doubted, or dreamed of doubting, that Jesus died on the Cross to +save her soul--_her_ soul--from eternal damnation. She was probably +unaware that any person in Christendom had doubted that fact so +fundamental to her. What, then, was lacking? What was belief? What +was faith? + +A venerable class-leader came from the vestry, and, slowly climbing the +pulpit stairs, whispered in the ear of the revivalist. The latter +faced the congregation with a cry of joy. 'Lord,' he exclaimed, 'we +bless Thee that seventeen souls have found Thee! Lord, let the full +crop be gathered, for the fields are white unto harvest.' There was an +exuberant chorus of praise to God. + +The door of the pew was opened gently, and Anna started to see Mrs. +Sutton at her side. She at once guessed that Mynors had sent to her +this angel of consolation. + +'Are you near the light, dear Anna?' Mrs. Sutton began. + +Anna searched for an answer. She now sat huddled up in the corner of +the pew, her face partially turned towards Mrs. Sutton, who looked +mildly into her eyes. 'I don't know,' Anna stammered, feeling like a +naughty school-girl. A doubt whether the whole affair was not after +all absurd flashed through her, and was gone. + +'But it is quite simple,' said Mrs. Sutton. 'I cannot tell you +anything that you do not know. Cast out pride. Cast out pride--that +is it. Nothing but earthly pride prevents you from realising the +saving power of Christ. You are afraid, Anna, afraid to be humble. Be +brave. It is so simple, so easy. If one will but submit.' + +Anna said nothing, had nothing to say, was conscious of nothing save +excessive discomfort. + +'Where do you feel your difficulty to be?' asked Mrs. Sutton. + +'I don't know,' she answered wearily. + +'The happiness that awaits you is unspeakable. I have followed Christ +for nearly fifty years, and my happiness increases daily. Sometimes I +do not know how to contain it all. It surges above all the trials and +disappointments of this world. Oh, Anna, if you will but believe!' + +The ageing woman's thin, distinguished face, crowned with abundant grey +hair, glistened with love and compassion, and as Anna's eyes rested +upon it Anna felt that here was something tangible, something to lay +hold on. + +'I think I do believe,' she said weakly. + +'You "think"? Are you sure? Are you not deceiving yourself? Belief +is not with the lips: it is with the heart.' + +There was a pause. Mr. Banks could be heard praying. + +'I will go home,' Anna whispered at length, 'and think it out for +myself.' + +'Do, my dear girl, and God will help you.' + +Mrs. Sutton bent and kissed Anna affectionately, and then hurried away +to offer her ministrations elsewhere. As Anna left the chapel, she +encountered the chapel-keeper pacing regularly to and fro across the +length of the broad steps. In the porch was a notice that cabinet +photographs of the revivalist could be purchased on application, at one +shilling each. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +WILLIE + +Anna closed the bedroom door softly; through the open window came the +tones of Cauldon Church clock, famous for their sonority, and richness, +announcing eleven. Agnes lay asleep under the blue-and-white +counterpane, on the side of the bed next the wall, the bed-clothes +pushed down and disclosing the upper half of her night-gowned figure. +She slept in absolute repose, with flushed cheek and every muscle lax, +her hair by some chance drawn in a perfect straight line diagonally +across the pillow. Anna glanced at her sister, the image of physical +innocence and childish security, and then, depositing the candle, went +to the window and looked out. + +The bedroom was over the kitchen and faced south. The moon was hidden +by clouds, but clear stretches of sky showed thick-studded clusters of +stars brightly winking. To the far right across the fields the +silhouette of Hillport Church could just be discerned on the ridge. In +front, several miles away, the blast-furnaces of Cauldon Bar Ironworks +shot up vast wreaths of yellow flame with canopies of tinted smoke. +Still more distant were a thousand other lights crowning chimney and +kiln, and nearer, on the waste lands west of Bleakridge, long fields of +burning ironstone glowed with all the strange colours of decadence. +The entire landscape was illuminated and transformed by these unique +pyrotechnics of labour atoning for its grime, and dull, weird sounds, +as of the breathings and sighings of gigantic nocturnal creatures, +filled the enchanted air, It was a romantic scene, a romantic summer +night, balmy, delicate, and wrapped in meditation. But Anna saw +nothing there save the repulsive evidences of manufacture, had never +seen anything else. + +She was still horribly, acutely miserable, exhausted by the fruitless +search for some solution of the enigma of sin--her sin in +particular--and of redemption. She had cogitated in a vain circle +until she was no longer capable of reasoned ideas. She gazed at the +stars and into the illimitable spaces beyond them, and thought of life +and its inconceivable littleness, as millions had done before in the +presence of that same firmament. Then, after a time, her brain resumed +its nightmare-like task. She began to probe herself anew. Would it +have availed if she had walked publicly to the penitential form at the +Communion rail, and, ranging herself with the working men and women, +proved by that overt deed the sincerity of her contrition? She wished +ardently that she had done so, yet knew well that such an act would +always be impossible for her, even though the evasion of it meant +eternal torture. Undoubtedly, as Mrs. Sutton had implied, she was +proud, stiff-necked, obstinate in iniquity. + +Agnes stirred slightly in her sleep, and Anna, aroused, dropped the +blind, turned towards the room and began to undress, slowly, with +reflective pauses. Her melancholy became grim, sardonic; if she was +doomed to destruction, so let it be. Suddenly, half-glad, she knelt +down and prayed, prayed that pride might be cast out, burying her face +in the coverlet and caging the passionate effusion in a whisper lest +Agnes should be disturbed. Having prayed, she still knelt quiescent; +her eyes were dry and burning. The last car thundered up the road, +shaking the house, and she rose, finished undressing, blew out the +candle, and slipped into bed by Agnes's side. + +She could not sleep, did not attempt to sleep, but abandoned herself +meekly to despair. Her thoughts covered again the interminable round, +and again, and yet again. In the twilight of the brief summer night +her accustomed eyes could distinguish every object in the room, all the +bits of furniture which had been bought from Hanbridge and with which +she had been familiar since her memory began: everything appeared mean, +despicable, cheerless; there was nothing to inspire. She dreamed +impossibly of a high spirituality which should metamorphose all, change +her life, lend glamour to the most pitiful surroundings, ennoble the +most ignominious burdens--a spirituality never to be hers. + +At any rate she would tell her father in the morning that she was +convicted of sin, and, however hopelessly, seeking salvation; she would +tell both her father and Agnes at breakfast. The task would be +difficult, but she swore to do it. She resolved, she endeavoured to +sleep, and did sleep uneasily for a short period. When she woke the +great business of the dawn had begun. She left the bed, and drawing up +the blind looked forth. The furnace fires were paling; a few milky +clouds sailed in the vast pallid blue. It was cool just then, and she +shivered. She went to the glass, and examined her face carefully, but +it gave no signs whatever of the inward warfare. She saw her plain and +mended night-gown. Suppose she were married to Mynors! Suppose he lay +asleep in the bed where Agnes lay asleep! Involuntarily she glanced at +Agnes to certify that the child and none else was indeed there, and got +into bed hurriedly and hid herself because she was ashamed to have had +such a fancy. But she continued to think of Mynors. She envied him +for his cheerfulness, his joy, his goodness, his dignity, his tact, his +sex. She envied every man. Even in the sphere of religion, men were +not fettered like women. No man, she thought, would acquiesce in the +futility to which she was already half resigned; a man would either +wring salvation from the heavenly powers or race gloriously to hell. +Mynors--Mynors was a god! + +She recollected her resolution to speak to her father and Agnes at +breakfast, and shudderingly confirmed it, but less stoutly than before. +Then an announcement made by Mr. Banks in chapel on the previous +evening presented itself, as though she was listening to it for the +first time. It was the announcement of a prayer-meeting for workers in +the Revival, to be held that (Saturday) morning at seven o'clock. She +instantly decided to go to the meeting, and the decision seemed to give +her new hope. Perhaps there she might find peace. On that faint +expectancy she fell asleep again and did not wake till half-past six, +after her usual hour. She heard noises in the yard; it was her father +going towards the garden with a wheelbarrow. She dressed quickly, and +when she had pinned on her hat she woke Agnes. + +'Going out, Sis?' the child asked sleepily, seeing her attire. + +'Yes, dear. I am going to the seven o'clock prayer-meeting. And you +must get breakfast. You can--can't you?' + +The child assented, glad of the chance. + +'But what are you going to the prayer-meeting for?' + +Anna hesitated. Why not confess? No. 'I must go,' she said quietly +at length. 'I shall be back before eight.' + +'Does father know?' Agnes enquired apprehensively. + +'No, dear.' + +Anna shut the door quickly, went softly downstairs and along the +passage, and crept into the street like a thief. + +Men and women and boys and girls were on their way to work, with +hurried clattering steps, some munching thick pieces of bread as they +went, all self-centred, apparently morose and not quite awake. The +dust lay thick in the arid gutters, and in drifts across the pavement; +as the night-wind had blown it. Vehicular traffic had not begun, and +blinds were still drawn; and though the footpaths were busy the street +had a deserted and forlorn aspect. Anna walked hastily down the road, +avoiding the glances of such as looked at her, but peering furtively at +the faces of those who ignored her. All seemed callous--hoggishly +careless of the everlasting verities. At first it appeared strange to +her that the potent revival in the Wesleyan chapel had produced no +effect on these preoccupied people. Bursley, then, continued its dull +and even course. She wondered whether any of them guessed that she was +going to the prayer-meeting and secretly sneered at her therefore. + +When she had climbed Duck Bank she found to her surprise that the doors +of the chapel were fast closed, though it was ten minutes past seven. +Was there to be no prayer-meeting? A momentary sensation of relief +flashed through her, and then she saw that the gate of the school-yard +was open. She should have known that early morning prayers were never +offered up in the chapel, but in the lecture-hall. She crossed the +quadrangle with beating heart, feeling now that she had embarked on a +frightful enterprise. The door of the lecture-hall was ajar; she +pushed it and went in. At the other end of the hall a meagre handful +of worshippers were collected, and on the raised platform stood Mr. +Banks, vapid, perfunctory and fatigued. He gave out a verse, and +pitched the tune--too high, but the singers with a heroic effect +accomplished the verse without breaking down. The singing was thin and +feeble, and the eagerness of one or two voices seemed strained, as +though with a determination to make the best of things. Mynors was not +present, and Anna did not know whether to be sorry or glad at this. +She recognised that save herself all present were old believers, tried +warriors of the Lord. There was only one other woman, Miss Sarah +Vodrey, an aged spinster who kept house for Titus Price and his son, +and found her sole diversion in the variety of her religious +experiences. Before the hymn was finished a young man joined the +assembly; it was the youth who had sat near Anna on the previous night, +an ecstatic and naïve bliss shone from his face. In his prayer the +minister drew the attention of the Deity to the fact that although a +score or more of souls had been ingathered at the first service, the +Methodists of Bursley were by no means satisfied. They wanted more; +they wanted the whole of Bursley; and they would be content with no +less. He begged that their earnest work might not be shamed before the +world by a partial success. In conclusion he sought the blessing of +God on the revivalist and asked that this tireless enthusiast might be +led to husband his strength: at which there was a fervent Amen. + +Several men prayed, and a pause ensued, all still kneeling. + +Then the minister said in a tone of oily politeness: + +'Will a sister pray?' + +Another pause followed. + +'Sister Tellwright?' + +Anna would have welcomed death and damnation. She clasped her hands +tightly, and longed for the endless moment to pass. At last Sarah +Vodrey gave a preliminary cough. Miss Vodrey was always happy to pray +aloud, and her invocations usually began with the same phrase: 'Lord, +we thank Thee that this day finds us with our bodies out of the grave +and our souls out of hell.' + +Afterwards the minister gave out another hymn, and as soon as the +singing commenced Anna slipped away. Once in the yard, she breathed a +sigh of relief. Peace at the prayer-meeting? It was like coming out +of prison. Peace was farther off than ever. Nay, she had actually +forgotten her soul in the sensations of shame and discomfort. She had +contrived only to make herself ridiculous, and perhaps the pious at +their breakfast-tables would discuss her and her father, and their +money, and the queer life they led. + +If Mynors had but been present! + +She walked out into the street. It was twenty minutes to eight by the +town-hall clock. The last workmen's car of the morning was just +leaving Bursley: it was packed inside and outside, and the conductor +hung insecurely on the step. At the gates of the manufactory opposite +the chapel, a man in a white smock stood placidly smoking a pipe. A +prayer-meeting was a little thing, a trifle in the immense and regular +activity of the town: this thought necessarily occurred to Anna. She +hurried homewards, wondering what her father would say about that +morning's unusual excursion. A couple of hundred yards distant from +home she saw, to her astonishment, Agnes emerging from the front-door +of the house. The child ran rapidly down the street, not observing +Anna till they were close upon each other. + +'Oh, Anna! You forgot to buy the bacon yesterday. There isn't a +_scrap_, and father's fearfully angry. He gave me sixpence, and I'm +going down to Leal's to get some as quick as ever I can.' + +It was a thunderbolt to Anna, this seemingly petty misadventure. As +she entered the house she felt a tear on her cheek. She was ashamed to +weep, but she wept. This, after the fiasco of the prayer-meeting, was +a climax of woe; it overtopped and extinguished all the rest; her soul +was nothing to her now. She quickly took off her hat and ran to the +kitchen. Agnes had put the breakfast-things on the tray ready for +setting; the bread was cut, the coffee portioned into the jug; the fire +burned bright, and the kettle sang. Anna took the cloth from the +drawer in the oak dresser, and went to the parlour to lay the table. +Mr. Tellwright was at the end of the garden, pointing the wall, his +back to the house. The table set, Anna observed that the room was only +partly dusted: there was a duster on the mantelpiece; she seized it to +finish, and at that moment the kitchen clock struck eight. +Simultaneously Mr. Tellwright dropped his trowel, and came towards the +house. She doggedly dusted one chair, and then, turning coward, flew +away upstairs; the kitchen was barred to her since her father would +enter by the kitchen door. + +She had forgotten to buy bacon, and breakfast would be late: it was a +calamity unique in, her experience! She stood at the door of her +bedroom, and waited, vehemently, for Agnes's return. At last the child +raced breathlessly in; Anna flew to meet her. With incredible speed +the bacon was whipped out of its wrapper, and Anna picked up the knife. +At the first stroke she cut herself, and Agnes was obliged to bind the +finger with rag. The clock struck the half-hour like a knell. It was +twenty minutes to nine, forty minutes behind time, when the two girls +hurried into the parlour, Anna bearing the bacon and hot plates, Agnes +the bread and coffee. Mr. Tellwright sat upright and ferocious in his +chair, the image of offence and wrath. Instead of reading his letters +he had fed full of this ineffable grievance. The meal began in a +desolating silence. The male creature's terrible displeasure permeated +the whole room like an ether, invisible but carrying vibrations to the +heart. Then, when he had eaten one piece of bacon, and cut his +envelopes, the miser began to empty himself of some of his anger in +stormy tones that might have uprooted trees. Anna ought to feel +thoroughly ashamed. He could not imagine what she had been thinking +of. Why didn't she tell him she was going to the prayer-meeting? Why +did she go to the prayer-meeting, disarranging the whole household? +How came she to forget the bacon? It was gross carelessness. A pretty +example to her little sister! The fact was that _since her birthday_ +she had gotten above hersen. She was careless and extravagant. Look +how thick the bacon was cut. He should not stand it much longer. And +her finger all red, and the blood dropping on the cloth: a nice sight +at a meal! Go and tie it up again. + +Without a word she left the room to obey. Of course she had no +defence. Agnes, her tears falling, pecked her food timidly like a +bird, not daring to stir from her chair, even to assist at the finger. + +'What did Mr. Mynors say?' Tellwright inquired fiercely when Anna had +come back into the room. + +'Mr. Mynors?' she murmured, at a loss, but vaguely apprehending further +trouble. + +'Did ye see him?' + +'Yes, father.' + +'Did ye give him my message?' + +'I forgot it.' God in heaven! She had forgotten the message! + +With a devastating grunt Mr. Tellwright walked speechless out of the +room. The girls cleared the table, exchanging sympathy with a single +mute glance. Anna's one satisfaction was that, even if she had +remembered the message, she could not possibly have delivered it. + +Ephraim Tellwright stayed in the front parlour till half-past ten +o'clock, unseen but felt, like an angry god behind a cloud. The +consciousness that he was there, unappeased and dangerous, remained +uppermost in the minds of the two girls during the morning. At +half-past ten he opened the door. + +'Agnes!' he commanded, and Agnes ran to him from the kitchen with the +speed of propitiation. + +'Yes, father.' + +'Take this note down to Price's, and don't wait for an answer.' + +'Yes, father.' + +She was back in twenty minutes. Anna was sweeping the lobby. + +'If Mr. Mynors calls while I'm out, you mun tell him to wait,' Mr. +Tellwright said to Agnes, pointedly ignoring Anna's presence. Then, +having brushed his greenish hat on his sleeve he went off towards town +to buy meat and vegetables. He always did Saturday's marketing +himself. At the butcher's and in the St. Luke's covered market he was +a familiar and redoubtable figure. Among the salespeople who stood the +market was a wrinkled, hardy old potato-woman from the other side of +Moorthorne: every Saturday the miser bested her in their +higgling-match, and nearly every Saturday she scornfully threw at him +the same joke: 'Get thee along to th' post-office, Master Terrick:[1] +happen they'll give thee sixpenn'orth o' stamps for fivepence +ha'penny.' He seldom failed to laugh heartily at this. + +At dinner the girls could perceive that the shadow of his displeasure +had slightly lifted, though he kept a frowning silence. Expert in all +the symptoms of his moods, they knew that in a few hours he would begin +to talk again, at first in monosyllables, and then in short detached +sentences. An intimation of relief diffused itself through the house +like a hint of spring in February. + +These domestic upheavals followed always the same course, and Anna had +learnt to suffer the later stages of them with calmness and even with +impassivity. Henry Mynors had not called. She supposed that her +father had expected him to call for the answer which she had forgotten +to give him, and she had a hope that he would come in the afternoon: +once again she had the idea that something definite and satisfactory +might result if she could only see him--that she might, as it were, +gather inspiration from the mere sight of his face. After dinner, +while the girls were washing the dinner things in the scullery, Agnes's +quick ear caught the sound of voices in the parlour. They listened. +Mynors had come. Mr. Tellwright must have seen him from the front +window and opened the door to him before he could ring. + +'It's him,' said Agnes, excited. + +'Who?' Anna asked, self-consciously. + +'Mr. Mynors, of course,' said the child sharply, making it quite plain +that this affectation could not impose on her for a single instant. + +'Anna!' It was Mr. Tellwright's summons, through the parlour window. +She dried her hands, doffed her apron, and went to the parlour, +animated by a thousand fears and expectations. Why was she to be +included in the colloquy? + +Mynors rose at her entrance and greeted her with conspicuous deference, +a deference which made her feel ashamed. + +'Hum!' the old man growled, but he was obviously content. 'I gave Anna +a message for ye yesterday, Mr. Mynors, but her forgot to deliver it, +wench-like. Ye might ha' been saved th' trouble o' calling. Now as +ye're here, I've summat for tell ye. It 'll be Anna's money as 'll go +into that concern o' yours. I've none by me; in fact, I'm a'most fast +for brass, but her 'll have as near two thousand as makes no matter in +a month's time, and her says her 'll go in wi' you on th' strength o' +my recommendation.' + +This speech was evidently a perfect surprise for Henry Mynors. For a +moment he seemed to be at a loss; then his face gave candid expression +to a feeling of intense pleasure. + +'You know all about this business then, Miss Tellwright?' + +She blushed. 'Father has told me something about it.' + +'And are you willing to be my partner?' + +'Nay, I did na' say that,' Tellwright interrupted. 'It 'll be Anna's +money, but i' my name.' + +'I see,' said Mynors gravely. 'But if it is Miss Anna's money, why +should not she be the partner?' He offered one of his courtly +diplomatic smiles. + +'Oh--but----' Anna began in deprecation. + +Tellwright laughed. 'Ay!' he said, 'why not? It 'll be experience for +th' lass.' + +'Just so,' said Mynors. + +Anna stood silent, like a child who is being talked about. There was a +pause. + +'Would you care for that arrangement, Miss Tellwright?' + +'Oh, yes,' she said. + +'I shall try to justify your confidence. I needn't say that I think +you and your father will have no reason to be disappointed. Two +thousand pounds is of course only a trifle to you, but it is a great +deal to me, and--and----' He hesitated. Anna did not surmise that he +was too much moved by the sight of her, and the situation, to continue, +but this was the fact. + +'There's nobbut one point, Mr. Mynors,' Tellwright said bluntly, 'and +that's the interest on th' capital, as must be deducted before +reckoning profits. Us must have six per cent.' + +'But I thought we had settled it at five,' said Mynors with sudden +firmness. + +'We 'n settled as you shall have five on your fifteen hundred,' the +miser replied with imperturbable audacity, 'but us mun have our six.' + +'I certainly thought we had thrashed that out fully, and agreed that +the interest should be the same on each side.' Mynors was alert and +defensive. + +'Nay, young man. Us mun have our six. We're takkin' a risk.' + +Mynors pressed his lips together. He was taken at a disadvantage. Mr. +Tellwright, with unscrupulous cleverness, had utilized the effect on +Mynors of his daughter's presence to regain a position from which the +younger man had definitely ousted him a few days before. Mynors was +annoyed, but he gave no sign of his annoyance. + +'Very well,' he said at length, with a private smile at Anna to +indicate that it was out of regard for her that he yielded. + +Mr. Tellwright made no pretence of concealing his satisfaction. He, +too, smiled at Anna, sardonically: the last vestige of the morning's +irritation vanished in a glow of triumph. + +'I'm afraid I must go,' said Mynors, looking at his watch. 'There is a +service at chapel at three. Our Revivalist came down with Mrs. Sutton +to look over the works this morning, and I told him I should be at the +service. So I must. You coming, Mr. Tellwright?' + +'Nay, my lad. I'm owd enough to leave it to young uns.' + +Anna forced her courage to the verge of rashness, moved by a swift +impulse. + +'Will you wait one minute?' she said to Mynors. 'I am going to the +service. If I'm late back, father, Agnes will see to the tea. Don't +wait for me.' She looked him straight in the face. It was one of the +bravest acts of her life. After the episode of breakfast, to suggest a +procedure which might entail any risk upon another meal was absolutely +heroic. Tellwright glanced away from his daughter, and at Mynors. +Anna hurried upstairs. + +'Who's thy lawyer, Mr. Mynors?' Tellwright asked. + +'Dane,' said Mynors. + +'That 'll be convenient. Dane does my bit o' business, too. I'll see +him, and make a bargain wi' him for th' partnership deed. He always +works by contract for me. I've no patience wi' six-and-eight-pences.' + +Mynors assented. + +'You must come down some afternoon and look over the works,' he said to +Anna as they were walking down Trafalgar Road towards chapel. + +'I should like to,' Anna replied. 'I've never been over a works in my +life.' + +'No? You are going to be a partner in the best works of its size in +Bursley,' Mynors said enthusiastically. + +'I'm glad of that,' she smiled, 'for I do believe I own the worst.' + +'What--Price's do you mean?' + +She nodded. + +'Ah!' he exclaimed, and seemed to be thinking. 'I wasn't sure whether +that belonged to you or your father. I'm afraid it isn't quite the +best of properties. But perhaps I'd better say nothing about that. We +had a grand meeting last night. Our little cornet-player quite lived +up to his reputation, don't you think?' + +'Quite,' she said faintly. + +'You enjoyed the meeting?' + +'No,' she blurted out, dismayed but resolute to be honest. + +There was a silence. + +'But you were at the early prayer-meeting this morning, I hear.' + +She said nothing while they took a dozen paces, and then murmured, +'Yes.' + +Their eyes met for a second, hers full of trouble. + +'Perhaps,' he said at length, 'perhaps--excuse me saying this--but you +may be expecting too much----' + +'Well?' she encouraged him, prepared now to finish what had been begun. + +'I mean,' he said, earnestly, 'that I--we--cannot promise you any +sudden change of feeling, any sudden relief and certainty, such as some +people experience. At least, I never had it. What is called +conversion can happen in various ways. It is a question of living, of +constant endeavour, with the example of Christ always before us. It +need not always be a sudden wrench, you know, from the world. Perhaps +you have been expecting too much,' he repeated, as though offering balm +with that phrase. + +She thanked him sincerely, but not with her lips, only with the heart. +He had revealed to her an avenue of release from a situation which had +seemed on all sides fatally closed. She sprang eagerly towards it. +She realised afresh how frightful was the dilemma from which there was +now a hope of escape, and she was grateful accordingly. Before, she +had not dared steadily to face its terrors. She wondered that even her +father's displeasure or the project of the partnership had been able to +divert her from the plight of her soul. Putting these mundane things +firmly behind her, she concentrated the activities of her brain on that +idea of Christ-like living, day by day, hour by hour, of a gradual +aspiration towards Christ and thereby an ultimate arrival at the state +of being saved. This she thought she might accomplish; this gave +opportunity of immediate effort, dispensing with the necessity of an +impossible violent spiritual metamorphosis. They did not speak again +until they had reached the gates of the chapel, when Mynors, who had to +enter the choir from the back, bade her a quiet adieu. Anna enjoyed +the service, which passed smoothly and uneventfully. At a Revival, +night is the time of ecstasy and fervour and salvation; in the +afternoon one must be content with preparatory praise and prayer. + +That evening, while father and daughters sat in the parlour after +supper, there was a ring at the door. Agnes ran to open, and found +Willie Price. It had begun to rain, and the visitor, his jacket-collar +turned up, was wet and draggled. Agnes left him on the mat and ran +back to the parlour. + +'Young Mr. Price wants to see you, father.' + +Tellwright motioned to her to shut the door. + +'You'd best see him, Anna,' he said. 'It's none my business.' + +'But what has he come about, father?' + +'That note as I sent down this morning. I told owd Titus as he mun pay +us twenty pun' on Monday morning certain, or us should distrain. Them +as can pay ten pun, especially in bank notes, can pay twenty pun, and +thirty.' + +'And suppose he says he can't?' + +'Tell him he must. I 've figured it out and changed my mind about that +works. Owd Titus isna' done for yet, though he's getting on that road. +Us can screw another fifty out o' him, that 'll only leave six months +rent owing; then us can turn him out. He'll go bankrupt; us can claim +for our rent afore th' other creditors, and us 'll have a hundred or a +hundred and twenty in hand towards doing the owd place up a bit for a +new tenant.' + +'Make him bankrupt, father?' Anna exclaimed. It was the only part of +the ingenious scheme which she had understood. + +'Ay!' he said laconically. + +'But----' (Would Christ have driven Titus Price into the bankruptcy +court?) + +'If he pays, well and good.' + +'Hadn't you better see Mr. William, father?' + +'Whose property is it, mine or thine?' Tellwright growled. His good +humour was still precarious, insecurely re-established, and Anna +obediently left the room. After all, she said to herself, a debt is a +debt, and honest people pay what they owe. + +It was in an uncomplaisant tone that Anna invited Willie Price to the +front parlour: nervousness always made her seem harsh and moreover she +had not the trick of hiding firmness under suavity. + +'Will you come this way, Mr. Price?' + +'Yes,' he said with ingratiating, eager compliance. Dusk was falling, +and the room in shadow. She forgot to ask him to take a chair, so they +both stood up during the interview. + +'A grand meeting we had last night,' he began, twisting his hat. 'I +saw you there, Miss Tellwright.' + +'Yes.' + +'Yes. There was a splendid muster of teachers. I wanted to be at the +prayer-meeting this morning, but couldn't get away. Did you happen to +go, Miss Tellwright?' + +She saw that he knew that she had been present, and gave him another +curt monosyllable. She would have liked to be kind to him, to reassure +him, to make him happy and comfortable, so ludicrous and touching were +his efforts after a social urbanity which should appease; but, just as +much as he, she was unskilled in the subtle arts of converse. + +'Yes,' he continued, 'and I was anxious to be at to-night's meeting, +but the dad asked me to come up here. He said I'd better.' That term, +'the dad,' uttered in William's slow, drawling voice, seemed to show +Titus Price in a new light to Anna, as a human creature loved, not as a +mere gross physical organism: the effect was quite surprising. William +went on: 'Can I see your father, Miss Tellwright?' + +'Is it about the rent?' + +'Yes,' he said. + +'Well, if you will tell me----' + +'Oh! I beg pardon,' he said quickly. 'Of course I know it's your +property, but I thought Mr. Tellwright always saw after it for you. It +was he that wrote that letter this morning, wasn't it?' + +'Yes,' Anna replied. 'She did not explain the situation. + +'You insist on another twenty pounds on Monday?' + +'Yes,' she said. + +'We paid ten last Monday.' + +'But there is still over a hundred owing.' + +'I know, but--oh, Miss Tellwright, you mustn't be hard on us. Trade's +bad.' + +'It says in the "Signal" that trade is improving,' she interrupted +sharply. + +'Does it?' he said. 'But look at prices; they're cut till there's no +profit left. I assure you, Miss Tellwright, my father and me are +having a hard struggle. Everything's against us, and the works in +particular, as you know.' + +His tone was so earnest, so pathetic, that tears of compassion almost +rose to her eyes as she looked at those simple naïve blue eyes of his. +His lanky figure and clumsily-fitting clothes, his feeble placatory +smile, the twitching movements of his long red hands, all contributed +to the effect of his defencelessness. She thought of the test: +'Blessed are the meek,' and saw in a flash the deep truth of it. Here +were she and her father, rich, powerful, autocratic; and there were +Willie Price and his father, commercial hares hunted by hounds of +creditors, hares that turned in plaintive appeal to those greedy jaws +for mercy. And yet, she, a hound, envied at that moment the hares. +Blessed are the meek, blessed are the failures, blessed are the stupid, +for they, unknown to themselves, have a grace which is denied to the +haughty, the successful, and the wise. The very repulsiveness of old +Titus, his underhand methods, his insincerities, only served to +increase her sympathy for the pair. How could Titus help being himself +any more than Henry Mynors could help being himself? And that idea led +her to think of the prospective partnership, destined by every +favourable sign to brilliant success, and to contrast it with the +ignoble and forlorn undertaking in Edward Street. + +She tried to discover some method of soothing the young man's fears, of +being considerate to him without injuring her father's scheme. + +'If you will pay what you owe,' she said, 'we will spend it all, every +penny, on improving the works.' + +'Miss Tellwright,' he answered with fatal emphasis, 'we cannot pay.' + +Ah! She wished to follow Christ day by day, hour by hour--constantly +to endeavour after saintliness. What was she to do now? Left to +herself, she might have said in a burst of impulsive generosity, 'I +forgive you all arrears. Start afresh.' But her father had to be +reckoned with....... + +'How much do you think you can pay on Monday?' she asked coldly. + +At that moment her father entered the room. His first act was to light +the gas. Willie Price's eyes blinked at the glare, as though he were +trembling before the anticipated decree of this implacable old man. +Anna's heart beat with sympathetic apprehension. Tellwright shook +hands grimly with the youth, who re-stated hurriedly what he had said +to Anna. + +'It's o' this'n,' the old man began with finality, and stopped. Anna +caught a glance from him dismissing her. She went out in silence. On +the Monday Titus Price paid another twenty pounds. + + + +[1] _Terrick_: a corruption of Tellwright. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE SEWING MEETING + +On an afternoon ten days later, Mr. Sutton's coachman, Barrett by name, +arrived at Ephraim Tellwright's back-door with a note. The Tellwrights +were having tea. The note could be seen in his enormous hand, and +Agnes went out. + +'An answer, if you please, Miss,' he said to her, touching his hat, and +giving a pull to the leathern belt which, surrounding his waist, alone +seemed to hold his frame together. Agnes, much impressed, took the +note. She had never before seen that resplendent automaton apart from +the equipage which he directed. Always afterwards, Barrett formally +saluted her in the streets, affording her thus, every time, a thrilling +moment of delicious joy. + +'A letter, and there's an answer, and he's waiting,' she cried, running +into the parlour. + +'Less row!' said her father. 'Here, give it me.' + +'It's for Miss Tellwright--that's Anna, isn't it? Oh! Scent!' She +put the grey envelope to her nose like a flower. + +Anna, secretly as excited as her sister, opened the note and +read:--'Lansdowne House, Wednesday. Dear Miss Tellwright,--Mother +gives tea to the Sunday-school Sewing Meeting here _to-morrow_. Will +you give us the pleasure of your company? I do not think you have been +to any of the S.S.S. meetings yet, but we should all be glad to see you +and have your assistance. Everyone is working very hard for the Autumn +Bazaar, and mother has set her mind on the Sunday-school stall being +the best. Do come, will you? Excuse this short notice. Yours +sincerely, BEATRICE SUTTON. P.S.--We begin at 3.30.' + +'They want me to go to their sewing meeting to-morrow,' she exclaimed +timidly to her father, pushing the note towards him across the table. +'Must I go, father?' + +'What dost ask me for? Please thysen. I've nowt do wi' it.' + +'I don't want to go----' + +'Oh! Sis, do go,' Agnes pleaded. + +'Perhaps I'd better,' she agreed, but with the misgivings of +diffidence. 'I haven't a rag to wear. I really must have a new dress, +father, at once.' + +'Hast forgotten as that there coachman's waiting?' he remarked curtly. + +'Shall I run and tell him you'll go?' Agnes suggested. 'It 'll be +splendid for you.' + +'Don't be silly, dear. I must write.' + +'Well, write then,' said the child energetically. 'I'll get you the +ink and paper.' She flew about and hovered over Anna while the answer +to the invitation was being written. Anna made her reply as short and +simple as possible, and then tendered it for her father's inspection. +'Will that do?' + +He pretended to be nonchalant, but in fact he was somewhat interested. + +'Thou's forgotten to put th' date in,' was all his comment, and he +threw the note back. + +'I've put Wednesday.' + +'That's not the date.' + +'Does it matter? Beatrice Sutton only puts Wednesday.' + +His response was to walk out of the room. + +'Is he vexed?' Agnes asked anxiously. There had been a whole week of +almost perfect amenity. + + +The next day at half-past three Anna, having put on her best clothes, +was ready to start. She had seen almost nothing of social life, and +the prospect of taking part in this entertainment of the Suttons filled +her with trepidation. Should she arrive early, in which case she would +have to talk more, or late, in which case there would be the ordeal of +entering a crowded room? She could not decide. She went into her +father's bedroom, whose window overlooked Trafalgar Road, and saw from +behind a curtain that small groups of ladies were continually passing +up the street to disappear into Alderman Sutton's house. Most of the +women she recognised; others she knew but vaguely by sight. Then the +stream ceased, and suddenly she heard the kitchen clock strike four. +She ran downstairs--Agnes, swollen by importance, was carrying her +father's tea into the parlour--and hastened out the back way. In +another moment she was at the Suttons' front-door. A servant in black +alpaca, with white wristbands, cap, streams, and embroidered apron +(each article a _dernier cri_ from Bostock's great shop at Hanbridge), +asked her in a subdued and respectful tone to step within. Externally +there had been no sign of the unusual, but once inside the house Anna +found it a humming hive of activity. Women laden with stuffs and +implements were crossing the picture-hung hall, their footsteps +noiseless on the thick rugs which lay about in rich confusion. On +either hand was an open door, and from each door came the sound of many +eager voices. Beyond these doors a broad staircase rose majestically +to unseen heights, closing the vista of the hall. As the servant was +demanding Anna's name, Beatrice Sutton, radiant and gorgeous, came with +a rush out of the room to the left, the dining-room, and, taking her by +both hands, kissed her. + +'My dear, we thought you were never coming. Everyone's here, except +the men, of course. Come along upstairs and take your things off. I'm +so glad you've kept your promise.' + +'Did you think I should break it?' said Anna, as they ascended the easy +gradient of the stairs. + +'Oh, no, my dear. But you're such a shy little bird.' + +The conception of herself as a shy little bird amused Anna. By a +curious chain of ideas she came to wonder who could clean those stairs +the better, she or this gay and flitting butterfly in a pale green +tea-gown. Beatrice led the way to a large bedroom, crammed with +furniture and knick-knacks. There were three mirrors in this spacious +apartment--one in the wardrobe, a cheval-glass, and a third over the +mantelpiece; the frame of the last was bordered with photographs. + +'This is my room,' said Beatrice. 'Will you put your things on the +bed?' The bed was already laden with hats, bonnets, jackets, and wraps. + +'I hope your mother won't give me anything fancy to do,' Anna said. +'I'm no good at anything except plain sewing.' + +'Oh, that's all right,' Beatrice answered carelessly. 'It's all plain +sewing.' She drew a cardboard box from her pocket, and offered it to +Anna. 'Here, have one.' They were chocolate creams. + +'Thanks,' said Anna, taking one. 'Aren't they very expensive? I've +never seen any like these before.' + +'Oh! Just ordinary. Four shillings a pound. Papa buys them for me: I +simply dote on them. I love to eat them in bed, if I can't sleep.' +Beatrice made these statements with her mouth full. 'Don't you adore +chocolates?' she added. + +'I don't know,' Anna lamely replied. 'Yes, I like them.' She only +adored her sister, and perhaps God; and this was the first time she had +tasted chocolate. + +'I couldn't live without them,' said Beatrice. 'Your hair is lovely. +I never saw such a brown. What wash do you use?' + +'Wash?' Anna repeated. + +'Yes, don't you put anything on it?' + +'No, never.' + +'Well! Take care you don't lose it, that's all. Now, will you come +and have just a peep at my studio--where I paint, you know? I'd like +you to see it before we go down.' + +They proceeded to a small room on the second floor, with a sloping +ceiling and a dormer window. + +'I'm obliged to have this room,' Beatrice explained, 'because it's the +only one in the house with a north light, and of course you can't do +without that. How do you like it?' + +Anna said that she liked it very much. + +The walls of the room were hung with various odd curtains of Eastern +design. Attached somehow to these curtains some coloured plates, bits +of pewter, and a few fans were hung high in apparently precarious +suspense. Lower down on the walls were pictures and sketches, chiefly +unframed, of flowers, fishes, loaves of bread, candlesticks, mugs, +oranges and tea-trays. On an immense easel in the middle of the room +was an unfinished portrait of a man. + +'Who's that?' Anna asked, ignorant of those rules of caution which are +observed by the practised frequenter of studios. + +'Don't you know?' Beatrice exclaimed, shocked. 'That's papa; I'm doing +his portrait; he sits in that chair there. The silly old master at the +school won't let me draw from life yet--he keeps me to the antique--so +I said to myself I would study the living model at home. I'm +dreadfully in earnest about it, you know--I really am. Mother says I +work far too long up here.' + +Anna was unable to perceive that the picture bore any resemblance to +Alderman Sutton, except in the matter of the aldermanic robe, which she +could now trace beneath the portrait's neck. The studies on the walls +pleased her much better. Their realism amazed her. One could make out +not only that here for instance, was a fish--there was no doubt that it +was a hallibut; the solid roundness of the oranges and the glitter on +the tea-trays seemed miraculously achieved. 'Have you actually done +all these?' she asked, in genuine admiration. 'I think they're +splendid.' + +'Oh, yes, they're all mine; they're only still-life studies,' Beatrice +said contemptuously of them, but she was nevertheless flattered. + +'I see now that that is Mr. Sutton,' Anna said, pointing to the easel +picture. + +'Yes, it's pa right enough. But I'm sure I'm boring you. Let's go +down now, or perhaps we shall catch it from mother.' + +As Anna, in the wake of Beatrice, entered the drawing-room, a dozen or +more women glanced at her with keen curiosity, and the even flow of +conversation ceased for a moment, to be immediately resumed. In the +centre of the room, with her back to the fire-place, Mrs. Sutton was +seated at a square table, cutting out. Although the afternoon was warm +she had a white woollen wrap over her shoulders; for the rest she was +attired in plain black silk, with a large stuff apron containing a +pocket for scissors and chalk. She jumped up with the activity of +which Beatrice had inherited a part, and greeted Anna, kissing her +heartily. + +'How are you, my dear? So pleased you have come.' The time-worn +phrases came from her thin, nervous lips full of sincere and kindly +welcome. Her wrinkled face broke into a warm, life-giving smile. +'Beatrice, find Miss Anna a chair.' There were two chairs in the bay +of the window, and one of them was occupied by Miss Dickinson, whom +Anna slightly knew. The other, being empty, was assigned to the +late-comer. + +'Now you want something to do, I suppose,' said Beatrice.' + +'Please.' + +'Mother, let Miss Tellwright have something to get on with at once. +She has a lot of time to make up.' + +Mrs. Sutton, who had sat down again, smiled across at Anna. 'Let me +see, now, what can we give her?' + +'There's several of those boys' nightgowns ready tacked,' said Miss +Dickinson, who was stitching at a boy's nightgown. 'Here's one +half-finished,' and she picked up an inchoate garment from the floor. +'Perhaps Miss Tellwright wouldn't mind finishing it.' + +'Yes, I will do my best at it,' said Anna. + +The thoughtless girl had arrived at the sewing meeting without needles +or thimble or scissors, but one lady or another supplied these +deficiencies, and soon she was at work. She stitched her best and her +hardest, with head bent, and all her wits concentrated on the task. +Most of the others seemed to be doing likewise, though not to the +detriment of conversation. Beatrice sank down on a stool near her +mother, and, threading a needle with coloured silk, took up a long +piece of elaborate embroidery. + +The general subjects of talk were the Revival, now over, with a superb +record of seventy saved souls, the school-treat shortly to occur, the +summer holidays, the fashions, and the change of ministers which would +take place in August. The talkers were the wives and daughters of +tradesmen and small manufacturers, together with a few girls of a +somewhat lower status, employed in shops: it was for the sake of these +latter that the sewing meeting was always fixed for the weekly +half-holiday. The splendour of Mrs. Sutton's drawing-room was a little +dazzling to most of the guests, and Mrs. Sutton herself seemed scarcely +of a piece with it. The fact was that the luxury of the abode was +mainly due to Alderman Sutton's inability to refuse anything to his +daughter, whose tastes lay in the direction of rich draperies, large or +quaint chairs, occasional tables, dwarf screens, hand-painted mirrors, +and an opulence of bric-à-brac. The hand of Beatrice might be +perceived everywhere, even in the position of the piano, whose back, +adorned with carelessly-flung silks and photographs, was turned away +from the wall. The pictures on the walls had been acquired gradually +by Mr. Sutton at auction sales: it was commonly held that he had an +excellent taste in pictures, and that his daughter's aptitude for the +arts came from him, and not from her mother. The gilt clock and side +pieces on the mantelpiece were also peculiarly Mr. Sutton's, having +been publicly presented to him by the directors of a local building +society of which he had been chairman for many years. + +Less intimidated by all this unexampled luxury than she was reassured +by the atmosphere of combined and homely effort, the lowliness of +several of her companions, and the kind, simple face of Mrs. Sutton, +Anna quickly began to feel at ease. She paused in her work, and, +glancing around her, happened to catch the eye of Miss Dickinson, who +offered a remark about the weather. Miss Dickinson was head-assistant +at a draper's in St. Luke's Square, and a pillar of the Sunday-school, +which Sunday by Sunday and year by year had watched her develop from a +rosy-cheeked girl into a confirmed spinster with sallow and warted +face. Miss Dickinson supported her mother, and was a pattern to her +sex. She was lovable, but had never been loved. She would have made +an admirable wife and mother, but fate had decided that this material +was to be wasted. Miss Dickinson found compensation for the rigour of +destiny in gossip, as innocent as indiscreet. It was said that she had +a tongue. + +'I hear,' said Miss Dickinson, lowering her contralto voice to a +confidential tone, 'that you are going into partnership with Mr. +Mynors, Miss Tellwright.' + +The suddenness of the attack took Anna by surprise. Her first +defensive impulse was boldly to deny the statement, or at the least to +say that it was premature. A fortnight ago, under similar +circumstances, she would not have hesitated to do so. But for more +than a week Anna had been 'leading a new life,' which chiefly meant a +meticulous avoidance of the sins of speech. Never to deviate from the +truth, never to utter an unkind or a thoughtless word, under whatever +provocation: these were two of her self-imposed rules. 'Yes,' she +answered Miss Dickinson, 'I am.' + +'Rather a novelty, isn't it?' Miss Dickinson smiled amiably. + +'I don't know,' said Anna. 'It's only a business arrangement; father +arranged it. Really I have nothing to do with it, and I had no idea +that people were talking about it.' + +'Oh! Of course _I_ should never breathe a syllable,' Miss Dickinson +said with emphasis. 'I make a practice of never talking about other +people's affairs. I always find that best, don't you? But I happened +to hear it mentioned in the shop.' + +'It's very funny how things get abroad, isn't it?' said Anna. + +'Yes, indeed,' Miss Dickinson concurred. 'Mr. Mynors hasn't been to +our sewing meetings for quite a long time, but I expect he'll turn up +to-day.' + +Anna took thought. 'Is this a sort of special meeting, then?' + +'Oh, not at all. But we all of us said just now, while you were +upstairs, that he would be sure to come,' Miss Dickinson's features, +skilled in innuendo, conveyed that which was too delicate for +utterance. Anna said nothing. + +'You see a good deal of him at your house, don't you?' Miss Dickinson +continued. + +'He comes sometimes to see father on business,' Anna replied sharply, +breaking one of her rules. + +'Oh! Of course I meant that. You didn't suppose I meant anything +else, did you?' Miss Dickinson smiled pleasantly. She was thirty-five +years of age. Twenty of those years she had passed in a desolating +routine; she had existed in the midst of life and never lived; she knew +no finer joy than that which she at that moment experienced. + +Again Anna offered no reply. The door opened, and every eye was +centred on the stately Mrs. Clayton Vernon, who, with Mrs. Banks, the +minister's wife, was in charge of the other half of the sewing party in +the dining-room. Mrs. Clayton Vernon had heroic proportions, a nose +which everyone admitted to be aristocratic, exquisite tact, and the +calm consciousness of social superiority. In Bursley she was a great +lady: her instincts were those of a great lady; and she would have been +a great lady no matter to what sphere her God had called her. She had +abundant white hair, and wore a flowered purple silk, in the antique +taste. + +'Beatrice, my dear,' she began, 'you have deserted us.' + +'Have I, Mrs. Vernon?' the girl answered with involuntary deference. +'I was just coming in.' + +'Well, I am sent as a deputation from the other room to ask you to sing +something.' + +'I'm very busy, Mrs. Vernon. I shall never get this mantel-cloth +finished in time.' + +'We shall all work better for a little music,' Mrs. Clayton Vernon +urged. 'Your voice is a precious gift, and should be used for the +benefit of all. We entreat, my dear girl.' + +Beatrice arose from the footstool and dropped her embroidery. + +'Thank you,' said Mrs. Clayton Vernon. 'If both doors are left open we +shall hear nicely.' + +'What would you like?' Beatrice asked. + +'I once heard you sing "Nazareth," and I shall never forget it. Sing +that. It will do us all good.' + +Mrs. Clayton Vernon departed with the large movement of an argosy, and +Beatrice sat down to the piano and removed her bracelets. 'The +accompaniment is simply frightful towards the end,' she said, looking +at Anna with a grimace. 'Excuse mistakes.' + +During the song, Mrs. Sutton beckoned with her finger to Anna to come +and occupy the stool vacated by Beatrice. Glad to leave the vicinity +of Miss Dickinson, Anna obeyed, creeping on tiptoe across the +intervening space. 'I thought I would like to have you near me, my +dear,' she whispered maternally. When Beatrice had sung the song and +somehow executed that accompaniment which has terrorised whole +multitudes of drawing-room pianists, there was a great deal of applause +from both rooms. Mrs. Sutton bent down and whispered in Anna's ear: +'Her voice has been very well trained, has it not?' 'Yes, very,' Anna +replied. But, though 'Nazareth' had seemed to her wonderful, she had +neither understood it nor enjoyed it. She tried to like it, but the +effect of it on her was bizarre rather than pleasing. + +Shortly after half-past five the gong sounded for tea, and the ladies, +bidden by Mrs. Sutton, unanimously thronged into the hall and towards a +room at the back of the house. Beatrice came and took Anna by the arm. +As they were crossing the hall there was a ring at the door. 'There's +father--and Mr. Banks, too,' Beatrice exclaimed, opening to them. +Everyone in the vicinity, animated suddenly by this appearance of the +male sex, turned with welcoming smiles. 'A greeting to you all,' the +minister ejaculated with formal suavity as he removed his low hat. The +Alderman beamed a rather absent-minded goodwill on the entire company, +and said: 'Well! I see we're just in time for tea.' Then he kissed +his daughter, and she accepted from him his hat and stick. 'Miss +Tellwright, pa,' Beatrice said, drawing Anna forward: he shook hands +with her heartily, emerging for a moment from the benignant dream in +which he seemed usually to exist. + +That air of being rapt by some inward vision, common in very old men, +probably signified nothing in the case of William Sutton: it was a +habitual pose into which he had perhaps unconsciously fallen. But +people connected it with his humble archæological, geological, and +zoological hobbies, which had sprung from his membership of the Five +Towns Field Club, and which most of his acquaintances regarded with +amiable secret disdain. At a school-treat once, held at a popular +rural resort, he had taken some of the teachers to a cave, and pointing +out the wave-like formation of its roof had told them that this +peculiar phenomenon had actually been caused by waves of the sea. The +discovery, valid enough and perfectly substantiated by an inquiry into +the levels, was extremely creditable to the amateur geologist, but it +seriously impaired his reputation among the Wesleyan community as a +shrewd man of the world. Few believed the statement, or even tried to +believe it, and nearly all thenceforth looked on him as a man who must +be humoured in his harmless hallucinations and inexplicable +curiosities. On the other hand, the collection of arrowheads, Roman +pottery, fossils and birds' eggs which he had given to the Museum in +the Wedgwood Institution was always viewed with municipal pride. + +The tea-room opened by a large French window into a conservatory, and a +table was laid down the whole length of the room and the conservatory. +Mr. Sutton sat at one end and the minister at the other, but neither +Mrs. Sutton nor Beatrice occupied a distinctive place. The ancient +clumsy custom of having tea-urns on the table itself had been abolished +by Beatrice, who had read in a paper that carving was now never done at +table, but by a neatly-dressed parlour-maid at the sideboard. +Consequently the tea-urns were exiled to the sideboard, and the tea +dispensed by a couple of maids. Thus, as Beatrice had explained to her +mother, the hostess was left free to devote herself to the social arts. +The board was richly spread with fancy breads and cakes, jams of Mrs. +Sutton's own celebrated preserving, diverse sandwiches compiled by +Beatrice, and one or two large examples of the famous Bursley pork-pie. +Numerous as the company was, several chairs remained empty after +everyone was seated. Anna found herself again next to Miss Dickinson, +and five places from the minister, in the conservatory. Beatrice and +her mother were higher up, in the room. Grace was sung, by request of +Mrs. Sutton. At first, silence prevailed among the guests, and the +inquiries of the maids about milk and sugar were almost painfully +audible. Then Mr. Banks, glancing up the long vista of the table and +pretending to descry some object in the distance, called out: + +'Worthy host, I doubt not you are there, but I can only see you with +the eye of faith.' + +At this all laughed, and a natural ease was established. The minister +and Mrs. Clayton Vernon, who sat on his right, exchanged badinage on +the merits and demerits of pork-pies, and their neighbours formed an +appreciative audience. Then there was a sharp ring at the front door, +and one of the maids went out. + +'Didn't I tell you?' Miss Dickinson whispered to Anna. + +'What?' asked Anna. + +'That he would come to-day--Mr. Mynors, I mean.' + +'Who can that be?' Mrs. Sutton's voice was heard from the room. + +'I dare say it's Henry, mother,' Beatrice answered. + +Mynors entered, joyous and self-possessed, a white rose in his coat: he +shook hands with Mr. and Mrs. Sutton, sent a greeting down the table to +Mr. Banks and Mrs. Clayton Vernon, and offered a general apology for +being late. + +'Sit here,' said Beatrice to him, sharply, indicating a chair between +Mrs. Banks and herself. 'Mrs. Banks has a word to say to you about the +singing of that anthem last Sunday.' + +Mynors made some laughing rejoinder, and the voices sank so that Anna +could not catch what was said. + +'That's a new frock that Miss Sutton is wearing to-day,' Miss Dickinson +remarked in an undertone. + +'It looks new,' Anna agreed. + +'Do you like it?' + +'Yes. Don't you?' + +'Hum! Yes. It was made at Brunt's at Hanbridge. It's quite the +fashion to go there now,' said Miss Dickinson, and added, almost +inaudibly, 'She's put it on for Mr. Mynors. You saw how she saved that +chair for him.' + +Anna made no reply. + +'Did you know they were engaged once?' Miss Dickinson resumed. + +'No,' said Anna. + +'At least people said they were. It was all over the town--oh! let me +see, three years ago.' + +'I had not heard,' said Anna. + +During the rest of the meal she said little. On some natures Miss +Dickinson's gossip had the effect of bringing them to silence. Anna +had not seen Mynors since the previous Sunday, and now she was +apparently unperceived by him. He talked gaily with Beatrice and Mrs. +Banks: that group was a centre of animation. Anna envied their ease of +manner, their smooth and sparkling flow of conversation. She had the +sensation of feeling vulgar, clumsy, tongue-tied; Mynors and Beatrice +possessed something which she would never possess. So they had been +engaged! But had they? Or was it an idle rumour, manufactured by one +who spent her life in such creations? Anna was conscious of +misgivings. She had despised Beatrice once, but now it seemed that +after all Beatrice was the natural equal of Henry Mynors. Was it more +likely that Mynors or she, Anna, should be mistaken in Beatrice? That +Beatrice had generous instincts she was sure. Anna lost confidence in +herself; she felt humbled, out-of-place, and shamed. + +'If our hostess and the company will kindly excuse me,' said the +minister with a pompous air, looking at his watch, 'I must go. I have +an important appointment, or an appointment which some people think is +important.' + +He got up and made various adieux. The elaborate meal, complex with +fifty dainties each of which had to be savoured, was not nearly over. +The parson stopped in his course up the room to speak with Mrs. Sutton. +After he had shaken hands with her, he caught the admired violet eyes +of his slim wife, a lady of independent fortune whom the wives of +circuit stewards found it difficult to please in the matter of +furniture, and who despite her forty years still kept something of the +pose of a spoiled beauty. As a minister's spouse this languishing but +impeccable and invariably correct dame was unique even in the +experience of Mrs. Clayton Vernon. + +'Shall you not be home early, Rex?' she asked in the tone of a young +wife lounging amid the delicate odours of a boudoir. + +'My love,' he replied with the stern fixity of a histrionic martyr, +'did you ever know me have a free evening?' + +The Alderman accompanied his pastor to the door. + +After tea, Mynors was one of the first to leave the room, and Anna one +of the last, but he accosted her in the hall, on the way back to the +drawing-room, and asked how she was, and how Agnes was, with such +deference and sincerity of regard for herself and everything that was +hers that she could not fail to be impressed. Her sense of humiliation +and of uncertainty was effaced by a single word, a single glance. +Uplifted by a delicious reassurance, she passed into the drawing-room, +expecting him to follow: strange to say, he did not do so. Work was +resumed, but with less ardour than before. It was in fact impossible +to be strenuously diligent after one of Mrs. Sutton's teas, and in +every heart, save those which beat over the most perfect and vigorous +digestive organs, there was a feeling of repentance. The +building-society's clock on the mantel-piece intoned seven: all +expressed surprise at the lateness of the hour, and Mrs. Clayton +Vernon, pleading fatigue after her recent indisposition, quietly +departed. As soon as she was gone, Anna said to Mrs. Sutton that she +too must go. + +'Why, my dear?' Mrs. Sutton asked. + +'I shall be needed at home,' Anna replied. + +'Ah! In that case---- I will come upstairs with you, my dear,' said +Mrs. Sutton. + +When they were in the bedroom, Mrs. Sutton suddenly clasped her hand. +'How is it with you, dear Anna?' she said, gazing anxiously into the +girl's eyes. Anna knew what she meant, but made no answer. 'Is it +well?' the earnest old woman asked. + +'I hope so,' said Anna, averting her eyes, 'I am trying.' + +Mrs. Sutton kissed her almost passionately. 'Ah! my dear,' she +exclaimed with an impulsive gesture, 'I am glad, so glad. I did so +want to have a word with you. You must "lean hard," as Miss Havergal +says. "Lean hard" on Him. Do not be afraid.' And then, changing her +tone: 'You are looking pale, Anna. You want a holiday. We shall be +going to the Isle of Man in August or September. Would your father let +you come with us?' + +'I don't know,' said Anna. She knew, however, that he would not. +Nevertheless the suggestion gave her much pleasure. + +'We must see about that later,' said Mrs. Sutton, and they went +downstairs. + +'I must say good-bye to Beatrice. Where is she?' Anna said in the +hall. One of the servants directed them to the dining-room. The +Alderman and Henry Mynors were looking together at a large photogravure +of Sant's 'The Soul's Awakening,' which Mr. Sutton had recently bought, +and Beatrice was exhibiting her embroidery to a group of ladies: sundry +stitchers were scattered about, including Miss Dickinson. + +'It is a great picture--a picture that makes you think,' Henry was +saying, seriously, and the Alderman, feeling as the artist might have +felt, was obviously flattered by this sagacious praise. + +Anna said good-night to Miss Dickinson and then to Beatrice. Mynors, +hearing the words, turned round. 'Well, I must go. Good evening,' he +said suddenly to the astonished Alderman. + +'What? Now?' the latter inquired, scarcely pleased to find that Mynors +could tear himself away from the picture with so little difficulty. + +'Yes.' + +'Good-night, Mr. Mynors,' said Anna. + +'If I may I will walk down with you,' Mynors imperturbably answered. + +It was one of those dramatic moments which arrive without the slightest +warning. The gleam of joyous satisfaction in Miss Dickinson's eyes +showed that she alone had foreseen this declaration. For a declaration +it was, and a formal declaration. Mynors stood there calm, confident +with masculine superiority, and his glance seemed to say to those +swiftly alert women, whose faces could not disguise a thrilling +excitation: 'Yes. Let all know that I, Henry Mynors, the desired of +all, am honourably captive to this shy and perfect creature who is +blushing because I have said what I have said.' Even the Alderman +forgot his photogravure. Beatrice hurriedly resumed her explanation of +the embroidery. + +'How did you like the sewing meeting?' Mynors asked Anna when they were +on the pavement. + +Anna paused. 'I think Mrs. Sutton is simply a splendid woman,' she +said enthusiastically. + +When, in a moment far too short, they reached Tellwright's house, +Mynors, obeying a mutual wish to which neither had given expression, +followed Anna up the side entry, and so into the yard, where they +lingered for a few seconds. Old Tellwright could be seen at the +extremity of the long narrow garden--a garden which consisted chiefly +of a grass-plot sown with clothes-props and a narrow bordering of +flower beds without flowers. Agnes was invisible. The kitchen-door +stood ajar, and as this was the sole means of ingress from the yard +Anna, humming an air, pushed it open and entered, Mynors in her wake. +They stood on the threshold, happy, hesitating, confused, and looked at +the kitchen as at something which they had not seen before. Anna's +kitchen was the only satisfactory apartment in the house. Its +furniture included a dresser of the simple and dignified kind which is +now assiduously collected by amateurs of old oak. It had four long +narrow shelves holding plates and saucers; the cups were hung in a row +on small brass hooks screwed into the fronts of the shelves. Below the +shelves were three drawers in a line, with brass handles, and below the +drawers was a large recess which held stone jars, a copper +preserving-saucepan, and other receptacles. Seventy years of +continuous polishing by a dynasty of priestesses of cleanliness had +given to this dresser a rich ripe tone which the cleverest +trade-trickster could not have imitated. In it was reflected the +conscientious labour of generations. It had a soft and assuaged +appearance, as though it had never been new and could never have been +new. All its corners and edges had long lost the asperities of +manufacture, and its smooth surfaces were marked by slight hollows +similar in spirit to those worn by the naked feet of pilgrims into the +marble steps of a shrine. The flat portion over the drawers was +scarred with hundreds of scratches, and yet even all these seemed to be +incredibly ancient, and in some distant past to have partaken of the +mellowness of the whole. The dark woodwork formed an admirable +background for the crockery on the shelves, and a few of the old +plates, hand-painted according to some vanished secret in pigments +which time could only improve, had the look of relationship by birth to +the dresser. There must still be thousands of exactly similar dressers +in the kitchens of the people, but they are gradually being transferred +to the dining rooms of curiosity-hunters. To Anna this piece of +furniture, which would have made the most taciturn collector vocal with +joy, was merely 'the dresser.' She had always lamented that it +contained no cupboard. In front of the fireless range was an old steel +kitchen fender with heavy fire-irons. It had in the middle of its flat +top a circular lodgment for saucepans, but on this polished disc no +saucepan was ever placed. The fender was perhaps as old as the +dresser, and the profound depths of its polish served to mitigate +somewhat the newness of the patent coal-economising range which +Tellwright had had put in when he took the house. On the high +mantelpiece were four tall brass candlesticks which, like the dresser, +were silently awaiting their apotheosis at the hands of some collector. +Beside these were two or three common mustard tins, polished to +counterfeit silver, containing spices; also an abandoned coffee-mill +and two flat-irons. A grandfather's clock of oak to match the dresser +stood to the left of the fireplace; it had a very large white dial with +a grinning face in the centre. Though it would only run for +twenty-four hours, its leisured movement seemed to have the certainty +of a natural law, especially to Agnes, for Mr. Tellwright never forgot +to wind it before going to bed. Under the window was a plain deal +table, with white top and stained legs. Two Windsor chairs completed +the catalogue of furniture. The glistening floor was of red and black +tiles, and in front of the fender lay a list hearthrug made by +attaching innumerable bits of black cloth to a canvas base. On the +painted walls were several grocers' almanacs, depicting sailors in the +arms of lovers, children crossing brooks, or monks swelling themselves +with Gargantuan repasts. Everything in this kitchen was absolutely +bright and spotless, as clean as a cat in pattens, except the ceiling, +darkened by fumes of gas. Everything was in perfect order, and had the +humanised air of use and occupation which nothing but use and +occupation can impart to senseless objects. It was a kitchen where, in +the housewife's phrase, you might eat off the floor, and to any Bursley +matron it would have constituted the highest possible certificate of +Anna's character, not only as housewife but as elder sister--for in her +absence Agnes had washed the tea-things and put them away. + +'This is the nicest room, I know,' said Mynors at length. + +'Whatever do you mean?' Anna smiled, incapable of course of seeing the +place with his eye. + +'I mean there is nothing to beat a clean, straight kitchen,' Mynors +replied, 'and there never will be. It wants only the mistress in a +white apron to make it complete. Do you know, when I came in here the +other night, and you were sitting at the table there, I thought the +place was like a picture.' + +'How funny!' said Anna, puzzled but well satisfied. 'But won't you +come into the parlour?' + +The Persian with one ear met them in the lobby, his tail flying, but +cautiously sidled upstairs at sight of Mynors. When Anna opened the +door of the parlour she saw Agnes seated at the table over her lessons, +frowning and preoccupied. Tears were in her eyes. + +'Why, what's the matter, Agnes?' she exclaimed. + +'Oh! Go away,' said the child crossly. 'Don't bother.' + +'But what's the matter? You're crying.' + +'No, I'm not. I'm doing my sums, and I can't get it--can't---' The +child burst into tears just as Mynors entered. His presence was a +complete surprise to her. She hid her face in her pinafore, ashamed to +be thus caught. + +'Where is it?' said Mynors. 'Where is this sum that won't come right?' +He picked up the slate and examined it while Agnes was finding herself +again. 'Practice!' he exclaimed. 'Has Agnes got as far as practice?' +She gave him an instant's glance and murmured 'Yes.' Before she could +shelter her face he had kissed her. Anna was enchanted by his manner, +and as for Agnes, she surrendered happily to him at once. He worked +the sum, and she copied the figures into her exercise-book. Anna sat +and watched. + +'Now I must go,' said Mynors. + +'But surely you'll stay and see father,' Anna urged. + +'No. I really had not meant to call. Good-night, Agnes.' In a moment +he was gone out of the room and the house. It was as if, in obedience +to a sudden impulse, he had forcibly torn himself away. + +'Was _he_ at the sewing meeting?' Agnes asked, adding in parenthesis, +'I never dreamt he was here, and I was frightfully vexed. I felt such +a baby.' + +'Yes. At least, he came for tea.' + +'Why did he call here like that?' + +'How can I tell?' Anna said. The child looked at her. + +'It's awfully queer, isn't it?' she said slowly. 'Tell me all about +the sewing meeting. Did they have cakes or was it a plain tea? And +did you go into Beatrice Sutton's bedroom?' + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +ON THE BANK + +Anna began to receive her July interest and dividends. During a +fortnight remittances, varying from a few pounds to a few hundred of +pounds, arrived by post almost daily. They were all addressed to her, +since the securities now stood in her own name; and upon her, under the +miser's superintendence, fell the new task of entering them in a book +and paying them into the Bank. This mysterious begetting of money by +money--a strange process continually going forward for her benefit, in +various parts of the world, far and near, by means of activities of +which she was completely ignorant and would always be completely +ignorant--bewildered her and gave her a feeling of its unreality. The +elaborate mechanism by which capital yields interest without suffering +diminution from its original bulk is one of the commonest phenomena of +modern life, and one of the least understood. Many capitalists never +grasp it, nor experience the slightest curiosity about it until the +mechanism through some defect ceases to revolve. Tellwright was of +these; for him the interval between the outlay of capital and the +receipt of interest was nothing but an efflux of time: he planted +capital as a gardener plants rhubarb, tolerably certain of a particular +result, but not dwelling even in thought on that which is hidden. The +productivity of capital was to him the greatest achievement of social +progress--indeed, the social organism justified its existence by that +achievement; nothing could be more equitable than this productivity, +nothing more natural. He would as soon have inquired into it as Agnes +would have inquired into the ticking of the grandfather's clock. But +to Anna, who had some imagination, and whose imagination had been +stirred by recent events, the arrival of moneys out of space, unearned, +unasked, was a disturbing experience, affecting her as a conjuring +trick affects a child, whose sensations hesitate between pleasure and +apprehension. Practically, Anna could not believe that she was rich; +and in fact she was not rich--she was merely a fixed point through +which moneys that she was unable to arrest passed with the rapidity of +trains. If money is a token, Anna was denied the satisfaction of +fingering even the token: drafts and cheques were all that she touched +(touched only to abandon)--the doubly tantalising and insubstantial +tokens of a token. She wanted to test the actuality of this apparent +dream by handling coin and causing it to vanish over counters and into +the palms of the necessitous. And moreover, quite apart from this +curiosity, she really needed money for pressing requirements of Agnes +and herself. They had yet had no new summer clothes, and Whitsuntide, +the time prescribed by custom for the refurnishing of wardrobes, was +long since past. The intercourse with Henry Mynors, the visit to the +Suttons, had revealed to her more plainly than ever the intolerable +shortcomings of her wardrobe, and similar imperfections. She was more +painfully awake to these, and yet, by an unhappy paradox, she was even +less in a position to remedy them, than in previous years. For now, +she possessed her own fortune; to ask her father's bounty was +therefore, she divined, a sure way of inviting a rebuff. But, even if +she had dared, she might not use the income that was privately hers, +for was not every penny of it already allocated to the partnership with +Mynors! So it happened that she never once mentioned the matter to her +father; she lacked the courage, since by whatever avenue she approached +it circumstances would add an illogical and adventitious force to the +brutal snubs which he invariably dealt out when petitioned for money. +To demand his money, having fifty thousand of her own! To spend her +own in the face of that agreement with Mynors! She could too easily +guess his bitter and humiliating retorts to either proposition, and she +kept silence, comforting herself with timid visions of a far distant +future. The balance at the bank crept up to sixteen hundred pounds. +The deed of partnership was drawn; her father pored over the blue +draft, and several times Mynors called and the two men discussed it +together. Then one morning her father summoned her into the front +parlour, and handed to her a piece of parchment on which she dimly +deciphered her own name coupled with that of Henry Mynors, in large +letters. + +'You mun sign, seal, and deliver this,' he said, putting a pen in her +hand. + +She sat down obediently to write, but he stopped her with a scornful +gesture. + +'Thou 'lt sign blind then, eh? Just like a woman!' + +'I left it to you,' she said. + +'Left it to me! Read it.' + +She read through the deed, and after she had accomplished the feat one +fact only stood clear in her mind, that the partnership was for seven +years, a period extensible by consent of both parties to fourteen or +twenty-one years. Then she affixed her signature, the pen moving +awkwardly over the rough surface of the parchment. + +'Now put thy finger on that bit o' wax, and say; "I deliver this as my +act and deed."' + +'I deliver this as my act and deed.' + +The old man signed as witness. 'Soon as I give this to Lawyer Dane,' +he remarked, 'thou'rt bound, willy-nilly. Law's law, and thou'rt +bound.' + +On the following day she had to sign a cheque which reduced her +bank-balance to about three pounds. Perhaps it was the knowledge of +this reduction that led Ephraim Tellwright to resume at once and with +fresh rigour his new policy of 'squeezing the last penny' out of Titus +Price (despite the fact that the latter had already achieved the +incredible by paying thirty pounds in little more than a month), thus +causing the catastrophe which soon afterwards befell. What methods her +father was adopting Anna did not know, since he said no word to her +about the matter: she only knew that Agnes had twice been dispatched +with notes to Edward Street. One day, about noon, a clay-soiled urchin +brought a letter addressed to herself: she guessed that it was some +appeal for mercy from the Prices, and wished that her father had been +at home. The old man was away for the whole day, attending a sale of +property at Axe, the agricultural town in the north of the county, +locally styled 'the metropolis of the moorlands.' Anna read:--'My dear +Miss Tellwright,--Now that our partnership is an accomplished fact, +will you not come and look over the works? I should much like you to +do so. I shall be passing your house this afternoon about two, and +will call on the chance of being able to take you down with me to the +works. If you are unable to come no harm will be done, and some other +day can be arranged; but of course I shall be disappointed.--Believe +me, yours most sincerely, HY. MYNORS.' + +She was charmed with the idea--to her so audacious--and relieved that +the note was not after all from Titus or Willie Price: but again she +had to regret that her father was not at home. He would be capable of +thinking and saying that the projected expedition was a truancy, +contrived to occur in his absence. He might grumble at the house being +left without a keeper. Moreover, according to a tacit law, she never +departed from the fixed routine of her existence without first +obtaining Ephraim's approval, or at least being sure that such a +departure would not make him violently angry. She wondered whether +Mynors knew that her father was away, and, if so, whether he had chosen +that afternoon purposely. She did not care that Mynors should call for +her--it made the visit seem so formal; and as in order to reach the +works, down at Shawport by the canal-side, they would necessarily go +through the middle of the town, she foresaw infinite gossip and rumour +as one result. Already, she knew, the names of herself and Mynors were +everywhere coupled, and she could not even enter a shop without being +made aware, more or less delicately, that she was an object of piquant +curiosity. A woman is profoundly interesting to women at two periods +only--before she is betrothed and before she becomes the mother of her +firstborn. Anna was in the first period; her life did not comprise the +second. When Agnes came home to dinner from school, Anna said nothing +of Mynors' note until they had begun to wash up the dinner-things, when +she suggested that Agnes should finish this operation alone. + +'Yes,' said Agnes, ever compliant. 'But why?' + +'I'm going out, and I must get ready.' + +'Going out? And shall you leave the house all empty? What will father +say? Where are you going to?' + +Agnes's tendency to anticipate the worst, and never to blink their +father's tyranny, always annoyed Anna, and she answered rather curtly: +'I'm going to the works--Mr. Mynors' works. He's sent word he wants me +to.' She despised herself for wishing to hide anything, and added, 'He +will call here for me about two o'clock.' + +'Mr. Mynors! How splendid!' And then Agnes's face fell somewhat. 'I +suppose he won't call before two? If he doesn't, I shall be gone to +school.' + +'Do you want to see him?' + +'Oh, no! I don't want to see him. But--I suppose you'll be out a long +time, and he'll bring you back.' + +'Of course he won't, you silly girl. And I shan't be out long. I +shall be back for tea.' + +Anna ran upstairs to dress. At ten minutes to two she was ready. +Agnes usually left at a quarter to two, but the child had not yet gone. +At five minutes to two, Anna called downstairs to her to ask her when +she meant to depart. + +'I'm just going now,' Agnes shouted back. She opened the front door +and then returned to the foot of the stairs. 'Anna, if I meet him down +the road shall I tell him you're ready waiting for him?' + +'Certainly not. Whatever are you dreaming of?' the elder sister +reproved. 'Besides, he isn't coming from the town.' + +'Oh! All right. Good-bye.' And the child at last went. + +It was something after two--every siren and hooter had long since +finished the summons to work--when Mynors rang the bell. Anna was +still upstairs. She examined herself in the glass, and then descended +slowly. + +'Good afternoon,' he said. 'I see you are ready to come. I'm very +glad. I hope I haven't inconvenienced you, but just this afternoon +seemed to be a good opportunity for you to see the works, and, you +know, you ought to see it. Father in?' + +'No,' she said. 'I shall leave the house to take care of itself. Do +you want to see him?' + +'Not specially,' he replied. 'I think we have settled everything.' + +She banged the door behind her, and they started. As he held open the +gate for her exit, she could not ignore the look of passionate +admiration on his face. It was a look disconcerting by its mere +intensity. The man could control his tongue, but not his eyes. His +demeanour, as she viewed it, aggravated her self-consciousness as they +braved the streets. But she was happy in her perturbation. When they +reached Duck Bank, Mynors asked her whether they should go through the +market-place or along King Street, by the bottom of St. Luke's Square. +'By the market-place,' she said. The shop where Miss Dickinson was +employed was at the bottom of St. Luke's Square, and all the eyes of +the marketplace was preferable to the chance of those eyes. + + +Probably no one in the Five Towns takes a conscious pride in the +antiquity of the potter's craft, nor in its unique and intimate +relation to human life, alike civilised and uncivilised. Man hardened +clay into a bowl before he spun flax and made a garment, and the last +lone man will want an earthen vessel after he has abandoned his ruined +house for a cave, and his woven rags for an animal's skin. This +supremacy of the most ancient of crafts is in the secret nature of +things, and cannot be explained. History begins long after the period +when Bursley was first the central seat of that honoured manufacture: +it is the central seat still--'the mother of the Five Towns,' in our +local phrase--and though the townsmen, absorbed in a strenuous daily +struggle, may forget their heirship to an unbroken tradition of +countless centuries, the seal of their venerable calling is upon their +foreheads. If no other relic of an immemorial past is to be seen in +these modernised sordid streets, there is at least the living legacy of +that extraordinary kinship between workman and work, that instinctive +mastery of clay which the past has bestowed upon the present. The +horse is less to the Arab than clay is to the Bursley man. He exists +in it and by it; it fills his lungs and blanches his cheek; it keeps +him alive and it kills him. His fingers close round it as round the +hand of a friend. He knows all its tricks and aptitudes; when to coax +and when to force it, when to rely on it and when to distrust it. The +weavers of Lancashire have dubbed him with an obscene epithet on +account of it, an epithet whose hasty use has led to many a fight, but +nothing could be more illuminatively descriptive than that epithet, +which names his vocation in terms of another vocation. A dozen decades +of applied science have of course resulted in the interposition of +elaborate machinery between the clay and the man; but no great vulgar +handicraft has lost less of the human than potting. Clay is always +clay, and the steam-driven contrivance that will mould a basin while a +man sits and watches has yet to be invented. Moreover, if in some +coarser process the hands are superseded, the number of processes has +been multiplied tenfold: the ware in which six men formerly +collaborated is now produced by sixty; and thus, in one sense, the +touch of finger on clay is more pervasive than ever before. + +Mynors' works was acknowledged to be one of the best, of its size, in +the district--a model three-oven bank, and it must be remembered that +of the hundreds of banks in the Five Towns the vast majority are small, +like this: the large manufactory with its corps of jacket-men,[1] one +of whom is detached to show visitors round so much of the works as is +deemed advisable for them to see, is the exception. Mynors paid three +hundred pounds a year in rent, and produced nearly three hundred pounds +worth of work a week. He was his own manager, and there was only one +jacket-man on the place, a clerk at eighteen shillings. He employed +about a hundred hands, and devoted all his ingenuity to prevent that +wastage which is at once the easiest to overlook and the most difficult +to check, the wastage of labour. No pains were spared to keep all +departments in full and regular activity, and owing to his judicious +firmness the feast of St. Monday, that canker eternally eating at the +root of the prosperity of the Five Towns, was less religiously observed +on his bank than perhaps anywhere else in Bursley. He had realised +that when a workshop stands empty the employer has not only ceased to +make money, but has begun to lose it. The architect of 'Providence +Works' (Providence stands godfather to many commercial enterprises in +the Five Towns) knew his business and the business of the potter, and +he had designed the works with a view to the strictest economy of +labour. The various shops were so arranged that in the course of its +metamorphosis the clay travelled naturally in a circle from the +slip-house by the canal to the packing-house by the canal: there was no +carrying to and fro. The steam installation was complete: steam once +generated had no respite; after it had exhausted itself in vitalising +fifty machines, it was killed by inches in order to dry the unfired +ware and warm the dinners of the workpeople. + +Henry took Anna to the canal-entrance, because the buildings looked +best from that side. + +'Now how much is a crate worth?' she asked, pointing to a crate which +was being swung on a crane direct from the packing-house into a boat. + +'That?' Mynors answered. 'A crateful of ware may be worth anything. +At Minton's I have seen a crate worth three hundred pounds. But that +one there is only worth eight or nine pounds. You see you and I make +cheap stuff.' + +'But don't you make any really good pots--are they all cheap?' + +'All cheap,' he said. + +'I suppose that's business?' He detected a note of regret in her voice. + +'I don't know,' he said, with the slightest impatient warmth. 'We make +the stuff as good as we can for the money. We supply what everyone +wants. Don't you think it's better to please a thousand folks than to +please ten? I like to feel that my ware is used all over the country +and the colonies. I would sooner do as I do than make swagger ware for +a handful of rich people.' + +'Oh, yes,' she exclaimed, eagerly accepting the point of view, 'I quite +agree with you.' She had never heard him in that vein before, and was +struck by his enthusiasm. And Mynors was in fact always very +enthusiastic concerning the virtues of the general markets. He had no +sympathy with specialities, artistic or otherwise. He found his +satisfaction in honestly meeting the public taste. He was born to be a +manufacturer of cheap goods on a colossal scale. He could dream of +fifty ovens, and his ambition blinded him to the present absurdity of +talking about a three-oven bank spreading its productions all over the +country and the colonies; it did not occur to him that there were yet +scarcely enough plates to go round. + +'I suppose we had better start at the start,' he said, leading the way +to the slip-house. He did not need to be told that Anna was perfectly +ignorant of the craft of pottery, and that every detail of it, so stale +to him, would acquire freshness under her naïve and inquiring gaze. + +In the slip-house begins the long manipulation which transforms raw +porous friable clay into the moulded, decorated and glazed vessel. The +large whitewashed place was occupied by ungainly machines and +receptacles through which the four sorts of clay used in the common +'body'--ball clay, China clay, flint clay and stone clay--were +compelled to pass before they became a white putty-like mixture meet +for shaping by human hands. The blunger crushed the clay, the sifter +extracted the iron from it by means of a magnet, the press expelled the +water, and the pug-mill expelled the air. From the last reluctant +mouth slowly emerged a solid stream nearly a foot in diameter, like a +huge white snake. Already the clay had acquired the uniformity +characteristic of a manufactured product. + +Anna moved to touch the bolts of the enormous twenty-four-chambered +press. + +'Don't stand there,' said Mynors. 'The pressure is tremendous, and if +the thing were to burst----' + +She fled hastily. 'But isn't it dangerous for the workmen?' she asked. + +Eli Machin, the engineman, the oldest employee on the works, a moneyed +man and the pattern of reliability, allowed a vague smile to flit +across his face at this remark. He had ascended from the engine-house +below in order to exhibit the tricks of the various machines, and that +done he disappeared. Anna was awed by the sensation of being +surrounded by terrific forces always straining for release and held in +check by the power of a single wall. + +'Come and see a plate made: that is one of the simplest things, and the +batting-machine is worth looking at,' said Mynors, and they went into +the nearest shop, a hot interior in the shape of four corridors round a +solid square middle. Here men and women were working side by side, the +women subordinate to the men. All were preoccupied, wrapped up in +their respective operations, and there was the sound of irregular +whirring movements from every part of the big room. The air was laden +with whitish dust, and clay was omnipresent--on the floor, the walls, +the benches, the windows, on clothes, hands and faces. It was in this +shop, where both hollow-ware pressers and flat pressers were busy as +only craftsmen on piecework can be busy, that more than anywhere else +clay was to be seen 'in the hand of the potter.' Near the door a stout +man with a good-humoured face flung some clay on to a revolving disc, +and even as Anna passed a jar sprang into existence. One instant the +clay was an amorphous mass, the next it was a vessel perfectly +circular, of a prescribed width and a prescribed depth; the flat and +apparently clumsy fingers of the craftsman had seemed to lose +themselves in the clay for a fraction of time, and the miracle was +accomplished. The man threw these vessels with the rapidity of a Roman +candle throwing off coloured stars, and one woman was kept busy in +supplying him with material and relieving his bench of the finished +articles. Mynors drew Anna along to the batting-machines for plate +makers, at that period rather a novelty and the latest invention of the +dead genius whose brain has reconstituted a whole industry on new +lines. Confronted with a piece of clay, the batting-machine descended +upon it with the ferocity of a wild animal, worried it, stretched it, +smoothed it into the width and thickness of a plate, and then desisted +of itself and waited inactive for the flat presser to remove its victim +to his more exact shaping machine. Several men were producing plates, +but their rapid labours seemed less astonishing than the preliminary +feat of the batting-machine. All the ware as it was moulded +disappeared into the vast cupboards occupying the centre of the shop, +where Mynors showed Anna innumerable rows of shelves full of pots in +process of steam-drying. Neither time nor space nor material was +wasted in this ant-heap of industry. In order to move to and fro, the +women were compelled to insinuate themselves past the stationary bodies +of the men. Anna marvelled at the careless accuracy with which they +fed the batting-machines with lumps precisely calculated to form a +plate of a given diameter. Everyone exerted himself as though the +salvation of the world hung on the production of so much stuff by a +certain hour; dust, heat, and the presence of a stranger were alike +unheeded in the mad creative passion. + +'Now,' said Mynors the cicerone, opening another door which gave into +the yard, 'when all that stuff is dried and fettled--smoothed, you +know--it goes into the biscuit oven: that's the first firing. There's +the biscuit oven, but we can't inspect it because it's just being +drawn.' + +He pointed to the oven near by, in whose dark interior the forms of +men, naked to the waist, could dimly be seen struggling with the weight +of saggars[2] full of ware. It seemed like some release of martyrs, +this unpacking of the immense oven, which, after being flooded with a +sea of flame for fifty-four hours, had cooled for two days, and was yet +hotter than the Equator. The inertness and pallor of the saggers +seemed to be the physical result of their fiery trial, and one wondered +that they should have survived the trial. Mynors went into the place +adjoining the oven and brought back a plate out of an open sagger; it +was still quite warm. It had the _matt_ surface of a biscuit, and +adhered slightly to the fingers: it was now a 'crook'; it had exchanged +malleability for brittleness, and nothing mortal could undo what the +fire had done. Mynors took the plate with him to the +biscuit-warehouse, a long room where one was forced to keep to narrow +alleys amid parterres of pots. A solitary biscuit-warehouseman was +examining the ware in order to determine the remuneration of the +pressers. + +They climbed a flight of steps to the printing-shop, where, by means of +copper-plates, printing-presses, mineral colours, and transfer-papers, +most of the decoration was done. The room was filled by a little crowd +of people--oldish men, women and girls, divided into printers, cutters, +transferors and apprentices. Each interminably repeated some trifling +process, and every article passed through a succession of hands until +at length it was washed in a tank and rose dripping therefrom with its +ornament of flowers and scrolls fully revealed. The room smelt of oil +and flannel and humanity; the atmosphere was more languid, more like +that of a family party, than in the pressers' shop: the old women +looked stern and shrewish, the pretty young women pert and defiant, the +younger girls meek. The few men seemed out of place. By what trick +had they crept into the very centre of that mass of femineity? It +seemed wrong, scandalous that they should remain. Contiguous with the +printing-shop was the painting-shop, in which the labours of the former +were taken to a finish by the brush of the paintress, who filled in +outlines with flat colour, and thus converted mechanical printing into +handiwork. The paintresses form the _noblesse_ of the banks. Their +task is a light one, demanding deftness first of all; they have +delicate fingers, and enjoy a general reputation for beauty: the wages +they earn may be estimated from their finery on Sundays. They come to +business in cloth jackets, carry dinner in little satchels; in the shop +they wear white aprons, and look startlingly neat and tidy. Across the +benches over which they bend their coquettish heads gossip flies and +returns like a shuttle; they are the source of a thousand intrigues, +and one or other of them is continually getting married or omitting to +get married. On the bank they constitute 'the sex.' An infinitesimal +proportion of them, from among the branch known as ground-layers, die +of lead-poisoning--a fact which adds pathos to their frivolous charm. +In a subsidiary room off the painting-shop a single girl was seated at +a revolving table actuated by a treadle. She was doing the +'band-and-line' on the rims of saucers. Mynors and Anna watched her as +with her left hand she flicked saucer after saucer into the exact +centre of the table, moved the treadle, and, holding a brush firmly +against the rim of the piece, produced with infallible exactitude the +band and the line. She was a brunette, about twenty-eight: she had a +calm, vacuously contemplative face; but God alone knew whether she +thought. Her work represented the summit of monotony; the regularity +of it hypnotised the observer, and Mynors himself was impressed by this +stupendous phenomenon of absolute sameness, involuntarily assuming +towards it the attitude of a showman. + +'She earns as much as eighteen shillings a week sometimes,' he +whispered. + +'May I try?' Anna timidly asked of a sudden, curious to experience what +the trick was like. + +'Certainly,' said Mynors, in eager assent. 'Priscilla, let this lady +have your seat a moment, please.' + +The girl got up, smiling politely. Anna took her place. + +'Here, try on this,' said Mynors, putting on the table the plate which +he still carried. + +'Take a full brush,' the paintress suggested, not attempting to hide +her amusement at Anna's unaccustomed efforts. 'Now push the treadle. +There! It isn't in the middle yet. Now!' + +Anna produced a most creditable band, and a trembling but passable +line, and rose flushed with the small triumph. + +'You have the gift,' said Mynors; and the paintress respectfully +applauded. + +'I felt I could do it,' Anna responded. 'My mother's mother was a +paintress, and it must be in the blood.' + +Mynors smiled indulgently. They descended again to the ground floor, +and following the course of manufacture came to the 'hardening-on' +kiln, a minor oven where for twelve hours the oil is burnt out of the +colour in decorated ware. A huge, jolly man in shirt and trousers, +with an enormous apron, was in the act of drawing the kiln, assisted by +two thin boys. He nodded a greeting to Mynors and exclaimed, 'Warm!' +The kiln was nearly emptied. As Anna stopped at the door, the man +addressed her. + +'Step inside, miss, and try it.' + +'No, thanks!' she laughed. + +'Come now,' he insisted, as if despising this hesitation. 'An ounce of +experience----' The two boys grinned and wiped their foreheads with +their bare skeleton-like arms. Anna, challenged by the man's look, +walked quickly into the kiln. A blasting heat seemed to assault her on +every side, driving her back; it was incredible that any human being +could support such a temperature. + +'There!' said the jovial man, apparently summing her up with his +bright, quizzical eyes. 'You know summat as you didn't know afore, +miss. Come along, lads,' he added with brisk heartiness to the boys, +and the drawing of the kiln proceeded. + +Next came the dipping-house, where a middle-aged woman, enveloped in a +protective garment from head to foot, was dipping jugs into a vat of +lead-glaze, a boy assisting her. The woman's hands were covered with +the grey, slimy glaze. She alone of all the employees appeared to be +cool. + +'That is the last stage but one,' said Mynors. 'There is only the +glost-firing,' and they passed out into the yard once more. One of the +glost-ovens was empty; they entered it and peered into the lofty inner +chamber, which seemed like the cold crater of an exhausted volcano, or +like a vault, or like the ruined seat of some forgotten activity. The +other oven was firing, and Anna could only look at its exterior, +catching glimpses of the red glow at its twelve mouths, and guess at +the Tophet, within, where the lead was being fused into glass. + +'Now for the glost-warehouse, and you will have seen all,' said Mynors, +'except the mould-shop, and that doesn't matter.' + +The warehouse was the largest place on the works, a room sixty-feet +long and twenty broad, low, whitewashed, bare and clean. Piles of ware +occupied the whole of the walls and of the immense floorspace, but +there was no trace here of the soilure and untidiness incident to +manufacture; all processes were at an end, clay had vanished into +crock: and the calmness and the whiteness atoned for the disorder, +noise and squalor which had preceded. Here was a sample of the total +and final achievement towards which the thousands of small, disjointed +efforts that Anna had witnessed, were directed. And it seemed a +miraculous, almost impossible, result; so definite, precise and regular +after a series of acts apparently variable, inexact and casual; so +inhuman after all that intensely inhuman labour; so vast in comparison +with the minuteness of the separate endeavours. As Anna looked, for +instance, at a pile of tea-sets, she found it difficult even to +conceive that, a fortnight or so before, they had been nothing but +lumps of dirty clay. No stage of the manufacture was incredible by +itself, but the result was incredible. It was the result that appealed +to the imagination, authenticating the adage that fools and children +should never see anything till it is done. + +Anna pondered over the organising power, the forethought, the wide +vision, and the sheer ingenuity and cleverness which were implied by +the contents of this warehouse. 'What brains!' she thought, of Mynors; +'what quantities of all sorts of things he must know!' It was a humble +and deeply-felt admiration. + +Her spoken words gave no clue to her thoughts. 'You seem to make a +fine lot of tea-sets,' she remarked. + +'Oh, no,' he said carelessly. 'These few that you see here are a +special order. I don't go in much for tea-sets: they don't pay; we +lose fifteen per cent. of the pieces in making. It's toilet-ware that +pays, and that is our leading line.' He waved an arm vaguely towards +rows and rows of ewers and basins in the distance. They walked to the +end of the warehouse, glancing at everything. + +'See here,' said Mynors, 'isn't that pretty?' He pointed through the +last window to a view of the canal, which could be seen thence in +perspective, finishing in a curve. On one side, close to the water's +edge, was a ruined and fragmentary building, its rich browns reflected +in the smooth surface of the canal. On the other side were a few grim, +grey trees bordering the towpath. Down the vista moved a boat steered +by a woman in a large mob-cap. 'Isn't that picturesque?' he said. + +'Very,' Anna assented willingly. 'It's really quite strange, such a +scene right in the middle of Bursley.' + +'Oh! There are others,' he said. 'But I always take a peep at that +whenever I come into the warehouse.' + +'I wonder you find time to notice it--with all this place to see +after,' she said. 'It's a splendid works!' + +'It will do--to be going on with,' he answered, satisfied. 'I'm very +glad you've been down. You must come again. I can see you would be +interested in it, and there are plenty of things you haven't looked at +yet, you know.' + +He smiled at her. They were alone in the warehouse. + +'Yes,' she said; 'I expect so. Well, I must go, at once; I'm afraid +it's very late now. Thank you for showing me round, and explaining, +and--I'm frightfully stupid and ignorant. Good-bye.' + +Vapid and trite phrases: what unimaginable messages the hearer heard in +you! + +Anna held out her hand, and he seized it almost convulsively, his +incendiary eyes fastened on her face. + +'I must see you out,' he said, dropping that ungloved hand. + +It was ten o'clock that night before Ephraim Tellwright returned home +from Axe. He appeared to be in a bad temper. Agnes had gone to bed. +His supper of bread-and-cheese and water was waiting for him, and Anna +sat at the table while he consumed it. He ate in silence, somewhat +hungrily, and she did not deem the moment propitious for telling him +about her visit to Mynors' works. + +'Has Titus Price sent up?' he asked at length, gulping down the last of +the water. + +'Sent up?' + +'Yes. Art fond, lass? I told him as he mun send up some more o' thy +rent to-day--twenty-five pun. He's not sent?' + +'I don't know,' she said timidly. 'I was out this afternoon.' + +'Out, wast?' + +'Mr. Mynors sent word to ask me to go down and look over the works; so +I went. I thought it would be all right.' + +'Well, it was'na all right. And I'd like to know what business thou +hast gadding out, as soon as my back's turned. How can I tell whether +Price sent up or not? And what's more, thou know's as th' house hadn't +ought to be left.' + +'I'm sorry,' she said pleasantly, with a determination to be meek and +dutiful. + +He grunted. 'Happen he didna' send. And if he did, and found th' +house locked up, he should ha' sent again. Bring me th' inkpot, and +I'll write a note as Agnes must take when her goes to school to-morrow +morning.' + +Anna obeyed. 'They'll never be able to pay twenty-five pounds, +father,' she ventured. 'They've paid thirty already, you know.' + +'Less gab,' he said shortly, taking up the pen. 'Here--write it +thysen.' He threw the pen towards her. 'Tell Titus if he doesn't pay +five-and-twenty this wik, us'll put bailiffs in.' + +'Won't it come better from you, father?' she pleaded. + +'Whose property is it?' The laconic question was final. She knew she +must obey, and began to write. But, realising that she would perforce +meet both Titus Price and Willie on Sunday, she merely demanded the +money, omitting the threat. Her hand trembled as she passed the note +to him to read. + +'Will that do?' + +His reply was to tear the paper across. 'Put down what I tell ye,' he +ordered, 'and don't let's have any more paper wasted.' Then he +dictated a letter which was an ultimatum in three lines. 'Sign it,' he +said. + +She signed it, weeping. She could see the wistful reproach in Willie +Price's eyes. + +'I suppose,' her father said, when she bade him 'Good-night,' 'I +suppose if I hadn't asked, I should ha' heard nowt o' this +gadding-about wi' Mynors?' + +'I was going to tell you I had been to the works, father,' she said. + +'Going to!' That was his final blow, and having delivered it, he +loosed the victim. 'Go to bed,' he said. + +She went upstairs, resolutely read her Bible, and resolutely prayed. + + + +[1] _Jacket-man_: the artisan's satiric term for anyone who does not +work in shirt-sleeves, who is not actually a producer, such as a clerk +or a pretentious foreman. + +[2] _Saggars_: large oval receptacles of coarse clay, in which the ware +is placed for firing. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE TREAT + +This surly and terrorising ferocity of Tellwright's was as instinctive +as the growl and spring of a beast of prey. He never considered his +attitude towards the women of his household as an unusual phenomenon +which needed justification, or as being in the least abnormal. The +women of a household were the natural victims of their master: in his +experience it had always been so. In his experience the master had +always, by universal consent, possessed certain rights over the +self-respect, the happiness and the peace of the defenceless souls set +under him--rights as unquestioned as those exercised by Ivan the +Terrible. Such rights were rooted in the secret nature of things. It +was futile to discuss them, because their necessity and their propriety +were equally obvious. Tellwright would not have been angry with any +man who impugned them: he would merely have regarded the fellow as a +crank and a born fool, on whom logic or indignation would be entirely +wasted. He did as his father and uncles had done. He still thought of +his father as a grim customer, infinitely more redoubtable than +himself. He really believed that parents spoiled their children +nowadays: to be knocked down by a single blow was one of the +punishments of his own generation. He could recall the fearful +timidity of his mother's eyes without a trace of compassion. His +treatment of his daughters was no part of a system, nor obedient to any +defined principles, nor the expression of a brutal disposition, nor the +result of gradually-acquired habit. It came to him like eating, and +like parsimony. He belonged to the great and powerful class of +house-tyrants, the backbone of the British nation, whose views on +income-tax cause ministries to tremble. If you had talked to him of +the domestic graces of life, your words would have conveyed to him no +meaning. If you had indicted him for simple unprovoked rudeness, he +would have grinned, well knowing that, as the King can do no wrong, so +a man cannot be rude in his own house. If you had told him that he +inflicted purposeless misery not only on others but on himself, he +would have grinned again, vaguely aware that he had not tried to be +happy, and rather despising happiness as a sort of childish gewgaw. He +had, in fact, never been happy at home: he had never known that +expansion of the spirit which is called joy; he existed continually +under a grievance. The atmosphere of Manor Terrace afflicted him, too, +with a melancholy gloom--him, who had created it. Had he been capable +of self-analysis, he would have discovered that his heart lightened +whenever he left the house, and grew dark whenever he returned; but he +was incapable of the feat. His case, like every similar case, was +irremediable. + +The next morning his preposterous displeasure lay like a curse on the +house; Anna was silent, and Agnes moved on timid feet. In the +afternoon Willie Price called in answer to the note. The miser was in +the garden, and Agnes at school. Willie's craven and fawning humility +was inexpressibly touching and shameful to Anna. She longed to say to +him, as he stood hesitant and confused in the parlour: 'Go in peace. +Forget this despicable rent. It sickens me to see you so.' She +foresaw, as the effect of her father's vindictive pursuit of her +tenants, an interminable succession of these mortifying interviews. + +'You're rather hard on us,' Willie Price began, using the old phrases, +but in a tone of forced and propitiatory cheerfulness, as though he +feared to bring down a storm of anger which should ruin all. 'You'll +not deny that we've been doing our best.' + +'The rent is due, you know, Mr. William,' she replied, blushing. + +'Oh, yes,' he said quickly. 'I don't deny that. I admit that. I--did +you happen to see Mr. Tellwright's postscript to your letter?' + +'No,' she answered, without thinking. + +He drew the letter, soiled and creased, from his pocket, and displayed +it to her. At the foot of the page she read, in Ephraim's thick and +clumsy characters: 'P.S. This is final.' + +'My father,' said Willie, 'was a little put about. He said he'd never +received such a letter before in the whole of his business career. It +isn't as if----' + +'I needn't tell you,' she interrupted, with a sudden determination to +get to the worst without more suspense, 'that of course I am in +father's hands.' + +'Oh! Of course, Miss Tellwright; we quite understand that--quite. +It's just a matter of business. We owe a debt and we must pay it. All +we want is time.' He smiled piteously at her, his blue eyes full of +appeal. She was obliged to gaze at the floor. + +'Yes,' she said, tapping her foot on the rug. 'But father means what +he says.' She looked up at him again, trying to soften her words by +means of something more subtle than a smile. + +'He means what he says,' Willie agreed; 'and I admire him for it.' + +The obsequious, truckling lie was odious to her. + +'Perhaps I could see him,' he ventured. + +'I wish you would,' Anna said, sincerely. 'Father, you're wanted,' she +called curtly through the window. + +'I've got a proposal to make to him,' Price continued, while they +awaited the presence of the miser, 'and I can't hardly think he'll +refuse it.' + +'Well, young sir,' Tellwright said blandly, with an air almost +insinuating, as he entered. Willie Price, the simpleton, was deceived +by it, and, taking courage, adopted another line of defence. He +thought the miser was a little ashamed of his postscript. + +'About your note, Mr. Tellwright; I was just telling Miss Tellwright +that my father said he had never received such a letter in the whole of +his business career.' The youth assumed a discreet indignation. + +'Thy feyther's had dozens o' such letters, lad,' the miser said with +cold emphasis, 'or my name's not Tellwright. Dunna tell me as Titus +Price's never heard of a bumbailiff afore.' + +Willie was crushed at a blow, and obliged to retreat. He smiled +painfully. 'Come, Mr. Tellwright. Don't talk like that. All we want +is time.' + +'Time is money,' said Tellwright, 'and if us give you time us give you +money. 'Stead o' that, it's you as mun give us money. That's right +reason.' + +Willie laughed with difficulty. 'See here, Mr. Tellwright. To cut a +long story short, it's like this. You ask for twenty-five pounds. +I've got in my pocket a bill of exchange drawn by us on Mr. Sutton and +endorsed by him, for thirty pounds, payable in three months. Will you +take that? Remember it's for thirty, and you only ask for twenty-five.' + +'So Mr. Sutton has dealings with ye, eh?' Tellwright remarked. + +'Oh, yes,' Willie answered proudly. 'He buys off us regularly. We've +done business for years.' + +'And pays i' bills at three months, eh?' The miser grinned. + +'Sometimes,' said Willie. + +'Let's see it,' said the miser. + +'What--the bill?' + +'Ay!' + +'Oh! The bill's all right.' Willie took it from his pocket, and +opening out the blue paper, gave it to old Tellwright. Anna perceived +the anxiety on the youth's face. He flushed and his hand trembled. +She dared not speak, but she wished to tell him to be at ease. She +knew from infallible signs that her father would take the bill. +Ephraim gazed at the stamped paper as at something strange and +unprecedented in his experience. + +'Father would want you not to negotiate that bill,' said Willie. 'The +fact is, we promised Mr. Sutton that that particular bill should not +leave our hands--unless it was absolutely necessary. So father would +like you not to discount it, and he will redeem it before it matures. +You quite understand--we don't care to offend an old customer like Mr. +Sutton.' + +'Then this bit o' paper's worth nowt for welly[1] three months?' the +old man said, with an affectation of bewildered simplicity. + +Happily inspired for once, Willie made no answer, but put the question: +'Will you take it?' + +'Ay! Us'll tak' it,' said Tellwright, 'though it is but a promise.' +He was well pleased. + +Young Price's face showed his relief. It was now evident that he had +been passing through an ordeal. Anna guessed that perhaps everything +had depended on the acceptance by Tellwright of that bill. Had he +refused it, Prices, she thought, might have come to sudden disaster. +She felt glad and disburdened for the moment; but immediately it +occurred to her that her father would not rest satisfied for long; a +few weeks, and he would give another turn to the screw. + + +The Tellwrights were destined to have other visitors that afternoon. +Agnes, coming from school, was accompanied by a lady. Anna, who was +setting the tea-table, saw a double shadow pass the window, and heard +voices. She ran into the kitchen, and found Mrs. Sutton seated on a +chair, breathing quickly. + +'You'll excuse me coming in so unceremoniously, Anna,' she said, after +having kissed her heartily. 'But Agnes said that she always came in by +the back way, so I came that way too. Now I'm resting a minute. I've +had to walk to-day. Our horse has gone lame.' + +This kind heart radiated a heavenly goodwill, even in the most ordinary +phrases. Anna began to expand at once. + +'Now do come into the parlour,' she said, 'and let me make you +comfortable.' + +'Just a minute, my dear,' Mrs. Sutton begged, fanning herself with her +handkerchief, 'Agnes's legs are so long.' + +'Oh, Mrs. Sutton,' Agnes protested, laughing, 'how can you? I could +scarcely keep up with you!' + +'Well, my dear, I never could walk slowly. I'm one of them that go +till they drop. It's very silly.' She smiled, and the two girls +smiled happily in return. + +'Agnes,' said the housewife, 'set another cup and saucer and plate.' +Agnes threw down her hat and satchel of books, eager to show +hospitality. + +'It still keeps very warm,' Anna remarked, as Mrs. Sutton was silent. + +'It's beautifully cool here,' said Mrs. Sutton. 'I see you've got your +kitchen like a new pin, Anna, if you'll excuse me saying so. Henry was +very enthusiastic about this kitchen the other night, at our house.' + +'What! Mr. Mynors?' Anna reddened to the eyes. + +'Yes, my dear; and he's a very particular young man, you know.' + +The kettle conveniently boiled at that moment, and Anna went to the +range to make the tea. + +'Tea is all ready, Mrs. Sutton,' she said at length. 'I'm sure you +could do with a cup.' + +'That I could,' said Mrs. Sutton. 'It's what I've come for.' + +'We have tea at four. Father will be glad to see you.' The clock +struck, and they went into the parlour, Anna carrying the tea-pot and +the hot-water jug. Agnes had preceded them. The old man was sitting +expectant in his chair. + +'Well, Mr. Tellwright,' said the visitor, 'you see I've called to see +you, and to beg a cup of tea. I overtook Agnes coming home from +school--overtook her, mind--me, at my age!' Ephraim rose slowly and +shook hands. + +'You're welcome,' he said curtly, but with a kindliness that amazed +Anna. She was unaware that in past days he had known Mrs. Sutton as a +young and charming girl, a vision that had stirred poetic ideas in +hundreds of prosaic breasts, Tellwright's included. There was scarcely +a middle-aged male Wesleyan in Bursley and Hanbridge who had not a +peculiar regard for Mrs. Sutton, and who did not think that he alone +truly appreciated her. + +'What an' you bin tiring yourself with this afternoon?' he asked, when +they had begun tea, and Mrs. Sutton had refused a second piece of +bread-and-butter. + +'What have I been doing? I've been seeing to some inside repairs to +the superintendent's house. Be thankful you aren't a circuit-steward's +wife, Anna.' + +'Why, does she have to see to the repairs of the minister's house?' +Anna asked, surprised. + +'I should just think she does. She has to stand between the minister's +wife and the funds of the society. And Mrs. Reginald Banks has been +used to the very best of everything. She's just a bit exacting, though +I must say she's willing enough to spend her own money too. She wants +a new boiler in the scullery now, and I'm sure her boiler is a great +deal better than ours. But we must try to please her. She isn't used +to us rough folks and our ways. Mr. Banks said to me this afternoon +that he tried always to shield her from the worries of this world.' +She smiled almost imperceptibly. + +There was a ring at the bell, and Agnes, much perturbed by the august +arrival, let in Mr. Banks himself. + +'Shall I enter, my little dear?' said Mr. Banks. 'Your father, your +sister, in?' + +'It ne'er rains but it pours,' said Tellwright, who had caught the +minister's voice. + +'Speak of angels----' said Mrs. Sutton, laughing quietly. + +The minister came grandly into the parlour. 'Ah! How do you do, +brother Tellwright, and you, Miss Tellwright? Mrs. Sutton, we two seem +happily fated to meet this afternoon. Don't let me disturb you, I +beg--I cannot stay. My time is very limited. I wish I could call +oftener, brother Tellwright; but really the new _régime_ leaves no time +for pastoral visits. I was saying to my wife only this morning that I +haven't had a free afternoon for a month.' He accepted a cup of tea. + +'Us'n have a tea-party this afternoon,' said Tellwright +_quasi_-privately to Mrs. Sutton. + +'And now,' the minister resumed, 'I've come to beg. The special fund, +you know, Mr. Tellwright, to clear off the debt on the new +school-buildings. I referred to it from the pulpit last Sabbath. It's +not in my province to go round begging, but someone must do it.' + +'Well, for me, I'm beforehand with you, Mr. Banks,' said Mrs. Sutton, +'for it's on that very errand I've called to see Mr. Tellwright this +afternoon. His name is on my list.' + +'Ah! Then I leave our brother to your superior persuasions.' + +'Come, Mr. Tellwright,' said Mrs. Sutton, 'you're between two fires, +and you'll get no mercy. What will you give?' + +The miser foresaw a probable discomfiture, and sought for some means of +escape. + +'What are others giving?' he asked. + +'My husband is giving fifty pounds, and you could buy him up, lock, +stock, and barrel.' + +'Nay, nay!' said Tellwright, aghast at this sum. He had underrated the +importance of the Building Fund. + +'And I,' said the parson solemnly, 'I have but fifty pounds in the +world, but I am giving twenty to this fund.' + +'Then you're giving too much,' said Tellwright with quick brusqueness. +'You canna' afford it.' + +'The Lord will provide,' said the parson. + +'Happen He will, happen not. It's as well you've gotten a rich wife, +Mr. Banks.' + +The parson's dignity was obviously wounded, and Anna wondered timidly +what would occur next. Mrs. Sutton interposed. 'Come now, Mr. +Tellwright,' she said again, 'to the point: what will you give?' + +'I'll think it over and let you hear,' said Ephraim. + +'Oh, no! That won't do at all, will it, Mr. Banks? I, at any rate, am +not going away without a definite promise. As an old and good +Wesleyan, of course you will feel it your duty to be generous with us.' + +'You used to be a pillar of the Hanbridge circuit--was it not so?' said +Mr. Banks to the miser, recovering himself. + +'So they used to say,' Tellwright replied grimly. 'That was because I +cleared 'em of debt in ten years. But they've slipped into th' ditch +again sin' I left 'em.' + +'But if I am right, you do not meet[2] with us,' the minister pursued +imperturbably. + +'No.' + +'My own class is at three on Saturdays,' said the minister. 'I should +be glad to see you.' + +'I tell you what I'll do,' said the miser to Mrs. Sutton. 'Titus Price +is a big man at th' Sunday-school. I'll give as much as he gives to +th' school buildings. That's fair.' + +'Do you know what Mr. Price is giving?' Mrs. Sutton asked the minister. + +'I saw Mr. Price yesterday. He is giving twenty-five pounds.' + +'Very well, that's a bargain,' said Mrs. Sutton, who had succeeded +beyond her expectations. + +Ephraim was the dupe of his own scheming. He had made sure that +Price's contribution would be a small one. This ostentatious +munificence on the part of the beggared Titus filled him with secret +anger. He determined to demand more rent at a very early date. + +'I'll put you down for twenty-five pounds as a first subscription,' +said the minister, taking out a pocket-book. Perhaps you will give +Mrs. Sutton or myself the cheque to-day?' + +'Has Mr. Price paid?' the miser asked, warily. + +'Not yet.' + +'Then come to me when he has.' Ephraim perceived the way of escape. + +When the minister was gone, as Mrs. Sutton seemed in no hurry to +depart, Anna and Agnes cleared the table. + +'I've just been telling your father, Anna,' said Mrs. Sutton, when Anna +returned to the room, 'that Mr. Sutton and myself and Beatrice are +going to the Isle of Man soon for a fortnight or so, and we should very +much like you to come with us.' + +Anna's heart began to beat violently, though she knew there was no hope +for her. This, then, doubtless, was the main object of Mrs. Sutton's +visit! 'Oh! But I couldn't, really!' said Anna, scarcely aware what +she did say. + +'Why not?' asked Mrs. Sutton. + +'Well--the house.' + +'The house? Agnes could see to what little housekeeping your father +would want. The schools will break up next week.' + +'What do these young folks want holidays for?' Tellwright inquired with +philosophic gruffness. 'I never had one. And what's more, I wouldn't +thank ye for one. I'll pig on at Bursley. When ye've gotten a roof of +your own, where's the sense o' going elsewhere and pigging?' + +'But we really want Anna to go,' Mrs. Sutton went on. 'Beatrice is +very anxious about it. Beatrice is very short of suitable friends.' + +'I should na' ha' thought it,' said Tellwright. 'Her seems to know +everyone.' + +'But she is,' Mrs. Sutton insisted. + +'I think as you'd better leave Anna out this year,' said the miser +stubbornly. + +Anna wished profoundly that Mrs. Sutton would abandon the futile +attempt. Then she perceived that the visitor was signalling to her to +leave the room. Anna obeyed, going into the kitchen to give an eye to +Agnes, who was washing up. + +'It's all right,' said Mrs. Sutton contentedly, when Anna returned to +the parlour. 'Your father has consented to your going with us. It is +very kind of him, for I'm sure he'll miss you.' + +Anna sat down, limp, speechless. She could not believe the news. + +'You are awfully good,' she said to Mrs. Sutton in the lobby, as the +latter was leaving the house. 'I'm ever so grateful--you can't think.' +And she threw her arms round Mrs. Sutton's neck. + +Agnes ran up to say good-bye. + +Mrs. Sutton kissed the child. 'Agnes will be the little housekeeper, +eh?' The little housekeeper was almost as pleased at the prospect of +housekeeping as if she too had been going to the Isle of Man. 'You'll +both be at the school-treat next Tuesday,' suppose,' Mrs. Sutton said, +holding Agnes by the hand. Agnes glanced at her sister in inquiry. + +'I don't know,' Anna replied. 'We shall see.' + +The truth was, that not caring to ask her father for the money for the +tickets, she had given no thought to the school-treat. + +'Did I tell you that Henry Mynors will most likely come with us to the +Isle of Man?' said Mrs. Sutton from the gate. + +Anna retired to her bedroom to savour an astounding happiness in +quietude. At supper the miser was in a mood not unbenevolent. She +expected a reaction the next morning, but Ephraim, strange to say, +remained innocuous. She ventured to ask him for the money for the +treat tickets, two shillings. He made no immediate reply. Half an +hour afterwards, he ejaculated: 'What i' th' name o' fortune dost thee +want wi' school-treats?' + +'It's Agnes,' she answered; 'of course Agnes can't go alone.' + +In the end he threw down a florin. He became perilous for the rest of +the day, but the florin was an indisputable fact in Anna's pocket. + +The school-treat was held in a twelve-acre field near Sneyd, the seat +of a marquis, and a Saturday afternoon resort very popular in the Five +Towns. The children were formed at noon on Duck Bank into a +procession, which marched to the railway station to the singing of +'Shall we gather at the river?' Thence a special train carried them, +in seething compartments, excited and strident, to Sneyd, where there +had been two sharp showers in the morning, the procession was reformed +along a country road, and the vacillating sky threatened more rain; but +because the sun had shone dazzlingly at eleven o'clock all the women +and girls, too easily tempted by the glory of the moment, blossomed +forth in pale blouses and parasols. The chattering crowd, bright and +defenceless as flowers, made at Sneyd a picture at once gay and +pathetic. It had rained there at half-past twelve; the roads were wet; +and among the two hundred and fifty children and thirty teachers there +were less than a score umbrellas. The excursion was theoretically in +charge of Titus Price, the Senior Superintendent, but this dignitary +had failed to arrive on Duck Bank, and Mynors had taken his place. In +the train Anna heard that some one had seen Mr. Price, wearing a large +grey wide-awake, leap into the guard's van at the very instant of +departure. He had not been at school on the previous Sunday, and Anna +was somewhat perturbed at the prospect of meeting the man who had +defined her letter to him as unique in the whole of his business +career. She caught a glimpse of the grey wideawake on the platform at +Sneyd, and steered her own scholars so as to avoid its vicinity. But +on the march to the field Titus reviewed the procession, and she was +obliged to meet his eyes and return his salutation. The look of the +man was a shock to her. He seemed thinner, nervous, restless, +preoccupied, and terribly careworn; except the new brilliant hat, all +his summer clothes were soiled and shabby. It was as though he had +forced himself, out of regard for appearances, to attend the fête, but +had left his thoughts in Edward Street. His uneasy and hollow +cheerfulness was painful to watch. Anna realised the intensity of the +crisis through which Mr. Price was passing. She perceived in a single +glance, more clearly than she could have done after a hundred +interviews with the young and unresponsible William--however +distressing these might be--that Titus must for weeks have been engaged +in a truly frightful struggle. His face was a proof of the tragic +sincerity of William's appeals to herself and to her father. That +Price should have contrived to pay seventy pounds of rent in a little +more than a month seemed to her, imperfectly acquainted alike with +Ephraim's ruthless compulsions and with the financial jugglery often +practised by hard-pressed debtors, to be an almost miraculous effort +after honesty. Her conscience smote her for conniving at which she now +saw to be a persecution. She felt as sorry for Titus as she had felt +for his son. The obese man, with his reputation in rags about him, was +acutely wistful in her eyes, as a child might have been. + +A carriage rolled by, raising the dust in places where the strong sun +had already dried the road. It was Mr. Sutton's landau, driven by +Barrett. Beatrice, in white, sat solitary amid cushions, while two +large hampers occupied most of the coachman's box. The carriage seemed +to move with lordly ease and rapidity, and the teachers, already weary +and fretted by the endless pranks of the children, bitterly envied the +enthroned maid who nodded and smiled to them with such charming +condescension. It was a social triumph for Beatrice. She disappeared +ahead like a goddess in a cloud, and scarcely a woman who saw her from +the humble level of the roadway but would have married a satyr to be +able to do as Beatrice did. Later, when the field was reached, and the +children bursting through the gate had spread like a flood over the +daisied grass, the landau was to be seen drawn up near the refreshment +tent; Barrett was unpacking the hampers, which contained delicate +creamy confectionery for the teachers' tea; Beatrice explained that +these were her mother's gift, and that she had driven down in order to +preserve the fragile pasties from the risks of a railway journey. +Gratitude became vocal, and Beatrice's success was perfected. + +Then the more conscientious teachers set themselves seriously to the +task of amusing the smaller children, and the smaller children +consented to be amused according to the recipes appointed by long +custom for school-treats. Many round-games, which invariably comprised +singing or kissing, being thus annually resuscitated by elderly people +from the deeps of memory, were preserved for a posterity which +otherwise would never have known them. Among these was Bobby-Bingo. +For twenty-five years Titus Price had played at Bobby-Bingo with the +infant classes at the school-treat, and this year he was bound by the +expectations of all to continue the practice. Another diversion which +he always took care to organise was the three-legged race for boys. +Also, he usually joined in the tut-ball, a quaint game which owes its +surprising longevity to the fact that it is equally proper for both +sexes. Within half an hour the treat was in full career; football, +cricket, rounders, tick, leap-frog, prison-bars, and round-games, +transformed the field into a vast arena of complicated struggles and +emulations. All were occupied, except a few of the women and older +girls, who strolled languidly about in the _rôle_ of spectators. The +sun shone generously on scores of vivid and frail toilettes, and +parasols made slowly-moving hemispheres of glowing colour against the +rich green of the grass. All around were yellow cornfields, and +meadows where cows of a burnished brown indolently meditated upon the +phenomena of a school-treat. Every hedge and ditch and gate and stile +was in that ideal condition of plenary correctness which denotes that a +great landowner is exhibiting the beauties of scientific farming for +the behoof of his villagers. The sky, of an intense blue, was a sea in +which large white clouds sailed gently but capriciously; on the +northern horizon a low range of smoke marked the sinister region of the +Five Towns. + +'Will you come and help with the bags and cups?' Henry Mynors asked +Anna. She was standing by herself, watching Agnes at play with some +other girls. Mynors had evidently walked across to her from the +refreshment tent, which was at the opposite extremity of the field. In +her eyes he was once more the exemplar of style. His suit of grey +flannel, his white straw hat, became him to admiration. He stood at +ease with his hands in his coat-pockets, and smiled contentedly. + +'After all,' he said, 'the tea is the principal thing, and, although it +wants two hours to tea-time yet, it's as well to be beforehand.' + +'I should like something to do,' Anna replied. + +'How are you?' he said familiarly, after this abrupt opening, and then +shook hands. They traversed the field together, with many deviations +to avoid trespassing upon areas of play. + +The flapping refreshment tent seemed to be full of piles of baskets and +piles of bags and piles of cups, which the contractor had brought in a +waggon. Some teachers were already beginning to put the paper bags +into the baskets; each bag contained bread-and-butter, currant cake, an +Eccles-cake, and a Bath-bun. At the far end of the tent Beatrice +Sutton was arranging her dainties on a small trestle-table. + +'Come along quick, Anna,' she exclaimed, 'and taste my tarts, and tell +me what you think of them. I do hope the good people will enjoy them.' +And then, turning to Mynors, 'Hello! Are you seeing after the bags and +things? I thought that was always Willie Price's favourite job!' + +'So it is,' said Mynors. 'But, unfortunately, he isn't here to-day.' + +'How's that, pray? I never knew him miss a school-treat before.' + +'Mr. Price told me they couldn't both be away from the works just now. +Very busy, I suppose.' + +'Well, William would have been more use than his father, anyhow.' + +'Hush, hush!' Mynors murmured with a subdued laugh. + +Beatrice was in one of her 'downright' moods, as she herself called +them. + +Mynors's arrangements for the prompt distribution of tea at the +appointed hour were very minute, and involved a considerable amount of +back bending and manual labour. But, though they were enlivened by +frequent intervals of gossip, and by excursions into the field to +observe this and that amusing sight, all was finished half an hour +before time. + +'I will go and warn Mr. Price,' said Mynors. 'He is quite capable of +forgetting the clock.' Mynors left the tent, and proceeded to the +scene of an athletic meeting, at which Titus Price, in shirt-sleeves, +was distributing prizes of sixpences and pennies. The famous +three-legged race had just been run. Anna followed at a saunter, and +shortly afterwards Beatrice overtook her. + +'The great Titus looks better than he did when he came on the field,' +Beatrice remarked. And indeed the superintendent had put on quite a +merry appearance--flushed, excited, and jocular in his elephantine +way--it seemed as if he had not a care in the world. The boys crowded +appreciatively round him. But this was his last hour of joy. + +'Why! Willie Price _is_ here,' Anna exclaimed, perceiving William in +the fringe of the crowd. The lanky fellow stood hesitatingly, his left +hand busy with his moustache. + +'So he is,' said Beatrice. 'I wonder what that means.' + +Titus had not observed the newcomer, but Henry Mynors saw William, and +exchanged a few words with him. Then Mr. Mynors advanced into the +crowd and spoke to Mr. Price, who glanced quickly round at his son. +The girls, at a distance of forty yards, could discern the swift change +in the man's demeanour. In a second he had reverted to the deplorable +Titus of three hours ago. He elbowed his way roughly to William, +getting into his coat as he went. The pair talked, William glanced at +his watch, and in another moment they were leaving the field. Henry +Mynors had to finish the prize distribution. So much Anna and Beatrice +plainly saw. Others, too, had not been blind to this sudden and +dramatic departure. It aroused universal comment among the teachers. + +'Something must be wrong at Price's works,' Beatrice said, 'and Willie +has had to fetch his papa.' This was the conclusion of all the +gossips. Beatrice added: 'Dad has mentioned Price's several times +lately, now I think of it.' + +Anna grew extremely self-conscious and uncomfortable. She felt as +though all were saying of her: 'There goes the oppressor of the poor!' +She was fairly sure, however, that her father was not responsible for +this particular incident. There must, then, be other implacable +creditors. She had been thoroughly enjoying the afternoon, but now her +pleasure ceased. + +The treat ended disastrously. In the middle of the children's meal, +while yet the enormous double-handled tea-cans were being carried up +and down the thirsty rows, and the boys were causing their bags to +explode with appalling detonations, it began to rain sharply. The +fickle sun withdrew his splendour from the toilettes, and was seen no +more for a week afterwards. 'It's come at last,' ejaculated Mynors, +who had watched the sky with anxiety for an hour previously. He +mobilised the children and ranked them under a row of elms. The +teachers, running to the tent for their own tea, said to one another +that the shower could only be a brief one. The wish was father to the +thought, for they were a little ashamed to be under cover while their +charges precariously sheltered beneath dripping trees--yet there was +nothing else to be done; the men took turns in the rain to keep the +children in their places. The sky was completely overcast. 'It's set +in for a wet evening, and so we may as well make the best of it,' +Beatrice said grimly, and she sent the landau home empty. She was +right. A forlorn and disgusted snake of a procession crawled through +puddles to the station. The platform resounded with sneezes. None but +a dressmaker could have discovered a silver lining to the black and +all-pervading cloud which had ruined so many dozens of fair costumes. +Anna, melancholy and taciturn, exerted herself to minimise the +discomfort of her scholars. A word from Mynors would have been balm to +her; but Mynors, the general of a routed army, was parleying by +telephone with the traffic-manager of the railway for the expediting of +the special train. + + + +[1] _Welly_: nearly. + +[2] _Meet_: meet in class--a gathering for the exchange of religious +counsel and experience. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE ISLE + +About this time Anna was not seeing very much of Henry Mynors. At +twenty a man is rash in love, and again, perhaps, at fifty; a man of +middle-age enamoured of a young girl is capable of sublime follies. +But the man of thirty who loves for the first time is usually the +embodiment of cautious discretion. He does not fall in love with a +violent descent, but rather lets himself gently down, continually +testing the rope. His social value, especially if he have achieved +worldly success, is at its highest, and, without conceit, he is aware +of it. He has lost many illusions concerning women; he has seen more +than one friend wrecked in the sea of foolish marriage; he knows the +joys of a bachelor's freedom, without having wearied of them; he +perceives risks where the youth perceives only ecstasy, and the oldster +only a blissful release from solitude. Instead of searching, he is +sought for; accordingly he is selfish and exacting. All these things, +combine to tranquillize passion at thirty. Mynors was in love with +Anna, and his love had its ardent moments; but in the main it was a +temperate affection, an affection that walked circumspectly, with its +eyes open, careful of its dignity, too proud to seem in a hurry; if, by +impulse, it chanced now and then to leap forward, the involuntary +movement was mastered and checked. Mynors called at Manor Terrace once +a week, never on the same day of the week, nor without discussing +business with the miser. Occasionally he accompanied Anna from school +or chapel. Such methods were precisely to Anna's taste. Like him, she +loved prudence and decorum, preferring to make haste slowly. Since the +Revival, they had only once talked together intimately; on that sole +occasion Henry had suggested to her that she might care to join Mrs. +Sutton's class, which met on Monday nights; she accepted the hint with +pleasure, and found a well of spiritual inspiration in Mrs. Sutton's +modest and simple yet fervent homilies. Mynors was not guilty of +blowing both hot and cold. She was sure of him. She waited calmly for +events, existing, as her habit was, in the future. + +The future, then, meant the Isle of Man. Anna dreamed of an enchanted +isle and hours of unimaginable rapture. For a whole week after Mrs. +Sutton had won Ephraim's consent, her vision never stooped to practical +details. Then Beatrice called to see her; it was the morning after the +treat, and Anna was brushing her muddy frock; she wore a large white +apron, and held a cloth-brush in her hand as she opened the door. + +'You're busy?' said Beatrice. + +'Yes,' said Anna, 'but come in. Come into the kitchen--do you mind?' + +Beatrice was covered from neck to heel with a long mackintosh, which +she threw off when entering the kitchen. + +'Anyone else in the house?' she asked. + +'No,' said Anna, smiling, as Beatrice seated herself, with a sigh of +content, on the table. + +'Well, let's talk, then.' Beatrice drew from her pocket the +indispensable chocolates and offered them to Anna. 'I say, wasn't last +night perfectly awful? Henry got wet through in the end, and mother +made him stop at our house, as he was at the trouble to take me home. +Did you see him go down this morning?' + +'No; why?' said Anna, stiffly. + +'Oh--no reason. Only I thought perhaps you did. I simply can't tell +you how glad I am that you're coming with us to the Isle of Man; we +shall have rare fun. We go every year, you know--to Port Erin, a +lovely little fishing village. All the fishermen know us there. Last +year Henry hired a yacht for the fortnight, and we all went +mackerel-fishing, every day; except sometimes Pa. Now and then Pa had +a tendency to go fiddling in caves and things. I do hope it will be +fine weather again by then, don't you?' + +'I'm looking forward to it, I can tell you,' Anna said. 'What day are +we supposed to start?' + +'Saturday week.' + +'So soon?' Anna was surprised at the proximity of the event. + +'Yes; and quite late enough, too. We should start earlier, only the +Dad always makes out he can't. Men always pretend to be so frightfully +busy, and I believe it's all put on.' Beatrice continued to chat about +the holiday, and then of a sudden she asked: 'What are you going to +wear?' + +'Wear!' Anna repeated; and added, with hesitation: 'I suppose one will +want some new clothes?' + +'Well, just a few! Now let me advise you. Take a blue serge skirt. +Sea-water won't harm it, and if it's dark enough it will look well to +any mortal blouse. Secondly, you can't have too many blouses; they're +always useful at the seaside. Plain straw-hats are my tip. A coat for +nights, and thick boots. There! Of course no one ever _dresses_ at +Port Erin. It isn't like Llandudno, and all that sort of thing. You +don't have to meet your young man on the pier, because there isn't a +pier.' + +There was a pause. Anna did not know what to say. At length she +ventured: 'I'm not much for clothes, as I dare say you've noticed.' + +'I think you always look nice, my dear,' Beatrice responded. Nothing +was said as to Anna's wealth, no reference made as to the discrepancy +between that and the style of her garments. By a fiction, there was +supposed to be no discrepancy. + +'Do you make your own frocks?' Beatrice asked, later. + +'Yes.' + +'Do you know I thought you did. But they do you great credit. There's +few people can make a plain frock look decent.' + +This conversation brought Anna with a shock to the level of earth. She +perceived--only too well--a point which she had not hitherto fairly +faced in her idyllic meditations: that her father was still a factor in +the case. Since Mrs. Sutton's visit both Anna and the miser avoided +the subject of the holiday. 'You can't have too many blouses.' Did +Beatrice, then, have blouses by the dozen? A coat, a serge skirt, +straw hats (how many?)--the catalogue frightened her. She began to +suspect that she would not be able to go to the Isle of Man. + +'About me going with Suttons to the Isle of Man?' she accosted her +father, in the afternoon, outwardly calm, but with secret trembling. + +'Well?' he exclaimed savagely. + +'I shall want some money--a little.' She would have given much not to +have added that 'little,' but it came out of itself. + +'It's a waste o' time and money--that's what I call it. I can't think +why Suttons asked ye. Ye aren't ill, are ye?' His savagery changed to +sullenness. + +'No, father; but as it's arranged, I suppose I shall have to go.' + +'Well, I'm none so set up with the idea mysen.' + +'Shan't you be all right with Agnes?' + +'Oh, yes. _I_ shall be all right. _I_ don't want much. _I_'ve no +fads and fal-lals. How long art going to be away?' + +'I don't know. Didn't Mrs. Sutton tell you? You arranged it.' + +'That I didna'. Her said nowt to me.' + +'Well, anyhow I shall want some clothes.' + +'What for? Art naked?' + +'I must have some money.' Her voice shook, She was getting near tears. + +'Well, thou's gotten thy own money, hast na'?' + +'All I want is that you shall let me have some of my own money. +There's forty odd pounds now in the bank.' + +'Oh!' he repeated, sneering, 'all ye want is as I shall let thee have +some o' thy own money. And there's forty odd pound i' the bank. Oh!' + +'Will you give me my cheque-book out of the bureau? And I'll draw a +cheque; I know how to.' She had conquered the instinct to cry, and +unwillingly her tones became somewhat peremptory. Ephraim seized the +chance. + +'No, I won't give ye the cheque-book out o' th' bureau,' he said +flatly. 'And I'll thank ye for less sauce.' + +That finished the episode. Proudly she took an oath with herself not +to re-open the question, and resolved to write a note to Mrs. Sutton +saying that on consideration she found it impossible to go to the Isle +of Man. + +The next morning there came to Anna a letter from the secretary of a +limited company enclosing a post-office order for ten pounds. Some +weeks previously her father had discovered an error of that amount in +the deduction of income-tax from the dividend paid by this company, and +had instructed Anna to demand the sum. She had obeyed, and then +forgotten the affair. Here was the answer. Desperate at the thought +of missing the holiday, she cashed the order, bought and made her +clothes in secret, and then, two days before the arranged date of +departure told her father what she had done. He was enraged; but since +his anger was too illogical to be rendered effectively coherent in +words, he had the wit to keep silence. With bitterness Anna reflected +that she owed her holiday to the merest accident--for if the remittance +had arrived a little earlier or a little later, or in the form of a +cheque, she could not have utilised it. + + +It was an incredible day, the following Saturday, a warm and benign day +of earliest autumn. The Suttons, in a hired cab, called for Anna at +half-past eight, on the way to the main line station at Shawport. +Anna's tin box was flung on to the roof of the cab amid the trunks and +portmanteaux already there. + +'Why should not Agnes ride with us to the station?' Beatrice suggested. + +'Nay, nay; there's no room,' said Tellwright, who stood at the door, +impelled by an unacknowledged awe of Mrs. Sutton thus to give official +sanction to Anna's departure. + +'Yes, yes,' Mrs. Sutton exclaimed. 'Let the little thing come, Mr. +Tellwright.' + +Agnes, far more excited than any of the rest, seized her straw hat, and +slipping the elastic under her small chin, sprang into the cab, and +found a haven between Mr. Sutton's short, fat legs. The driver drew +his whip smartly across the aged neck of the cream mare. They were +off. What a rumbling, jolting, delicious journey, down the first hill, +up Duck Bank, through the market-place, and down the steep declivity of +Oldcastle Street! Silent and shy, Agnes smiled ecstatically at the +others. Anna answered remarks in a dream. She was conscious only of +present happiness and happy expectation. All bitterness had +disappeared. At least thirty thousand Bursley folk were not going to +the Isle of Man that day--their preoccupied and cheerless faces swam in +a continuous stream past the cab window--and Anna sympathised with +every unit of them. Her spirit overflowed with universal compassion. +What haste and exquisite confusion at the station! The train was +signalled, and the porter, crossing the line with the luggage, ran his +truck perilously under the very buffers of the incoming engine. Mynors +was awaiting them, admirably attired as a tourist. He had got the +tickets, and secured a private compartment in the through-coach for +Liverpool; and he found time to arrange with the cabman to drive Agnes +home on the box-seat. Certainly there was none like Mynors. From the +footboard of the carriage Anna bent down to kiss Agnes. The child had +been laughing and chattering. Suddenly, as Anna's lips touched hers, +she burst into tears, sobbed passionately as though overtaken by some +terrible and unexpected misfortune. Tears stood also in Anna's eyes. +The sisters had never been parted before. + +'Poor little thing!' Mrs. Sutton murmured; and Beatrice told her father +to give Agnes a shilling to buy chocolates at Stevenson's in St. Luke's +Square, that being the best shop. The shilling fell between the +footboard and the platform. A scream from Beatrice! The attendant +porter promised to rescue the shilling in due course. The engine +whistled, the silver-mounted guard asserted his authority, Mynors +leaped in, and amid laughter and tears the brief and unique joy of +Anna's life began. + +In a moment, so it seemed, the train was thundering through the mile of +solid rock which ends at Lime Street Station, Liverpool. +Thenceforward, till she fell asleep that night, Anna existed in a state +of blissful bewilderment, stupefied by an overdose of novel and +wondrous sensations. They lunched in amazing magnificence at the +Bear's Paw, and then walked through the crowded and prodigious streets +to Prince's landing-stage. The luggage had disappeared by some +mysterious agency--Mynors said that they would find it safe at Douglas; +but Anna could not banish the fear that her tin box had gone for ever. + +The great, wavy river, churned by thousands of keels; the monstrous +steamer--the 'Mona's Isle'--whose side rose like solid wall out of the +water; the vistas of its decks; its vast saloons, story under story, +solid and palatial (could all this float?); its high bridge; its +hawsers as thick as trees; its funnels like sloping towers; the +multitudes of passengers; the whistles, hoots, cries; the +far-stretching panorama of wharves and docks; the squat ferry-craft +carrying horses and carts, and no one looking twice at the feat--it was +all too much, too astonishing, too lovely. She had not guessed at this. + +'They call Liverpool the slum of Europe,' said Mynors. + +'How can you!' she exclaimed, shocked. + +Beatrice, seeing her radiant and rapt face, walked to and fro with +Anna, proud of the effect produced on her friend's inexperience by +these sights. One might have thought that Beatrice had built Liverpool +and created its trade by her own efforts. + +Suddenly the landing-stage and all the people on it moved away bodily +from the ship; there was green water between; a tremor like that of an +earthquake ran along the deck; handkerchiefs were waved. The voyage +had commenced. Mynors found chairs for all the Suttons, and tucked +them up on the lee-side of a deck-house; but Anna did not stir. They +passed New Brighton, Seaforth, and the Crosby and Formby lightships. + +'Come and view the ship,' said Mynors, at her side. 'Suppose we go +round and inspect things a bit?' + +'It's a very big one, isn't it?' she asked. + +'Pretty big,' he said; 'of course not as big as the Atlantic liners--I +wonder we didn't meet one in the river--but still pretty big. Three +hundred and twenty feet over all. I sailed on her last year on her +maiden voyage. She was packed, and the weather very bad.' + +'Will it be rough to-day?' Anna inquired timidly. + +'Not if it keeps like this,' he laughed. 'You don't feel queer, do +you?' + +'Oh, no. It's as firm as a house. No one could be ill with this?' + +'Couldn't they?' he exclaimed. 'Beatrice could be.' + +They descended into the ship, and he explained all its internal +economy, with a knowledge that seemed to her encyclopædic. They stayed +a long time watching the engines, so Titanic, ruthless, and deliberate; +even the smell of the oil was pleasant to Anna. When they came on deck +again the ship was at sea. For the first time Anna beheld the ocean. +A strong breeze blew from prow to stern, yet the sea was absolutely +calm, the unruffled mirror of effulgent sunlight. The steamer moved +alone on the waters, exultantly, leaving behind it an endless track of +white froth in the green, and the shadow of its smoke. The sun, the +salt breeze, the living water, the proud gaiety of the ship, produced a +feeling of intense, inexplicable joy, a profound satisfaction with the +present, and a negligence of past and future. To exist was enough, +then. As Anna and Henry leaned over the starboard quarter and watched +the torrent of foam rush madly and ceaselessly from under the +paddle-box to be swallowed up in the white wake, the spectacle of the +wild torrent almost hypnotised them, destroying thought and reason, and +all sense of their relation to other things. With difficulty Anna +raised her eyes, and perceived the dim receding line of the Lancashire +coast. + +'Shall we get quite out of sight of land?' she asked. + +'Yes, for a little while, about half an hour or so. Just as much out +of sight of land as if we were in the middle of the Atlantic.' + +'I can scarcely believe it.' + +'Believe what?' + +'Oh! The idea of that--of being out of sight of land--nothing but sea.' + +When at last it occurred to them to reconnoitre the Suttons, they found +all three still in their deck-chairs, enwrapped and languid. Mr. +Sutton and Beatrice were apparently dozing. This part of the deck was +occupied by somnolent, basking figures. + +'Don't wake them,' Mrs. Sutton enjoined, whispering out of her hood. +Anna glanced curiously at Beatrice's yellow face. + +'Go away, do,' Beatrice exclaimed, opening her eyes and shutting them +again, wearily. + +So they went away, and discovered two empty deck-chairs on the +fore-deck. Anna was innocently vain of her immunity from malaise. +Mynors appeared to appoint himself little errands about the deck, +returning frequently to his chair. 'Look over there. Can you see +anything?' + +Anna ran to the rail, with the infantile idea of getting nearer, and +Mynors followed, laughing. What looked like a small slate-coloured +cloud lay on the horizon. + +'I seem to see something,' she said. + +'That is the Isle of Man.' + +By insensible gradations the contours of the land grew clearer in the +afternoon haze. + +'How far are we off now?' + +'Perhaps twenty miles.' + +Twenty miles of uninterrupted flatness, and the ship steadily invading +that separating solitude, yard by yard, furlong by furlong! The +conception awed her. There, a morsel in the waste of the deep, a speck +under the infinite sunlight, lay the island, mysterious, enticing, +enchanted, a glinting jewel on, the sea's bosom, a remote entity +fraught with strange secrets. It was all unspeakable. + + +'Anna, you have covered yourself with glory,' said Mrs. Sutton, when +they were in the diminutive and absurd train which by breathless +plunges annihilates the sixteen miles between Douglas and Port Erin in +sixty-five minutes. + +'Have I?' she answered. 'How?' + +'By not being ill.' + +'That's always the beginner's luck,' said Beatrice, pale and +dishevelled. They all relapsed into the silence of fatigue. It was +growing dusk when the train stopped at the tiny terminus. The station +was a hive of bustling activity, the arrival of this train being the +daily event at that end of the world. Mynors and the Suttons were +greeted familiarly by several sailors, and one of these, Tom Kelly, a +tall, middle-aged man, with grey beard, small grey eyes, a wrinkled +skin of red mahogany, and an enormous fist, was introduced to Anna. He +raised his cap, and shook hands. She was touched by the sad, kind look +on his face, the melancholy impress of the sea. Then they drove to +their lodging, and here again the party was welcomed as being old and +tried friends. A fire was burning in the parlour. Throwing herself +down in front of it, Mrs. Sutton breathed, 'At last! Oh, for some +tea.' Through the window, Anna had a glimpse of a deeply indented bay +at the foot of cliffs below them, with a bold headland to the right. +Fishing vessels with flat red sails seemed to hang undecided just +outside the bay. From cottage chimneys beneath the road blue smoke +softly ascended. + +All went early to bed, for the weariness of Mr. and Mrs. Sutton seemed +to communicate itself to the three young people, who might otherwise +have gone forth into the village in search of adventures. Anna and +Beatrice shared a room. Each inspected the other's clothes, and +Beatrice made Anna try on the new serge skirt. Through the thin wall +came the sound of Mr. and Mrs. Sutton talking, a high voice, then a +bass reply, in continual alternation. Beatrice said that these two +always discussed the day's doings in such manner. In a few moments +Beatrice was snoring; she had the subdued but steady and serious snore +characteristic of some muscular men. Anna felt no inclination to +sleep. She lived again hour by hour through the day, and beneath +Beatrice's snore her ear caught the undertone of the sea. + +The next morning was as lovely as the last. It was Sunday, and every +activity of the village was stilled. Sea and land were equally folded +in a sunlit calm. During breakfast--a meal abundant in fresh herrings, +fresh eggs and fresh rolls, eaten with the window wide open--Anna was +puzzled by the singular amenity of her friends to one another and to +her. They were as polite as though they had been strangers; they +chatted amiably, were full of goodwill, and as anxious to give +happiness as to enjoy it. She thought at first, so unusual was it to +her as a feature of domestic privacy, that this demeanour was affected, +or at any rate a somewhat exaggerated punctilio due to her presence; +but she soon came to see that she was mistaken. After breakfast Mr. +Sutton suggested that they should attend the Wesleyan Chapel on the +hill leading to the Chasms. Here they met the sailors of the night +before, arrayed now in marvellous blue Melton coats with velveteen +collars. Tom Kelly walked back with them to the beach, and showed them +the yacht 'Fay' which Mynors had arranged to hire for mackerel-fishing; +it lay on the sands speckless in new white paint. All the afternoon +they dozed on the cliffs, doing nothing whatever, for this Sunday was +tacitly regarded, not as part of the holiday, but as a preparation for +the holiday; all felt that the holiday, with its proper exertions and +appointed delights, would really begin on Monday morning. + +'Let us go for a walk,' said Mynors, after tea, to Beatrice and Anna. +They stood at the gate of the lodging-house. The old people were +resting within. + +'You two go,' Beatrice replied, looking at Anna. 'You know I hate +walking, Henry. I'll stop with mother and dad.' + +Throughout the day Anna had been conscious of the fact that all the +Suttons showed a tendency, slight but perceptible, to treat Henry and +herself as a pair desirous of opportunities for being alone together. +She did not like it. She flushed under the passing glance with which +Beatrice accompanied the words: 'You two go.' Nevertheless, when +Mynors placidly remarked: 'Very well,' and his eyes sought hers for a +consent, she could not refuse it. One part of her nature would have +preferred to find an excuse for staying at home; but another, and a +stronger, part insisted on seizing this offered joy. + +They walked straight up out of the village toward the high coast-range +which stretches peak after peak from Port Erin to Peel. The stony and +devious lanes wound about the bleak hillside, passing here and there +small, solitary cottages of whitewashed stone, with children, fowls, +and dogs at the doors, all embowered in huge fuchsia trees. Presently +they had surmounted the limit of habitation and were on the naked flank +of Bradda, following a narrow track which crept upwards amid short +mossy turf of the most vivid green. Nothing seemed to flourish on this +exposed height except bracken, sheep, and boulders that, from a +distance, resembled sheep; there was no tree, scarcely a shrub; the +immense contours, stark, grim, and unrelieved, rose in melancholy and +defiant majesty against the sky: the hand of man could coax no harvest +from these smooth but obdurate slopes; they had never relented, and +they would never relent. The spirit was braced by the thought that +here, to the furthest eternity of civilisation more and more intricate, +simple and strong souls would always find solace and repose. + +Mynors bore to the left for a while, striking across the moor in the +direction of the sea. Then he said: + +'Look down, now.' + +The little bay lay like an oblong swimming-bath five hundred feet below +them. The surface of the water was like glass; the strand, with its +phalanx of boats drawn up in Sabbath tidiness, glittered like marble in +the living light, and over this marble black dots moved slowly two and +fro; behind the boats were the houses--dolls' houses--each with a +curling wisp of smoke; further away the railway and the high road ran +out in a black and white line to Port St. Mary; the sea, a pale grey, +encompassed all; the southern sky had a faint sapphire tinge, rising to +delicate azure. The sight of this haven at rest, shut in by the +restful sea and by great moveless hills, a calm within a calm, aroused +profound emotion. + +'It's lovely,' said Anna, as they stood gazing. Tears came to her eyes +and hung there. She wondered that scenery should cause tears, felt +ashamed, and turned her face so that Mynors should not see. But he had +seen. + +'Shall we go on to the top?' he suggested, and they set their faces +northwards to climb still higher. At length they stood on the rocky +summit of Bradda, seven hundred feet from the sea. The Hill of the +Night Watch lifted above them to the north, but on east, south, and +west, the prospect was bounded only by the ocean. The coast-line was +revealed for thirty miles, from Peel to Castletown. Far to the east +was Castletown Bay, large, shallow and inhospitable, its floor strewn +with a thousand unseen wrecks; the lighthouse at Scarlet Point flashed +dimly in the dusk; thence the beach curved nearer in an immense arc, +without a sign of life, to the little cove of Port St. Mary, and jutted +out again into a tongue of land at the end of which lay the Calf of Man +with its single white cottage and cart-track. The dangerous Calf +Sound, where the vexed tide is forced to run nine hours one way and +three the other, seemed like a grey ribbon, and the Chicken Rock like a +tiny pencil on a vast slate. Port Erin was hidden under their feet. +They looked westward. The darkening sky was a labyrinth of purple and +crimson scarves drawn pellucid, as though by the finger of God, across +a sheet of pure saffron. These decadent tints of the sunset faded in +every direction to the same soft azure which filled the south, and one +star twinkled in the illimitable field. Thirty miles off, on the +horizon, could be discerned the Mourne Mountains of Ireland. + +'See!' Mynors exclaimed, touching her arm. + +The huge disc of the moon was rising in the east, and as this mild lamp +passed up the sky, the sense of universal quiescence increased. +Lovely, Anna had said. It was the loveliest sight her eyes had ever +beheld, a panorama of pure beauty transcending all imagined visions. +It overwhelmed her, thrilled her to the heart, this revelation of the +loveliness of the world. Her thoughts went back to Hanbridge and +Bursley and her life there; and all the remembered scenes, bathed in +the glow of a new ideal, seemed to lose their pain. It was as if she +had never been really unhappy, as if there was no real unhappiness on +the whole earth. She perceived that the monotony, the austerity, the +melancholy of her existence had been sweet and beautiful of its kind, +and she recalled, with a sort of rapture, hours of companionship with +the beloved Agnes, when her father was equable and pacific. Nothing +was ugly nor mean. Beauty was everywhere, in everything. + +In silence they began to descend, perforce walking quickly because of +the steep gradient. At the first cottage they saw a little girl in a +mob-cap playing with two kittens. + +'How like Agnes!' Mynors said. + +'Yes. I was just thinking so,' Anna answered. + +'I thought of her up on the hill,' he continued. 'She will miss you, +won't she?' + +'I know she cried herself to sleep last night. You mightn't guess it, +but she is extremely sensitive.' + +'Not guess it? Why not? I am sure she is. Do you know--I am very +fond of your sister. She's a simply delightful child. And there's a +lot in her, too. She's so quick and bright, and somehow like a little +woman.' + +'She's exactly like a woman sometimes,' Anna agreed. 'Sometimes I +fancy she's a great deal older than I am.' + +'Older than any of us,' he corrected. + +'I'm glad you like her,' Anna said, content. 'She thinks all the world +of you.' And she added: 'My word, wouldn't she be vexed if she knew I +had told you that!' + +This appreciation of Agnes brought them into closer intimacy, and they +talked the more easily of other things. + +'It will freeze to-night,' Mynors said; and then, suddenly looking at +her in the twilight: 'You are feeling chill.' + +'Oh, no!' she protested. + +'But you are. Put this muffler round your neck.' He took a muffler +from his pocket. + +'Oh, no, really! You will need it yourself.' She drew a little away +from him, as if to avoid the muffler. + +'Please take it.' + +She did so, and thanked him, tying it loosely and untidily round her +throat. That feeling of the untidiness of the muffler, of its being +something strange to her skin, something with the rough virtue of +masculinity, which no one could detect in the gloom, was in itself +pleasant. + +'I wager Mrs. Sutton has a good fire burning when we get in,' he said. + +She thought with joyous anticipation of the warm, bright, sitting-room, +the supper, and the vivacious good-natured conversation. Though the +walk was nearly at an end, other delights were in store. Of the +holiday, thirteen complete days yet remained, each to be as happy as +the one now closing. It was an age! At last they entered the human +cosiness of the village. As they walked up the steps of their lodging +and he opened the door for her, she quickly drew off the muffler and +returned it to him with a word of thanks. + +On Monday morning, when Beatrice and Anna came downstairs, they found +the breakfast odorously cooling on the table, and nobody in the room. + +'Where are they all, I wonder. Any letters?' Beatrice said. + +'There's your mother, out on the front--and Mr. Mynors too.' + +Beatrice threw up the window, and called: 'Come along, Henry; come +along, mother. Everything's going cold.' + +'Is it?' Mynors cheerfully replied. 'Come out here, both of you, and +begin the day properly with a dose of ozone.' + +'I loathe cold bacon,' said Beatrice, glancing at the table, and they +went out into the road, where Mrs. Sutton kissed them with as much +fervour as if they had arrived from a long journey. + +'You look pale, Anna,' she remarked. + +'Do I?' said Anna, 'I don't feel pale.' + +'It's that long walk last night,' Beatrice put in. 'Henry always goes +too far.' + +'I don't----' Anna began; but at that moment Mr. Sutton, lumbering and +ponderous, joined the party. + +'Henry,' he said, without greeting anyone, 'hast noticed those +half-finished houses down the road yonder by the "Falcon"? I've been +having a chat with Kelly, and he tells me the fellow that was building +them has gone bankrupt, and they're at a stand-still. The Receiver +wants to sell 'em. In fact Kelly says they're going cheap. I believe +they'd be a good spec.' + +'Eh, dear!' Mrs. Sutton interrupted him. 'Father, I wish you would +leave your specs alone when you're on your holiday.' + +'Now, missis!' he affectionately protested, and continued: 'They're +fairly well built, seemingly, and the rafters are on the roof. Anna,' +he turned to her quickly, as if counting on her sympathy, 'you must +come with me and look at 'em after breakfast. Happen they might suit +your father--or you. I know your father's fond of a good spec.' + +She assented with a ready smile. This was the beginning of a fancy +which the Alderman always afterwards showed for Anna. + +After breakfast Mrs. Sutton, Beatrice, and Anna arranged to go shopping: + +'Father--brass,' Mrs. Sutton ejaculated in two monosyllables to her +husband. + +'How much will content ye?' he asked mildly. + +'Give me five or ten pounds to go on with.' + +He opened the left-hand front pocket of his trousers--a pocket which +fastened with a button; and leaning back in his chair drew out a fat +purse, and passed it to his wife with a preoccupied air. She helped +herself, and then Beatrice intercepted the purse and lightened it of +half a sovereign. + +'Pocket-money,' Beatrice said; 'I'm ruined.' + +The Alderman's eyes requested Anna to observe how he was robbed. At +last the purse was safely buttoned up again. + +Mrs. Sutton's purchases of food at the three principal shops of the +village seemed startlingly profuse to Anna, but gradually she became +accustomed to the scale, and to the amazing habit of always buying the +very best of everything, from beefsteak to grapes. Anna calculated +that the housekeeping could not cost less than six pounds a week for +the five. At Manor Terrace three people existed on a pound. With her +half-sovereign Beatrice bought a belt and a pair of sand-shoes, and +some cigarettes for Henry. Mrs. Sutton bought a pipe with a nickel +cap, such as is used by sailors. When they returned to the house, Mr. +Sutton and Henry were smoking on the front. All five walked in a row +down to the harbour, the Alderman giving an arm each to Beatrice and +Anna. Near the 'Falcon' the procession had to be stopped in order to +view the unfinished houses. Tom Kelly had a cabin partly excavated out +of the rock behind the little quay. Here they found him entangled amid +nets, sails, and oars. All crowded into the cabin and shook hands with +its owner, who remarked with severity on their pallid faces, and +insisted that a change of complexion must be brought about. Mynors +offered him his tobacco-pouch, but on seeing the light colour of the +tobacco he shook his head and refused it, at the same time taking from +within his jersey a lump of something that resembled leather. + +'Give him this, Henry,' Mrs. Sutton whispered, handing Mynors the pipe +which she had bought. + +'Mrs. Sutton wishes you to accept this,' said Mynors. + +'Eh, thank ye,' he exclaimed. 'There's a leddy that knows my taste.' +He cut some shreds from his plug with a clasp-knife and charged and +lighted the pipe, filling the cabin with asphyxiating fumes. + +'I don't know how you can smoke such horrid, nasty stuff,' said +Beatrice, coughing. + +He laughed condescendingly at Beatrice's petulant manner. 'That stuff +of Henry's is boy's tobacco,' he said shortly. + +It was decided that they should go fishing in the 'Fay.' There was a +light southerly breeze, a cloudy sky, and smooth water. Under charge +of young Tom Kelly, a sheepish lad of sixteen, with his father's smile, +they all got into an inconceivably small dinghy, loading it down till +it was almost awash. Old Tom himself helped Anna to embark, told her +where to tread, and forced her gently into a seat at the stern. No one +else seemed to be disturbed, but Anna was in a state of desperate fear. +She had never committed herself to a boat before, and the little waves +spat up against the sides in a most alarming way as young Tom jerked +the dinghy along with the short sculls. She went white, and clung in +silence fiercely to the gunwale. In a few moments they were tied up to +the 'Fay,' which seemed very big and safe in comparison with the +dinghy. They clambered on board, and in the deep well of the two-ton +yacht Anna contrived to collect her wits. She was reassured by the +painted legend in the well, 'Licensed to carry eleven.' Young Tom and +Henry busied themselves with ropes, and suddenly a huge white sail +began to ascend the mast; it flapped like thunder in the gentle breeze. +Tom pulled up the anchor, curling the chain round and round on the +forward deck, and then Anna noticed that, although the wind was +scarcely perceptible, they were gliding quickly past the embankment. +Henry was at the tiller. The next minute Tom had set the jib, and by +this time the 'Fay' was approaching the breakwater at a great pace. +There was no rolling or pitching, but simply a smooth, swift +progression over the calm surface. Anna thought it the ideal of +locomotion. As soon as they were beyond the breakwater and the sails +caught the breeze from the Sound, the 'Fay' lay over as if shot, and a +little column of green water flung itself on the lee coaming of the +well. Anna screamed as she saw the water and felt the angle of the +floor suddenly change, but when everyone laughed, she laughed too. +Henry, noticing the whiteness of her knuckles as she gripped the +coaming, explained the disconcerting phenomena. Anna tried to be at +ease, but she was not. She could not for a long time dismiss the +suspicion that all these people were foolishly blind to a peril which +she alone had the sagacity to perceive. + +They cruised about while Tom prepared the lines. The short waves +chopped cheerfully against the carvel sides of the yacht; the clouds +were breaking at a hundred points; the sea grew lighter in tone; gaiety +was in the air; no one could possibly be indisposed in that innocuous +weather. At length the lines were ready, but Tom said the yacht was +making at least a knot too much for serious fishing, so Henry took a +reef in the mainsail, showing Anna how to tie the short strings. The +Alderman, lying on the fore-deck, was placidly smoking. The lines were +thrown out astern, and Mrs. Sutton and Beatrice each took one. But +they had no success; young Tom said it was because the sun had appeared. + +'Caught anything?' Mr. Sutton inquired at intervals. After a time he +said: + +'Suppose Anna and I have a try?' + +It was agreed. + +'What must I do?' asked Anna, brave now. + +'You just hold the line--so. And if you feel a little jerk-jerk, +that's a mackerel.' These were the instructions of Beatrice. Anna was +becoming excited. She had not held the line ten seconds before she +cried out: + +'I've got one.' + +'Nonsense,' said Beatrice. 'Everyone thinks at first that the motion +of the waves against the line is a fish.' + +'Well,' said Henry, giving the tiller to young Tom. 'Let's haul in and +see, anyway.' Before doing so he held the line for a moment, testing +it, and winked at Anna. While Anna and Henry were hauling in, the +Alderman, dropping his pipe, began also to haul in his own line with +great fury. + +'Got one, father?' Mrs. Sutton asked. + +'Ay!' + +Both lines came in together, and on each was a pounder. Anna saw her +fish gleam and flash like silver in the clear water as it neared the +surface. Henry held the line short, letting the mackerel plunge and +jerk, and then seized and unhooked the catch. + +'How cruel!' Anna cried, startled at the nearness of the two fish as +they sprang about in an old sugar box at her feet. Young Tom laughed +loud at her exclamation. 'They cairn't feel, miss,' he sniggered. +Anna wondered that a mouth so soft and kind could utter such heartless +words. + +In an hour the united efforts of the party had caught nine mackerel; it +was not a multitude, but the sun, in perfecting the weather, had spoilt +the sport. Anna had ceased to commiserate the captured fish. She was +obliged, however, to avert her head when Tom cut some skin from the +side of one of the mackerel to provide fresh bait; this device seemed +to her the extremest refinement of cruelty. Beatrice grew ominously +silent and inert, and Mrs. Sutton glanced first at her daughter and +then at her husband; the latter nodded. + +'We'd happen better be getting back, Henry,' said the Alderman. + +The 'Fay' swept home like a bird. They were at the quay, and Kelly was +dragging them one by one from the black dinghy on to what the Alderman +called _terra-firma_. Henry had the fish on a string. + +'How many did ye catch, Miss Tellwright?' Kelly asked benevolently. + +'I caught four,' Anna replied. Never before had she felt so proud, +elated, and boisterous. Never had the blood so wildly danced in her +veins. She looked at her short blue skirt which showed three inches of +ankle, put forward her brown-shod foot like a vain coquette, and darted +a covert look at Henry. When he caught it she laughed instead of +blushing. + +'Ye're doing well,' Tom Kelly approved. 'Ye'll make a famous +mackerel-fisher.' + +Five of the mackerel were given to young Tom, the other four preceded a +fowl in the menu of dinner. They were called Anna's mackerel, and all +the diners agreed that better mackerel had never been lured out of the +Irish Sea. + +In the afternoon the Alderman and his wife slept as usual, Mr. Sutton +with a bandanna handkerchief over his face. The rest went out +immediately; the invitation of the sun and the sea was far too +persuasive to be resisted. + +'I'm going to paint,' said Beatrice, with a resolute mien. 'I want to +paint Bradda Head frightfully. I tried last year, but I got it too +dark, somehow. I've improved since then. What are you going to do?' + +'We'll come and watch you,' said Henry. + +'Oh, no, you won't. At least you won't; you're such a critic. Anna +can if she likes.' + +'What! And me be left all afternoon by myself?' + +'Well, suppose you go with him, Anna, just to keep him from being +bored?' + +Anna hesitated. Once more she had the uncomfortable suspicion that +Mynors and herself were being manoeuvred. + +'Look here,' said Mynors to Beatrice. 'Have you decided absolutely to +paint?' + +'Absolutely.' The finality of the answer seemed to have a touch of +resentment. + +'Then'--he turned to Anna--'let's go and get that dinghy and row about +the bay. Eh?' + +She could offer no rational objection, and they were soon putting off +from the jetty, impelled seaward by a mighty push from Kelly's arm. It +was very hot. Mynors wore white flannels. He removed his coat, and +turned up his sleeves, showing thick, hairy arms. He sculled in a +manner almost dramatic, and the dinghy shot about like a water-spider +on a brook. Anna had nothing to do except to sit still and enjoy. +Everything was drowned in dazzling sunlight, and both Henry and Anna +could feel the process of tanning on their faces. The bay shimmered +with a million diamond points; it was impossible to keep the eyes open +without frowning, and soon Anna could see the beads of sweat on Henry's +crimson brow. + +'Warm?' she said. This was the first word of conversation. He merely +smiled in reply. Presently they were at the other side of the bay, in +a cave whose sandy and rock-strewn floor trembled clear under a fathom +of blue water. They landed on a jutting rock; Henry pushed his straw +hat back, and wiped his forehead. 'Glorious! glorious!' he exclaimed. +'Do you swim? No? You should get Beatrice to teach you. I swam out +here this morning at seven o'clock. It was chilly enough then. Oh! I +forgot, I told you at breakfast.' + +She could see him in the translucent water, swimming with long, +powerful strokes. Dozens of boats were moving lazily in the bay, each +with a cargo of parasols. + +'There's a good deal of the sunshade afloat,' he remarked. 'Why +haven't you got one? You'll get as brown as Tom Kelly.' + +'That's what I want,' she said. + +'Look at yourself in the water there,' he said, pointing to a little +pool left on the top of the rock by the tide. She did so, and saw two +fiery cheeks, and a forehead divided by a horizontal line into halves +of white and crimson; the tip of the nose was blistered. + +'Isn't it disgraceful?' he suggested. + +'Why,' she exclaimed, 'they'll never know me when I get home!' + +It was in such wise that they talked, endlessly exchanging trifles of +comment. Anna thought to herself: 'Is this love-making?' It could not +be, she decided; but she infinitely preferred it so. She was content. +She wished for nothing better than this apparently frivolous and +irresponsible dalliance. She felt that if Mynors were to be tender, +sentimental, and serious, she would become wretchedly self-conscious. + +They re-embarked, and, skirting the shore, gradually came round to the +beach. Up above them, on the cliffs, they could discern the +industrious figure of Beatrice, with easel and sketching-umbrella, and +all the panoply of the earnest amateur. + +'Do you sketch?' she asked him. + +'Not I!' he said scornfully. + +'Don't you believe in that sort of thing, then?' + +'It's all right for professional artists,' he said; 'people who can +paint. But---- Well, I suppose it's harmless for the amateurs--finds +them something to do.' + +'I wish I could paint, anyway,' she retorted. + +'I'm glad you can't,' he insisted. + +When they got back to the cliffs, towards tea-time, Beatrice was still +painting, but in a new spot. She seemed entirely absorbed in her work, +and did not hear their approach. + +'Let's creep up and surprise her,' Mynors whispered. 'You go first, +and put your hands over her eyes.' + +'Oh!' exclaimed Beatrice, blindfolded; 'how horrid you are, Henry! I +know who it is--I know who it is.' + +'You just don't, then,' said Henry, now in front of her. Anna removed +her hands. + +'Well, you told her to do it, I'm sure of that. And I was getting on +so splendidly! I shan't do another stroke now.' + +'That's right,' said Henry. 'You've wasted quite enough time as it is.' + +Beatrice pouted. She was evidently annoyed with both of them. She +looked from one to the other, jealous of their mutual understanding and +agreement. Mr. and Mrs. Sutton issued from the house, and the five +stood chatting till tea was ready; but the shadow remained on +Beatrice's face. Mynors made several attempts to laugh it away, and at +dusk these two went for a stroll to Port St. Mary. They returned in a +state of deep intimacy. During supper Beatrice was consciously and +elaborately angelic, and there was that in her voice and eyes, when +sometimes she addressed Mynors, which almost persuaded Anna that he +might once have loved his cousin. At night, in the bedroom, Anna +imagined that she could detect in Beatrice's attitude the least shade +of condescension. She felt hurt, and despised herself for feeling hurt. + +So the days passed, without much variety, for the Suttons were not +addicted to excursions. Anna was profoundly happy; she had forgotten +care. She agreed to every suggestion for amusement; each moment had +its pleasure, and this pleasure was quite independent of the thing +done; it sprang from all activities and idlenesses. She was at special +pains to fraternise with Mr. Sutton. He made an interesting companion, +full of facts about strata, outcrops, and breaks, his sole weakness +being the habit of quoting extremely sentimental scraps of verse when +walking by the sea-shore. He frankly enjoyed Anna's attention to him, +and took pride in her society. Mrs. Sutton, that simple heart, devoted +herself to the attainment of absolute quiescence. She had come for a +rest, and she achieved her purpose. Her kindliness became for the time +passive instead of active. Beatrice was a changing quantity in the +domestic equation. Plainly her parents had spoiled their only child, +and she had frequent fits of petulance, particularly with Mynors; but +her energy and spirits atoned well for these. As for Mynors, he +behaved exactly as on the first Monday. He spent many hours alone with +Anna--(Beatrice appeared to insist on leaving them together, even while +showing a faint resentment at the loneliness thus entailed on +herself)--and his attitude was such as Anna, ignorant of the ways of +brothers, deemed a brother might adopt. + +On the second Monday an incident occurred. In the afternoon Mr. Sutton +had asked Beatrice to go with him to Port St. Mary, and she had refused +on the plea that the light was of a suitable grey for painting. Mr. +Sutton had slipped off alone, unseen by Anna and Henry, who had meant +to accompany him in place of Beatrice. Before tea, while Anna, +Beatrice and Henry were awaiting the meal in the parlour, Mynors +referred to the matter. + +'I hope you've done some decent work this afternoon,' he said to +Beatrice. + +'I haven't,' she replied shortly; 'I haven't done a stroke.' + +'But you said you were going to paint hard!' + +'Well, I didn't.' + +'Then why couldn't you have gone to Port St. Mary, instead of breaking +your fond father's heart by a refusal?' + +'He didn't want me, really.' + +Anna interjected: 'I think he did, Bee.' + +'You, know you're very self-willed, not to say selfish,' Mynors said. + +'No, I'm not,' Beatrice protested seriously. 'Am I, Anna?' + +'Well----' Anna tried to think of a diplomatic pronouncement. +Beatrice took offence at the hesitation. + +'Oh! You two are bound to agree, of course. You're as thick as +thieves.' + +She gazed steadily out of the window, and there was a silence. Mynors' +lip curled. + +'Oh! There's the loveliest yacht just coming into the bay,' Beatrice +cried suddenly, in a tone of affected enthusiasm. 'I'm going out to +sketch it.' She snatched up her hat and sketching-block, and ran +hastily from the room. The other two saw her sitting on the grass, +sharpening a pencil. The yacht, a large and luxurious craft, had +evidently come to anchor for the night. + +Mrs. Sutton arrived from her bedroom, and then Mr. Sutton also came in. +Tea was served. Mynors called to Beatrice through the window and +received no reply. Then Mrs. Sutton summoned her. + +'Go on with your tea,' Beatrice shouted, without turning her head. +'Don't wait for me. I'm bound to finish this now.' + +'Fetch her, Anna dear,' said Mrs. Sutton after another interval. Anna +rose to obey, half-fearful. + +'Aren't you coming in, Bee?' She stood by the sketcher's side, and +observed nothing but a few meaningless lines on the block. + +'Didn't you hear what I said to mother?' + +Anna retired in discomfiture. + +Tea was finished. They went out, but kept at a discreet distance from +the artist, who continued to use her pencil until dusk had fallen. +Then they returned to the sitting-room, where a fire had been lighted, +and Beatrice at length followed. As the others sat in a circle round +the fire, Beatrice, who occupied the sofa in solitude, gave a shiver. + +'Beatrice, you've taken cold,' said her mother, sitting out there like +that.' + +'Oh, nonsense, mother--what a fidget you are!' + +'A fidget I certainly am not, my darling, and that you know very well. +As you've had no tea, you shall have some gruel at once, and go to bed +and get warm.' + +'Oh no, mother!' But Mrs. Sutton was resolved, and in half an hour she +had taken Beatrice to bed and tucked her up. + +When Anna went to the bedroom Beatrice was awake. + +'Can't you sleep?' she inquired kindly. + +'No,' said Beatrice, in a feeble voice, 'I'm restless, somehow.' + +'I wonder if it's influenza,' said Mrs. Sutton, on the following +morning, when she learnt from Anna that Beatrice had had a bad night, +and would take breakfast in bed. She carried the invalid's food +upstairs herself. 'I hope it isn't influenza,' she said later. 'The +girl is very hot.' + +'You haven't a clinical thermometer?' Mynors suggested. + +'Go, see if you can buy one at the little chemist's,' she replied +eagerly. In a few minutes he came back with the instrument. + +'She's at over a hundred,' Mrs. Sutton reported, having used the +thermometer. 'What do you say, father? Shall we send for a doctor? +I'm not so set up with doctors as a general rule,' she added, as if in +defence, to Anna. 'I brought Beatrice through measles and scarlet +fever without a doctor--we never used to think of having a doctor in +those days for ordinary ailments; but influenza--that's different. Eh, +I dread it; you never know how it will end. And poor Beatrice had such +a bad attack last Martinmas.' + +'If you like, I'll run for a doctor now,' said Mynors. + +'Let be till to-morrow,' the Alderman decided. 'We'll see how she goes +on. Happen it's nothing but a cold.' + +'Yes,' assented Mrs. Sutton; 'it's no use crying out before you're +hurt.' + +Anna was struck by the placidity with which they covered their +apprehension. Towards noon, Beatrice, who said that she felt better, +insisted on rising. A fire was lighted at once in the parlour, and she +sat in front of it till tea-time, when she was obliged to go to bed +again. On the Wednesday morning, after a night which had been almost +sleepless for both girls, her temperature stood at 103°, and Henry +fetched the doctor, who pronounced it a case of influenza, severe, +demanding very careful treatment. Instantly the normal movement of the +household was changed. The sickroom became a mysterious centre round +which everything revolved, and the parlour, without the alteration of a +single chair, took on a deserted, forlorn appearance. Meals were eaten +like the passover, with loins girded for any sudden summons. Mrs. +Sutton and Anna, as nurses, grew important in the eyes of the men, who +instinctively effaced themselves, existing only like messenger-boys +whose business it is to await a call. Yet there was no alarm, flurry, +nor excitement. In the evening the doctor returned. The patient's +temperature had not fallen. It was part of the treatment that a +medicine should be administered every two hours with absolute +regularity, and Mrs. Sutton said that she should sit up through the +night. + +'I shall do that,' said Anna. + +'Nay, I won't hear of it,' Mrs. Sutton replied, smiling. + +But the three men (the doctor had remained to chat in the parlour), +recognising Anna's capacity and reliability, and perhaps impressed also +by her business-like appearance as, arrayed in a white apron, she stood +with firm lips before them, gave a unanimous decision against Mrs. +Sutton. + +'We'st have you ill next, lass,' said the Alderman to his wife; 'and +that'll never do.' + +'Well,' Mrs. Sutton surrendered, 'if I can leave her to anyone, it's +Anna.' + +Mynors smiled appreciatively. + +On the Thursday morning there was still no sign of recovery. The +temperature was 104°, and the patient slightly delirious. Anna left +the sickroom at eight o'clock to preside at breakfast, and Mrs. Sutton +took her place. + +'You look tired, my dear,' said the Alderman affectionately. + +'I feel perfectly well,' she replied with cheerfulness. + +'And you aren't afraid of catching it?' Mynors asked. + +'Afraid?' she said; 'there's no fear of me catching it.' + +'How do you know?' + +'I know, that's all. I'm never ill.' + +'That's the right way to keep well,' the Alderman remarked. + +The quiet admiration of these two men was very pleasant to her. She +felt that she had established herself for ever in their esteem. After +breakfast, in obedience to them, she slept for several hours on Mrs. +Sutton's bed. In the afternoon Beatrice was worse. The doctor called, +and found her temperature at 105.9. + +'This can't last,' he remarked briefly. + +'Well, Doctor,' Mr. Sutton said, 'it's i' your hands.' + +'Nay,' Mrs. Sutton murmured with a smile, 'I've left it with God. It's +with Him.' + +This was the first and only word of religion, except grace at table, +that Anna heard from the Suttons during her stay in the Isle of Man. +She had feared lest vocal piety might form a prominent feature of their +daily life, but her fear had proved groundless. She, too, from reason +rather than instinct, had tried to pray for Beatrice's recovery. She +had, however, found much more satisfaction in the activity of nursing. + +Again that night she sat up, and on the Friday morning Beatrice was +better. At noon all immediate danger was past; the patient slept; her +temperature was almost correct. Anna went to bed in the afternoon and +slept soundly till supper-time, when she awoke very hungry. For the +first time in three days Beatrice could be left alone. The other four +had supper together, cheerful and relieved after the tension. + +'She'll be as right as a trivet in a few days,' said the Alderman. + +'A few weeks,' said Mrs. Sutton. + +'Of course,' said Mynors, 'you'll stay on here, now?' + +'We shall stay until Beatrice is quite fit to travel,' Mr. Sutton +answered. 'I might have to run over to th' Five Towns for a day or two +middle of next week, but I can come back immediately.' + +'Well, I must go tomorrow,' Mynors sighed. + +'Surely you can stay over Sunday, Henry?' + +'No; I've no one to take my place at school.' + +'And I must go to-morrow, too,' said Anna suddenly. + +'Fiddle-de-dee, Anna!' the Alderman protested. + +'I must,' she insisted. 'Father will expect me. You know I came for a +fortnight. Besides, there's Agnes.' + +'Agnes will be all right.' + +'I must go.' They saw that she was fixed. + +'Won't a short walk do you good?' Mynors suggested to her, with +singular gravity, after supper. 'You've not been outside for two days.' + +She looked inquiringly at Mrs. Sutton. + +'Yes, take her, Henry; she'll sleep better for it. Eh, Anna, but it's +a shame to send you home with those rings round your eyes.' + +She went upstairs for a jacket. Beatrice was awake. 'Anna,' she +exclaimed in a weak voice, without any preface, 'I was awfully silly +and cross the other afternoon, before all this business. Just now, +when you came into the room, I was feeling quite ashamed.' + +'Oh! Bee!' she answered, bending over her, 'what nonsense! Now go off +to sleep at once.' She was very happy. Beatrice, victim of a +temperament which had the childishness and the impulsiveness of the +artist without his higher and sterner traits, sank back in facile +content. + +The night was still and very dark. When Anna and Mynors got outside +they could distinguish neither the sky nor the sea; but the faint, +restless murmur of the sea came up the cliffs. Only the lights of the +houses disclosed the direction of the road. + +'Suppose we go down to the jetty, and then along as far as the +breakwater?' he said, and she concurred. 'Won't you take my +muffler--again?' he added, pulling this ever-present article from his +pocket. + +'No, thanks,' she said, almost coldly, 'it's really quite warm.' She +regarded the offer of the muffler as an indiscretion--his sole +indiscretion during their acquaintance. As they walked down the hill +to the shore she though how Beatrice's illness had sharply interrupted +their relations. If she had come to the Isle of Man with a vague idea +that he would possibly propose to her, the expectation was +disappointed; but she felt no disappointment. She felt that events had +lifted her to a higher plane than that of love-making. She was filled +with the proud satisfaction of a duty accomplished. She did not seek +to minimise to herself the fact that she had been of real value to her +friends in the last few days, had probably saved Mrs. Sutton from +illness, had certainly laid them all under an obligation. Their +gratitude, unexpressed, but patent on each face, gave her infinite +pleasure. She had won their respect by the manner in which she had +risen to the height of an emergency that demanded more than devotion. +She had proved, not merely to them but to herself, that she could be +calm under stress, and could exert moral force when occasion needed. +Such were the joyous and exultant reflections which passed through her +brain--unnaturally active in the factitious wakefulness caused by +excessive fatigue. She was in an extremely nervous and excitable +condition--and never guessed it, fancying indeed that her emotions were +exceptionally tranquil that night. She had not begun to realise the +crisis through which she had just lived. + +The uneven road to the ruined breakwater was quite deserted. Having +reached the limit of the path, they stood side by side, solitary, +silent, gazing at the black and gently heaving surface of the sea. The +eye was foiled by the intense gloom; the ear could make nothing of the +strange night-noises of the bay and the ocean beyond; but the +imagination was stimulated by the appeal of all this mystery and +darkness. Never had the water seemed so wonderful, terrible, and +austere. + +'We are going away to-morrow,' he said at length. + +Anna started and shook with apprehension at the tremor in his voice. +She had read that a woman was always well warned by her instincts when +a man meant to propose to her. But here was the proposal imminent, and +she had not suspected. In a flash of insight she perceived that the +very event which had separated them for three days had also impelled +the lover forward in his course. It was the thought of her vigils, her +fortitude, her compassion, that had fanned the flame. She was not +surprised, only made uncomfortable, when he took her hand. + +'Anna,' he said, 'it's no use making a long story of it. I'm +tremendously in love with you; you know I am.' + +He stepped back, still holding her hand. She could say nothing. + +'Well?' he ventured. 'Didn't you know?' + +'I thought--I thought,' she murmured stupidly, 'I thought you liked me.' + +'I can't tell you how I admire you. I'm not going to praise you to +your face, but I simply never met anyone like you. From the very first +moment I saw you, it was the same. It's something in your face, +Anna---- Anna, will you be my wife?' + +The actual question was put in a precise, polite, somewhat conventional +tone. To Anna he was never more himself than at that moment. + +She could not speak; she could not analyse her feelings; she could not +even think. She was adrift. At last she stammered: 'We've only known +each other----' + +'Oh, dear,' he exclaimed masterfully, 'what does that matter? If it +had been a dozen years instead of one, that would have made no +difference.' She drew her hand timidly away, but he took it again. +She felt that he dominated her and would decide for her. 'Say yes.' + +'Yes,' she said. + +She saw pictures of her career as his wife, and resolved that one of +the first acts of her freedom should be to release Agnes from the more +ignominious of her father's tyrannies. + +They walked home almost in silence. She was engaged, then. Yet she +experienced no new sensation. She felt as she had felt on the way +down, except that she was sorely perturbed. There was no ineffable +rapture, no ecstatic bliss. Suddenly the prospect of happiness swept +over her like a flood. + +At the gate she wished to make a request to him, but hesitated, because +she could not bring herself to use his Christian name. It was proper +for her to use his Christian name, however, and she would do so, or +perish. + +'Henry,' she said, 'don't tell anyone here.' He merely kissed her once +more. She went straight upstairs. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE DOWNFALL + +In order to catch the Liverpool steamer at Douglas it was necessary to +leave Port Erin at half-past six in the morning. The freshness of the +morning, and the smiles of the Alderman and his wife as they waved +God-speed from the doorstep, filled Anna with a serene content which +she certainly had not felt during the wakeful night. She forgot, then, +the hours passed with her conscience in realising how serious and +solemn a thing was this engagement, made in an instant on the previous +evening. All that remained in her mind, as she and Henry walked +quickly down the road, was the tonic sensation of high resolves to be a +worthy wife. The duties, rather than the joys, of her condition, had +lain nearest her heart until that moment of setting out, giving her an +anxious and almost worried mien which at breakfast neither Henry nor +the Suttons could quite understand. But now the idea of duty ceased +for a time to be paramount, and she loosed herself to the pleasures of +the day in store. The harbour was full of low wandering mists, through +which the brown sails of the fishing-smacks played at hide-and-seek. +High above them the round forms of immense clouds were still carrying +the colours of sunrise. The gentle salt wind on the cheek was like the +touch of a life-giver. It was impossible, on such a morning, not to +exult in life, not to laugh childishly from irrational glee, not to +dismiss the memory of grief and the apprehension of grief as morbid +hallucinations. Mynor's face expressed the double happiness of present +and anticipated pleasure. He had once again succeeded, he who had +never failed; and the voyage back to England was for him a triumphal +progress. Anna responded eagerly to his mood. The day was an ecstasy, +a bright expanse unstained. To Anna in particular it was a unique day, +marking the apogee of her existence. In the years that followed she +could always return to it and say to herself: 'That day I was happy, +foolishly, ignorantly, but utterly. And all that I have since learnt +cannot alter it--I was happy.' + +When they reached Shawport Station a cab was waiting for Anna. Unknown +to her, Henry had ordered it by telegraph. This considerateness was of +a piece, she thought, with his masterly conduct of the entire +journey--on the steamer, at Liverpool, in the train; nothing that an +experienced traveller could devise had been lacking to her comfort. +She got into the cab alone, while Mynors, followed by a boy and his +bag, walked to his rooms in Mount Street. It had been arranged, at +Anna's wish, that he should not appear at Manor Terrace till +supper-time. Ephraim opened for her the door of her home. It seemed +to her that he was pleased. + +'Well, father, here I am again, you see.' + +'Ay, lass.' They shook hands, and she indicated to the cabman where to +deposit her tin-box. She was glad and relieved to be back. Nothing +had changed, except herself, and this absolute sameness was at once +pleasant and pathetic to her. + +'Where's Agnes?' she asked, smiling at her father. In the glow of +arrival she had a vague notion that her relations with him had been +permanently softened by absence. + +'I see thou's gotten into th' habit o' flitting about in cabs,' he +said, without answering her question. + +'Well, father,' she said, smiling yet, 'there was the box. I couldn't +carry the box.' + +'I reckon thou couldst ha' hired a lad to carry it for sixpence.' + +She did not reply. The cabman had gone to his vehicle. + +'Art'na going to pay th' cabby?' + +'I've paid him, father.' + +'How much?' + +She paused. 'Eighteen-pence, father.' It was a lie; she had paid two +shillings. + +She went eagerly into the kitchen, and then into the parlour, where tea +was set for one. Agnes was not there. 'Her's upstairs,' Ephraim said, +meeting Anna as she came into the lobby again. She ran softly +upstairs, and into the bedroom. Agnes was replacing ornaments on the +mantelpiece with mathematical exactitude; under her arm was a duster. +The child turned, startled, and gave a little shriek. + +'Eh, I didn't know you'd come. How early you are!' + +They rushed towards each other, embraced, and kissed. Anna was +overcome by the pathos of her sister's loneliness in that grim house +for fourteen days, while she, the elder, had been absorbed in selfish +gaiety. The pale face, large, melancholy eyes, and long, thin arms, +were a silent accusation. She wondered that she could ever have +brought herself to leave Agnes even for a day. Sitting down on the +bed, she drew the child on her knee in a fury of love, and kissed her +again, weeping. Agnes cried too, for sympathy. + +'Oh, my dear, dear Anna, I'm so glad you've come back!' She dried her +eyes, and in quite a different tone of voice asked: 'Has Mr. Mynors +proposed to you?' + +Anna could not avoid a blush at this simple and astounding query. She +said: 'Yes.' It was the one word of which she was capable, under the +circumstances. That was not the moment to tax Agnes with too much +precocity and abruptness. + +'You're engaged, then? Oh, Anna, does it feel nice? It must. I knew +you would be!' + +'How did you know, Agnes?' + +'I mean I knew he would ask you, some time. All the girls at school +knew too.' + +'I hope you didn't talk about it,' said the elder sister. + +'Oh, no! But they did; they were always talking about it.' + +'You never told me that.' + +'I--I didn't like to. Anna, shall I have to call him Henry now?' + +'Yes, of course. When we're married he will be your brother-in-law.' + +'Shall you be married soon, Anna?' + +'Not for a very long time.' + +'When you are--shall I keep house alone? I can, you know---- I shall +never dare to call him Henry. But he's awfully nice; isn't he, Anna? +Yes, when you are married, I shall keep house here, but I shall come to +see you every day. Father will have to let me do that. Does father +know you're engaged?' + +'Not yet. And you mustn't say anything. Henry is coming for supper. +And then father will be told.' + +'Did he kiss you, Anna?' + +'Who--father?' + +'No, silly! Henry, of course--I mean when he'd asked you?' + +'I think you are asking all the questions. Suppose I ask you some now. +How have you managed with father? Has he been nice?' + +'Some days--yes,' said Agnes, after thinking a moment. 'We have had +some new cups and saucers up from Mr. Mynors works. And father has +swept the kitchen chimney. And, oh Anna! I asked him to-day if I'd +kept house well, and he said "Pretty well," and he gave me a penny. +Look! It's the first money I've ever had, you know. I wanted you at +nights, Anna--and all the time, too. I've been frightfully busy. I +cleaned silvers all afternoon. Anna, I _have_ tried---- And I've got +some tea for you. I'll go down and make it. Now you mustn't come into +the kitchen. I'll bring it to you in the parlour.' + +'I had my tea at Crewe,' Anna was about to say, but refrained, in due +course drinking the cup prepared by Agnes. She felt passionately sorry +for Agnes, too young to feel the shadow which overhung her future. +Anna would marry into freedom, but Agnes would remain the serf. Would +Agnes marry? Could she? Would her father allow it? Anna had noticed +that in families the youngest, petted in childhood, was often +sacrificed in maturity. It was the last maid who must keep her +maidenhood, and, vicariously filial, pay out of her own life the debt +of all the rest. + +'Mr. Mynors is coming up for supper to-night. He wants to see you;' +Anna said to her father, as calmly as she could. The miser grunted. +But at eight o'clock, the hour immutably fixed for supper, Henry had +not arrived. The meal proceeded, of course, without him. To Anna his +absence was unaccountable and disturbing, for none could be more +punctilious than he in the matter of appointments. She expected him +every moment, but he did not appear. Agnes, filled full of the great +secret confided to her, was more openly impatient than her sister. +Neither of them could talk, and a heavy silence fell upon the family +group, a silence which her father, on that particular evening of Anna's +return, resented. + +'You dunna' tell us much,' he remarked, when the supper was finished. + +She felt that the complaint was a just one. Even before supper, when +nothing had occurred to preoccupy her, she had spoken little. There +had seemed so much to tell--at Port Erin, and now there seemed nothing +to tell. She ventured into a flaccid, perfunctory account of +Beatrice's illness, of the fishing, of the unfinished houses which had +caught the fancy of Mr. Sutton; she said the sea had been smooth, that +they had had something to eat at Liverpool, that the train for Crewe +was very prompt; and then she could think of no more. Silence fell +again. The supper-things were cleared away and washed up. At a +quarter-past nine, Agnes, vainly begging permission to stay up in order +to see Mr. Mynors, was sent to bed, only partially comforted by a +clothes-brush, long desired, which Anna had brought for her as a +present from the Isle of Man. + +'Shall you tell father yourself, now Henry hasn't come?' the child +asked Anna, who had gone upstairs to unpack her box. + +'Yes,' said Anna, briefly. + +'I wonder what he'll say,' Agnes reflected, with that habit, always +annoying to Anna, of meeting trouble half-way. + +At a quarter to ten Anna ceased to expect Mynors, and finally braced +herself to the ordeal of a solemn interview with her father, well +knowing that she dared not leave him any longer in ignorance of her +engagement. Already the old man was locking and bolting the door; he +had wound up the kitchen clock. When he came back to the parlour to +extinguish the gas she was standing by the mantelpiece. + +'Father,' she began, 'I've something I must tell you.' + +'Eh, what's that ye say?' his hand was on the gas-tap. He dropped it, +examining her face curiously. + +'Mr. Mynors has asked me to marry him; he asked me last night. We +settled he should come up to-night to see you--I can't think why he +hasn't. It must be something very unexpected and important, or he'd +have come.' She trembled, her heart beat violently; but the words were +out, and she thanked God. + +'Asked ye to marry him, did he?' The miser gazed at her quizzically +out of his small blue eyes. + +'Yes, father.' + +'And what didst say?' + +'I said I would.' + +'Oh! Thou saidst thou wouldst! I reckon it was for thatten as thou +must go gadding off to seaside, eh?' + +'Father, I never dreamt of such a thing when Suttons asked me to go. I +do wish Henry'--the cost of that Christian name!--'had come. He quite +meant to come to-night.' She could not help insisting on the propriety +of Henry's intentions. + +'Then I am for be consulted, eh?' + +'Of course, father.' + +'Ye've soon made it up, between ye.' + +His tone was, at the best, brusque; but she breathed more easily, +divining instantly from his manner that he meant to offer no violent +objection to the engagement. She knew that only tact was needed now. +The miser had, indeed, foreseen the possibility of this marriage for +months past, and had long since decided in his own mind that Henry +would make a satisfactory son-in-law. Ephraim had no social +ambitions--with all his meanness, he was above them; he had nothing but +contempt for rank, style, luxury, and 'the theory of what it is to be a +lady and a gentleman.' Yet, by a curious contradiction, Henry's +smartness of appearance--the smartness of an unrivalled commercial +traveller--pleased him. He saw in Henry a young and sedate man of +remarkable shrewdness, a man who had saved money, had made money for +others, and was now making it for himself; a man who could be trusted +absolutely to perform that feat of 'getting on'; a 'safe' and +profoundly respectable man, at the same time audacious and +imperturbable. He was well aware that Henry had really fallen in love +with Anna, but nothing would have convinced him that Anna's money was +not the primal cause of Henry's genuine passion for Anna's self. + +'You like Henry, don't you, father?' Anna said. It was a failure in +the desired tact, for Ephraim had never been known to admit that he +liked anyone or anything. Such natures are capable of nothing more +positive than toleration. + +'He's a hard-headed chap, and he knows the value o' money. Ay! that he +does; he knows which side his bread's buttered on.' A sinister +emphasis marked the last sentence. + +Instead of remaining silent, Anna, in her nervousness, committed +another imprudence. 'What do you mean, father?' she asked, pretending +that she thought it impossible he could mean what he obviously did mean. + +'Thou knows what I'm at, lass. Dost think he isna' marrying thee for +thy brass? Dost think as he canna' make a fine guess what thou'rt +worth? But that wunna' bother thee as long as thou'st hooked a +good-looking chap.' + +'Father!' + +'Ay! thou mayst bridle; but it's true. Dunna' tell me.' + +Securely conscious of the perfect purity of Mynors' affection, she was +not in the least hurt. She even thought that her father's attitude was +not quite sincere, an attitude partially due to mere wilful +churlishness. 'Henry has never even mentioned money to me,' she said +mildly. + +'Happen not; he isna' such a fool as that.' He paused, and continued: +'Thou'rt free to wed, for me. Lasses will do it, I reckon, and thee +among th' rest.' She smiled, and on that smile he suddenly turned out +the gas. Anna was glad that the colloquy had ended so well. +Congratulations, endearments, loving regard for her welfare: she had +not expected these things, and was in no wise grieved by their absence. +Groping her way towards the lobby, she considered herself lucky, and +only wished that nothing had happened to keep Mynors away. She wanted +to tell him at once that her father had proved tractable. + + +The next morning, Tellwright, whose attendance at chapel was losing the +strictness of its old regularity, announced that he should stay at +home. Sunday's dinner was to be a cold repast, and so Anna and Agnes +went to chapel. Anna's thoughts were wholly occupied with the prospect +of seeing Mynors, and hearing the explanation of his absence on +Saturday night. + +'There he is!' Agnes exclaimed loudly, as they were approaching the +chapel. + +'Agnes,' said Anna, 'when will you learn to behave in the street?' + +Mynors stood at the chapel-gates; he was evidently awaiting them. He +looked grave, almost sad. He raised his hat and shook hands, with a +particular friendliness for Agnes, who was speculating whether he would +kiss Anna, as his betrothed, or herself, as being only a little girl, +or both or neither of them. Her eyes already expressed a sort of +ownership in him. + +'I should like to speak to you a moment,' Henry said. 'Will you come +into the school-yard?' + +'Agnes, you had better go straight into chapel,' said Anna. It was an +ignominious disaster to the child, but she obeyed. + +'I didn't give you up last night till nearly ten o'clock,' Anna +remarked as they passed into the school-yard. She was astonished to +discover in herself an inclination to pout, to play the offended fair +one, because Mynors had failed in his appointment. Contemptuously she +crushed it. + +'Have you heard about Mr. Price?' Mynors began. + +'No. What about him? Has anything happened?' + +'A very sad thing has happened. Yes----' He stopped, from emotion. +'Our superintendent has committed suicide!' + +'Killed himself?' Anna gasped. + +'He hanged himself yesterday afternoon at Edward Street, in the +slip-house after the works were closed. Willie had gone home, but he +came back, when his father didn't turn up for dinner, and found him. +Mr. Price was quite dead. He ran in to my place to fetch me just as I +was getting my tea. That was why I never came last night.' + +Anna was speechless. + +'I thought I would tell you myself,' Henry resumed. 'It's an awful +thing for the Sunday-school, and the whole society, too. He, a +prominent Wesleyan, a worker among us! An awful thing!' he repeated, +dominated by the idea of the blow thus dealt to the Methodist connexion +by the man now dead. + +'Why did he do it?' Anna demanded, curtly. + +Mynors shrugged his shoulders, and ejaculated: 'Business troubles, I +suppose; it couldn't be anything else. At school this morning I simply +announced that he was dead.' Henry's voice broke, but he added, after +a pause: 'Young Price bore himself splendidly last night.' + +Anna turned away in silence. 'I shall come up for tea, if I may,' +Henry said, and then they parted, he to the singing-seat, she to the +portico of the chapel. People were talking in groups on the broad +steps and in the vestibule. All knew of the calamity, and had received +from it a new interest in life. The town was aroused as if from a +lethargy. Consternation and eager curiosity were on every face. Those +who arrived in ignorance of the event were informed of it in impressive +tones, and with intense satisfaction to the informer; nothing of equal +importance had happened in the society for decades. Anna walked up the +aisle to her pew, filled with one thought: + +'We drove him to it, father and I.' + +Her fear was that the miser had renewed his terrible insistence during +the previous fortnight. She forgot that she had disliked the dead man, +that he had always seemed to her mean, pietistic, and two-faced. She +forgot that in pressing him for rent many months overdue she and her +father had acted within their just rights--acted as Price himself would +have acted in their place. She could think only of the strain, the +agony, the despair that must have preceded the miserable tragedy. Old +Price had atoned for all in one sublime sin, the sole deed that could +lend dignity and repose to such a figure as his. Anna's feverish +imagination reconstituted the scene in the slip-house: she saw it as +something grand, accusing, and unanswerable; and she could not dismiss +a feeling of acute remorse that she should have been engaged in +pleasure at that very hour of death. Surely some instinct should have +warned her that the hare which she had helped to hunt was at its last +gasp! + +Mr. Sargent, the newly-appointed second minister, was in the pulpit--a +little, earnest bachelor, who emphasised every sentence with a +continual tremor of the voice. 'Brethren,' he said, after the second +hymn--and his tones vibrated with a singular effect through the +half-empty building: 'Before I proceed to my sermon I have one word to +say in reference to the awful event which is doubtless uppermost in the +minds of all of you. It is not for us to judge the man who is now gone +from us, ushered into the dread presence of his Maker with the crime of +self-murder upon his soul. I say it is not for us to judge him. The +ways of the Almighty are past finding out. Therefore at such a moment +we may fitly humble ourselves before the Throne, and while prostrate +there let us intercede for the poor young man who is left behind, +bereft, and full of grief and shame. We will engage in silent prayer.' +He lifted his hand, and closed his eyes, and the congregation leaned +forward against the fronts of the pews. The appealing face of Willie +presented itself vividly to Anna. + +'Who is it?' Agnes asked, in a whisper of appalling distinctness. Anna +frowned angrily, and gave no reply. + +While the last hymn was being sung, Anna signed to Agnes that she +wished to leave the chapel. Everyone would be aware that she was among +Price's creditors, and she feared that if she stayed till the end of +the service some chatterer might draw her into a distressing +conversation. The sisters went out, and Agnes's burning curiosity was +at length relieved. + +'Mr. Price has hanged himself,' Anna said to her father when they +reached home. + +The miser looked through the window for a moment. 'I am na' +surprised,' he said. 'Suicide's i' that blood. Titus's uncle 'Lijah +tried to kill himself twice afore he died o' gravel. Us'n have to do +summat wi' Edward Street at last.' + +She wanted to ask Ephraim if he had been demanding more rent lately, +but she could not find courage to do so. + +Agnes had to go to Sunday-school alone that afternoon. Without saying +anything to her father, Anna decided to stay at home. She spent the +time in her bedroom, idle, preoccupied; and did not come downstairs +till half-past three. Ephraim had gone out. Agnes presently returned, +and then Henry came in with Mr. Tellwright. They were conversing +amicably, and Anna knew that her engagement was finally and +satisfactorily settled. During tea no reference was made to it, nor to +the suicide. Mynors' demeanour was quiet but cheerful. He had partly +recovered from the morning's agitation, and gave Ephraim and Agnes a +vivacious account of the attractions of Port Erin. Anna noticed the +amusement in his eyes when Agnes, reddening, said to him: 'Will you +have some more bread-and-butter, Henry?' It seemed to be tacitly +understood afterwards that Agnes and her father would attend chapel, +while Henry and Anna kept house. No one was ingenious enough to detect +an impropriety in the arrangement. For some obscure reason, +immediately upon the departure of the chapel-goers, Anna went into the +kitchen, rattled some plates, stroked her hair mechanically, and then +stole back again to the parlour. It was a chilly evening, and instead +of walking up and down the strip of garden the betrothed lovers sat +together under the window. Anna wondered whether or not she was happy. +The presence of Mynors was, at any rate, marvellously soothing. + +'Did your father say anything about the Price affair?' he began, +yielding at once to the powerful hypnotism of the subject which +fascinated the whole town that night, and which Anna could bear neither +to discuss nor to ignore. + +'Not much,' she said, and repeated to him her father's remark. + +Mynors told her all he knew; how Willie had discovered his father with +his toes actually touching the floor, leaning slightly forward, quite +dead; how he had then cut the rope and fetched Mynors, who went with +him to the police-station; how they had tied up the head of the corpse, +and then waited till night to wheel the body on a hand-cart from Edward +Street to the mortuary chamber at the police-station; how the police +had telephoned to the coroner, and settled at once that the inquest +should be held on Tuesday in the court-room at the town-hall; and how +quiet, self-contained, and dignified Willie had been, surprising +everyone by this new-found manliness. It all seemed hideously real to +Anna, as Henry added detail to detail. + +'I think I ought to tell you,' she said very calmly, when he had +finished the recital, 'that I--I'm dreadfully upset over it. I can't +help thinking that I--that father and I, I mean--are somehow partly +responsible for this.' + +'For Price's death? How?' + +'We have been so hard on him for his rent lately, you know.' + +My dearest girl! What next?' He took her hand in his. 'I assure you +the idea is absurd. You've only got it because you're so sensitive and +high-strung. I undertake to say Price was stuck fast everywhere--every +where--hadn't a chance.' + +'Me high-strung!' she exclaimed. He kissed her lovingly. But, beneath +the feeling of reassurance, which by superior force he had imposed on +her, there lay a feeling that she was treated like a frightened child +who must be tranquillized in the night. Nevertheless, she was grateful +for his kindness, and when she went to bed she obtained relief from the +returning obsession of the suicide by making anew her vows to him. + +As a theatrical effect the death of Titus Price could scarcely have +been surpassed. The town was profoundly moved by the spectacle of this +abject yet heroic surrender of all those pretences by which society +contrives to tolerate itself. Here was a man whom no one respected, +but everyone pretended to respect--who knew that he was respected by +none, but pretended that he was respected by all; whose whole career +was made up of dissimulations: religious, moral, and social. If any +man could have been trusted to continue the decent sham to the end, and +so preserve the general self-esteem, surely it was this man. But no! +Suddenly abandoning all imposture, he transgresses openly, brazenly; +and, snatching a bit of hemp cries: 'Behold me; this is real human +nature. This is the truth; the rest was lies. I lied; you lied. I +confess it, and you shall confess it.' Such a thunderclap shakes the +very base of the microcosm. The young folk in particular could with +difficulty believe their ears. It seemed incredible to them that Titus +Price, the Methodist, the Sunday-school superintendent, the loud +champion of the highest virtues, should commit the sin of all +sins--murder. They were dazed. The remembrance of his insincerity did +nothing to mitigate the blow. In their view it was perhaps even worse +that he had played false to his own falsity. The elders were a little +less disturbed. The event was not unique in their experience. They +had lived longer and felt these seismic shocks before. They could go +back into the past and find other cases where a swift impulse had +shattered the edifice of a lifetime. They knew that the history of +families and of communities is crowded with disillusion. They had +discovered that character is changeless, irrepressible, incurable. +They were aware of the astonishing fact, which takes at least thirty +years to learn, that a Sunday-school superintendent is a man. And the +suicide of Titus Price, when they had realised it, served but to +confirm their most secret and honest estimate of humanity, that +estimate which they never confided to a soul. The young folk thought +the Methodist Society shamed and branded by the tragic incident, and +imagined that years must elapse before it could again hold up its head +in the town. The old folk were wiser, foreseeing with certainty that +in only a few days this all-engrossing phenomenon would lose its +significance, and be as though it had never been. Even in two days, +time had already begun its work, for by Tuesday morning the interest of +the affair--on Sunday at the highest pitch--had waned so much that the +thought of the inquest was capable of reviving it. Although everyone +knew that the case presented no unusual features, and that the +coroner's inquiry would be nothing more than a formal ceremony, the +almost greedy curiosity of Methodist circles lifted it to the level of +a _cause célèbre_. The court was filled with irreproachable +respectability when the coroner drove into the town, and each animated +face said to its fellow: 'So you're here, are you?' Late comers of the +official world--councillors, guardians of the poor, members of the +school board, and one or two of their ladies, were forced to intrigue +for room with the police and the town-hall keeper, and, having +succeeded, sank into their narrow seats with a sigh of expectancy and +triumph. Late comers with less influence had to retire, and by a kind +of sinister fascination were kept wandering about the corridor before +they could decide to go home. The market-place was occupied by +hundreds of loafers, who seemed to find a mystic satisfaction in +beholding the coroner's dogcart and the exterior of the building which +now held the corpse. + +It was by accident that Anna was in the town. She knew that the +inquest was to occur that morning, but had not dreamed of attending it. +When, however, she saw the stir of excitement in the market-place, and +the police guarding the entrances of the town-hall, she walked directly +across the road, past the two officers at the east door, and into the +dark main corridor of the building, which was dotted with small groups +idly conversing. She was conscious of two things: a vehement +curiosity, and the existence somewhere in the precincts of a dead body, +unsightly, monstrous, calm, silent, careless--the insensible origin of +all this simmering ferment which disgusted her even while she shared in +it. At a small door, half hidden by a curtain, she was startled to see +Mynors. + +'You here!' he exclaimed, as if painfully surprised, and shook hands +with a preoccupied air. 'They are examining Willie. I came outside +while he was in the witness-box.' + +'Is the inquest going on in there?' she asked, pointing to the door. +Each appeared to be concealing a certain resentment against the other; +but this appearance was due only to nervous agitation. + +A policeman down the corridor called: 'Mr. Mynors, a moment.' Henry +hurried away, answering Anna's question as he went: 'Yes, in there. +That's the witnesses' and jurors' door; but please don't go in. I +don't like you to, and it is sure to upset you.' + +She opened the door and went in. None said nay, and she found a few +inches of standing-room behind the jury-box. A terrible stench +nauseated her; the chamber was crammed, and not a window open. There +was silence in the court--no one seemed to be doing anything; but at +last she perceived that the coroner, enthroned on the bench justice was +writing in a book with blue leaves. In the witness-box stood William +Price, dressed in black, with kid gloves, not lounging in an ungainly +attitude, as might have been expected, but perfectly erect; he kept his +eyes fixed on the coroner's head. Sarah Vodrey, Price's aged +housekeeper, sat on a chair near the witness-box, weeping into a +black-bordered handkerchief; at intervals she raised her small, +wrinkled, red face, with its glistening, inflamed eyes, and then buried +it again in the handkerchief. The members of the jury, whom Anna could +see only in profile, shuffled to and fro on their long, pew-like +seats--they were mostly working men, shabbily clothed; but the foreman +was Mr. Leal, the provision dealer, a freemason, and a sidesman at the +parish church. The general public sat intent and vacuous; their minds +gaped, if not their mouths; occasionally one whispered inaudibly to +another; the jury, conscious of an official status, exchanged remarks +in a whisper courageously loud. Several tall policemen, helmet in +hand, stood in various corners of the room, and the coroner's officer +sat near the witness-box to administer the oath. At length the coroner +lifted his head. He was rather a young man, with a large, intelligent +face; he wore eyeglasses, and his chin was covered with a short, wavy +beard. His manner showed that, while secretly proud of his supreme +position in that assemblage, he was deliberately trying to make it +appear that this exercise of judicial authority was nothing to him, +that in truth these eternal inquiries, which interested others so +deeply, were to him a weariness conscientiously endured. + +'Now, Mr. Price,' the coroner said blandly, and it was plain that he +was being ceremoniously polite to an inferior, in obedience to the +rules of good form, 'I must ask you some more questions. They may be +inconvenient, even painful; but I am here simply as the instrument of +the law, and I must do my duty. And these gentlemen here,' he waved a +hand in the direction of the jury, 'must be told the whole facts of the +case. We know, of course, that the deceased committed suicide--that +has been proved beyond doubt; but, as I say, we have the right to know +more.' He paused, well satisfied with the sound of his voice, and +evidently thinking that he had said something very weighty and +impressive. + +'What do you want to know?' Willie Price demanded, his broad Five Towns +speech contrasting with the Kensingtonian accents of the coroner. The +latter, who came originally from Manchester, was irritated by the +brusque interruption; but he controlled his annoyance, at the same time +glancing at the public as if to signify to them that he had learnt not +to take too seriously the unintentional rudeness characteristic of +their district. + +'You say it was probably business troubles that caused your late father +to commit the rash act?' + +'Yes.' + +'You are sure there was nothing else?' + +'What else could there be?' + +'Your late father was a widower?' + +'Yes.' + +'Now as to these business troubles--what were they?' + +'We were being pressed by creditors.' + +'Were you a partner with your late father?' + +'Yes.' + +'Oh! You were a partner with him!' + +The jury seemed surprised, and the coroner wrote again: 'What was your +share in the business?' + +'I don't know.' + +'You don't know? Surely that is rather singular?' + +'My father took me in Co. not long since. We signed a deed, but I +forget what was in it. My place was principally on the bank, not in +the office.' + +'And so you were being pressed by creditors?' + +'Yes. And we were behind with the rent.' + +'Was the landlord pressing you, too?' + +Anna lowered her eyes, fearful lest every head had turned towards her. + +'Not then; he had been--she, I mean.' + +'The landlord is a lady?' Here the coroner faintly smiled. 'Then, as +regards the landlord, the pressure was less than it had been?' + +'Yes; we had paid some rent, and settled some other claims.' + +'Does it not seem strange----?' the coroner began, with a suave air of +suggesting an idea. + +'If you must know,' Willie surprisingly burst out, 'I believe it was +the failure of a firm in London that owed us money that caused father +to hang himself.' + +'Ah!' exclaimed the coroner. 'When did you hear of that failure?' + +'By second post on Friday. Eleven in the morning.' + +'I think we have heard enough, Mr. Coroner,' said Leal, standing up in +the jury-box. 'We have decided on our verdict.' + +'Thank you, Mr. Price,' said the coroner, dismissing Willie. He added, +in a tone of icy severity to the foreman: 'I had concluded my +examination of the witness.' Then he wrote further in his book. + +'Now, gentlemen of the jury,' the coroner resumed, having first cleared +his throat; 'I think you will agree with me that this is a peculiarly +painful case. Yet at the same time----' + +Anna hastened from the court as impulsively as she had entered it. She +could think of nothing but the quiet, silent, pitiful corpse; and all +this vapid mouthing exasperated her beyond sufferance. + + +On the Thursday afternoon, Anna was sitting alone in the house, with +the Persian cat and a pile of stockings on her knee, darning. Agnes +had with sorrow returned to school; Ephraim was out. The bell sounded +violently, and Anna, thinking that perhaps for some reason her father +had chosen to enter by the front door, ran to open it. The visitor was +Willie Price; he wore the new black suit which had figured in the +coroner's court. She invited him to the parlour and they both sat +down, tongue-tied. Now that she had learnt from his evidence given at +the inquest that Ephraim had not been pressing for rent during her +absence in the Isle of Man, she felt less like a criminal before Willie +than she would have felt without that assurance. But at the best she +was nervous, self-conscious, and shamed. She supposed that he had +called to make some arrangement with reference to the tenure of the +works, or, more probably, to announce a bankruptcy and stoppage. + +'Well, Miss Tellwright,' Willie began, 'I've buried him. He's gone.' + +The simple and profound grief, and the restrained bitterness against +all the world, which were expressed in these words--the sole epitaph of +Titus Price--nearly made Anna cry. She would have cried, if the cat +had not opportunely jumped on her knee again; she controlled herself by +dint of stroking it. She sympathised with him more intensely in that +first moment of his loneliness than she had ever sympathised with +anyone, even Agnes. She wished passionately to shield, shelter, and +comfort him, to do something, however small, to diminish his sorrow and +humiliation; and this despite his size, his ungainliness, his coarse +features, his rough voice, his lack of all the conventional +refinements. A single look from his guileless and timid eyes atoned +for every shortcoming. Yet she could scarcely open her mouth. She +knew not what to say. She had no phrases to soften the frightful blow +which Providence had dealt him. + +'I'm very sorry,' she said. 'You must be relieved it's all over.' + +If she could have been Mrs. Sutton for half an hour! But she was Anna, +and her feelings could only find outlet in her eyes. Happily young +Price was of those meek ones who know by instinct the language of the +eyes. + +'You've come about the works, I suppose?' she went on. + +'Yes,' he said. 'Is your father in? I want to see him very +particular.' + +'He isn't in now,' she replied: 'but he will be back by four o'clock.' + +'That's an hour. You don't know where he is?' + +She shook her head. 'Well,' he continued, 'I must tell you, then. +I've come up to do it, and do it I must. I can't come up again; +neither can I wait. You remember that bill of exchange as we gave you +some weeks back towards rent?' + +'Yes,' she said. There was a pause. He stood up, and moved to the +mantelpiece. Her gaze followed him intently, but she had no idea what +he was about to say. + +'It's forged, Miss Tellwright.' He sat down again, and seemed calmer, +braver, ready to meet any conceivable set of consequences. + +'Forged!' she repeated, not immediately grasping the significance of +the avowal. + +'Mr. Sutton's name is forged on it. So I came to tell your father; but +you'll do as well. I feel as if I should like to tell you all about +it,' he said, smiling sadly. 'Mr. Sutton had really given us a bill +for thirty pounds, but we'd paid that away when Mr. Tellwright sent +word down--you remember--that he should put bailiffs in if he didn't +have twenty-five pounds next day. We were just turning the corner +then, father said to me. There was a goodish sum due to us from a +London firm in a month's time, and if we could only hold out till then, +father said he could see daylight for us. But he knew as there'd be no +getting round Mr. Tellwright. So he had the idea of using Mr. Sutton's +name--just temporary like. He sent me to the post-office to buy a bill +stamp, and he wrote out the bill all but the name. "You take this up +to Tellwright's," he says, "and ask 'em to take it and hold it, and +we'll redeem it, and that'll be all right. No harm done there, Will!" +he says. Then he tries Sutton's name on the back of an envelope. It's +an easy signature, as you know; but he couldn't do it. "Here, Will," +he says, "my old hand shakes; you have a go," and he gives me a letter +of Sutton's to copy from. I did it easy enough after a try or two. +"That'll be all right, Will," he says, and I put my hat on and brought +the bill up here. That's the truth, Miss Tellwright. It was the smash +of that London firm that finished my poor old father off.' + +Her one feeling was the sense of being herself a culprit. After all, +it was her father's action, more than anything else, that had led to +the suicide, and he was her agent. + +'Oh, Mr. Price,' she said foolishly, 'whatever shall you do?' + +'There's nothing to be done,' he replied. 'It was bound to be. It's +our luck. We'd no thought but what we should bring you thirty pound in +cash and get that bit of paper back, and rip it up, and no one the +worse. But we were always unlucky, me and him. All you've got to do +is just to tell your father, and say I'm ready to go to the +police-station when he gives the word. It's a bad business, but I'm +ready for it.' + +'Can't we do something?' she naïvely inquired, with a vision of a trial +and sentence, and years of prison. + +'Your father keeps the bill, doesn't he? Not you?' + +'I could ask him to destroy it.' + +'He wouldn't,' said Willie. 'You'll excuse me saying that, Miss +Tellwright, but he wouldn't.' + +He rose as if to go, bitterly. As for Anna, she knew well that her +father would never permit the bill to be destroyed. But at any cost +she meant to comfort him then, to ease his lot, to send him away less +grievous than he came. + +'Listen!' she said, standing up, and abandoning the cat, 'I will see +what can be done. Yes. Something _shall_ be done--something or other. +I will come and see you at the works to-morrow afternoon. You may rely +on me.' + +She saw hope brighten his eyes at the earnestness and resolution of her +tone, and she felt richly rewarded. He never said another word, but +gripped her hand with such force that she flinched in pain. When he +had gone, she perceived clearly the dire dilemma; but cared nothing, in +the first bliss of having reassured him. + +During tea it occurred to her that as soon as Agnes had gone to bed she +would put the situation plainly before her father, and, for the first +and last time in her life, assert herself. She would tell him that the +affair was, after all, entirely her own, she would firmly demand +possession of the bill of exchange, and she would insist on it being +destroyed. She would point out to the old man that, her promise having +been given to Willie Price, no other course than this was possible. In +planning this night-surprise on her father's obstinacy, she found +argument after argument auspicious of its success. The formidable +tyrant was at last to meet his equal, in force, in resolution, and in +pugnacity. The swiftness of her onrush would sweep him, for once, off +his feet. At whatever cost, she was bound to win, even though victory +resulted in eternal enmity between father and daughter. She saw +herself towering over him, morally, with blazing eye and scornful +nostril. And, thus meditating on the grandeur of her adventure, she +fed her courage with indignation. By the act of death, Titus Price had +put her father for ever in the wrong. His corpse accused the miser, +and Anna, incapable now of seeing aught save the pathos of suicide, +acquiesced in the accusation with all the strength of her remorse. She +did not reason--she felt; reason was shrivelled up in the fire of +emotion. She almost trembled with the urgency of her desire to protect +from further shame the figure of Willie Price, so frank, simple, +innocent, and big; and to protect also the lifeless and dishonoured +body of his parent. She reviewed the whole circumstances again and +again, each time finding less excuse for her father's implacable and +fatal cruelty. + +So her thoughts ran until the appointed hour of Agnes's bedtime. It +was always necessary to remind Agnes of that hour; left to herself, the +child would have stayed up till the very Day of Judgment. The clock +struck, but Anna kept silence. To utter the word 'bedtime' to Agnes +was to open the attack on her father, and she felt as the conductor of +an opera feels before setting in motion a complicated activity which +may end in either triumph or an unspeakable fiasco. The child was +reading; Anna looked and looked at her, and at length her lips were set +for the phrase, 'Now Agnes,' when, suddenly, the old man forestalled +her: + +'Is that wench going for sit here all night?' he asked of Anna, +menacingly. + +Agnes shut her book and crept away. + +This accident was the ruin of Anna's scheme. Her father, always the +favourite of circumstance, had by chance struck the first blow; +ignorant of the battle that awaited him, he had unwittingly won it by +putting her in the wrong, as Titus Price had put him in the wrong. She +knew in a flash that her enterprise was hopeless; she knew that her +father's position in regard to her was impregnable, that no moral +force, no consciousness of right, would avail to overthrow that +authority which she had herself made absolute by a life-long +submission; she knew that face to face with her father she was, and +always would be, a coward. And now, instead of finding arguments for +success, she found arguments for failure. She divined all the retorts +that he would fling at her. What about Mr. Sutton--in a sense the +victim of this fraud? It was not merely a matter of thirty pounds. A +man's name had been used. Was he, Ephraim Tellwright, and she, his +daughter, to connive at a felony? The felony was done, and could not +be undone. Were they to render themselves liable, even in theory, to a +criminal prosecution? If Titus Price had killed himself, what of that? +If Willie Price was threatened with ruin, what of that? Them as made +the bed must lie on it. At the best, and apart from any forgery, the +Prices had swindled their creditors; even in dying, old Price had been +guilty of a commercial swindle. And was the fact that father and son +between them had committed a direct and flagrant crime to serve as an +excuse for sympathising with the survivor? Why was Anna so anxious to +shield the forger? What claim had he? A forger was a forger, and that +was the end of it. + +She went to bed without opening her mouth. Irresolute, shamed, and +despairing, she tried to pray for guidance, but she could bring no +sincerity of appeal into this prayer; it seemed an empty form. Where, +indeed, was her religion? She was obliged to acknowledge that the +fervour of her aspirations had been steadily cooling for weeks. She +was not a whit more a true Christian now than she had been before the +Revival; it appeared that she was incapable of real religion, possibly +one of those souls foreordained to damnation. This admission added to +the general sense of futility, and increased her misery. She lay awake +for hours, confronting her deliberate promise to Willie Price. +_Something shall be done_. _Rely on me_. He was relying on her, then. +But on whom could she rely? To whom could she turn? It is significant +that the idea of confiding in Henry Mynors did not present itself for a +single moment as practical. Mynors had been kind to Willie in his +trouble, but Anna almost resented this kindness on account of the +condescending superiority which she thought she detected therein. It +was as though she had overheard Mynors saying to himself: 'Here is this +poor, crushed worm. It is my duty as a Christian to pity and succour +him. I will do so. I am a righteous man.' The thought of anyone +stooping to Willie was hateful to her. She felt equal with him, as a +mother feels equal with her child when it cries and she soothes it. +And she felt, in another way, that he was equal with her, as she +thought of his sturdy and simple confession, and of the loyal love in +his voice when he spoke of his father. She liked him for hurting her +hand, and for refusing to snatch at the slender chance of her father's +clemency. She could never reveal Willie's sin, if it was a sin, to +Henry Mynors--that symbol of correctness and of success. She had +fraternised with sinners, like Christ; and, with amazing injustice, she +was capable of deeming Mynors a Pharisee because she could not find +fault with him, because he lived and loved so impeccably and so +triumphantly. There was only one person from whom she could have asked +advice and help, and that wise and consoling heart was far away in the +Isle of Man. + +'Why won't father give up the bill?' she demanded, half aloud, in +sullen wrath. She could not frame the answer in words, but +nevertheless she knew it and felt it. Such an act of grace would have +been impossible to her father's nature--that was all. + +Suddenly the expression of her face changed from utter disgust into a +bitter and proud smile. Without thinking further, without daring to +think, she rose out of bed and, night-gowned and bare-footed, crept +with infinite precaution downstairs. The oilcloth on the stairs froze +her feet; a cold, grey light issuing through the glass square over the +front door showed that dawn was beginning. The door of the +front-parlour was shut; she opened it gently, and went within. Every +object in the room was faintly visible, the bureau, the chair, the +files of papers, the pictures, the books on the mantelshelf, and the +safe in the corner. The bureau, she knew, was never locked; fear of +their father had always kept its privacy inviolate from Anna and Agnes, +without the aid of a key. As Anna stood in front of it, a shaking +figure with hair hanging loose, she dimly remembered having one day +seen a blue paper among white in the pigeon-holes. But if the bill was +not there she vowed that she would steal her father's keys while he +slept, and force the safe. She opened the bureau, and at once saw the +edge of a blue paper corresponding with her recollection. She pulled +it forth and scanned it. 'Three months after date pay to our order ... +Accepted payable, _William Sutton_.' So here was the forgery, here the +two words for which Willie Price might have gone to prison! What a +trifle! She tore the flimsy document to bits, and crumpled the bits +into a little ball. How should she dispose of the ball? After a +moment's reflection she went into the kitchen, stretched on tiptoe to +reach the match-box from the high mantelpiece, struck a match, and +burnt the ball in the grate. Then, with a restrained and sinister +laugh, she ran softly upstairs. + +'What's the matter, Anna?' Agnes was sitting up in bed, wide awake. + +'Nothing; go to sleep, and don't bother,' Anna angrily whispered. + +Had she closed the lid of the bureau? She was compelled to return in +order to make sure. Yes, it was closed. When at length she lay in +bed, breathless, her heart violently beating, her feet like icicles, +she realised what she had done. She had saved Willie Price, but she +had ruined herself with her father. She knew well that he would never +forgive her. + +On the following afternoon she planned to hurry to Edward Street and +back while Ephraim and Agnes were both out of the house. But for some +reason her father sat persistently after dinner, conning a sale +catalogue. At a quarter to three he had not moved. She decided to go +at any risks. She put on her hat and jacket, and opened the front +door. He heard her. + +'Anna!' he called sharply. She obeyed the summons in terror. 'Art +going out?' + +'Yes, father.' + +'Where to?' + +'Down town to buy some things.' + +'Seems thou'rt always buying.' + +That was all; he let her free. In an unworthy attempt to appease her +conscience she did in fact go first into the town; she bought some +wool; the trick was despicable. Then she hastened to Edward Street. +The decrepit works seemed to have undergone no change. She had +expected the business would be suspended, and Willie Price alone on the +bank; but manufacture was proceeding as usual. She went direct to the +office, fancying, as she climbed the stairs, that every window of all +the workshops was full of eyes to discern her purpose. Without +knocking, she pushed against the unlatched door and entered. Willie +was lolling in his father's chair, gloomy, meditative, apparently idle. +He was coatless, and wore a dirty apron; a battered hat was at the back +of his head, and his great hands which lay on the desk in front of him, +were soiled. He sprang up, flushing red, and she shut the door; they +were alone together. + +'I'm all in my dirt,' he murmured apologetically. Simple and silly +creature, to imagine that she cared for his dirt! + +'It's all right,' she said; 'you needn't worry any more. It's all +right.' They were glorious words for her, and her face shone. + +'What do you mean?' he asked gruffly. + +'Why,' she smiled, full of happiness, 'I got that paper and burnt it!' + +He looked at her exactly as if he had not understood. 'Does your +father know?' + +She still smiled at him happily. 'No; but I shall tell him this +afternoon. It's all right. I've burnt it.' + +He sank down in the chair, and, laying his head on the desk, burst into +sobbing tears. She stood over him, and put a hand on the sleeve of his +shirt. At that touch he sobbed more violently. + +'Mr. Price, what is it?' She asked the question in a calm, soothing +tone. + +He glanced up at her, his face wet, yet apparently not shamed by the +tears. She could not meet his gaze without herself crying, and so she +turned her head. 'I was only thinking,' he stammered, 'only +thinking--what an angel you are.' + +Only the meek, the timid, the silent, can, in moments of deep feeling, +use this language of hyperbole without seeming ridiculous. + +He was her great child, and she knew that ha worshipped her. Oh, +ineffable power, that out of misfortune canst create divine happiness! + +Later, he remarked in his ordinary tone: 'I was expecting your father +here this afternoon about the lease. There is to be a deed of +arrangement with the creditors.' + +'My father!' she exclaimed, and she bade him good-bye. + +As she passed under the archway she heard a familiar voice: 'I reckon I +shall find young Mester Price in th' office?' Ephraim, who had +wandered into the packing-house, turned and saw her through the +doorway; a second's delay, and she would have escaped. She stood +waiting the storm, and then they walked out into the road together. + +'Anna, what art doing here?' + +She did not know what to say. + +'What art doing here?' he repeated coldly. + +'Father, I--was just going back home.' + +He hesitated an instant. 'I'll go with thee,' he said. They walked +back to Manor Terrace in silence. They had tea in silence; except that +Agnes, with dreadful inopportuneness, continually worried her father +for a definite promise that she might leave school at Christmas. The +idea was preposterous; but Agnes, fired by her recent success as a +housekeeper, clung to it. Ignorant of her imminent danger, and +misinterpreting the signs of his face, she at last pushed her +insistence too far. + +'Get to bed, this minute,' he said, in a voice suddenly terrible. She +perceived her error then, but it was too late. Looking wistfully at +Anna, the child fled. + +'I was told this morning, miss,' Ephraim began, as soon as Agnes was +gone, 'that young Price had bin seen coming to this house 'ere +yesterday afternoon. I thought as it was strange as thoud'st said nowt +about it to thy feyther; but I never suspected as a daughter o' mine +was up to any tricks. There was a hang-dog look on thy face this +afternoon when I asked where thou wast going, but I didna' think thou +wast lying to me.' + +'I wasn't,' she began, and stopped. + +'Thou wast! Now, what is it? What's this carrying-on between thee and +Will Price? I'll have it out of thee.' + +'There is no carrying-on, father.' + +'Then why hast thou gotten secrets? Why dost go sneaking about to see +him--sneaking, creeping, like any brazen moll?' + +The miser was wounded in the one spot where there remained to him any +sentiment capable of being wounded: his faith in the irreproachable, +absolute chastity, in thought and deed, of his womankind. + +'Willie Price came in here yesterday,' Anna began, white and calm, 'to +see you. But you weren't in. So he saw me. He told me that bill of +exchange, that blue paper, for thirty pounds, was forged. He said he +had forged Mr. Sutton's name on it.' She stopped, expecting the +thunder. + +'Get on with thy tale,' said Ephraim, breathing loudly. + +'He said he was ready to go to prison as soon as you gave the word. +But I told him, "No such thing!" I said it must be settled quietly. I +told him to leave it to me. He was driven to the forgery, and I +thought----' + +'Dost mean to say,' the miser shouted, 'as that blasted scoundrel came +here and told thee he'd forged a bill, and thou told him to leave it to +thee to settle?' Without waiting for an answer, he jumped up and +strode to the door, evidently with the intention of examining the +forged document for himself. + +'It isn't there--it isn't there!' Anna called to him wildly. + +'What isna' there?' + +'The paper. I may as well tell you, father. I got up early this +morning and burnt it.' + +The man was staggered at this audacious and astounding impiety. + +'It was mine, really,' she continued; 'and I thought----' + +'Thou thought!' + +Agnes, upstairs, heard that passionate and consuming roar. 'Shame on +thee, Anna Tellwright! Shame on thee for a shameless hussy! A +daughter o' mine, and just promised to another man! Thou'rt an +accomplice in forgery. Thou sees the scamp on the sly! Thou----' He +paused, and then added, with furious scorn: 'Shalt speak o' this to +Henry Mynors?' + +'I will tell him if you like,' she said proudly. + +'Look thee here!' he hissed, 'if thou breathes a word o' this to Henry +Mynors, or any other man, I'll cut thy tongue out. A daughter o' mine! +If thou breathes a word----' + +'I shall not, father.' + +It was finished; grey with frightful anger, Ephraim left the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +AT THE PRIORY + +She was not to be pardoned: the offence was too monstrous, daring, and +final. At the same time, the unappeasable ire of the old man tended to +weaken his power over her. All her life she had been terrorised by the +fear of a wrath which had never reached the superlative degree until +that day. Now that she had seen and felt the limit of his anger, she +became aware that she could endure it; the curse was heavy, and perhaps +more irksome than heavy, but she survived; she continued to breathe, +eat, drink, and sleep; her father's power stopped short of +annihilation. Here, too, was a satisfaction: that things could not be +worse. And still greater comfort lay in the fact that she had not only +accomplished the deliverance of Willie Price, but had secured absolute +secrecy concerning the episode. + +The next day was Saturday, when, after breakfast, it was Ephraim's +custom to give Anna the weekly sovereign for housekeeping. + +'Here, Agnes,' he said, turning in his armchair to face the child, and +drawing a sovereign from his waistcoat-pocket, 'take charge o' this, +and mind ye make it go as far as ye can.' His tone conveyed a +subsidiary message: 'I am terribly angry, but I am not angry with you. +However, behave yourself.' + +The child mechanically took the coin, scared by this proof of an +unprecedented domestic convulsion. Anna, with a tightening of the +lips, rose and went into the kitchen. Agnes followed, after a discreet +interval, and in silence gave up the sovereign. + +'What is it all about, Anna?' she ventured to ask that night. + +'Never mind,' said Anna curtly. + +The question had needed some courage, for, at certain times, Agnes +would as easily have trifled with her father as with Anna. From that +moment, with the passive fatalism characteristic of her years, Agnes' +spirits began to rise again to the normal level. She accepted the new +situation, and fitted herself into it with a child's adaptability. If +Anna naturally felt a slight resentment against this too impartial and +apparently callous attitude on the part of the child, she never showed +it. + +Nearly a week later, Anna received a postcard from Beatrice announcing +her complete recovery, and the immediate return of her parents and +herself to Bursley. That same afternoon, a cab encumbered with much +luggage passed up the street as Anna was fixing clean curtains in her +father's bedroom. Beatrice, on the look-out, waved a hand and smiled, +and Anna responded to the signals. She was glad now that the Suttons +had come back, though for several days she had almost forgotten their +existence. On the Saturday afternoon, Mynors called. Anna was in the +kitchen; she heard him scuffling with Agnes in the lobby, and then +talking to her father. Three times she had seen him since her +disgrace, and each time the secret bitterness of her soul, despite +conscientious effort to repress it, had marred the meeting--it had been +plain, indeed, that she was profoundly disturbed; he had affected at +first not to observe the change in her, and she, anticipating his +questions, hinted briefly that the trouble was with her father, and had +no reference to himself, and that she preferred not to discuss it at +all; reassured, and too young in courtship yet to presume on a lover's +rights, he respected her wish, and endeavoured by every art to restore +her to equanimity. This time, as she went to greet him in the parlour, +she resolved that he should see no more of the shadow. He noticed +instantly the difference in her face. + +'I've come to take you into Sutton's for tea--and for the evening,' he +said eagerly. 'You must come. They are very anxious to see you. I've +told your father,' he added. Ephraim had vanished into his office. + +'What did he say, Henry?' she asked timidly. + +'He said you must please yourself, of course. Come along, love. +Mustn't she, Agnes?' + +Agnes concurred, and said that she would get her father's tea, and his +supper too. + +'You will come,' he urged. She nodded, smiling thoughtfully, and he +kissed her, for the first time in front of Agnes, who was filled with +pride at this proof of their confidence in her. + +'I'm ready, Henry,' Anna said, a quarter of an hour later, and they +went across to Sutton's. + +'Anna, tell me all about it,' Beatrice burst out when she and Anna had +fled to her bedroom. 'I'm so glad. Do you love him really--truly? +He's dreadfully fond of you. He told me so this morning; we had quite +a long chat in the market. I think you're both very lucky, you know.' +She kissed Anna effusively for the third time. Anna looked at her +smiling but silent. + +'Well?' Beatrice said. + +'What do you want me to say?' + +'Oh! You are the funniest girl, Anna, I ever met. "What do you want +me to say," indeed!' Beatrice added in a different tone: 'Don't +imagine this affair was the least bit of a surprise to us. It wasn't. +The fact is, Henry had--oh! well, never mind. Do you know, mother and +dad used to think there was something between Henry and me. But there +wasn't, you know--not really. I tell you that, so that you won't be +able to say you were kept in the dark. When shall you be married, +Anna?' + +'I haven't the least idea,' Anna replied, and began to question +Beatrice about her convalescence. + +'I'm perfectly well,' Beatrice said. 'It's always the same. If I +catch anything I catch it bad and get it over quickly.' + +'Now, how long are you two chatterboxes going to stay here?' It was +Mrs. Sutton who came into the room. 'Bee, you've got those +sewing-meeting letters to write. Eh, Anna, but I'm glad of this. +You'll make him a good wife. You two'll just suit each other.' + +Anna could not but be impressed by this unaffected joy of her friends +in the engagement. Her spirits rose, and once more she saw visions of +future happiness. At tea, Alderman Sutton added his felicitations to +the rest, with that flattering air of intimate sympathy and +comprehension which some middle-aged men can adopt towards young girls. +The tea, made specially magnificent in honour of the betrothal, was +such a meal as could only have been compassed in Staffordshire or +Yorkshire--a high tea of the last richness and excellence, exquisitely +gracious to the palate, but ruthless in its demands on the stomach. At +one end of the table, which glittered with silver, glass, and Longshaw +china, was a fowl which had been boiled for four hours; at the other, a +hot pork-pie, islanded in liquor, which might have satisfied a +regiment. Between these two dishes were all the delicacies which +differentiate high tea from tea, and on the quality of which the +success of the meal really depends; hot pikelets, hot crumpets, hot +toast, sardines with tomatoes, raisin-bread, current-bread, seed-cake, +lettuce, home-made marmalade and home-made jams. The repast occupied +over an hour, and even then not a quarter of the food was consumed. +Surrounded by all that good fare and good-will, with the Alderman on +her left, Henry on her right, and a bright fire in front of her, Anna +quickly caught the gaiety of the others. She forgot everything but the +gladness of reunion, the joy of the moment, the luxurious comfort of +the house. Conversation was busy with the doings of the Suttons at +Port Erin after Anna and Henry had left. A listener would have caught +fragments like this:--'You know such-and-such a point.... No, not +there, over the hill. Well, we hired a carriage and drove.... The +weather was simply.... Tom Kelly said he'd never.... And that little +guard on the railway came all the way down to the steamer.... Did you +see anything in the "Signal" about the actress being drowned? Oh! It +was awfully sad. We saw the corpse just after.... Beatrice, will you +hush?' + +'Wasn't it terrible about Titus Price?' Beatrice exclaimed. + +'Eh, my!' sighed Mrs. Sutton, glancing at Anna. 'You can never tell +what's going to happen next. I'm always afraid to go away for fear of +something happening.' + +A silence followed. When tea was finished Beatrice was taken away by +her mother to write the letters concerning the immediate resumption of +sewing-meetings, and for a little time Anna was left in the +drawing-room alone with the two men, who began to talk about the +affairs of the Prices. It appeared that Mr. Sutton had been asked to +become trustee for the creditors under a deed of arrangement, and that +he had hopes of being able to sell the business as a going concern. In +the meantime it would need careful management. + +'Will Willie Price manage it?' Anna inquired. The question seemed to +divert Henry and the Alderman, to afford them a contemptuous and +somewhat inimical amusement at the expense of Willie. + +'No,' said the Alderman, quietly, but emphatically. + +'Master William is fairly good on the works,' said Henry; 'but in the +office, I imagine, he is worse than useless.' + +Grieved and confused, Anna bent down and moved a hassock in order to +hide her face. The attitude of these men to Willie Price, that victim +of circumstances and of his own simplicity, wounded Anna inexpressibly. +She perceived that they could see in him only a defaulting debtor, that +his misfortune made no appeal to their charity. She wondered that men +so warm-hearted and kind in some relations could be so hard in others. + +'I had a talk with your father at the creditors' meeting yesterday,' +said the Alderman. 'You won't lose much. Of course you've got a +preferential claim for six months' rent.' He said this reassuringly, +as though it would give satisfaction. Anna did not know what a +preferential claim might be, nor was she aware of any creditors' +meeting. She wished ardently that she might lose as much as +possible--hundreds of pounds. She was relieved when Beatrice swept in, +her mother following. + +'Now, your worship,' said Beatrice to her father, 'seven stamps for +these letters, please.' Anna glanced up inquiringly on hearing the +form of address. 'You don't mean to say that you didn't know that +father is going to be mayor this year?' Beatrice asked, as if shocked +at this ignorance of affairs. 'Yes, it was all settled rather late, +wasn't it, dad? And the mayor-elect pretends not to care much, but +actually he is filled with pride, isn't he, dad? As for the +mayoress----?' + +'Eh, Bee!' Mrs. Sutton stopped her, smiling; 'you'll tumble over that +tongue of yours some day.' + +'Mother said I wasn't to mention it,' said Beatrice, 'lest you should +think we were putting on airs.' + +'Nay, not I!' Mrs. Sutton protested. 'I said no such thing. Anna +knows us too well for that. But I'm not so set up with this mayor +business as some people will think I am.' + +'Or as Beatrice is,' Mynors added. + +At half-past eight, and again at nine, Anna said that she must go home; +but the Suttons, now frankly absorbed in the topic of the mayoralty, +their secret preoccupation, would not spoil the confidential talk which +had ensued by letting the lovers depart. It was nearly half-past nine +before Anna and Henry stood on the pavement outside, and Beatrice, +after facetious farewells, had shut the door. + +'Let us just walk round by the Manor Farm,' Henry pleaded. 'It won't +take more than a quarter of an hour or so.' + +She agreed dutifully. The footpath ran at right angles to Trafalgar +Road, past a colliery whose engine-fires glowed in the dark, moonless, +autumn night, and then across a field. They stood on a knoll near the +old farmstead, that extraordinary and pathetic survival of a vanished +agriculture. Immediately in front of them stretched acres of burning +ironstone--a vast tremulous carpet of flame woven in red, purple, and +strange greens. Beyond were the skeleton-like silhouettes of +pit-heads, and the solid forms of furnace and chimney-shaft. In the +distance a canal reflected the gigantic illuminations of Cauldon Bar +Ironworks. It was a scene mysterious and romantic enough to kindle the +raptures of love, but Anna felt cold, melancholy, and apprehensive of +vague sorrows. 'Why am I so?' she asked herself, and tried in vain to +shake off the mood. + +'What will Willie Price do if the business is sold?' she questioned +Mynors suddenly. + +'Surely,' he said to soothe her, 'you aren't still worrying about that +misfortune. I wish you had never gone near the inquest; the thing +seems to have got on your mind.' + +'Oh, no!' she protested, with an air of cheerfulness. 'But I was just +wondering.' + +'Well, Willie will have to do the best he can. Get a place somewhere, +I suppose. It won't be much, at the best.' + +Had he guessed what perhaps hung on that answer, Mynors might have +given it in a tone less callous and perfunctory. Could he have seen +the tightening of her lips, he might even afterwards have repaired his +error by some voluntary assurance that Willie Price should be watched +over with a benevolent eye and protected with a strong arm. But how +was he to know that in misprizing Willie Price before her, he was +misprizing a child to its mother? He had done something for Willie +Price, and considered mat he had done enough. His thoughts, moreover, +were on other matters. + +'Do you remember that day we went up to the park?' he murmured fondly; +'that Sunday? I have never told you that that evening I came out of +chapel after the first hymn, when I noticed you weren't there, and +walked up past your house. I couldn't help it. Something drew me. I +nearly called in to see you. Then I thought I had better not.' + +'I saw you,' she said calmly. His warmth made her feel sad. 'I saw +you stop at the gate.' + +'You did? But you weren't at the window?' + +'I saw you through the glass of the front-door.' Her voice grew +fainter, more reluctant. + +'Then you were watching?' In the dark he seized her with such +violence, and kissed her so vehemently, that she was startled out of +herself. + +'Oh! Henry!' she exclaimed. + +'Call me Harry,' he entreated, his arm still round her waist; 'I want +you to call me Harry. No one else does or ever has done, and no one +shall, now.' + +'Harry,' she said deliberately, bracing her mind to a positive +determination. She must please him, and she said it again: 'Harry; +yes, it has a nice sound.' + +Ephraim sat reading the 'Signal' in the parlour when she arrived home +at five minutes to ten. Imbued then with ideas of duty, submission, +and systematic kindliness, she had an impulse to attempt a +reconciliation with her father. + +'Good-night, father,' she said, 'I hope I've not kept you up.' + +He was deaf. + +She went to bed resigned; sad, but not gloomy. It was not for nothing +that during all her life she had been accustomed to infelicity. +Experience had taught her this: to be the mistress of herself. She +knew that she could face any fact--even the fact of her dispassionate +frigidity under Mynors' caresses. It was on the firm, almost rapturous +resolve to succour Willie Price, if need be, that she fell asleep. + +The engagement, which had hitherto been kept private, became the theme +of universal gossip immediately upon the return of the Suttons from the +Isle of Man. Two words let fall by Beatrice in the St. Luke's covered +market on Saturday morning had increased and multiplied till the whole +town echoed with the news. Anna's private fortune rose as high as a +quarter of a million. As for Henry Mynors, it was said that Henry +Mynors knew what he was about. After all, he was like the rest. +Money, money! Of course it was inconceivable that a fine, prosperous +figure of a man, such as Mynors, would have made up to _her_, if she +had not been simply rolling in money. Well, there was one thing to be +said for young Mynors, he would put money to good use; you might rely +he would not hoard it up same as it had been hoarded up. However, the +more saved, the more for young Mynors, so he needn't grumble. It was +to be hoped he would make her dress herself a bit better--though indeed +it hadn't been her fault she went about so shabby; the old skinflint +would never allow her a penny of her own. So tongues wagged. + +The first Sunday was a tiresome ordeal for Anna, both at school and at +chapel. 'Well, I never!' seemed to be written like a note of +exclamation on every brow; the monotony of the congratulations fatigued +her as much as her involuntary efforts to grasp what each speaker had +left unsaid of innuendo, malice, envy or sycophancy. Even the people +in the shops, during the next few days, could not serve her without +direct and curious reference to her private affairs. The general +opinion that she was a cold and bloodless creature was strengthened by +her attitude at this period. But the apathy which she displayed was +neither affected nor due to an excessive diffidence. As she seemed, so +she felt. She often wondered what would have happened to her if that +vague 'something' between Henry and Beatrice, to which Beatrice had +confessed, had ever taken definite shape. + +'Hancock came back from Lancashire last night,' said Mynors, when he +arrived at Manor Terrace on the next Saturday afternoon. Ephraim was +in the room, and Henry, evidently joyous and triumphant, addressed both +him and Anna. + +'Is Hancock the commercial traveller?' Anna asked. She knew that +Hancock was the commercial traveller, but she experienced a nervous +compulsion to make idle remarks in order to hide the breach of +intercourse between her father and herself. + +'Yes,' said Mynors; 'he's had a magnificent journey.' + +'How much?' asked the miser. + +Henry named the amount of orders taken in a fortnight's journey. + +'Humph!' the miser ejaculated. 'That's better than a bat in the eye +with a burnt stick.' From him, this was the superlative of praise. +'You're making good money at any rate?' + +'We are,' said Mynors. + +'That reminds me,' Ephraim remarked gruffly. 'When dost think o' +getting wed? I'm not much for long engagements, and so I tell ye.' He +threw a cold glance sideways at Anna. The idea penetrated her heart +like a stab: 'He wants to get me out of the house!' + +'Well,' said Mynors, surprised at the question and the tone, and, +looking at Anna as if for an explanation: 'I had scarcely thought of +that. What does Anna say?' + +'I don't know,' she murmured; and then, more bravely, in a louder +voice, and with a smile: 'The sooner the better.' She thought, in her +bitter and painful resentment: 'If he wants me to go, go I will.' + +Henry tactfully passed on to another phase of the subject: 'I met Mr. +Sutton yesterday, and he was telling me of Price's house up at Toft +End. It belonged to Mr. Price, but of course it was mortgaged up to +the hilt. The mortgagees have taken possession, and Mr. Sutton said it +would be to let cheap at Christmas. Of course Willie and old Sarah +Vodrey, the housekeeper, will clear out. I was thinking it might do +for us. It's not a bad sort of house, or, rather, it won't be when +it's repaired.' + +'What will they ask for it?' Ephraim inquired. + +'Twenty-five or twenty-eight. It's a nice large house--four bedrooms, +and a very good garden.' + +'Four bedrooms!' the miser exclaimed. 'What dost want wi' four +bedrooms? You'd have for keep a servant.' + +'Naturally we should keep a servant,' Mynors said, with calm politeness. + +'You could get one o' them new houses up by th' park for fifteen pounds +as would do you well enough'; the miser protested against these dreams +of extravagance. + +'I don't care for that part of the town,' said Mynors. 'It's too new +for my taste.' + +After tea, when Henry and Anna went out for the Saturday evening +stroll, Mynors suddenly suggested: 'Why not go up and look through that +house of Price's?' + +'Won't it seem like turning them out if we happen to take it?' she +asked. + +'Turning them out! Willie is bound to leave it. What use is it to +him? Besides, it's in the hands of the mortgagees now. Why shouldn't +we take it just as well as anybody else, if it suits us?' + +Anna had no reply, and she surrendered herself placidly enough to his +will; nevertheless she could not entirely banish a misgiving that +Willie Price was again to be victimised. Infinitely more disturbing +than this illogical sensation, however, was the instinctive and sure +knowledge, revealed in a flash, that her father wished to be rid of +her. So implacable, then, was his animosity against her! Never, never +had she been so deeply hurt. The wound, in fact, was so severe that at +first she felt only a numbness that reduced everything to unimportance, +robbing her of volition. She walked up to Toft End as if walking in +her sleep. + +Price's house, sometimes called Priory House, in accordance with a +legend that a priory had once occupied the site, stood in the middle of +the mean and struggling suburb of Toft End, which was flung up the +hillside like a ragged scarf. Built of red brick, towards the end of +the eighteenth century, double-fronted, with small, evenly disposed +windows, and a chimney stack at either side, it looked westward over +the town smoke towards a horizon of hills. It had a long, narrow +garden, which ran parallel with the road. Behind it, adjoining, was a +small, disused potworks, already advanced in decay. On the north side, +and enclosed by a brick wall which surrounded also the garden, was a +small orchard of sterile and withered fruit trees. In parts the wall +had crumpled under the assaults of generations of boys, and from the +orchard, through the gaps, could be seen an expanse of grey-green +field, with a few abandoned pit-shafts scattered over it. These +shafts, imperfectly protected by ruinous masonry, presented an +appearance strangely sinister and forlorn, raising visions in the mind +of dark and mysterious depths peopled with miserable ghosts of those +who had toiled there in the days when to be a miner was to be a slave. +The whole place, house and garden, looked ashamed and sad, with a +shabby mournfulness acquired gradually from its inmates during many +years. But, nevertheless, the house was substantial, and the air on +that height fresh and pure. + +Mynors rang in vain at the front door, and then they walked round the +house to the orchard, and discovered Sarah Vodrey taking in clothes +from a line--a diminutive and wasted figure, with scanty, grey hair, a +tiny face permanently soured, and bony hands contorted by rheumatism. + +'My rheumatism's that bad,' she said in response to greetings, 'I can +scarce move about, and this house is a regular barracks to keep clean. +No; Willie's not in. He's at th' works, as usual--Saturday like any +other day. I'm by myself here all day and every day. But I reckon +us'n be flitting soon, and me lived here eight-and-twenty year! Praise +God, there's a mansion up there for me at last. And not sorry shall I +be when He calls.' + +'It must be very lonely for you, Miss Vodrey,' said Mynors. He knew +exactly how to speak to this dame who lived her life like a fly between +two panes of glass, and who could find room in her head for only three +ideas, namely: that God and herself were on terms of intimacy; that she +was, and had always been, indispensable to the Price family; and that +her social status was far above that of a servant. 'It's a pity you +never married,' Mynors added. + +'Me, marry! What would _they_ ha' done without me? No, I'm none for +marriage and never was. I'd be shamed to be like some o' them +spinsters down at chapel, always hanging round chapel-yard on the +off-chance of a service, to catch that there young Mr. Sargent, the new +minister. It's a sign of a hard winter, Miss Terrick, when the hay +runs after the horse, that's what I say.' + +'Miss Tellwright and myself are in search of a house,' Mynors gently +interrupted the flow, and gave her a peculiar glance which she +appreciated. 'We heard you and Willie were going to leave here, and so +we came up just to look over the place, if it's quite convenient to +you.' + +'Eh, I understand ye,' she said; 'come in. But ye mun tak' things as +ye find 'em, Miss Terrick.' + +Dismal and unkempt, the interior of the house matched the exterior. +The carpets were threadbare, the discoloured wall-papers hung loose on +the walls, the ceilings were almost black, the paint had nearly been +rubbed away from the woodwork; the exhausted furniture looked as if it +would fall to pieces in despair if compelled to face the threatened +ordeal of an auction-sale. But to Anna the rooms were surprisingly +large, and there seemed so many of them! It was as if she were +exploring an immense abode, like a castle, with odd chambers +continually showing themselves in unexpected places. The upper story +was even less inviting than the ground-floor--barer, more chill, +utterly comfortless. + +'This is the best bedroom,' said Miss Vodrey. 'And a rare big room +too! It's not used now. _He_ slept here. Willie sleeps at back.' + +'A very nice room,' Mynors agreed blandly, and measured it, as he had +done all the others, with a two-foot, entering the figures in his +pocket-book. + +Anna's eye wandered uneasily across the room, with its dismantled bed +and decrepit mahogany suite. + +'I'm glad he hanged himself at the works, and not here,' she thought. +Then she looked out at the window. 'What a splendid view!' she +remarked to Mynors. + +She saw that he had taken a fancy to the house. The sagacious fellow +esteemed it, not as it was, but as it would be, re-papered, re-painted, +re-furnished, the outer walls pointed, the garden stocked; everything +cleansed, brightened, renewed. And there was indeed much to be said +for his fancy. The house was large, with plenty of ground; the +boundary wall secured that privacy which young husbands and young wives +instinctively demand; the outlook was unlimited, the air the purest in +the Five Towns. And the rent was low, because the great majority of +those who could afford such a house would never deign to exist in a +quarter so poverty-stricken and unfashionable. + +After leaving the house they continued their walk up the hill, and then +turned off to the left on the high road from Hanbridge to Moorthorne. +The venerable but not dignified town lay below them, a huddled medley +of brown brick under a thick black cloud of smoke. The gold angel of +the town-hall gleamed in the evening light, and the dark, squat tower +of the parish church, sole relic of the past stood out grim and +obdurate amid the featureless buildings which surrounded it. To the +north and east miles of moorland, defaced by collieries and murky +hamlets, ran to the horizon. Across the great field at their feet a +figure slouched along, past the abandoned pit-shafts. They both +recognised the man. + +'There's Willie Price going home!' said Mynors. + +'He looks tired,' she said. She was relieved that they had not met him +at the house. + +'I say,' Mynors began earnestly, after a pause, 'why shouldn't we get +married soon, since the old gentleman seems rather to expect it? He's +been rather awkward lately, hasn't he?' + +This was the only reference made by Mynors to her father's temper. She +nodded. 'How soon? she asked. + +'Well, I was just thinking. Suppose, for the sake of argument, this +house turns out all right. I couldn't get it thoroughly done up much +before the middle of January--couldn't begin till these people had +moved. Suppose we said early in February?' + +'Yes!' + +'Could you be ready by that time?' + +'Oh, yes,' she answered, 'I could be ready.' + +'Well, why shouldn't we fix February, then?' + +'There's the question of Agnes,' she said. + +'Yes; and there will always be the question of Agnes. Your father will +have to get a housekeeper. You and I will be able to see after little +Agnes, never fear.' So, with tenderness in his voice, he reassured her +on that point. + +'Why not February?' she reflected. 'Why not to-morrow, as father wants +me out of the house?' + +It was agreed. + +'I've taken the Priory, subject to your approval,' Henry said, less +than a fortnight later. From that time he invariably referred to the +place as the Priory. + + +It was on the very night after this eager announcement that the +approaching tragedy came one step nearer. Beatrice, in a modest +evening-dress, with a white cloak--excited, hurried, and important--ran +in to speak to Anna. The carriage was waiting outside. She and her +father and mother had to attend a very important dinner at the mayor's +house at Hillport, in connection with Mr. Sutton's impending mayoralty. +Old Sarah Vodrey had just sent down a girl to say that she was unwell, +and would be grateful if Mrs. Sutton or Beatrice would visit her. It +was a most unreasonable time for such a summons, but Sarah was a +fidgety old crotchet, and knew how frightfully good-natured Mrs. Sutton +was. Would Anna mind going up to Toft End? And would Anna come out to +the carriage and personally assure Mrs. Sutton that old Sarah should be +attended to? If not, Beatrice was afraid her mother would take it into +her head to do something stupid. + +'It's very good of you, Anna,' said Mrs. Sutton, when Anna went outside +with Beatrice. 'But I think I'd better go myself. The poor old thing +may feel slighted if I don't, and Beatrice can well take my place at +this affair at Hillport, which I've no mind for.' She was already half +out of the carriage. + +'Nothing of the kind,' said Anna firmly, pushing her back. 'I shall be +delighted to go and do what I can.' + +'That's right, Anna,' said the Alderman from the darkness of the +carriage, where his shirt-front gleamed; 'Bee said you'd go, and we're +much obliged to ye.' + +'I expect it will be nothing,' said Beatrice, as the vehicle drove off; +'Sarah has served mother this trick before now.' + +As Anna opened the garden-gate of the Priory she discerned a figure +amid the rank bushes, which had been allowed to grow till they almost +met across the narrow path leading to the front door of the house. + +It was a thick and mysterious night--such a night as death chooses; and +Anna jumped in vague terror at the apparition. + +'Who's there?' said a voice sharply. + +'It's me,' said Anna. 'Miss Vodrey sent down to ask Mrs. Sutton to +come up and see her, but Mrs. Sutton had an engagement, so I came +instead.' + +The figure moved forward; it was Willie Price. + +He peered into her face, and she could see the mortal pallor of his +cheeks. + +'Oh!' he exclaimed, 'it's Miss Tellwright, is it? Will ye come in, +Miss Tellwright?' + +She followed him with beating heart, alarmed, apprehensive. The front +door stood wide open, and at the far end of the gloomy passage a faint +light shone from the open door of the kitchen. 'This way,' he said. +In the large, bare, stone-floored kitchen Sarah Vodrey sat limp and +with closed eyes in an old rocking-chair close to the fireless range. +The window, which gave on to the street, was open; through that window +Sarah, in her extremity, had called the child who ran down to Mrs. +Sutton's. On the deal table were a dirty cup and saucer, a tea-pot, +bread, butter, and a lighted candle--sole illumination of the chamber. + +'I come home, and I find this,' he said. + +Daunted for a moment by the scene of misery, Anna could say nothing. + +'I find this,' he repeated, as if accusing God of spitefulness; and he +lifted the candle to show the apparently insensible form of the woman. +Sarah's wrinkled and seamed face had the flush of fever, and the +features were drawn into the expression of a terrible anxiety; her +hands hung loose; she breathed like a dog after a run. + +'I wanted her to have the doctor yesterday,' he said, 'but she +wouldn't. Ever since you and Mr. Mynors called she's been cleaning the +house down. She said you'd happen be coming again soon, and the place +wasn't fit to be seen. No use me arguing with her.' + +'You had better run for a doctor,' Anna said. + +'I was just going off when you came. She's been complaining more of +her rheumatism, and pain in her hips, lately.' + +'Go now; fetch Mr. Macpherson, and call at our house and say I shall +stay here all night. Wait a moment.' Seeing that he was exhausted +from lack of food, she cut a thick piece of bread-and-butter. 'Eat +this as you go,' she said. + +'I can't eat; it'll choke me.' + +'Let it choke you,' she said. 'You've got to swallow it.' + +Child of a hundred sorrows, he must be treated as a child. As soon as +Willie was gone she took off her hat and jacket, and lit a lamp; there +was no gas in the kitchen. + +'What's that light?' the old woman asked peevishly, rousing herself and +sitting up. 'I doubt I'll be late with Willie's tea. Eh, Miss +Terrick, what's amiss?' + +'You're not quite well, Miss Vodrey,' Anna answered. 'If you'll show +me your room, I'll see you into bed.' Without giving her a moment for +hesitation, Anna seized the feeble creature under the arms, and so, +coaxing, supporting, carrying, got her to bed. At length she lay on +the narrow mattress, panting, exhausted. It was Sarah's final effort. + +Anna lit fires in the kitchen and in the bedroom, and when Willie +returned with Dr. Macpherson, water was boiling and tea made. + +'You'd better get a woman in,' said the doctor curtly, in the kitchen, +when he had finished his examination of Sarah. 'Some neighbour for +to-night, and I'll send a nurse up from the cottage-hospital early +to-morrow morning. Not that it will be the least use. She must have +been dying for the last two days at least. She's got pericarditis and +pleurisy. She's breathing I don't know how many to the minute, and her +temperature is just about as high as it can be. It all follows from +rheumatism, and then taking cold. Gross carelessness and neglect all +through! I've no patience with such work.' He turned angrily to +Willie. 'I don't know what on earth you were thinking of, Mr. Price, +not to send for me earlier.' + +Willie, abashed and guilty, found nothing to say. His eye had the meek +wistfulness of Holman Hunt's 'Scapegoat.' + +'Mr. Price wanted her to have the doctor,' said Anna, defending him +with warmth; 'but she wouldn't. He is out at the works all day till +late at night. How was he to know how she was? She could walk about.' + +The tall doctor glanced at Anna in surprise, and at once modified his +tone. 'Yes,' he said, 'that's the curious thing. It passes me how she +managed to get about. But there is no knowing what an obstinate woman +won't force herself to do. I'll send the medicine up to-night, and +come along myself with the nurse early to-morrow. Meantime, keep +carefully to my instructions.' + +That night remains for ever fixed in Anna's memory: the grim rooms, +echoing and shadowy; the countless journeys up and down dark stairs and +passages; Willie sitting always immovable in the kitchen, idle because +there was nothing for him to do; Sarah incessantly panting on the +truckle-bed; the hired woman from up the street, buxom, kindly, useful, +but fatuous in the endless monotony of her commiserations. + +Towards morning, Sarah Vodrey gave sign of a desire to talk. + +'I've fought the fight,' she murmured to Anna, who alone was in the +bedroom with her, 'I've fought the fight; I've kept the faith. In that +box there ye'll see a purse. There's seventeen pounds six in it. That +will pay for the funeral, and Willie must have what's over. There +would ha' been more for the lad, but he never paid me no wages this two +years past. I never troubled him.' + +'Don't tell Willie that,' Anna said impetuously. + +'Eh, bless ye, no!' said the dying drudge, and then seemed to doze. + +Anna went to the kitchen, and sent the woman upstairs. + +'How is she?' asked Willie, without stirring. Anna shook her head. +'Neither her nor me will be here much longer, I'm thinking,' he said, +smiling wearily. + +'What?' she exclaimed, startled. + +'Mr. Sutton has arranged to sell our business as a going-concern--some +people at Turnhill are buying it. I shall go to Australia; there's no +room for me here. The creditors have promised to allow me twenty-five +pounds, and I can get an assisted passage. Bursley'll know me no more. +But--but--I shall always remember you and what you've done.' + +She longed to kneel at his feet, and to comfort him, and to cry: 'It is +I who have ruined you--driven your father to cheating his servant, to +crime, to suicide; driven you to forgery, and turned you out of your +house which your old servant killed herself in making clean for me. I +have wronged you, and I love you like a mother because I have wronged +you and because I saved you from prison.' + +But she said nothing except: 'Some of us will miss you.' + +The next day Sarah Vodrey died--she who had never lived save in the +fetters of slavery and fanaticism. After fifty years of ceaseless +labour, she had gained the affection of one person, and enough money to +pay for her own funeral. Willie Price took a cheap lodging with the +woman who had been called in on the night of Sarah's collapse. Before +Christmas he was to sail for Melbourne. The Priory, deserted, gave up +its rickety furniture to a van from Hanbridge, where, in an +auction-room, the frail sticks lost their identity in a medley of other +sticks, and ceased to be. Then the bricklayer, the plasterer, the +painter, and the paper-hanger came to the Priory, and whistled and sang +in it. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE BAZAAR + +The Wesleyan Bazaar, the greatest undertaking of its kind ever known in +Bursley, gradually became a cloud which filled the entire social +horizon. Mrs. Sutton, organiser of the Sunday-school stall, pressed +all her friends into the service, and a fortnight after the death of +Sarah Vodrey, Anna and even Agnes gave much of their spare time to the +work, which was carried on under pressure increasing daily as the final +moments approached. This was well for Anna, in that it diverted her +thoughts by keeping her energies fully engaged. One morning, however, +it occurred to Mrs. Sutton to reflect that Anna, at such a period of +life, should be otherwise employed. Anna had called at the Suttons' to +deliver some finished garments. + +'My dear,' she said, 'I am very much obliged to you for all this +industry. But I've been thinking that as you are to be married in +February you ought to be preparing your things.' + +'My things!' Anna repeated idly; and then she remembered Mynors' +phrase, on the hill, 'Can you be ready by that time?' + +'Yes,' said Mrs. Sutton; 'but possibly you've been getting forward with +them on the quiet.' + +'Tell me,' said Anna, with an air of interest; 'I've meant to ask you +before: Is it the bride's place to provide all the house-linen, and +that sort of thing?' + +'It was in my day; but those things alter so. The bride took all the +house-linen to her husband, and as many clothes for herself as would +last a year; that was the rule. We used to stitch everything at home +in those days--everything; and we had what we called a "bottom drawer" +to store them in. As soon as a girl passed her fifteenth birthday, she +began to sew for the "bottom drawer." But all those things change so, +I dare say it's different now.' + +'How much will it cost to buy everything, do you think?' Anna asked. + +Just then Beatrice entered the room. + +'Beatrice, Anna is inquiring how much it will cost to buy her +trousseau, and the house-linen. What do you say?' + +'Oh!' Beatrice replied, without any hesitation, 'a couple of hundred at +least.' + +Mrs. Sutton, reading Anna's face, smiled reassuringly. 'Nonsense, Bee! +I dare say you could do it on a hundred with care, Anna.' + +'Why should Anna want to do it with care?' Beatrice asked curtly. + +Anna went straight across the road to her father, and asked him for a +hundred pounds of her own money. She had not spoken to him, save under +necessity, since the evening spent at the Suttons'. + +'What's afoot now?' he questioned savagely. + +'I must buy things for the wedding--clothes and things, father.' + +'Ay! clothes! clothes! What clothes dost want? A few pounds will +cover them.' + +'There'll be all the linen for the house.' + +'Linen for---- It's none thy place for buy that.' + +'Yes, father, it is.' + +'I say it isna',' he shouted. + +'But I've asked Mrs. Sutton, and she says it is.' + +'What business an' ye for go blabbing thy affairs all over Bosley? I +say it isna' thy place for buy linen, and let that be sufficient. Go +and get dinner. It's nigh on twelve now.' + +That evening, when Agnes had gone to bed, she resumed the struggle. + +'Father, I must have that hundred pounds. I really must. I mean it.' + +'_Thou means it_! What?' + +'I mean I must have a hundred pounds.' + +'I'd advise thee to tak' care o' thy tongue, my lass. _Thou means it_!' + +'But you needn't give it me all at once,' she pursued. + +He gazed at her, glowering. + +'I shanna' give it thee. It's Henry's place for buy th' house-linen.' + +'Father, it isn't.' Her voice broke, but only for an instant. 'I'm +asking you for my own money. You seem to want to make me miserable +just before my wedding.' + +'I wish to God thou 'dst never seen Henry Mynors. It's given thee +pride and made thee undutiful.' + +'I'm only asking you for my own money.' + +Her calm insistence maddened him. Jumping up from his chair, he +stamped out of the room, and she heard him strike a match in his +office. Presently he returned, and threw angrily on to the table in +front of her a cheque-book and pass-book. The deposit-book she had +always kept herself for convenience of paying into the bank. + +'Here,' he said scornfully, 'tak' thy traps and ne'er speak to me +again. I wash my hands of ye. Tak' 'em and do what ye'n a mind. +Chuck thy money into th' cut[1] for aught I care.' + +The next evening Henry came up. She observed that his face had a grave +look, but intent on her own difficulties she did not remark on it, and +proceeded at once to do what she resolved to do. It was a cold night +in November, yet the miser, wrathfully sullen, chose to sit in his +office without a fire. Agnes was working sums in the kitchen. + +'Henry,' Anna began, 'I've had a difficulty with father, and I must +tell you.' + +'Not about the wedding, I hope,' he said. + +'It was about money. Of course, Henry, I can't get married without a +lot of money.' + +'Why not?' he inquired. + +'I've my own things to get,' she said, 'and I've all the house-linen to +buy.' + +'Oh! You buy the house-linen, do you?' She saw that he was relieved +by that information. + +'Of course. Well, I told father I must have a hundred pounds, and he +wouldn't give it me. And when I stuck to him he got angry--you know he +can't bear to see money spent--and at last he get a little savage and +gave me my bank-books, and said he'd have nothing more to do with my +money.' + +Henry's face broke into a laugh, and Anna was obliged to smile. +'Capital!' he said. 'Couldn't be better.' + +'I want you to tell me how much I've got in the bank,' she said. 'I +only know I'm always paying in odd cheques.' + +He examined the three books. 'A very tidy bit,' he said; 'something +over two hundred and fifty pounds. So you can draw cheques at your +ease.' + +'Draw me a cheque for twenty pounds,' she said; and then, while he +wrote: 'Henry, after we're married, I shall want you to take charge of +all this.' + +'Yes, of course; I will do that, dear. But your money will be yours. +There ought to be a settlement on you. Still, if your father says +nothing, it is not for me to say anything.' + +'Father will say nothing--now,' she said. 'You've never shown any +interest in it, Henry; but as we're talking of money, I may as well +tell you that father says I'm worth fifty thousand pounds.' + +The man of business was astonished and enraptured beyond measure. His +countenance shone with delight. + +'Surely not!' he protested formally. + +'That's what father told me, and he made me read a list of shares, and +so on.' + +'We will go slow, to begin with,' said Mynors solemnly. He had not +expected more than fifteen, or twenty thousand pounds, and even this +sum had dazzled his imagination. He was glad that he had only taken +the house at Toft End on a yearly tenancy. He now saw himself the +dominant figure in all the Five Towns. + +Later in the evening he disclosed, perfunctorily, the matter which had +been a serious weight on his mind when he entered the house, but which +this revelation of vast wealth had diminished to a trifle. Titus Price +had been the treasurer of the building fund which the bazaar was +designed to assist. Mynors had assumed the position of the dead man, +and that day, in going through the accounts, he had discovered that a +sum of fifty pounds was missing. + +'It's a dreadful thing for Willie, if it gets about,' he said; 'a tale +of that sort would follow him to Australia.' + +'Oh, Henry, it is!' she exclaimed, sorrow-stricken, 'but we mustn't let +it get about. Let us pay the money ourselves. You must enter it in +the books and say nothing.' + +'That is impossible,' he said firmly. 'I can't alter the accounts. At +least I can't alter the bank-book and the vouchers. The auditor would +detect it in a minute. Besides, I should not be doing my duty if I +kept a thing like this from the Superintendent-minister. He, at any +rate, must know, and perhaps the stewards.' + +'But you can urge them to say nothing. Tell them that you will make it +good. I will write a cheque at once.' + +'I had meant to find the fifty myself,' he said. It was a peddling sum +to him now. + +'Let me pay half, then,' she asked. + +'If you like,' he urged, smiling faintly at her eagerness. 'The thing +is bound to be kept quiet--it would create such a frightful scandal. +Poor old chap!' he added, carelessly, 'I suppose he was hard run, and +meant to put it back--as they all do mean.' + +But it was useless for Mynors to affect depression of spirits, or +mournful sympathy with the errors of a dead sinner. The fifty thousand +danced a jig in his brain that night. + +Anna was absorbed in contemplating the misfortune of Willie Price. She +prayed wildly that he might never learn the full depth of his father's +fall. The miserable robbery of Sarah's wages was buried for evermore, +and this new delinquency, which all would regard as flagrant sacrilege, +must be buried also. A soul less loyal than Anna's might have feared +that Willie, a self-convicted forger, had been a party to the +embezzlement; but Anna knew that it could not be so. + +It was characteristic of Mynors' cautious prudence that, the first +intoxication having passed, he made no further reference of any kind to +Anna's fortune. The arrangements for their married life were planned +on a scale which ignored the fifty thousand pounds. For both their +sakes he wished to avoid all friction with the miser, at any rate until +his status as Anna's husband would enable him to enforce her rights, if +that should be necessary, with dignity and effectiveness. He did not +precisely anticipate trouble, but the fact had not escaped him that +Ephraim still held the whole of Anna's securities. He was in no hurry +to enlarge his borders. He knew that there were twenty-four hours in +every day, three hundred and sixty-five days in every year, and thirty +good years in life still left to him; and therefore that there would be +ample time, after the wedding, for the execution of his purposes in +regard to that fifty thousand pounds. Meanwhile, he told Anna that he +had set aside two hundred pounds for the purchase of furniture for the +Priory--a modest sum; but he judged it sufficient. His method was to +buy a piece at a time, always second-hand, but always good. The +bargain-hunt was up, and Anna soon yielded to its mild satisfactions. +In the matter of her trousseau and the house-linen, Anna, having +obtained the needed money--at so dear a cost--found yet another +obstacle in the imminent bazaar, which occupied Mrs. Sutton and +Beatrice so completely that they could not contrive any opportunity to +assist her in shopping. It was decided between them that every article +should be bought ready-made and seamed, and that the first week of the +New Year, if indeed Mrs. Sutton survived the bazaar, should be entirely +and absolutely devoted to Anna's business. + +At nights, when she had leisure to think, Anna was astonished how +during the day she had forgotten her preoccupations in the activities +precendent to the bazaar, or in choosing furniture with Mynors. But +she never slept without thinking of Willie Price, and hoping that no +further disaster might overtake him. The incident of the embezzled +fifty pounds had been closed, and she had given a cheque for +twenty-five pounds to Mynors. He had acquainted the minister with the +facts, and Mr. Banks had decided that the two circuit stewards must be +informed. Beyond these the scandalous secret was not to go. But Anna +wondered whether a secret shared by five persons could long remain a +secret. + +The bazaar was a triumphant and unparalleled success, and, of the seven +stalls, the Sunday-school stall stood first each night in the nightly +returns. The scene in the town-hall, on the fourth and final night, a +Saturday, was as delirious and gay as a carnival. Four hundred and +twenty pounds had been raised up to tea-time, and it was the +impassioned desire of everyone to achieve five hundred. The price of +admission had been reduced to threepence, in order that the artisan +might enter and spend his wages in an excellent cause. The seven +stalls, ranged round the room like so many bowers of beauty, draped and +frilled and floriated, and still laden with countless articles of use +and ornament, were continually reinforced with purchasers by emissaries +canvassing the crowd which filled the middle of the paper-strewn floor. +The horse was not only taken to the water, but compelled to drink; and +many a man who, outside, would have laughed at the risk of being +robbed, was robbed openly, shamelessly, under the gaze of ministers and +class-leaders. Bouquets were sold at a shilling each, and at the +refreshment stall a glass of milk cost sixpence. The noise rivalled +that of a fair; there was no quiet anywhere, save in the farthest +recess of each stall, where the lady in supreme charge of it, like a +spider in the middle of its web, watched customers and cash-box with +equal cupidity. + +Mrs. Sutton, at seven o'clock, had not returned from tea, and Anna and +Beatrice, who managed the Sunday-school stall in her absence, feared +that she had at last succumbed under the strain. But shortly +afterwards she hurried back breathless to her place. + +'See that, Anna? It will be reckoned in our returns,' she said, +exhibiting a piece of paper. It was Ephraim's cheque for twenty-five +pounds promised months ago, but on a condition which had not been +fulfilled. + +'She has the secret of persuading him,' thought Anna. 'Why have I +never found it?' + +Then Agnes, in a new white frock, came up with three shillings, +proceeds of bouquets. + +'But you must take that to the flower-stall, my pet,' said Mrs. Sutton. + +'Can't I give it to you?' the child pleaded. 'I want your stall to be +the best.' + +Mynors arrived next, with something concealed in tissue-paper. He +removed the paper, and showed, in a frame of crimson plush, a common +white plate decorated with a simple band and line, and a monogram in +the centre--'A.T.' Anna blushed, recognising the plate which she had +painted that afternoon in July at Mynors' works. + +'Can you sell this?' Mynors asked Mrs. Sutton. + +'I'll try to,' said Mrs. Sutton doubtfully--not in the secret. 'What's +it meant for?' + +'Try to sell it to me,' said Mynors. + +'Well,' she laughed, 'what will you give?' + +'A couple of sovereigns.' + +'Make it guineas.' + +He paid the money, and requested Anna to keep the plate for him. + +At nine o'clock it was announced that, though raffling was forbidden, +the bazaar would be enlivened by an auction. A licensed auctioneer was +brought, and the sale commenced. The auctioneer, however, failed to +attune himself to the wild spirit of the hour, and his professional +efforts would have resulted in a fiasco had not Mynors, perceiving the +danger, leaped to the platform and masterfully assumed the hammer. +Mynors surpassed himself in the kind of wit that amuses an excited +crowd, and the auction soon monopolised the attention of the room; it +was always afterwards remembered as the crowning success of the bazaar. +The incredible man took ten pounds in twenty minutes. During this +episode Anna, who had been left alone in the stall, first noticed +Willie Price in the room. His ship sailed on the Monday, but steerage +passengers had to be aboard on Sunday, and he was saying good-bye to a +few acquaintances. He seemed quite cheerful, as he walked about with +his hands in his pockets, chatting with this one and that; it was the +false and hysterical gaiety that precedes a final separation. As soon +as he saw Anna he came towards her. + +'Well, good-bye, Miss Tellwright,' he said jauntily. 'I leave for +Liverpool to-morrow morning. Wish me luck.' + +Nothing more; no word, no accent, to recall the terrible but sublime +past. + +'I do,' she answered. They shook hands. Others approaching, he +drifted away. Her glance followed him like a beneficent influence. + +For three days she had carried in her pocket an envelope containing a +bank-note for a hundred pounds, intending by some device to force it on +him as a parting gift. Now the last chance was lost, and she had not +even attempted this difficult feat of charity. Such futility, she +reflected, self-scorning, was of a piece with her life. 'He hasn't +really gone. He hasn't really gone,' she kept repeating, and yet knew +well that he had gone. + +'Do you know what they are saying, Anna?' said Beatrice, when, after +eleven o'clock, the bazaar was closed to the public, and the +stall-holders and their assistants were preparing to depart, their +movements hastened by the stern aspect of the town-hall keeper. + +'No. What?' said Anna; and in the same moment guessed. + +'They say old Titus Price embezzled fifty pounds from the building +fund, and Henry made it up, privately, so that there shouldn't be a +scandal. Just fancy! Do you believe it?' + +The secret was abroad. She looked round the room, and saw it in every +face. + +'Who says?' Anna demanded fiercely. + +'It's all over the place. Miss Dickinson told me.' + +'You will be glad to know, ladies,' Mynors' voice sang out from the +platform, 'that the total proceeds, so far as we can calculate them +now, exceed five hundred and twenty-five pounds.' + +There was clapping of hands, which died out suddenly. + +'Now Agnes,' Anna called, 'come along, quick; you're as white as a +sheet. Good-night, Mrs. Sutton; good-night, Bee.' + +Mynors was still occupied on the platform. + +The town-hall keeper extinguished some of the lights. The bazaar was +over. + + + +[1] _Cut_: canal. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +END OF A SIMPLE SOUL + +The next morning, at half-past seven, Anna was standing in the +garden-doorway of the Priory. The sun had just risen, the air was +cold; roof and pavement were damp; rain had fallen, and more was to +fall. A door opened higher up the street, and Willie Price came out, +carrying a small bag. He turned to speak to some person within the +house, and then stepped forward. As he passed Anna she sprang forth. + +'Oh!' she cried, 'I had just come up here to see if the workmen had +locked up properly. We have some of our new furniture in the house, +you know.' She was as red as the sun over Hillport. + +He glanced at her. 'Have _you_ heard?' he asked simply. + +'About what?' she whispered. + +'About my poor old father.' + +'Yes. I was hoping--hoping you would never know.' + +By a common impulse they went into the garden of the Priory, and he +shut the door. + +'Never know?' he repeated. 'Oh! they took care to tell me.' + +A silence followed. + +'Is that your luggage?' she inquired. He lifted up the handbag, and +nodded. + +'All of it?' + +'Yes,' he said. 'I'm only an emigrant.' + +'I've got a note here for you,' she said. 'I should have posted it to +the steamer; but now you can take it yourself. I want you not to read +it till you get to Melbourne.' + +'Very well,' he said, and crumpled the proffered envelope into his +pocket. He was not thinking of the note at all. Presently he asked: +'Why didn't you tell me about my father? If I had to hear it, I'd +sooner have heard it from you.' + +'You must try to forget it,' she urged him. 'You are not your father.' + +'I wish I had never been born,' he said. 'I wish I'd gone to prison.' + +Now was the moment when, if ever, the mother's influence should be +exerted. + +'Be a man,' she said softly. 'I did the best I could for you. I shall +always think of you, in Australia, getting on.' + +She put a hand on his shoulder. 'Yes,' she said again, passionately: +'I shall always remember you--always.' + +The hand with which he touched her arm shook like an old man's hand. +As their eyes met in an intense and painful gaze, to her, at least, it +was revealed that they were lovers. What he had learnt in that instant +can only be guessed from his next action.... + + +Anna ran out of the garden into the street, and so home, never looking +behind to see if he pursued his way to the station. + +Some may argue that Anna, knowing she loved another man, ought not to +have married Mynors. But she did not reason thus; such a notion never +even occurred to her. She had promised to marry Mynors, and she +married him. Nothing else was possible. She who had never failed in +duty did not fail then. She who had always submitted and bowed the +head, submitted and bowed the head then. She had sucked in with her +mother's milk the profound truth that a woman's life is always a +renunciation, greater or less. Hers by chance was greater. Facing the +future calmly and genially, she took oath with herself to be a good +wife to the man whom, with all his excellences, she had never loved. +Her thoughts often dwelt lovingly on Willie Price, whom she deemed to +be pursuing in Australia an honourable and successful career, quickened +at the outset by her hundred pounds. This vision of him was her stay. +But neither she nor anyone in the Five Towns or elsewhere ever heard of +Willie Price again. And well might none hear! The abandoned pitshaft +does not deliver up its secret. And so--the Bank of England is the +richer by a hundred pounds unclaimed, and the world the poorer by a +simple and meek soul stung to revolt only in its last hour. + + + + +_Jamieson & Munro, Ltd., Printers, Stirling._ + + + + + Uniform with this Volume + + + 36 De Profundis Oscar Wilde + 37 Lord Arthur Savile's Crime Oscar Wilde + 38 Selected Poems Oscar Wilde + 39 An Ideal Husband Oscar Wilde + 40 Intentions Oscar Wilde + 41 Lady Windermere's Fan Oscar Wilde + 42 Charmides and other Poems Oscar Wilde + 43 Harvest Home E. V. Lucas + 44 A Little of Everything E. V. Lucas + 45 Vallima Letters Robert Louis Stevenson + 46 Hills and the Sea Hilaire Belloc + 47 The Blue Bird Maurice Maeterlinck + 50 Charles Dickens G. K. Chesterton + 53 Letters from Self-Made Merchant to his Son George Horace Larimer + 54 The Life of John Ruskin W. G. Collingwood + 57 Sevastopol and other Stories Leo Tolstoy + 58 The Lore of the Honey-Bee Tickner Edwardes + 60 From Midshipman to Field Marshal Sir Evelyn Wood + 63 Oscar Wilde Arthur Ransome + 64 The Vicar of Morwenstow S. Baring-Gould + 65 Old Country Life S. Baring-Gould + 76 Home Life in France M. Betham-Edwards + 77 Selected Prose Oscar Wilde + 78 The Best of Lamb E. V. Lucas + 80 Selected Letters Robert Louis Stevenson + 83 Reason and Belief Sir Oliver Lodge + 85 The Importance of Being Earnest Oscar Wilde + 91 Social Evils and their Remedy Leo Tolstoy + 93 The Substance of Faith Sir Oliver Lodge + 94 All Things Considered G. K. Chesterton + 95 The Mirror of the Sea Joseph Conrad + 96 A Picked Company Hilaire Belloc + 116 The Survival of Man Sir Oliver Lodge + 126 Science from an Easy Chair Sir Ray Lankester + 141 Variety Lane E. V. Lucas + 144 A Shilling for my Thoughts G. K. Chesterton + 146 A Woman of No Importance Oscar Wilde + 149 A Shepherd's Life W. H. Hudson + 193 On Nothing Hilaire Belloc + 300 Jane Austen and her Times G. E. Mitton + 114 Select Essays Maurice Maeterlinck + 218 R. L. S. Francis Watt + 223 Two Generations Leo Tolstoy + 126 On Everything Hilaire Belloc + 934 Records and Reminiscences Sir Francis Burnand + 253 My Childhood and Boyhood Leo Tolstoy + 254 On Something Hilaire Belloc + + + A Selection only. + + + Uniform with this Volume + + + 1 The Mighty Atom Marie Corelli + 2 Jane Marie Corelli + 3 Boy Marie Corelli + 4 Spanish Gold G. A. Birmingham + 5 The Search Party G. A. Birmingham + 6 Teresa of Watling Street Arnold Bennett + 9 The Unofficial Honeymoon Dolf Wyllarde + 12 The Demon C. N. and A. M. Williamson + 17 Joseph Frank Danby + 18 Round the Red Lamp Sir A. Conan Doyle + 20 Light Freights W. W. Jacobs + 22 The Long Road John Oxenham + 71 The Gates of Wrath Arnold Bennett + 72 Short Cruises W. W. Jacobs + 81 The Card Arnold Bennett + 87 Lalage's Lovers G. A. Birmingham + 93 White Fang Jack London + 105 The Wallet of Kai Lung Ernest Bramah + 108 The Adventures of Dr. Whitty G. A. Birmingham + 113 Lavender and Old Lace Myrtle Reed + 115 Old Rose and Silver Myrtle Reed + 122 The Double Life of Mr. Alfred Burton E. Phillips Oppenheim + 125 The Regent Arnold Bennett + 127 Sally Dorothea Conyers + 129 The Lodger Mrs. Belloc Lowndes + 135 A Spinner In the Sun Myrtle Reed + 137 The Mystery of Dr. Fu-Manchu Sax Rohmer + 139 The Golden Centipede Louise Gerard + 140 The Love Pirate C. N. and A. M. Williamson + 143 The Way of these Women E. Phillips Oppenheim + 143 Sandy Married Dorothea Conyers + 145 Chance Joseph Conrad + 148 Flower of the Dusk Myrtle Reed + 150 The Gentleman Adventurer H. C. Bailey + 154 The Hyena of Kallu Louise Gerard + 190 The Happy Hunting Ground Mrs. Alice Perrin + 191 My Lady of Shadows John Oxenham + 211 Max Carrados Ernest Bramah + 212 Under Western Eyes Joseph Conrad + 213 The Kloof Bride Ernest Glanville + 215 Mr. Grex of Monte Carlo E. Phillips Oppenheim + 216 The Wonder of Love E. M. Albanesi + 217 A Weaver of Dreams Myrtle Reed + 219 The Family Elinor Mordaunt + 220 A Heritage of Peril A. W. Marchmont + 221 The Kinsman Mrs. Sidgwick + 222 Emmanuel Burden Hilaire Belloc + 224 Broken Shackles John Oxenham + 225 A Knight of Spain Marjorie Bowen + 227 Byeways Robert Hichens + 228 Gossamer G. A. Birmingham + 230 The Salving of a Derelict Maurice Drake + 231 Cameos Marie Corelli + 232 The Happy Valley B. M. Croker + 245 The Shop Girl C. N. and A. M. Williamson + 250 The Lost Regiment Ernest Glanville + 261 Tarzan of the Apes Edgar Rice Burroughs + + + + A Selection only. + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Anna of the Five Towns, by Arnold Bennett + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANNA OF THE FIVE TOWNS *** + +***** This file should be named 35505-8.txt or 35505-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/5/0/35505/ + +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. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net + + +Title: Anna of the Five Towns + +Author: Arnold Bennett + +Release Date: March 6, 2011 [EBook #35505] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANNA OF THE FIVE TOWNS *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + +</pre> + + +<BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="t1"> +ANNA OF THE FIVE TOWNS +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="t3"> +BY +</P> + +<P CLASS="t2"> +ARNOLD BENNETT +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="t4"> +THIRTEENTH EDITION +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="t4"> +METHUEN & CO. LTD. +<BR> +36 ESSEX STREET W.C. +<BR> +LONDON +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<PRE STYLE="font-size: 70%; margin-left: 10%"> +First issued in this Cheap Form (Third Edition) - September 5th 1912 +Fourth Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - September 1912 +Fifth Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - February 1913 +Sixth Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - July 1913 +Seventh Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - April 1914 +Eighth Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - September 1914 +Ninth Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - November 1915 +Tenth Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - July 1916 +Eleventh Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - March 1917 +Twelfth Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - February 1918 +Thirteenth Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 1919 + + + +This Book was First Published by Messrs Chatto & + Windus - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - September 11th, 1902 +Second Edition - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - November 1902 +</PRE> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="t4"> +I DEDICATE THIS BOOK +<BR> +WITH AFFECTION AND ADMIRATION +<BR> +TO +</P> + +<P CLASS="t3"> +HERBERT SHARPE +</P> + +<P CLASS="t4"> +AN ARTIST +<BR> +WHOSE INDIVIDUALITY AND ACHIEVEMENT +<BR> +HAVE CONTINUALLY INSPIRED ME +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +'Therefore, although it be a history<BR> +Homely and rude, I will relate the same<BR> +For the delight of a few natural hearts.'<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="t2"> +CONTENTS +</P> + +<TABLE ALIGN="center" WIDTH="80%"> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">CHAPTER</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> </TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">I. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap01">THE KINDLING OF LOVE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">II. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap02">THE MISER'S DAUGHTER</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">III. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap03">THE BIRTHDAY</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap04">A VISIT</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">V. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap05">THE REVIVAL</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap06">WILLIE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap07">THE SEWING MEETING</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap08">ON THE BANK</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap09">THE TREAT</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">X. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap10">THE ISLE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap11">THE DOWNFALL</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap12">AT THE PRIORY</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap13">THE BAZAAR</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap14">END OF A SIMPLE SOUL</A></TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap01"></A> + +<P CLASS="t2"> +ANNA OF THE FIVE TOWNS +</P> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER I +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE KINDLING OF LOVE +</H4> + +<P> +The yard was all silent and empty under the burning afternoon heat, +which had made its asphalt springy like turf, when suddenly the +children threw themselves out of the great doors at either end of the +Sunday-school—boys from the right, girls from the left—in two +howling, impetuous streams, that widened, eddied, intermingled and +formed backwaters until the whole quadrangle was full of clamour and +movement. Many of the scholars carried prize-books bound in vivid +tints, and proudly exhibited these volumes to their companions and to +the teachers, who, tall, languid, and condescending, soon began to +appear amid the restless throng. Near the left-hand door a little girl +of twelve years, dressed in a cream coloured frock, with a wide and +heavy straw hat, stood quietly kicking her foal-like legs against the +wall. She was one of those who had won a prize, and once or twice she +took the treasure from under her arm to glance at its frontispiece with +a vague smile of satisfaction. For a time her bright eyes were fixed +expectantly on the doorway; then they would wander, and she started to +count the windows of the various Connexional buildings which on three +sides enclosed the yard—chapel, school, lecture-hall, and +chapel-keeper's house. Most of the children had already squeezed +through the narrow iron gate into the street beyond, where a steam-car +was rumbling and clattering up Duck Bank, attended by its immense +shadow. The teachers remained a little behind. Gradually dropping the +pedagogic pose, and happy in the virtuous sensation of duty +accomplished, they forgot the frets and fatigues of the day, and grew +amiably vivacious among themselves. With an instinctive mutual +complacency the two sexes mixed again after separation. Greetings and +pleasantries were exchanged, and intimate conversations begun; and +then, dividing into small familiar groups, the young men and women +slowly followed their pupils out of the gate. The chapel-keeper, who +always had an injured expression, left the white step of his residence, +and, walking with official dignity across the yard, drew down the +side-windows of the chapel one after another. As he approached the +little solitary girl in his course he gave her a reluctant acid +recognition; then he returned to his hearth. Agnes was alone. +</P> + +<P> +'Well, young lady?' +</P> + +<P> +She looked round with a jump, and blushed, smiling and screwing up her +little shoulders, when she recognised the two men who were coming +towards her from the door of the lecture-hall. The one who had called +out was Henry Mynors, morning superintendent of the Sunday-school and +conductor of the men's Bible-class held in the lecture-hall on Sunday +afternoons. The other was William Price, usually styled Willie Price, +secretary of the same Bible-class, and son of Titus Price, the +afternoon superintendent. +</P> + +<P> +'I'm sure you don't deserve that prize. Let me see if it isn't too +good for you.' Mynors smiled playfully down upon Agnes Tellwright as +he idly turned the leaves of the book which she handed to him. 'Now, +do you deserve it? Tell me honestly.' +</P> + +<P> +She scrutinised those sparkling and vehement black eyes with the +fearless calm of infancy. 'Yes, I do,' $he answered in her high, thin +voice, having at length decided within herself that Mr. Mynors was +joking. +</P> + +<P> +'Then I suppose you must have it,' he admitted, with a fine air of +giving way. +</P> + +<P> +As Agnes took the volume from him she thought how perfect a man Mr. +Mynors was. His eyes, so kind and sincere, and that mysterious, +delicious, inexpressible something which dwelt behind his eyes: these +constituted an ideal for her. +</P> + +<P> +Willie Price stood somewhat apart, grinning, and pulling a thin +honey-coloured moustache. He was at the uncouth, disjointed age, +twenty-one, and nine years younger than Henry Mynors. Despite a +continual effort after ease of manner, he was often sheepish and +self-conscious, even, as now, when he could discover no reason for such +a condition of mind. But Agnes liked him too. His simple, pale blue +eyes had a wistfulness which made her feel towards him as she felt +towards her doll when she happened to find it lying neglected on the +floor. +</P> + +<P> +'Your big sister isn't out of school yet?' Mynors remarked. +</P> + +<P> +Agnes shook her head. 'I've been waiting ever so long,' she said +plaintively. +</P> + +<P> +At that moment a grey-haired woman with a benevolent but rather pinched +face emerged with much briskness from the girls' door. This was Mrs. +Sutton, a distant relative of Mynors'—his mother had been her second +cousin. The men raised their hats. +</P> + +<P> +'I've just been down to make sure of some of you slippery folks for the +sewing-meeting,' she said, shaking hands with Mynors, and including +both him and Willie Price in an embracing maternal smile. She was +short-sighted and did not perceive Agnes, who had fallen back. +</P> + +<P> +'Had a good class this afternoon, Henry?' Mrs. Sutton's breathing was +short and quick. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, yes,' he said, 'very good indeed.' +</P> + +<P> +'You're doing a grand work.' +</P> + +<P> +'We had over seventy present,' he added. +</P> + +<P> +'Eh!' she said, 'I make nothing of numbers. Henry. I meant a <I>good</I> +class. Doesn't it say—Where <I>two or three</I> are gathered together...? +But I must be getting on. The horse will be restless. I've to go up +to Hillport before tea. Mrs. Clayton Vernon is ill.' +</P> + +<P> +Scarcely having stopped in her active course, Mrs. Sutton drew the men +along with her down the yard, she and Mynors in rapid talk: Willie +Price fell a little to the rear, his big hands half-way into his +pockets and his eyes diffidently roving. It appeared as though he +could not find courage to take a share in the conversation, yet was +anxious to convince himself of his right to do so. +</P> + +<P> +Mynors helped Mrs. Sutton into her carriage, which had been drawn up +outside the gate of the school yard. Only two families of the Bursley +Wesleyan Methodists kept a carriage, the Suttons and the Clayton +Vernons. The latter, boasting lineage and a large house in the +aristocratic suburb of Hillport, gave to the society monetary aid and a +gracious condescension. But though indubitably above the operation of +any unwritten sumptuary law, even the Clayton Vernons ventured only in +wet weather to bring their carriage to chapel. Yet Mrs. Sutton, who +was a plain woman, might with impunity use her equipage on Sundays. +This license granted by Connexional opinion was due to the fact that +she so obviously regarded her carriage, not as a carriage, but as a +contrivance on four wheels for enabling an infirm creature to move +rapidly from place to place. When she got into it she had exactly the +air of a doctor on his rounds. Mrs. Sutton's bodily frame had long ago +proved inadequate to the ceaseless demands of a spirit indefatigably +altruistic, and her continuance in activity was a notable illustration +of the dominion of mind over matter. Her husband, a potter's valuer +and commission agent, made money with facility in that lucrative +vocation, and his wife's charities were famous, notwithstanding her +attempts to hide them. Neither husband nor wife had allowed riches to +put a factitious gloss upon their primal simplicity. They were as they +were, save that Mr. Sutton had joined the Five Towns Field Club and +acquired some of the habits of an archaeologist. The influence of +wealth on manners was to be observed only in their daughter Beatrice, +who, while favouring her mother, dressed at considerable expense, and +at intervals gave much time to the arts of music and painting. Agnes +watched the carriage drive away, and then turned to look up the stairs +within the school doorway. She sighed, scowled, and sighed again, +murmured something to herself, and finally began to read her book. +</P> + +<P> +'Not come out yet?' Mynors was at her side once more, alone this time. +</P> + +<P> +'No, not yet,' said Agnes, wearied. 'Yes. Here she is. Anna, what +ages you've been!' +</P> + +<P> +Anna Tellwright stood motionless for a second in the shadow of the +doorway. She was tall, but not unusually so, and sturdily built up. +Her figure, though the bust was a little flat, had the lenient curves +of absolute maturity. Anna had been a woman since seventeen, and she +was now on the eve of her twenty-first birthday. She wore a plain, +home-made light frock checked with brown and edged with brown velvet, +thin cotton gloves of cream colour, and a broad straw hat like her +sister's. Her grave face, owing to the prominence of the cheekbones +and the width of the jaw, had a slight angularity; the lips were thin, +the brown eyes rather large, the eyebrows level, the nose fine and +delicate; the ears could scarcely be seen for the dark brown hair which +was brushed diagonally across the temples, leaving of the forehead only +a pale triangle. It seemed a face for the cloister, austere in +contour, fervent in expression, the severity of it mollified by that +resigned and spiritual melancholy peculiar to women who through the +error of destiny have been born into a wrong environment. +</P> + +<P> +As if charmed forward by Mynors' compelling eyes, Anna stepped into the +sunlight, at the same time putting up her parasol. 'How calm and +stately she is,' he thought, as she gave him her cool hand and murmured +a reply to his salutation. But even his aquiline gaze could not +surprise the secrets of that concealing breast: this was one of the +three great tumultuous moments of her life—she realised for the first +time that she was loved. +</P> + +<P> +'You are late this afternoon, Miss Tellwright,' Mynors began, with the +easy inflections of a man well accustomed to prominence in the society +of women. Little Agnes seized Anna's left arm, silently holding up the +prize, and Anna nodded appreciation. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' she said as they walked across the yard, 'one of my girls has +been doing wrong. She stole a Bible from another girl, so of course I +had to mention it to the superintendent. Mr. Price gave her a long +lecture, and now she is waiting upstairs till he is ready to go with +her to her home and talk to her parents. He says she must be +dismissed.' +</P> + +<P> +'Dismissed!' +</P> + +<P> +Anna's look flashed a grateful response to him. By the least possible +emphasis he had expressed a complete disagreement with his senior +colleague which etiquette forbade him to utter in words. +</P> + +<P> +'I think it's a very great pity,' Anna said firmly. 'I rather like the +girl,' she ventured in haste; 'you might speak to Mr. Price about it.' +</P> + +<P> +'If he mentions it to me.' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, I meant that. Mr. Price said—if it had been anything else but a +<I>Bible</I>——' +</P> + +<P> +'Um!' he murmured very low, but she caught the significance of his +intonation. They did not glance at each other: it was unnecessary. +Anna felt that comfortable easement of the spirit which springs from +the recognition of another spirit capable of understanding without +explanations and of sympathising without a phrase. Under that calm +mask a strange and sweet satisfaction thrilled through her as her +precious instinct of common sense—rarest of good qualities, and pining +always for fellowship—found a companion in his own. She had dreaded +the overtures which for a fortnight past she had foreseen were +inevitably to come from Mynors: he was a stranger, whom she merely +respected. Now in a sudden disclosure she knew him and liked him. The +dire apprehension of those formal 'advances' which she had watched +other men make to other women faded away. It was at once a release and +a reassurance. +</P> + +<P> +They were passing through the gate, Agnes skipping round her sister's +skirts, when Willie Price reappeared front the direction of the chapel. +</P> + +<P> +'Forgotten something?' Mynors inquired of him blandly. +</P> + +<P> +'Ye-es,' he stammered, clumsily raising his hat to Anna. She thought +of him exactly as Agnes had done. He hesitated for a fraction of time, +and then went up the yard-towards the lecture-hall. +</P> + +<P> +'Agnes has been showing me her prize,' said Mynors, as the three stood +together outside the gate. 'I ask her if she thinks she really +deserves it, and she says she does. What do you think, Miss Big +Sister?' +</P> + +<P> +Anna gave the little girl an affectionate smile of comprehension. +'What is it called, dear?' +</P> + +<P> +'"Janey's Sacrifice or the Spool of Cotton, and other stories for +children,"' Agnes read out in a monotone: then she clutched Anna's +elbow and aimed a whisper at her ear. +</P> + +<P> +'Very well, dear,' Anna answered loud, 'but we must be back by a +quarter-past four.' And turning to Mynors: 'Agnes wants to go up to +the Park to hear the band play.' +</P> + +<P> +'I'm going up there, too,' he said. 'Come along, Agnes, take my arm +and show me the way.' Shyly Agnes left her sister's side and put a +pink finger into Mynors' hand. +</P> + +<P> +Moor Road, which climbs over the ridge to the mining village of +Moorthorne and passes the new Park on its way, was crowded with people +going up to criticise and enjoy this latest outcome of municipal +enterprise in Bursley: sedate elders of the borough who smiled grimly +to see one another on Sunday afternoon in that undignified, idly +curious throng; white-skinned potters, and miners with the swarthy +pallor of subterranean toil; untidy Sabbath loafers whom neither church +nor chapel could entice, and the primly-clad respectable who had not +only clothes but a separate deportment for the seventh day; house-wives +whose pale faces, as of prisoners free only for a while, showed a naïve +and timorous pleasure in the unusual diversion; young women made +glorious by richly-coloured stuffs and carrying themselves with the +defiant independence of good wages earned in warehouse or +painting-shop; youths oppressed by stiff new clothes bought at +Whitsuntide, in which the bright necktie and the nosegay revealed a +thousand secret aspirations; young children running and yelling with +the marvellous energy of their years; here and there a small +well-dressed group whose studious repudiation of the crowd betrayed a +conscious eminence of rank; louts, drunkards, idiots, beggars, waifs, +outcasts, and every oddity of the town: all were more or less under the +influence of a new excitement, and all with the same face of pleased +expectancy looked towards the spot where, half-way up the hill, a +denser mass of sightseers indicated the grand entrance to the Park. +</P> + +<P> +'What stacks of folks!' Agnes exclaimed. 'It's like going to a +football match.' +</P> + +<P> +'Do you go to football matches, Agnes?' Mynors asked. The child gave a +giggle. +</P> + +<P> +Anna was relieved when these two began to chatter. She had at once, by +a firm natural impulse, subdued the agitation which seized her when she +found Mynors waiting with such an obvious intention at the school door; +she had conversed with him in tones of quiet ease; his attitude had +even enabled her in a few moments to establish a pleasant familiarity +with him. Nevertheless, as they joined the stream of people in Moor +Road, she longed to be at home, in her kitchen, in order to examine +herself and the new situation thus created by Mynors. And yet also she +was glad that she must remain at his side, but it was a fluttered joy +that his presence gave her, too strange for immediate appreciation. As +her eye, without directly looking at him, embraced the suave and +admirable male creature within its field of vision, she became aware +that he was quite inscrutable to her. What were his inmost thoughts, +his ideals, the histories of his heart? Surely it was impossible that +she should ever know these secrets! He—and she: they were utterly +foreign to each other. So the primary dissonances of sex vibrated +within her, and her own feelings puzzled her. Still, there was an +instant pleasure, delightful, if disturbing and inexplicable. And also +there was a sensation of triumph, which, though she tried to scorn it, +she could not banish. That a man and a woman should saunter together +on that road was nothing; but the circumstance acquired tremendous +importance when the man happened to be Henry Mynors and the woman Anna +Tellwright. Mynors—handsome, dark, accomplished, exemplary and +prosperous—had walked for ten years circumspect and unscathed amid the +glances of a whole legion of maids. As for Anna, the peculiarity of +her position had always marked her for special attention: ever since +her father settled in Bursley, she had felt herself to be the object of +an interest in which awe and pity were equally mingled. She guessed +that the fact of her going to the Park with Mynors that afternoon would +pass swiftly from mouth to mouth like the rumour of a decisive event. +She had no friends; her innate reserve had been misinterpreted, and she +was not popular among the Wesleyan community. Many people would say, +and more would think, that it was her money which was drawing Mynors +from the narrow path of his celibate discretion. She could imagine all +the innuendoes, the expressive nods, the pursing of lips, the lifting +of shoulders and of eyebrows. 'Money 'll do owt': that was the +proverb. But she cared not. She had the just and unshakable +self-esteem which is fundamental in all strong and righteous natures; +and she knew beyond the possibility of doubt that, though Mynors might +have no incurable aversion to a fortune, she herself, the spirit and +body of her, had been the sole awakener of his desire. +</P> + +<P> +By a common instinct, Mynors and Anna made little Agnes the centre of +attraction. Mynors continued to tease her, and Agnes growing +courageous, began to retort. She was now walking between them, and the +other two smiled to each other at the child's sayings over her head, +interchanging thus messages too subtle and delicate for the coarse +medium of words. +</P> + +<P> +As they approached the Park the bandstand came into sight over the +railway cutting, and they could hear the music of 'The Emperor's Hymn.' +The crude, brazen sounds were tempered in their passage through the +warm, still air, and fell gently on the ear in soft waves, quickening +every heart to unaccustomed emotions. Children leaped forward, and old +people unconsciously assumed a lightsome vigour. The Park rose in +terraces from the railway station to a street of small villas almost on +the ridge of the hill. From its gilded gates to its smallest +geranium-slips it was brand-new, and most of it was red. The keeper's +house, the bandstand, the kiosks, the balustrades, the shelters—all +these assailed the eye with a uniform redness of brick and tile which +nullified the pallid greens of the turf and the frail trees. The +immense crowd, in order to circulate, moved along in tight processions, +inspecting one after another the various features of which they had +read full descriptions in the 'Staffordshire Signal'—waterfall, +grotto, lake, swans, boat, seats, faience, statues—and scanning with +interest the names of the donors so clearly inscribed on such objects +of art and craft as from divers motives had been presented to the town +by its citizens. Mynors, as he manoeuvred a way for the two girls +through the main avenue up to the topmost terrace, gravely judged each +thing upon its merits, approving this, condemning that. In deciding +that under all the circumstances the Park made a very creditable +appearance he only reflected the best local opinion. The town was +proud of its achievement, and it had the right to be; for, though this +narrow pleasaunce was in itself unlovely, it symbolised the first faint +renascence of the longing for beauty in a district long given up to +unredeemed ugliness. +</P> + +<P> +At length, Mynors having encountered many acquaintances, they got past +the bandstand and stood on the highest terrace, which was almost +deserted. Beneath them, in front, stretched a maze of roofs, dominated +by the gold angel of the Town Hall spire. Bursley, the ancient home of +the potter, has an antiquity of a thousand years. It lies towards the +north end of an extensive valley, which must have been one of the +fairest spots in Alfred's England, but which is now defaced by the +activities of a quarter of a million of people. Five contiguous +towns—Turnhill, Bursley, Hanbridge, Knype, and Longshaw—united by a +single winding thoroughfare some eight miles in length, have inundated +the valley like a succession of great lakes. Of these five Bursley is +the mother, but Hanbridge is the largest. They are mean and forbidding +of aspect—sombre, hard-featured, uncouth; and the vaporous poison of +their ovens and chimneys has soiled and shrivelled the surrounding +country till there is no village lane within a league but what offers a +gaunt and ludicrous travesty of rural charms. Nothing could be more +prosaic than the huddled, red-brown streets; nothing more seemingly +remote from romance. Yet be it said that romance is even here—the +romance which, for those who have an eye to perceive it, ever dwells +amid the seats of industrial manufacture, softening the coarseness, +transfiguring the squalor, of these mighty alchemic operations. Look +down into the valley from this terrace-height where love is kindling, +embrace the whole smoke-girt amphitheatre in a glance, and it may be +that you will suddenly comprehend the secret and superb significance of +the vast Doing which goes forward below. Because they seldom think, +the townsmen take shame when indicted for having disfigured half a +county in order to live. They have not understood that this +disfigurement is merely an episode in the unending warfare of man and +nature, and calls for no contrition. Here, indeed, is nature repaid +for some of her notorious cruelties. She imperiously bids man sustain +and reproduce himself, and this is one of the places where in the very +act of obedience he wounds and maltreats her. Out beyond the municipal +confines, where the subsidiary industries of coal and iron prosper amid +a wreck of verdure, the struggle is grim, appalling, heroic—so +ruthless is his havoc of her, so indomitable her ceaseless +recuperation. On the one side is a wresting from nature's own bowels +of the means to waste her; on the other, an undismayed, enduring +fortitude. The grass grows; though it is not green, it grows. In the +very heart of the valley, hedged about with furnaces, a farm still +stands, and at harvest-time the sooty sheaves are gathered in. +</P> + +<P> +The band stopped playing. A whole population was idle in the Park, and +it seemed, in the fierce calm of the sunlight, that of all the +strenuous weekday vitality of the district only a murmurous hush +remained. But everywhere on the horizon, and nearer, furnaces cast +their heavy smoke across the borders of the sky: the Doing was never +suspended. +</P> + +<P> +'Mr. Mynors,' said Agnes, still holding his hand, when they had been +silent a moment, 'when do those furnaces go out?' +</P> + +<P> +'They don't go out,' he answered, 'unless there is a strike. It costs +hundreds and hundreds of pounds to light them again.' +</P> + +<P> +'Does it?' she said vaguely. 'Father says it's the smoke that stops my +gilliflowers from growing.' +</P> + +<P> +Mynors turned to Anna. 'Your father seems the picture of health. I +saw him out this morning at a quarter to seven, as brisk as a boy. +What a constitution!' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' Anna replied, 'he is always up at six.' +</P> + +<P> +'But you aren't, I suppose?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, I too.' +</P> + +<P> +'And me too,' Agnes interjected. +</P> + +<P> +'And how does Bursley compare with Hanbridge?' Mynors continued. Anna +paused before replying. +</P> + +<P> +'I like it better,' she said. 'At first—last year—I thought I +shouldn't.' +</P> + +<P> +'By the way, your father used to preach in Hanbridge circuit——-' +</P> + +<P> +'That was years ago,' she said quickly. +</P> + +<P> +'But why won't he preach here? I dare say you know that we are rather +short of local preachers—good ones, that is.' +</P> + +<P> +'I can't say why father doesn't preach now:' Anna flushed as she spoke. +'You had better ask him that.' +</P> + +<P> +'Well, I will do,' he laughed. 'I am coming to see him soon—perhaps +one night next week.' +</P> + +<P> +Anna looked at Henry Mynors as he uttered the astonishing words. The +Tellwrights had been in Bursley a year, but no visitor had crossed +their doorsteps except the minister, once, and such poor defaulters as +came, full of excuse and obsequious conciliation, to pay rent overdue. +</P> + +<P> +'Business, I suppose?' she said, and prayed that he might not be +intending to make a mere call of ceremony. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, business,' he answered lightly. 'But you will be in?' +</P> + +<P> +'I am always in,' she said. She wondered what the business could be, +and felt relieved to know that his visit would have at least some +assigned pretext; but already her heart beat with apprehensive +perturbation at the thought of his presence in their household. +</P> + +<P> +'See!' said Agnes, whose eyes were everywhere, 'There's Miss Sutton.' +</P> + +<P> +Both Mynors and Anna looked sharply round. Beatrice Sutton was coming +towards them along the terrace. Stylishly clad in a dress of pink +muslin, with harmonious hat, gloves, and sunshade, she made an +agreeable and rather effective picture, despite her plain, round face +and stoutish figure. She had the air of being a leader. Grafted on to +the original simple honesty of her eyes there was the +unconsciously-acquired arrogance of one who had always been accustomed +to deference. Socially, Beatrice had no peer among the young women who +were active in the Wesleyan Sunday-school. Beatrice had been used to +teach in the afternoon school, but she had recently advanced her +labours from the afternoon to the morning in response to a hint that if +she did so the force of her influence and example might lessen the +chronic dearth of morning teachers. +</P> + +<P> +'Good afternoon, Miss Tellwright,' Beatrice said as she came up. 'So +you have come to look at the Park.' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' said Anna, and then stopped awkwardly. In the tone of each +there was an obscure constraint, and something in Mynors' smile of +salute to Beatrice showed that he too shared it. +</P> + +<P> +'Seen you before,' Beatrice said to him familiarly, without taking his +hand; then she bent down and kissed Agnes. +</P> + +<P> +'What are you doing here, mademoiselle?' Mynors asked her. +</P> + +<P> +'Father's just down below, near the lake. He caught sight of you, and +sent me up to say that you were to be sure to come in to supper +to-night. You will, won't you?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, thanks. I had meant to.' +</P> + +<P> +Anna knew that they were related, and also that Mynors was constantly +at the Suttons' house, but the close intimacy between these two came +nevertheless like a shock to her. She could not conquer a certain +resentment of it, however absurd such a feeling might seem to her +intelligence. And this attitude extended not only to the intimacy, but +to Beatrice's handsome clothes and facile urbanity, which by contrast +emphasised her own poor little frock and tongue-tied manner. The mere +existence of Beatrice so near to Mynors was like an affront to her. +Yet at heart, and even while admiring this shining daughter of success, +she was conscious within herself of a fundamental superiority. The +soul of her condescended to the soul of the other one. +</P> + +<P> +They began to discuss the Park. +</P> + +<P> +'Papa says it will send up the value of that land over there +enormously,' said Beatrice, pointing with her ribboned sunshade to some +building plots which lay to the north, high up the hill. 'Mr. +Tellwright owns most of that, doesn't he?' she added to Anna. +</P> + +<P> +'I dare say he does,' said Anna. It was torture to her to refer to her +father's possessions. +</P> + +<P> +'Of course it will be covered with streets in a few months. Will he +build himself, or will he sell it?' +</P> + +<P> +'I haven't the least idea,' Anna answered, with an effort after gaiety +of tone, and then turned aside to look at the crowd. There, close +against the bandstand, stood her father, a short, stout, ruddy, +middle-aged man in a shabby brown suit. He recognised her, stared +fixedly, and nodded with his grotesque and ambiguous grin. Then he +sidled off towards the entrance of the Park. None of the others had +seen him. 'Agnes dear,' she said abruptly, 'we must go now, or we +shall be late for tea.' +</P> + +<P> +As the two women said good-bye their eyes met, and in the brief second +of that encounter each tried to wring from the other the true answer to +a question which lay unuttered in her heart. Then, having bidden adieu +to Mynors, whose parting glance sang its own song to her, Anna took +Agnes by the hand and left him and Beatrice together. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap02"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER II +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE MISER'S DAUGHTER +</H4> + +<P> +Anna sat in the bay-window of the front parlour, her accustomed place +on Sunday evenings in summer, and watched Mr. Tellwright and Agnes +disappear down the slope of Trafalgar Road on their way to chapel. +Trafalgar Road is the long thoroughfare which, under many aliases, runs +through the Five Towns from end to end, uniting them as a river might +unite them. Ephraim Tellwright could remember the time when this part +of it was a country lane, flanked by meadows and market gardens. Now +it was a street of houses up to and beyond Bleakridge, where the +Tellwrights lived; on the other side of the hill the houses came only +in patches until the far-stretching borders of Hanbridge were reached. +Within the municipal limits Bleakridge was the pleasantest quarter of +Bursley—Hillport, abode of the highest fashion, had its own government +and authority—and to reside 'at the top of Trafalgar Road' was still +the final ambition of many citizens, though the natural growth of the +town had robbed Bleakridge of some of that exclusive distinction which +it once possessed. Trafalgar Road, in its journey to Bleakridge from +the centre of the town, underwent certain changes of character. First +came a succession of manufactories and small shops; then, at the +beginning of the rise, a quarter of a mile of superior cottages; and +lastly, on the brow, occurred the houses of the comfortable-detached, +semi-detached, and in terraces, with rentals from 25<I>l.</I> to 60<I>l.</I> a +year. The Tellwrights lived in Manor Terrace (the name being a last +reminder of the great farmstead which formerly occupied the western +hill side): their house, of light yellow brick, was two-storied, with a +long narrow garden behind, and the rent 30<I>l</I>. Exactly opposite was an +antique red mansion, standing back in its own ground—home of the +Mynors family for two generations, but now a school, the Mynors family +being extinct in the district save for one member. Somewhat higher up, +still on the opposite side to Manor Terrace, came an imposing row of +four new houses, said to be the best planned and best built in the +town, each erected separately and occupied by its owner. The nearest +of these four was Councillor Sutton's, valued at 60<I>l.</I> a year. Lower +down, below Manor Terrace and on the same side, lived the Wesleyan +superintendent minister, the vicar of St. Luke's Church, an alderman, +and a doctor. +</P> + +<P> +It was nearly six o'clock. The sun shone, but gentlier; and the earth +lay cooling in the mild, pensive effulgence of a summer evening. Even +the onrush of the steam-car, as it swept with a gay load of passengers +to Hanbridge, seemed to be chastened; the bell of the Roman Catholic +chapel sounded like the bell of some village church heard in the +distance; the quick but sober tramp of the chapel-goers fell peacefully +on the ear. The sense of calm increased, and, steeped in this +meditative calm, Anna from the open window gazed idly down the +perspective of the road, which ended a mile away in the dim concave +forms of ovens suffused in a pale mist. A book from the Free Library +lay on her lap; she could not read it. She was conscious of nothing +save the quiet enchantment of reverie. Her mind, stimulated by the +emotions of the afternoon, broke the fetters of habitual +self-discipline, and ranged voluptuously free over the whole field of +recollection and anticipation. To remember, to hope: that was +sufficient joy. +</P> + +<P> +In the dissolving views of her own past, from which the rigour and pain +seemed to have mysteriously departed, the chief figure was always her +father—that sinister and formidable individuality, whom her mind hated +but her heart disobediently loved. Ephraim Tellwright[<A NAME="chap02fn1text"></A><A HREF="#chap02fn1">1</A>] was one of +the most extraordinary and most mysterious men in the Five Towns. The +outer facts of his career were known to all, for his riches made him +notorious; but of the secret and intimate man none knew anything except +Anna, and what little Anna knew had come to her by divination rather +than discernment. A native of Hanbridge, he had inherited a small +fortune from his father, who was a prominent Wesleyan Methodist. At +thirty, owing mainly to investments in property which his calling of +potter's valuer had helped him to choose with advantage, he was worth +twenty thousand pounds, and he lived in lodgings on a total expenditure +of about a hundred a year. When he was thirty-five he suddenly +married, without any perceptible public wooing, the daughter of a wood +merchant at Oldcastle, and shortly after the marriage his wife +inherited from her father a sum of eighteen thousand pounds. The pair +lived narrowly in a small house up at Pireford, between Hanbridge and +Oldcastle. They visited no one, and were never seen together except on +Sundays. She was a rosy-cheeked, very unassuming and simple woman, who +smiled easily and talked with difficulty, and for the rest lived +apparently a servile life of satisfaction and content. After five +years Anna was born, and in another five years Mrs. Tellwright died of +erysipelas. The widower engaged a housekeeper: otherwise his existence +proceeded without change. No stranger visited the house, the +housekeeper never gossiped; but tales will spread, and people fell into +the habit of regarding Tellwright's child and his housekeeper with +commiseration. +</P> + +<P> +During all this period he was what is termed 'a good Wesleyan,' +preaching and teaching, and spending himself in the various activities +of Hanbridge chapel. For many years he had been circuit treasurer. +Among Anna's earliest memories was a picture of her father arriving +late for supper one Sunday night in autumn after an anniversary +service, and pouring out on the white tablecloth the contents of +numerous chamois-leather money-bags. She recalled the surprising +dexterity with which he counted the coins, the peculiar smell of the +bags, and her mother's bland exclamation, 'Eh, Ephraim!' Tellwright +belonged by birth to the Old Guard of Methodism; there was in his +family a tradition of holy valour for the pure doctrine: his father, a +Bursley man, had fought in the fight which preceded the famous +Primitive Methodist Secession of 1808 at Bursley, and had also borne a +notable part in the Warren affrays of '28, and the disastrous trouble +of the Fly-Sheets in '49, when Methodism lost a hundred thousand +members. As for Ephraim, he expounded the mystery of the Atonement in +village conventicles and grew garrulous with God at prayer-meetings in +the big Bethesda chapel; but he did these things as routine, without +skill and without enthusiasm, because they gave him an unassailable +position within the central group of the society. He was not, in fact, +much smitten with either the doctrinal or the spiritual side of +Methodism. His chief interest lay in those fiscal schemes of +organisation without whose aid no religious propaganda can possibly +succeed. It was in the finance of salvation that he rose supreme—the +interminable alternation of debt-raising and new liability which +provides a lasting excitement for Nonconformists. In the negotiation +of mortgages, the artful arrangement of appeals, the planning of +anniversaries and of mighty revivals, he was an undisputed leader. To +him the circuit was a 'going concern,' and he kept it in motion, +serving the Lord in committee and over statements of account. The +minister by his pleading might bring sinners to the penitent form, but +it was Ephraim Tellwright who reduced the cost per head of souls saved, +and so widened the frontiers of the Kingdom of Heaven. +</P> + +<P> +Three years after the death of his first wife it was rumoured that he +would marry again, and that his choice had fallen on a young orphan +girl, thirty years his junior, who 'assisted' at the stationer's shop +where he bought his daily newspaper. The rumour was well-founded. +Anna, then eight years of age, vividly remembered the home-coming of +the pale wife, and her own sturdy attempts to explain, excuse, or +assuage to this wistful and fragile creature the implacable harshness +of her father's temper. Agnes was born within a year, and the pale +girl died of puerperal fever. In that year lay a whole tragedy, which +could not have been more poignant in its perfection if the year had +been a thousand years. Ephraim promptly re-engaged the old +housekeeper, a course which filled Anna with secret childish revolt, +for Anna was now nine, and accomplished in all domesticity. In another +seven years the housekeeper died, a gaunt grey ruin, and Anna at +sixteen became mistress of the household, with a small sister to +cherish and control. About this time Anna began to perceive that her +father was generally regarded as a man of great wealth, having few +rivals in the entire region of the Five Towns, Definite knowledge, +however, she had none: he never spoke of his affairs; she knew only +that he possessed houses and other property in various places, that he +always turned first to the money article in the newspaper, and that +long envelopes arrived for him by post almost daily. But she had once +heard the surmise that he was worth sixty thousand of his own, apart +from the fortune of his first wife, Anna's mother. Nevertheless, it +did not occur to her to think of her father, in plain terms, as a +miser, until one day she happened to read in the 'Staffordshire Signal' +some particulars of the last will and testament of William Wilbraham, +J.P., who had just died. Mr. Wilbraham had been a famous magnate and +benefactor of the Five Towns; his revered name was in every mouth; he +had a fine seat, Hillport House, at Hillport; and his superb horses +were constantly seen, winged and nervous, in the streets of Bursley and +Hanbridge. The 'Signal' said that the net value of his estate was +sworn at fifty-nine thousand pounds. This single fact added a definite +and startling significance to figures which had previously conveyed +nothing to Anna except an idea of vastness. The crude contrast between +the things of Hillport House and the things of the six-roomed abode in +Manor Terrace gave food for reflection, silent but profound. +</P> + +<P> +Tellwright had long ago retired from business, and three years after +the housekeeper died he retired, practically, from religious work, to +the grave detriment of the Hanbridge circuit. In reply to sorrowful +questioners, he said merely that he was petting old and needed rest, +and that there ought to be plenty of younger men to fill his shoes. He +gave up everything except his pew in the chapel. The circuit was +astounded by this sudden defection of a class-leader, a local preacher, +and an officer. It was an inexplicable fall from grace. Yet the +solution of the problem was quite simple. Ephraim had lost interest in +his religious avocations; they had ceased to amuse him, the old ardour +had cooled. The phenomenon is a common enough experience with men who +have passed their fiftieth year—men, too, who began with the true and +sacred zeal, which Tellwright never felt. The difference in +Tellwright's case was that, characteristically, he at once yielded to +the new instinct, caring naught for public opinion. Soon afterwards, +having purchased a lot of cottage property in Bursley, he decided to +migrate to the town of his fathers. He had more than one reason for +doing so, but perhaps the chief was that he found the atmosphere of +Hanbridge Wesleyan chapel rather uncongenial. The exodus from it was +his silent and malicious retort to a silent rebuke. +</P> + +<P> +He appeared now to grow younger, discarding in some measure a certain +morose taciturnity which had hitherto marked his demeanour. He went +amiably about in the manner of a veteran determined to enjoy the brief +existence of life's winter. His stout, stiff, deliberate yet alert +figure became a familiar object to Bursley: that ruddy face, with its +small blue eyes, smooth upper lip, and short grey beard under the +smooth chin, seemed to pervade the streets, offering everywhere the +conundrum of its vague smile. Though no friend ever crossed his +doorstep, he had dozens of acquaintances of the footpath. He was not, +however, a facile talker, and he seldom gave an opinion; nor were his +remarks often noticeably shrewd. He existed within himself, +unrevealed. To the crowd, of course, he was a marvellous legend, and +moving always in the glory of that legend he received their wondering +awe—an awe tinged with contempt for his lack of ostentation and public +splendour. Commercial men with whom he had transacted business liked +to discuss his abilities, thus disseminating that solid respect for him +which had sprung from a personal experience of those abilities, and +which not even the shabbiness of his clothes could weaken. +</P> + +<P> +Anna was disturbed by the arrival at the front door of the milk-girl. +Alternately with her father, she stayed at home on Sunday evenings, +partly to receive the evening milk and partly to guard the house. The +Persian cat with one ear preceded her to the door as soon as he heard +the clatter of the can. The stout little milk-girl dispensed one pint +of milk into Anna's jug, and spilt an eleemosynary supply on the step +for the cat. 'He does like it fresh, Miss,' said the milk-girl, +smiling at the greedy cat, and then, with a 'Lovely evenin',' departed +down the street, one fat red arm stretched horizontally out to balance +the weight of the can in the other. Anna leaned idly against the +doorpost, waiting while the cat finished, until at length the swaying +figure of the milk-girl disappeared in the dip of the road. Suddenly +she darted within, shutting the door, and stood on the hall-mat in a +startled attitude of dismay. She had caught sight of Henry Mynors in +the distance, approaching the house. At that moment the kitchen clock +struck seven, and Mynors, according to the rule of a lifetime, should +have been in his place in the 'orchestra' (or, as some term it, the +'singing-seat') of the chapel, where he was an admired baritone. Anna +dared not conjecture what impulse had led him into this extraordinary, +incredible deviation. She dared not conjecture, but despite herself +she knew, and the knowledge shocked her sensitive and peremptory +conscience. Her heart began to beat rapidly; she was in distress. +Aware that her father and sister had left her alone, did he mean to +call? It was absolutely impossible, yet she feared it, and blushed, +all solitary there in the passage, for shame. Now she heard his sharp, +decided footsteps, and through the glazed panels of the door she could +see the outline of his form. He stopped; his hand was on the gate, and +she ceased to breathe. He pushed the gate open, and then, at the +whisper of some blessed angel, he closed it again and continued his way +up the street. After a few moments Anna carried the milk into the +kitchen, and stood by the dresser, moveless, each muscle braced in the +intensity of profound contemplation. Gradually the tears rose to her +eyes and fell; they were the tincture of a strange and mystic joy, too +poignant to be endured. As it were under compulsion she ran outside, +and down the garden path to the low wall which looked over the grey +fields of the valley up to Hillport. Exactly opposite, a mile and a +half away, on the ridge, was Hillport Church, dark and clear against +the orange sky. To the right, and nearer, lay the central masses of +the town, tier on tier of richly-coloured ovens and chimneys. Along +the field-paths couples moved slowly. All was quiescent, languorous, +beautiful in the glow of the sun's stately declension. Anna put her +arms on the wall. Far more impressively than in the afternoon she +realised that this was the end of one epoch in her career and the +beginning of another. Enthralled by austere traditions and that stern +conscience of hers, she had never permitted herself to dream of the +possibility of an escape from the parental servitude. She had never +looked beyond the horizons of her present world, but had sought +spiritual satisfaction in the ideas of duty and sacrifice. The worst +tyrannies of her father never dulled the sense of her duty to him; and, +without perhaps being aware of it, she had rather despised love and the +dalliance of the sexes. In her attitude towards such things there had +been not only a little contempt but also some disapproval, as though +man were destined for higher ends. Now she saw, in a quick revelation, +that it was the lovers, and not she, who had the right to scorn. She +saw how miserably narrow, tepid, and trickling the stream of her life +had been, and had threatened to be. Now it gushed forth warm, +impetuous, and full, opening out new and delicious vistas. She lived; +and she was finding the sight to see, the courage to enjoy. Now, as +she leaned over the wall, she would not have cared if Henry Mynors +indeed had called that night. She perceived something splendid and +free in his abandonment of habit and discretion at the bidding of a +desire. To be the magnet which could draw that pattern and exemplar of +seemliness from the strict orbit of virtuous custom! It was she, the +miser's shabby daughter, who had caused this amazing phenomenon. The +thought intoxicated her. Without the support of the wall she might +have fallen. In a sort of trance she murmured these words: 'He loves +me.' +</P> + +<P> +This was Anna Tellwright, the ascetic, the prosaic, the impassive. +</P> + +<P> +After an interval which to her was as much like a minute as a century, +she went back into the house. As she entered by the kitchen she heard +an impatient knocking at the front door. +</P> + +<P> +'At last,' said her father grimly, when she opened the door. In two +words he had resumed his terrible sway over her. Agnes looked timidly +from one to the other and slipped past them into the house. +</P> + +<P> +'I was in the garden,' Anna explained. 'Have you been here long?' She +tried to smile apologetically. +</P> + +<P> +'Only about a quarter of an hour,' he answered, with a grimness still +more portentous. +</P> + +<P> +'He won't speak again to-night,' she thought fearfully. But she was +mistaken. After he had carefully hung his best hat on the hat-rack, he +turned towards her, and said, with a queer smile: +</P> + +<P> +'Ye've been day-dreaming, eh, Sis?' +</P> + +<P> +'Sis' was her pet name, used often by Agnes, but by her father only at +the very rarest intervals. She was staggered at this change of front, +so unaccountable in this man, who, when she had unwittingly annoyed +him, was capable of keeping an awful silence for days together. What +did he know? What had those old eyes seen? +</P> + +<P> +'I forgot,' she stammered, gathering herself together happily, 'I +forgot the time.' She felt that after all there was a bond between +them which nothing could break—the tie of blood. They were father and +daughter, united by sympathies obscure but fundamental. Kissing was +not in the Tellwright blood, but she had a fleeting wish to hug the +tyrant. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="footnote"> +<A NAME="chap02fn1"></A> +[<A HREF="#chap02fn1text">1</A>] Tellwright: tile-wright, a name specially characteristic of, and +possibly originating in, this clay-manufacturing district. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap03"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER III +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE BIRTHDAY +</H4> + +<P> +The next morning there was no outward sign that anything unusual had +occurred. As the clock in the kitchen struck eight Anna carried to the +back parlour a tray on which were a dish of bacon and a coffee-pot. +Breakfast was already laid for three. She threw a housekeeper's glance +over the table, and called: 'Father!' Mr. Tellwright was re-setting +some encaustic tiles in the lobby. He came in, coatless, and, dropping +a trowel on the hearth, sat down at the end of the table nearest the +fireplace. Anna sat opposite to him, and poured out the coffee. +</P> + +<P> +On the dish were six pieces of bacon. He put one piece on a plate, and +set it carefully in front of Agnes's vacant chair, two he passed to +Anna, three he kept for himself. +</P> + +<P> +'Where's Agnes?' he inquired. +</P> + +<P> +'Coming—she's finishing her arithmetic.' +</P> + +<P> +In the middle of the table was an unaccustomed small jug containing +gilly-flowers. Mr. Tellwright noticed it instantly. +</P> + +<P> +'What an we gotten here?' he said, indicating the jug. +</P> + +<P> +'Agnes gave me them first thing when she got up. She's grown them +herself, you know,' Anna said, and then added: 'It's my birthday.' +</P> + +<P> +'Ay!' he exclaimed, with a trace of satire in his voice. 'Thou'rt a +woman now, lass.' +</P> + +<P> +No further remark on that matter was made during the meal. +</P> + +<P> +Agnes ran in, all pinafore and legs. With a toss backwards of her +light golden hair she slipped silently into her seat, cautiously +glancing at the master of the house. Then she began to stir her coffee. +</P> + +<P> +'Now, young woman,' Tellwright said curtly. +</P> + +<P> +She looked a startled interrogative. +</P> + +<P> +'We're waiting,' he explained. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh!' said Agnes, confused. 'I thought you'd said it. "God sanctify +this food to our use and us to His service for Christ's sake, Amen."' +</P> + +<P> +The breakfast proceeded in silence. Breakfast at eight, dinner at +noon, tea at four, supper at eight: all the meals in this house +occurred with absolute precision and sameness. Mr. Tellwright seldom +spoke, and his example imposed silence on the girls, who felt as nuns +feel when assisting at some grave but monotonous and perfunctory rite. +The room was not a cheerful one in the morning, since the window was +small and the aspect westerly. Besides the table and three horse-hair +chairs, the furniture consisted of an arm-chair, a bent-wood rocking +chair, and a sewing-machine. A fatigued Brussels carpet covered the +floor. Over the mantelpiece was an engraving of 'The Light of the +World,' in a frame of polished brown wood. On the other walls were +some family photographs in black frames. A two-light chandelier hung +from the ceiling, weighed down on one side by a patent gas-saving +mantle and a glass shade; over this the ceiling was deeply discoloured. +On either side of the chimney-breast were cupboards about three feet +high; some cardboard boxes, a work-basket, and Agnes's school books lay +on the tops of these cupboards. On the window-sill was a pot of +mignonette in a saucer. The window was wide open, and flies buzzed to +and fro, constantly rebounding from the window panes with terrible +thuds. In the blue-paved yard beyond the cat was licking himself in +the sunlight with an air of being wholly absorbed in his task. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Tellwright demanded a second and last cup of coffee, and having +drunk it pushed away his plate as a sign that he had finished. Then he +took from the mantelpiece at his right hand a bundle of letters and +opened them methodically. When he had arranged the correspondence in a +flattened pile, he put on his steel-rimmed spectacles and began to read. +</P> + +<P> +'Can I return thanks, father?' Agnes asked, and he nodded, looking at +her fixedly over his spectacles. +</P> + +<P> +'Thank God for our good breakfast, Amen.' +</P> + +<P> +In two minutes the table was cleared, and Mr. Tellwright was alone. As +he read laboriously through communications from solicitors, secretaries +of companies, and tenants, he could hear his daughters talking together +in the kitchen. Anna was washing the breakfast things while Agnes +wiped. Then there were flying steps across the yard: Agnes had gone to +school. +</P> + +<P> +After he had mastered his correspondence, Mr. Tellwright took up the +trowel again and finished the tile-setting in the lobby. Then he +resumed his coat, and, gathering together the letters from the table in +the back parlour, went into the front parlour and shut the door. This +room was his office. The principal things in it were an old oak bureau +and an old oak desk-chair which had come to him from his first wife's +father; on the walls were some sombre landscapes in oil, received from +the same source; there was no carpet on the floor, and only one other +chair. A safe stood in the corner opposite the door. On the +mantelpiece were some books—Woodfall's 'Landlord and Tenant,' Jordan's +'Guide to Company Law,' Whitaker's Almanack, and a Gazetteer of the +Five Towns. Several wire files, loaded with papers, hung from the +mantelpiece. With the exception of a mahogany what-not with a Bible on +it, which stood in front of the window, there was nothing else whatever +in the room. He sat down to the bureau and opened it, and took from +one of the pigeon-holes a packet of various documents: these he +examined one by one, from time to time referring to a list. Then he +unlocked the safe and extracted from it another bundle of documents +which had evidently been placed ready. With these in his hand, he +opened the door, and called out: +</P> + +<P> +'Anna.' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, father;' her voice came from the kitchen. +</P> + +<P> +'I want ye.' +</P> + +<P> +'In a minute. I'm peeling potatoes.' +</P> + +<P> +When she came in, she found him seated at the bureau as usual. He did +not look round. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, father.' +</P> + +<P> +She stood there in her print dress and white apron, full in the eye of +the sun, waiting for him. She could not guess what she had been +summoned for. As a rule, she never saw her father between breakfast +and dinner. At length he turned. +</P> + +<P> +'Anna,' he said in his harsh, abrupt tones, and then stopped for a +moment before continuing. His thick, short fingers held the list which +he had previously been consulting. She waited in bewilderment. 'It's +your birthday, ye told me. I hadna' forgotten. Ye're of age to-day, +and there's summat for ye. Your mother had a fortune of her own, and +under your grandfeyther's will it comes to you when you're twenty-one. +I'm the trustee. Your mother had eighteen thousand pounds i' +Government stock.' He laid a slight sneering emphasis on the last two +words. 'That was near twenty-five year ago. I've nigh on trebled it +for ye, what wi' good investments and interest accumulating. Thou'rt +worth'—here he changed to the second personal singular, a habit with +him—'thou'rt worth this day as near fifty thousand as makes no matter, +Anna. And that's a tidy bit.' +</P> + +<P> +'Fifty thousand—<I>pounds</I>!' she exclaimed aghast. +</P> + +<P> +'Ay, lass.' +</P> + +<P> +She tried to speak calmly. 'Do you mean it's mine, father?' +</P> + +<P> +'It's thine, under thy grandfeyther's will—haven't I told thee? I'm +bound by law for to give it to thee this day, and thou mun give me a +receipt in due form for the securities. Here they are, and here's the +list. Tak' the list, Anna, and read it to me while I check off.' +</P> + +<P> +She mechanically took the blue paper and read: 'Toft End Colliery and +Brickworks Limited, five hundred shares of ten pounds.' +</P> + +<P> +'They paid ten per cent. last year,' he said, 'and with coal up as it +is they'll pay fiftane this. Let's see what thy arithmetic is worth, +lass. How much is fiftane per cent. on five thousand pun?' +</P> + +<P> +'Seven hundred and fifty pounds,' she said, getting the correct answer +by a superhuman effort worthy of that occasion. +</P> + +<P> +'Right,' said her father, pleased. 'Recollect that's more till two pun +a day. Go on.' +</P> + +<P> +'North Staffordshire Railway Company ordinary stock, ten thousand and +two hundred pounds.' +</P> + +<P> +'Right. Th' owd North Stafford's getting up i' th' world. It'll be a +five per cent. line yet. Then thou mun sell out.' +</P> + +<P> +She had only a vague idea of his meaning, and continued: 'Five Towns +Waterworks Company Limited consolidated stock, eight thousand five +hundred pounds.' +</P> + +<P> +'That's a tit-bit, lass,' he interjected, looking absently over his +spectacles at something outside in the road. 'You canna' pick that up +on shardrucks.' +</P> + +<P> +'Norris's Brewery Limited, six hundred ordinary shares of ten pounds.' +</P> + +<P> +'Twenty per cent.,' said the old man. 'Twenty per cent. regular.' He +made no attempt to conceal his pride in these investments. And he had +the right to be proud of them. They were the finest in the market, the +aristocracy of investments, based on commercial enterprises of which +every business man in the Five Towns knew the entire soundness. They +conferred distinction on the possessor, like a great picture or a rare +volume. They stifled all questions and insinuations. Put before any +jury of the Five Towns as evidence of character, they would almost have +exculpated a murderer. +</P> + +<P> +Anna continued reading the list, which seemed endless: long before she +had reached the last item her brain was a menagerie of monstrous +figures. The list included, besides all sorts of shares English and +American, sundry properties in the Five Towns, and among these was the +earthenware manufactory in Edward Street occupied by Titus Price, the +Sunday-school superintendent. Anna was a little alarmed to find +herself the owner of this works; she knew that her father had had some +difficult moments with Titus Price, and that the property was not +without grave disadvantages. +</P> + +<P> +'That all!' Tellwright asked, at length. +</P> + +<P> +'That's all.' +</P> + +<P> +'Total face value,' he went on, 'as I value it, forty-eight thousand +and fifty pounds, producing a net annual income of three thousand two +hundred and ninety pounds or thereabouts. There's not many in this +district as 'as gotten that to their names, Anna—no, nor half +that—let 'em be who they will.' +</P> + +<P> +Anna had sensations such as a child might have who has received a +traction-engine to play with in a back yard. 'What am I to do with +it?' she asked plaintively. +</P> + +<P> +'Do wi' it?' he repeated, and stood up and faced her, putting his lips +together: 'Do wi' it, did ye say?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes.' +</P> + +<P> +'Tak' care on it, my girl. Tak' care on it. And remember it's thine. +Thou mun sign this list, and all these transfers and fal-lals, and then +thou mun go to th' Bank, and tell Mester Lovatt I've sent thee. +There's four hundred pound there. He'll give thee a cheque-book. I've +told him all about it. Thou'll have thy own account, and be sure thou +keeps it straight.' +</P> + +<P> +'I shan't know a bit what to do, father, and so it's no use talking,' +she said quietly. +</P> + +<P> +'I'll learn ye,' he replied. 'Here, tak' th' pen, and let's have thy +signature.' +</P> + +<P> +She signed her name many times and put her finger on many seals. Then +Tellwright gathered up everything into a bundle, and gave it to her to +hold. +</P> + +<P> +'That's the lot,' he said. 'Have ye gotten 'em?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' she said. +</P> + +<P> +They both smiled, self-consciously. As for Tellwright, he was +evidently impressed by the grandeur of this superb renunciation on his +part. 'Shall I keep 'em for ye?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, please.' +</P> + +<P> +'Then give 'em me.' +</P> + +<P> +He took back all the documents. +</P> + +<P> +'When shall I call at the Bank, father?' +</P> + +<P> +'Better call this afternoon—afore three, mind ye.' +</P> + +<P> +'Very well. But I shan't know what to do.' +</P> + +<P> +'You've gotten a tongue in that noddle of yours, haven't ye?' he said. +'Now go and get along wi' them potatoes.' +</P> + +<P> +Anna returned to the kitchen. She felt no elation or ferment of any +kind; she had not begun to realise the significance of what had +occurred. Like the soldier whom a bullet has struck, she only knew +vaguely that something had occurred. She peeled the potatoes with more +than her usual thrifty care; the peel was so thin as to be almost +transparent. It seemed to her that she could not arrange or examine +her emotions until after she had met Henry Mynors again. More than +anything else she wished to see him: it was as if out of the mere sight +of him something definite might emerge, as if when her eyes had rested +on him, and not before, she might perceive some simple solution of the +problems which she had obscurely discerned ahead of her. +</P> + +<P> +During dinner a boy brought a note for her father. He read it, +snorted, and threw it across the table to Anna. +</P> + +<P> +'Here,' he said, 'that's your affair.' +</P> + +<P> +The letter was from Titus Price: it said that he was sorry to be +compelled to break his promise, but it was quite impossible for him to +pay twenty pounds on account of rent that day; he would endeavour to +pay at least twenty pounds in a week's time. +</P> + +<P> +'You'd better call there, after you've been to th' Bank,' said +Tellwright, 'and get summat out of him, if it's only ten pun.' +</P> + +<P> +'Must I go to Edward Street?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes.' +</P> + +<P> +'What am I to say? I've never been there before.' +</P> + +<P> +'Well, it's high time as ye began to look after your own property. You +mun see owd Price, and tell him ye canna accept any excuses.' +</P> + +<P> +'How much does he owe?' +</P> + +<P> +'He owes ye a hundred and twenty-five pun altogether—he's five +quarters in arrear.' +</P> + +<P> +'A hundred and——! Well, I never!' Anna was aghast. The sum +appeared larger to her than all the thousands and tens of thousands +which she had received in the morning. She reflected that the weekly +bills of the household amounted to about a sovereign, and that the +total of this debt of Price's would therefore keep them in food for two +years. The idea of being in debt was abhorrent to her. She could not +conceive how a man who was in debt could sleep at nights. 'Mr. Price +ought to be ashamed of himself,' she said warmly. 'I'm sure he's quite +able to pay.' The image of the sleek and stout superintendent of the +Sunday-school, arrayed in his rich, almost voluptuous, broadcloth, +offended her profoundly. That he, debtor and promise-breaker, should +have the effrontery to pray for the souls of children, to chastise +their petty furtive crimes, was nearly incredible. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh! Price is all <I>right</I>,' her father remarked, with an apparent +benignity which surprised her. 'He'll pay when he can.' +</P> + +<P> +'I think it's a shame,' she repeated emphatically. +</P> + +<P> +Agnes looked with a mystified air from one to the other, instinctively +divining that something very extraordinary had happened during her +absence at school. +</P> + +<P> +'Ye mun'na be too hard, Anna,' said Tellwright. 'Supposing ye sold owd +Titus up? What then? D'ye reckon ye'd get a tenant for them +ramshackle works? A thousand pound spent wouldn't 'tice a tenant. +That Edward Street property was one o' ye grandfeyther's specs; 'twere +none o' mine. You'd best tak' what ye can get.' +</P> + +<P> +Anna felt a little ashamed of herself, not because of her bad policy, +but because she saw that Mr. Price might have been handicapped by the +faults of her property. +</P> + +<P> +That afternoon it was a shy and timid Anna who swung back the heavy +polished and glazed portals of the Bursley branch of the Birmingham, +Sheffield and district Bank, the opulent and spacious erection which +stands commandingly at the top of St. Luke's Square. She looked about +her, across broad counters, enormous ledgers, and rows of bent heads, +and wondered whom she should address. Then a bearded gentleman, who +was weighing gold in a balance, caught sight of her: he slid the gold +into a drawer, and whisked round the end of the counter with a celerity +which was, at any rate, not born of practice, for he, the cashier, had +not done such a thing for years. +</P> + +<P> +'Good afternoon, Miss Tellwright.' +</P> + +<P> +'Good afternoon. I——' +</P> + +<P> +'May I trouble you to step into the manager's room?' and he drew her +forward, while every clerk's eye watched. Anna tried not to blush, but +she could feel the red mounting even to her temples. +</P> + +<P> +'Delightful weather we're having. But of course we've the right to +expect it at this time of year.' He opened a door on the glass of +which was painted 'Manager,' and bowed. 'Mr. Lovatt—Miss Tellwright.' +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Lovatt greeted his new customer with a formal and rather fatigued +politeness, and invited her to sit in a large leather armchair in front +of a large table; on this table lay a large open book. Anna had once +in her life been to the dentist's; this interview reminded her of that +experience. +</P> + +<P> +'Your father told me I might expect you to-day,' said Mr. Lovatt in his +high-pitched, perfunctory tones. Richard Lovatt was probably the most +influential man in Bursley. Every Saturday morning he irrigated the +whole town with fertilising gold. By a single negative he could have +ruined scores of upright merchants and manufacturers. He had only to +stop a man in the street and murmur, 'By the way, your overdraft——,' +in order to spread discord and desolation through a refined and pious +home. His estimate of human nature was falsified by no common +illusions; he had the impassive and frosty gaze of a criminal judge. +Many men deemed they had cause to hate him, but no one did hate him: +all recognised that he was set far above hatred. +</P> + +<P> +'Kindly sign your full name here,' he said, pointing to a spot on the +large open page of the book, 'and your ordinary signature, which you +will attach to cheques, here.' +</P> + +<P> +Anna wrote, but in doing so she became aware that she had no ordinary +signature; she was obliged to invent one. +</P> + +<P> +'Do you wish to draw anything out now? There is already a credit of +four hundred and twenty pounds in your favour,' said Mr. Lovatt, after +he had handed her a cheque-book, a deposit-book, and a pass-book. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, no, thank you,' Anna answered quickly. She keenly desired some +money, but she well knew that courage would fail her to demand it +without her father's consent; moreover, she was in a whirl of +uncertainty as to the uses of the three books, though Mr. Lovatt had +expounded them severally to her in simple language. +</P> + +<P> +'Good-day.' +</P> + +<P> +'Good-day, Miss Tellwright.' +</P> + +<P> +'My compliments to your father.' +</P> + +<P> +His final glance said half cynically, half in pity: 'You are naïve and +unspoilt now, but these eyes will see yours harden like the rest. +Wretched victim of gold, you are only one in a procession, after all.' +</P> + +<P> +Outside, Anna thought that everyone had been very agreeable to her. +Her complacency increased at a bound. She no longer felt ashamed of +her shabby cotton dress. She surmised that people would find it +convenient to ignore any difference which might exist between her +costume and that of other girls. +</P> + +<P> +She went on to Edward Street, a short steep thoroughfare at the eastern +extremity of the town, leading into a rough road across unoccupied land +dotted with the mouths of abandoned pits: this road climbed up to Toft +End, a mean annexe of the town about half a mile east of Bleakridge. +From Toft End, lying on the highest hill in the district, one had a +panoramic view of Hanbridge and Bursley, with Hillport to the west, and +all the moorland and mining villages to the north and north-east. +Titus Price and his son lived in what had once been a farm-house at +Toft End; every morning and evening they traversed the desolate and +featureless grey road between their dwelling and the works. +</P> + +<P> +Anna had never been in Edward Street before. It was a miserable +quarter—two rows of blackened infinitesimal cottages, and her +manufactory at the end—a frontier post of the town. Price's works was +small, old-fashioned, and out of repair—one of those properties which +are forlorn from the beginning, which bring despair into the hearts of +a succession of owners, and which, being ultimately deserted, seem to +stand for ever in pitiable ruin. The arched entrance for carts into +the yard was at the top of the steepest rise of the street, when it +might as well have been at the bottom; and this was but one example of +the architect's fine disregard for the principle of economy in +working—that principle to which in the scheming of manufactories +everything else is now so strictly subordinated. Ephraim Tellwright +used to say (but not to Titus Price) that the situation of that archway +cost five pounds a year in horseflesh, and that five pounds was the +interest on a hundred. The place was badly located, badly planned and +badly constructed. Its faults defied improvement. Titus Price +remained in it only because he was chained there by arrears of rent; +Tellwright hesitated to sell it only because the rent was a hundred a +year, and the whole freehold would not have fetched eight hundred. He +promised repairs in exchange for payment of arrears which he knew would +never be paid, and his policy was to squeeze the last penny out of +Price without forcing him into bankruptcy. Such was the predicament +when Anna assumed ownership. As she surveyed the irregular and huddled +frontage from the opposite side of the street, her first feeling was +one of depression at the broken and dirty panes of the windows. A man +in shirt-sleeves was standing on the weighing platform under the +archway; his back was towards her, but she could see the smoke issuing +in puffs from his pipe. She crossed the road. Hearing her footfalls, +the man turned round: it was Titus Price himself. He was wearing an +apron, but no cap; the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, exposing +forearms covered with auburn hair. His puffed, heavy face, and general +bigness and untidiness, gave the idea of a vast and torpid male +slattern. Anna was astounded by the contrast between the Titus of +Sunday and the Titus of Monday: a single glance compelled her to +readjust all her notions of the man. She stammered a greeting, and he +replied, and then they were both silent for a moment: in the pause Mr. +Price thrust his pipe between apron and waistcoat. +</P> + +<P> +'Come inside, Miss Tellwright,' he said, with a sickly, conciliatory +smile. 'Come into the office, will ye?' +</P> + +<P> +She followed him without a word through the archway. To the right was +an open door into the packing-house, where a man surrounded by straw +was packing basins in a crate: with swift, precise movements, twisting +straw between basin and basin, he forced piles of ware into a space +inconceivably small. Mr. Price lingered to watch him for a few +seconds, and passed on. They were in the yard, a small quadrangle +paved with black, greasy mud. In one corner a load of coal had been +cast; in another lay a heap of broken saggars. Decrepit doorways led +to the various 'shops' on the ground floor; those on the upper floor +were reached by narrow wooden stairs, which seemed to cling insecurely +to the exterior walls. Up one of these stairways Mr. Price climbed +with heavy, elephantine movements: Anna prudently waited till he had +reached the top before beginning to ascend. He pushed open a flimsy +door, and with a nod bade her enter. The office was a long narrow +room, the dirtiest that Anna had ever seen. If such was the condition +of the master's quarters, she thought, what must the workshops be like? +The ceiling, which bulged downwards, was as black as the floor, which +sank away in the middle till it was hollow like a saucer. The +revolution of an engine somewhere below shook everything with a +periodic muffled thud. A greyish light came through one small window. +By the window was a large double desk, with chairs facing each other. +One of these chairs was occupied by Willie Price. The youth did not +observe at first that another person had come in with his father. He +was casting up figures in an account book, and murmuring numbers to +himself. He wore an office coat, short at the wrists and torn at the +elbows, and a battered felt hat was thrust far back over his head so +that the brim rested on his dirty collar. He turned round at length, +and, on seeing Anna, blushed brilliant crimson, and rose, scraping the +legs of his chair horribly across the floor. Tall, thin, and ungainly +in every motion, he had the look of a ninny: it was the fact that at +school all the boys by a common instinct had combined to tease him, and +that on the works the young paintresses continually made private sport +of him. Anna, however, had not the least impulse to mock him in her +thoughts. For her there was nothing in his blue eyes but simplicity +and good intentions. Beside him she felt old, sagacious, crafty: it +seemed to her that some one ought to shield that transparent and +confiding soul from his father and the intriguing world. +</P> + +<P> +He spoke to her and lifted his hat, holding it afterwards in his great +bony hand. +</P> + +<P> +'Get down to th' entry, Will,' said his father, and Willie, with an +apologetic sort of cough, slipped silently away through the door. +</P> + +<P> +'Sit down, Miss Tellwright,' said old Price, and she took the Windsor +chair that had been occupied by Willie. Her tenant fell into the seat +opposite—a leathern chair from which the stuffing had exuded, and with +one of its arms broken. 'I hear as ye father is going into partnership +with young Mynors—Henry Mynors.' +</P> + +<P> +Anna started at this surprising item of news, which was entirely fresh +to her. 'Father has said nothing to me about it,' she replied, coldly. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh! Happen I've said too much. If so, you'll excuse me, Miss. A +smart fellow, Mynors. Now you should see <I>his</I> little works: not very +much bigger than this, but there's everything you can think of +there—all the latest machinery and dodges, and not over-rented, I'm +told. The biggest fool i' Bursley couldn't help but make money there. +This 'ere works 'ere, Miss Tellwright, wants mendin' with a new 'un.' +</P> + +<P> +'It looks very dirty, I must say,' said Anna. +</P> + +<P> +'Dirty!' he laughed—a short, acrid laugh—'I suppose you've called +about the rent.' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, father asked me to call.' +</P> + +<P> +'Let me see, this place belongs to you i' your own right, doesn't it, +Miss?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' said Anna. 'It's mine—from my grandfather, you know.' +</P> + +<P> +'Ah! Well, I'm sorry for to tell ye as I can't pay anything now—no, +not a cent. But I'll pay twenty pounds in a week. Tell ye father I'll +pay twenty pound in a week.' +</P> + +<P> +'That's what you said last week,' Anna remarked, with more brusqueness +than she had intended. At first she was fearful at her own temerity in +thus addressing a superintendent of the Sunday-school; then, as nothing +happened, she felt reassured, and strong in the justice of her position. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' he admitted obsequiously. 'But I've been disappointed. One of +our best customers put us off, to tell ye the truth. Money's tight, +very tight. It's got to be give and take in these days, as ye father +knows. And I may as well speak plain to ye, Miss Tellwright. We +canna' stay here; we shall be compelled to give ye notice. What's +amiss with this bank[<A NAME="chap03fn1text"></A><A HREF="#chap03fn1">1</A>] is that it wants pullin' down.' He went off +into a rapid enumeration of ninety-and-nine alterations and repairs +that must be done without the loss of a moment, and concluded: 'You +tell ye father what I've told ye, and say as I'll send up twenty pounds +next week. I can't pay anything now; I've nothing by me at all.' +</P> + +<P> +'Father said particularly I was to be sure and get something on +account.' There was a flinty hardness in her tone which astonished +herself perhaps more than Titus Price. A long pause followed, and then +Mr. Price drew a breath, seeming to nerve himself to a tremendous +sacrificial deed. +</P> + +<P> +'I tell ye what I'll do. I'll give ye ten pounds now, and I'll do what +I can next week. I'll do what I can. There!' +</P> + +<P> +'Thank you,' said Anna. She was amazed at her success. +</P> + +<P> +He unlocked the desk, and his head disappeared under the lifted lid. +Anna gazed through the window. Like many women, and not a few men, in +the Five Towns, she was wholly ignorant of the staple manufacture. The +interior of a works was almost as strange to her as it would have been +to a farm-hand from Sussex. A girl came out of a door on the opposite +side of the quadrangle: the creature was clothed in clayey rags, and +carried on her right shoulder a board laden with biscuit[<A NAME="chap03fn2text"></A><A HREF="#chap03fn2">2</A>] cups. She +began to mount one of the wooden stairways, and as she did so the +board, six feet in length, swayed alarmingly to and fro. Anna expected +to see it fall with a destructive crash, but the girl went up in +safety, and with a nonchalant jerk of the shoulder aimed the end of the +board through another door and vanished from sight. To Anna it was a +thrilling feat, but she noticed that a man who stood in the yard did +not even turn his head to watch it. Mr. Price recalled her to the +business of her errand. +</P> + +<P> +'Here's two fives,' he said, shutting down the desk with the sigh of a +crocodile. +</P> + +<P> +'Liar! You said you had nothing!' her unspoken thought ran, and at the +same instant the Sunday-school and everything connected with it +grievously sank in her estimation; she contrasted this scene with that +on the previous day with the peccant schoolgirl: it was an hour of +disillusion. Taking the notes, she gave a receipt and rose to go. +</P> + +<P> +'Tell ye father'—it seemed to Anna that this phrase was always on his +lips—'tell ye father he must come down and look at the state this +place is in,' said Mr. Price, enheartened by the heroic payment of ten +pounds. Anna said nothing; she thought a fire would do more good than +anything else to the foul, squalid buildings: the passing fancy +coincided with Mr. Price's secret and most intense desire. +</P> + +<P> +Outside she saw Willie Price superintending the lifting of a crate on +to a railway lorry. After twirling in the air, the crate sank safely +into the waggon. Young Price was perspiring. +</P> + +<P> +'Warm afternoon, Miss Tellwright,' he called to her as she passed, with +his pleasant bashful smile. She gave an affirmative. Then he came to +her, still smiling, his face full of an intention to say something, +however insignificant. +</P> + +<P> +'I suppose you'll be at the Special Teachers' Meeting to-morrow night,' +he remarked. +</P> + +<P> +'I hope to be,' she said. That was all: William had achieved his +small-talk: they parted. +</P> + +<P> +'So father and Mr. Mynors are going into partnership,' she kept saying +to herself on the way home. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="footnote"> +<A NAME="chap03fn1"></A> +[<A HREF="#chap03fn1text">1</A>] Bank: manufactory. +</P> + +<P CLASS="footnote"> +<A NAME="chap03fn2"></A> +[<A HREF="#chap03fn2text">2</A>] Biscuit: a term applied to ware which has been fired only once. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap04"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IV +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +A VISIT +</H4> + +<P> +The Special Teachers' Meeting to which Willie Price had referred was +one of the final preliminaries to a Revival—that is, a revival of +godliness and Christian grace—about to be undertaken by the Wesleyan +Methodist Society in Bursley. Its object was to arrange for a personal +visitation of the parents of Sunday-school scholars in their homes. +Hitherto Anna had felt but little interest in the Revival: it had +several times been brought indirectly before her notice, but she had +regarded it as a phenomenon which recurred at intervals in the cycle of +religious activity, and as not in any way affecting herself. The +gradual centring of public interest, however—that mysterious movement +which, defying analysis, gathers force as it proceeds, and ends by +coercing the most indifferent—had already modified her attitude +towards this forthcoming event. It got about that the preacher who had +been engaged, a specialist in revivals, was a man of miraculous powers: +the number of souls which he had snatched from eternal torment was +precisely stated, and it amounted to tens of thousands. He played the +cornet to the glory of God, and his cornet was of silver: his more +distant past had been ineffably wicked, and the faint rumour of that +dead wickedness clung to his name like a piquant odour. As Anna walked +up Trafalgar Road from Price's she observed that the hoardings had been +billed with great posters announcing the Revival and the revivalist, +who was to commence his work on Friday night. +</P> + +<P> +During tea Mr. Tellwright interrupted his perusal of the evening +'Signal' to give utterance to a rather remarkable speech. +</P> + +<P> +'Bless us!' he said. 'Th' old trumpeter 'll turn the town upside down!' +</P> + +<P> +'Do you mean the revivalist, father?' Anna asked. +</P> + +<P> +'Ay!' +</P> + +<P> +'He's a beautiful man,' Agnes exclaimed with enthusiasm. 'Our teacher +showed us his portrait after school this afternoon. I never saw such a +beautiful man.' +</P> + +<P> +Her father gazed hard at the child for an instant, cup in hand, and +then turned to Anna with a slightly sardonic air. +</P> + +<P> +'What are you doing i' this Revival, Anna?' +</P> + +<P> +'Nothing,' she said. 'Only there's a teachers' meeting about it +to-morrow night, and I have to go to that. Young Mr. Price mentioned +it to me specially to-day.' +</P> + +<P> +A pause followed. +</P> + +<P> +'Didst get anything out o' Price?' Tellwright asked. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes; he gave me ten pounds. He wants you to go and look over the +works—says they're falling to pieces.' +</P> + +<P> +'Cheque, I reckon?' +</P> + +<P> +She corrected the surmise. +</P> + +<P> +'Better give me them notes, Anna,' he said after tea. 'I'm going to +th' Bank i' th' morning, and I'll pay 'em in to your account.' +</P> + +<P> +There was no reason why she should not have suggested the propriety of +keeping at least one of the notes for her private use. But she dared +not. She had never any money of her own, not a penny; and the +effective possession of five pounds seemed far too audacious a dream. +She hesitated to imagine her father's reply to such a request, even to +frame the request to herself. The thing, viewed close, was utterly +impossible. And when she relinquished the notes she also, without +being asked, gave up her cheque-book, deposit-book, and pass-book. She +did this while ardently desiring to refrain from doing it, as it were +under the compulsion of an invincible instinct. Afterwards she felt +more at ease, as though some disturbing question had been settled once +and for all. +</P> + +<P> +During the whole of that evening she timorously expected Mynors, saying +to herself however that he certainly would not call before Thursday. +On Tuesday evening she started early for the teachers' meeting. Her +intention was to arrive among the first and to choose a seat in +obscurity, since she knew well that every eye would be upon her. She +was divided between the desire to see Mynors and the desire to avoid +the ordeal of being seen by her colleagues in his presence. She +trembled lest she should be incapable of commanding her mien so as to +appear unconscious of this inspection by curious eyes. +</P> + +<P> +The meeting was held in a large class-room, furnished with wooden +seats, a chair and a small table. On the grey distempered walls hung a +few Biblical cartoons depicting scenes in the life of Joseph and his +brethren—but without reference to Potiphar's wife. From the +whitewashed ceiling depended a T-shaped gas-fitting, one burner of +which showed a glimmer, though the sun had not yet set. The evening +was oppressively warm, and through the wide-open window came the faint +effluvium of populous cottages and the distant but raucous cries of +children at play. When Anna entered a group of young men were talking +eagerly round the table; among these was Willie Price, who greeted her. +No others had come: she sat down in a corner by the door, invisible +except from within the room. Gradually the place began to fill. Then +at last Mynors entered: Anna recognised his authoritative step before +she saw him. He walked quickly to the chair in front of the table, +and, including all in a friendly and generous smile, said that in the +absence of Mr. Titus Price it fell to him to take the chair; he was +glad that so many had made a point of being present. Everyone sat +down. He gave out a hymn, and led the singing himself, attacking the +first note with an assurance born of practice. Then he prayed, and as +he prayed Anna gazed at him intently. He was standing up, the ends of +his fingers pressed against the top of the table. Very carefully +dressed as usual, he wore a brilliant new red necktie, and a gardenia +in his button-hole. He seemed happy, wholesome, earnest, and +unaffected. He had the elasticity of youth with the firm wisdom of +age. And it was as if he had never been younger and would never grow +older, remaining always at just thirty and in his prime. Incomparable +to the rest, he was clearly born to lead. He fulfilled his functions +with tact, grace, and dignity. In such an affair as this present he +disclosed the attributes of the skilled workman, whose easy and exact +movements are a joy and wonder to the beholder. And behind all was the +man, his excellent and strong nature, his kindliness, his sincerity. +Yes, to Anna, Mynors was perfect that night; the reality of him +exceeded her dreamy meditations. Fearful on the brink of an ecstatic +bliss, she could scarcely believe that from the enticements of a +thousand woman this paragon had been preserved for her. Like most of +us, she lacked the high courage to grasp happiness boldly and without +apprehension; she had not learnt that nothing is too good to be true. +</P> + +<P> +Mynors' prayer was a cogent appeal for the success of the Revival. He +knew what he wanted, and confidently asked for it, approaching God with +humility but with self-respect. The prayer was punctuated by Amens +from various parts of the room. The atmosphere became suddenly +fervent, emotional and devout. Here was lofty endeavour, idealism, a +burning spirituality; and not all the pettinesses unavoidable in such +an organisation as a Sunday-school could hide the difference between +this impassioned altruism and the ignoble selfishness of the worldly. +Anna felt, as she had often felt before, but more acutely now, that she +existed only on the fringe of the Methodist society. She had not been +converted; technically she was a lost creature: the converted knew it, +and in some subtle way their bearing towards her, and others in her +case, always showed that they knew it. Why did she teach? Not from +the impulse of religious zeal. Why was she allowed to have charge of a +class of immortal souls? The blind could not lead the blind, nor the +lost save the lost. These considerations troubled her. Conscience +pricked, accusing her of a continual pretence. The <I>rôle</I> of +professing Christian, through false shame, had seemed distasteful to +her: she had said that she could never stand up and say, 'I am for +Christ,' without being uncomfortable. But now she was ashamed of her +inability to profess Christ. She could conceive herself proud and +happy in the very part which formerly she had despised. It was these +believers, workers, exhorters, wrestlers with Satan, who had the right +to disdain; not she. At that moment, as if divining her thoughts, +Mynors prayed for those among them who were not converted. She +blushed, and when the prayer was finished she feared lest every eye +might seek hers in inquiry; but no one seemed to notice her. +</P> + +<P> +Mynors sat down, and, seated, began to explain the arrangements for the +Revival. He made it plain that prayers without industry would not +achieve success. His remarks revealed the fact that underneath the +broad religious structure of the enterprise, and supporting it, there +was a basis of individual diplomacy and solicitation. The town had +been mapped out into districts, and each of these was being importuned, +as at an election: by the thoroughness and instancy of this canvass, +quite as much as by the intensity of prayerful desire, would Christ +conquer. The affair was a campaign before it was a prostration at the +Throne of Grace. He spoke of the children, saying that in connection +with these they, the teachers, had at once the highest privilege and +the most sacred responsibility. He told of a special service for the +children, and the need of visiting them in their homes and inviting the +parents also to this feast of God. He wished every teacher during +to-morrow and the next day and the next day to go through the list of +his or her scholars' names, and call if possible at every house. There +must be no shirking. 'Will you ladies do that?' he exclaimed with an +appealing, serious smile. 'Will you, Miss Dickinson? Will you, Miss +Machin? Will you, Mrs. Salt? Will you, Miss Sutton? Will you——' +Until at last it came: 'Will you, Miss Tellwright?' 'I will,' she +answered, with averted eyes. 'Thank you. Thank you all.' +</P> + +<P> +Some others spoke, hopefully, enthusiastically, and one or two prayed. +Then Mynors rose: 'May the blessing of God the Father, the Son, and the +Holy Ghost rest upon us now and for ever.' 'Amen,' someone ejaculated. +The meeting was over. +</P> + +<P> +Anna passed rapidly out of he door, down the Quadrangle, and into +Trafalgar Road. She was the first to leave, daring not to stay in the +room a moment. She had seen him; he had not altered since Sunday; +there was no disillusion, but a deepening of the original impression. +Caught up by the soaring of his spirit, her spirit lifted, and she was +conscious of vague but intense longing skyward. She could not reason +or think in that dizzying hour, but she made resolutions which had no +verbal form, yielding eagerly to his influence and his appeal. Not +till she had reached the bottom of Duck Bank and was breasting the +first rise towards Bleakridge did her pace slacken. Then a voice +called to her from behind. She recognised it, and turned sharply +beneath the shock. Mynors raised his hat and greeted her. +</P> + +<P> +'I'm coming to see your father,' he said. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes?' she said, and gave him her hand. +</P> + +<P> +'It was a very satisfactory meeting to-night,' he began, and in a +moment they were talking seriously of the Revival. With the most +oblique delicacy, the most perfect assumption of equality between them, +he allowed her to perceive his genuine and profound anxiety for her +spiritual welfare. The atmosphere of the meeting was still round about +him, the divine fire still uncooled. 'I hope you will come to the +first service on Friday night,' he pleaded. +</P> + +<P> +'I must,' she replied. 'Oh, yes. I shall come.' +</P> + +<P> +'That is good,' he said. 'I particularly wanted your promise.' +</P> + +<P> +They were at the door of the house. Agnes, obviously expectant and +excited, answered the bell. With an effort Anna and Mynors passed into +a lighter mood. +</P> + +<P> +'Father said you were coming, Mr. Mynors,' said Agnes, and, turning to +Anna, 'I've set supper all myself.' +</P> + +<P> +'Have you?' Mynors laughed. 'Capital! You must let me give you a +kiss for that.' He bent down and kissed her, she holding up her face +to his with no reluctance. Anna looked on, smiling. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Tellwright sat near the window of the back parlour, reading the +paper. Twilight was at hand. He lowered his head as Mynors entered +with Agnes in train, so as to see over his spectacles, which were +half-way down his nose. +</P> + +<P> +'How d'ye do, Mr. Mynors? I was just going to begin my supper. I +don't wait, you know,' and he glanced at the table. +</P> + +<P> +'Quite right,' said Mynors, 'so long as you wouldn't eat it all. Would +he have eaten it all, Agnes, do you think?' Agnes pressed her head +against Mynors' arm and laughed shyly. The old man sardonically +chuckled. +</P> + +<P> +Anna, who was still in the passage, wondered what could be on the +table. If it was only the usual morsel of cheese she felt that she +should expire of mortification. She peeped: the cheese was at one end, +and at the other a joint of beef, scarcely touched. +</P> + +<P> +'Nay, nay,' said Tellwright, as if he had been engaged some seconds +upon the joke, 'I'd have saved ye the bone.' +</P> + +<P> +Anna went upstairs to take off her hat, and immediately Agnes flew +after her. The child was breathless with news. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, Anna! As soon as you'd gone out father told me that Mr. Mynors +was coming for supper. Did you know before?' +</P> + +<P> +'Not till Mr. Mynors told me, dear.' It was characteristic of her +father to say nothing until the last moment. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, and he told me to put an extra plate, and I asked him if I had +better put the beef on the table, and first he said "No," cross—you +know—and then he said I could please myself, so I put it on. Why has +Mr. Mynors come, Anna?' +</P> + +<P> +'How should I know? Some business between him and father, I expect.' +</P> + +<P> +'It's very <I>queer</I>,' said Agnes positively, with the child's aptitude +for looking a fact squarely in the face. +</P> + +<P> +'Why "queer"?' +</P> + +<P> +'You know it is, Anna,' she frowned, and then breaking into a joyous +anile: 'But isn't he nice? I think he's lovely.' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' Anna assented coldly. +</P> + +<P> +'But really?' Agnes persisted. +</P> + +<P> +Anna brushed her hair and determined not to put on the apron which she +usually wore in the house. +</P> + +<P> +'Am I tidy, Anna?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes. Run downstairs now. I am coming directly.' +</P> + +<P> +'I want to wait for you,' Agnes pouted. +</P> + +<P> +'Very well, dear.' +</P> + +<P> +They entered the parlour together, and Henry Mynors jumped up from his +chair, and would not sit at table until they were seated. Then Mr. +Tellwright carved the beef, giving each of them a very small piece, and +taking only cheese for himself. Agnes handed the water-jug and the +bread. Mynors talked about nothing in especial, but he talked and +laughed the whole time; he even made the old man laugh, by a comical +phrase aimed at Agnes's mad passion for gilly-flowers. He seemed not +to have detected any shortcomings in the table appointments—the coarse +cloth and plates, the chipped tumblers, the pewter cruet, and the +stumpy knives—which caused anguish in the heart of the housewife. He +might have sat at such a table every night of his life. +</P> + +<P> +'May I trouble you for a little more beef?' he asked presently, and +Anna fancied a shade of mischief in his tone as he thus forced the old +man into a tardy hospitality. 'Thanks. <I>And</I> a morsel of fat.' +</P> + +<P> +She wondered whether he guessed that she was worth fifty thousand +pounds, and her father worth perhaps more. +</P> + +<P> +But on the whole Anna enjoyed the meal. She was sorry when they had +finished and Agnes had thanked God for the beef. It was not without +considerable reluctance that she rose and left the side of the man +whose arm she could have touched at any time during the previous twenty +minutes. She had felt happy and perturbed in being so near to him, so +intimate and free; already she knew his face by heart. The two girls +carried the plates and dishes into the kitchen, Agnes making the last +journey with the tablecloth, which Mynors had assisted her to fold. +</P> + +<P> +'Shut the door, Agnes,' said the old man, getting up to light the gas. +It was an order of dismissal to both his daughters. 'Let me light +that,' Mynors exclaimed, and the gas was lighted before Mr. Tellwright +had struck a match. Mynors turned on the full force of gas. Then Mr. +Tellwright carefully lowered it. The summer quarter's gas-bill at that +house did not exceed five shillings. +</P> + +<P> +Through the open windows of the kitchen and parlour, Anna could hear +the voices of the two men in conversation, Mynors' vivacious and +changeful, her father's monotonous, curt, and heavy. Once she caught +the old man's hard dry chuckle. The washing-up was done, Agnes had +accomplished her home-lessons; the grandfather's clock chimed the +half-hour after nine. +</P> + +<P> +'You must go to bed, Agnes.' +</P> + +<P> +'Mustn't I say good-night to him?' +</P> + +<P> +'No, I will say good-night for you.' +</P> + +<P> +'Don't forget to. I shall ask you in the morning.' +</P> + +<P> +The regular sound of talk still came from the parlour. A full moon +passed along the cloudless sky. By its light and that of a glimmer of +gas, Anna sat cleaning silver, or rather nickel, at the kitchen table. +The spoons and forks were already clean, but she felt compelled to busy +herself with something. At length the talk stopped and she heard the +scraping of chair-legs. Should she return to the parlour? Or should +she——? Even while she hesitated, the kitchen door opened. +</P> + +<P> +'Excuse me coming in here,' said Mynors. 'I wanted to say good-night +to you.' +</P> + +<P> +She sprang up and he took her hand. Could he feel the agitation of +that hand? +</P> + +<P> +'Good-night.' +</P> + +<P> +'Good-night.' He said it again. +</P> + +<P> +'And Agnes wished me to say good-night to you for her.' +</P> + +<P> +'Did she?' He smiled; till then his face had been serious. 'You won't +forget Friday?' +</P> + +<P> +'As if I could!' she murmured after he had gone. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap05"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER V +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE REVIVAL +</H4> + +<P> +Anna spent the two following afternoons in visiting the houses of her +school-children. She had no talent for such work, which demands the +vocal rather than the meditative temperament, and the apparent futility +of her labours would have disgusted and disheartened her had she not +been sustained and urged forward by the still active influence of +Mynors and the teachers' meeting. There were fifteen names in her +class-book, and she went to each house, except four whose tenants were +impeccable Wesleyan families and would have considered themselves +insulted by a quasi-didactic visit from an upstart like Anna. Of the +eleven, some parents were rude to her; others begged, and she had +nothing to give; others made perfunctory promises; only two seemed to +regard her as anything but a somewhat tiresome impertinence. The fault +was doubtless her own. Nevertheless she found joy in the uncongenial +and ill-performed task—the cold, fierce joy of the nun in her penance. +When it was done she said 'I have done it,' as one who has sworn to do +it come what might, yet without quite expecting to succeed. +</P> + +<P> +On the Friday afternoon, during tea, a boy brought up a large foolscap +packet addressed to Mr. Tellwright. 'From Mr. Mynors,' the boy said. +Tellwright opened it leisurely after the boy had gone, and took out +some sheets covered with figures which he carefully examined. 'Anna,' +he said, as she was clearing away the tea things, 'I understand thou'rt +going to the Revival meeting to-night. I shall have a message as thou +mun give to Mr. Mynors.' +</P> + +<P> +When she went upstairs to dress, she saw the Suttons' landau standing +outside their house on the opposite side of the road. Mrs. Sutton came +down the front steps and got into the carriage, and was followed by a +little restless, nervous, alert man who carried in his hand a black +case of peculiar form. 'The Revivalist!' Anna exclaimed, remembering +that he was to stay with the Suttons during the Revival week. Then +this was the renowned crusader, and the case held his renowned cornet! +The carriage drove off down Trafalgar Road, and Anna could see that the +little man was talking vehemently and incessantly to Mrs. Sutton, who +listened with evident interest; at the same time the man's eyes were +everywhere, absorbing all details of the street and houses with +unquenchable curiosity. +</P> + +<P> +'What is the message for Mr. Mynors, father?' she asked in the parlour, +putting on her cotton gloves. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh!' he said, and then paused. 'Shut th' door, lass.' +</P> + +<P> +She shut it, not knowing what this cautiousness foreshadowed. Agnes +was in the kitchen. +</P> + +<P> +'It's o' this'n,' Tellwright began. 'Young Mynors wants a partner wi' +a couple o' thousand pounds, and he come to me. Ye understand; 'tis +what they call a sleeping partner he's after. He'll give a third share +in his concern for two thousand pound now. I've looked into it and +there's money in it. He's no fool and he's gotten hold of a good +thing. He sent me up his stock-taking and balance sheet to-day, and +I've been o'er the place mysen. I'm telling thee this, lass, because I +have na' two thousand o' my own idle just now, and I thought as thou +might happen like th' investment.' +</P> + +<P> +'But father——' +</P> + +<P> +'Listen. I know as there's only four hundred o' thine in th' Bank now, +but next week 'll see the beginning o' July and dividends coming in. +I've reckoned as ye'll have nigh on fourteen hundred i' dividends and +interests, and I can lend ye a couple o' hundred in case o' necessity. +It's a rare chance; thou's best tak' it.' +</P> + +<P> +'Of course, if you think it's all right, father, that's enough,' she +said without animation. +</P> + +<P> +'Am' na I telling thee I think it's all right?' he remarked sharply. +'You mun tell Mynors as I say it's satisfactory. Tell him that, see? +I say it's satisfactory. I shall want for to see him later on. He +told me he couldna' come up any night next week, so ask him to make it +the week after. There's no hurry. Dunna' forget.' +</P> + +<P> +What surprised Anna most in the affair was that Henry Mynors should +have been able to tempt her father into a speculation. Ephraim +Tellwright the investor was usually as shy as a well-fed trout, and +this capture of him by a youngster only two years established in +business might fairly be regarded as a prodigious feat. It was indeed +the highest distinction of Mynors' commercial career. Henry was so +prominently active in the Wesleyan Society that the members of that +society, especially the women, were apt to ignore the other side of his +individuality. They knew him supreme as a religious worker; they did +not realise the likelihood of his becoming supreme in the staple +manufacture. Left an orphan at seventeen, Mynors belonged to a family +now otherwise extinct in the Five Towns—one of those families which by +virtue of numbers, variety, and personal force seem to permeate a whole +district, to be a calculable item of it, an essential part of its +identity. The elders of the Mynors blood had once occupied the red +house opposite Tellwright's, now used as a school, and had there reared +many children: the school building was still known as 'Mynors's' by +old-fashioned people. Then the parents died in middle age: one +daughter married in the North, another in the South; a third went to +China as a missionary and died of fever; the eldest son died; the +second had vanished into Canada and was reported a scapegrace; the +third was a sea-captain. Henry (the youngest) alone was left, and of +all the family Henry was the only one to be connected with the +earthenware trade. There was no inherited money, and during ten years +he had worked for a large firm in Turnhill, as clerk, as traveller, and +last as manager, living always quietly in lodgings. In the fullness of +time he gave notice to leave, was offered a partnership, and refused +it. Taking a newly erected manufactory in Bursley near the canal, he +started in business for himself, and it became known that, at the age +of twenty-eight, he had saved fifteen hundred pounds. Equally expert +in the labyrinths of manufacture and in the niceties of the markets (he +was reckoned a peerless traveller), Mynors inevitably flourished. His +order-books were filled and flowing over at remunerative prices, and +insufficiency of capital was the sole peril to which he was exposed. +By the raising of a finger he could have had a dozen working and +moneyed partners, but he had no desire for a working partner. What he +wanted was a capitalist who had confidence in him, Mynors. In Ephraim +Tellwright he found the man. Whether it was by instinct, good luck, or +skilful diplomacy that Mynors secured this invaluable prize no one +could positively say, and perhaps even he himself could not have +catalogued all the obscure motives that had guided him to the shrewd +miser of Manor Terrace. +</P> + +<P> +Anna had meant to reach chapel before the commencement of the meeting, +but the interview with her father threw her late. As she entered the +porch an officer told her that the body of the chapel was quite full +and that she should go into the gallery, where a few seats were left +near the choir. She obeyed: pew-holders had no rights at that service. +The scene in the auditorium astonished her, effectually putting an end +to the worldly preoccupation caused by her father's news. The historic +chapel was crowded almost in every part, and the +congregation—impressed, excited, eager—sang the opening hymn with +unprecedented vigour and sincerity; above the rest could be heard the +trained voices of a large choir, and even the choir, usually +perfunctory, seemed to share the general fervour. In the vast mahogany +pulpit the Reverend Reginald Banks, the superintendent minister, a +stout pale-faced man with pendent cheeks and cold grey eyes, stood +impassively regarding the assemblage, and by his side was the +revivalist, a manikin in comparison with his colleague; on the broad +balustrade of the pulpit lay the cornet. The fiery and inquisitive +eyes of the revivalist probed into the furthest corners of the chapel; +apparently no detail of any single face or of the florid decoration +escaped him, and as Anna crept into a small empty pew next to the cast +wall she felt that she too had been separately observed. Mr. Banks +gave out the last verse of the hymn, and simultaneously with the +leading chord from the organ the revivalist seized his cornet and +joined the melody. Massive yet exultant, the tones rose clear over the +mighty volume of vocal sound, an incitement to victorious effort. The +effect was instant: an ecstatic tremor seemed to pass through the +congregation, like wind through ripe corn, and at the close of the hymn +it was not until the revivalist had put down his cornet that the people +resumed their seats. Amid the <I>frou-frou</I> of dresses and subdued +clearing of throats, Mr. Banks retired softly to the back of the +pulpit, and the revivalist, mounting a stool, suddenly dominated the +congregation. His glance swept masterfully across the chapel and round +the gallery. He raised one hand with the stilling action of a +mesmerist, and the people, either kneeling or inclined against the +front of the pews, hid their faces from those eyes. It was as though +the man had in a moment measured their iniquities, and had courageously +resolved to intercede for them with God, but was not very sanguine as +to the result. Everyone except the organist, who was searching his +tune-book for the next tune, seemed to feel humbled, bitterly ashamed, +as it were caught in the act of sin. There was a solemn and terrible +pause. +</P> + +<P> +Then the revivalist began: +</P> + +<P> +'Behold us, O dread God, suppliants for Thy mercy—' +</P> + +<P> +His voice was rich and full, but at the same time sharp and decisive. +The burning eyes were shut tight, and Anna, who had a profile view of +his face, saw that every muscle of it was drawn tense. The man +possessed an extraordinary histrionic gift, and he used it with +imagination. He had two audiences, God and the congregation. God was +not more distant from him than the congregation, or less real to him, +or less a heart to be influenced. Declamatory and full of effects +carefully calculated—a work of art, in fact—his appeal showed no +error of discretion in its approach to the Eternal. There was no +minimising of committed sin, nor yet an insincere and grovelling +self-accusation. A tyrant could not have taken offence at its tone, +which seemed to pacify God while rendering the human audience still +more contrite. The conclusion of the catalogue of wickedness and swift +confident turn to Christ's Cross was marvellously impressive. The +congregation burst out into sighs, groans, blessings, and Amens; and +the pillars of distant rural conventicles who had travelled from the +confines of the circuit to its centre in order to partake of this +spiritual excitation began to feel that they would not be disappointed. +</P> + +<P> +'Let the Holy Ghost descend upon us now,' the revivalist pleaded with +restrained passion; and then, opening his eyes and looking at the clock +in front of the gallery, he repeated, 'Now, now, at twenty-one minutes +past seven.' Then his eyes, without shifting, seemed to ignore the +clock, to gaze through it into some unworldly dimension, and he +murmured in a soft dramatic whisper: 'I see the Divine Dove!——' +</P> + +<P> +The doors, closed during prayer, were opened, and more people entered. +A youth came into Anna's pew. +</P> + +<P> +The superintendent minister gave out another hymn, and when this was +finished the revivalist, who had been resting in a chair, came forward +again. 'Friends and fellow-sinners,' he said, 'a lot of you, fools +that you are, have come here to-night to hear me play my cornet. Well, +you have heard me. I have played the cornet, and I will play it again. +I would play it on my head if by so doing I could bring sinners to +Christ. I have been called a mountebank. I am one. I glory in it. I +am God's mountebank, doing God's precious business in my own way. But +God's precious business cannot be carried on, even by a mountebank, +without money, and there will be a collection towards the expenses of +the Revival. During the collection we will sing "Rock of Ages," and +you shall hear my cornet again. If you feel willing to give us your +sixpences, give; but if you resent a collection,' here he adopted a +tone of ferocious sarcasm, 'keep your miserable sixpences and get +sixpenny-worth of miserable enjoyment out of them elsewhere.' +</P> + +<P> +As the meeting proceeded, submitting itself more and more to the +imperious hypnotism of the revivalist, Anna gradually became oppressed +by a vague sensation which was partly sorrow and partly an inexplicable +dull anger—anger at her own penitence. She felt as if everything was +wrong and could never by any possibility be righted. After two +exhortations, from the minister and the revivalist, and another hymn, +the revivalist once more prayed, and as he did so Anna looked +stealthily about in a sick, preoccupied way. The youth at her side +stared glumly in front of him. In the orchestra Henry Mynors was +whispering to the organist. Down in the body of the chapel the +atmosphere was electric, perilous, overcharged with spiritual emotion. +She was glad she was not down there. The voice of the revivalist +ceased, but he kept the attitude of supplication. Sobs were heard in +various quarters, and here and there an elder of the chapel could be +seen talking quietly to some convicted sinner. The revivalist began +softly to sing 'Jesu, lover of my soul,' and most of the congregation, +standing up, joined him; but the sinners stricken of the Spirit +remained abjectly bent, tortured by conscience, pulled this way by +Christ and that by Satan. A few rose and went to the Communion rails, +there to kneel in the sight of all. Mr. Banks descended from the +pulpit and opening the wicket which led to the Communion table spoke to +these over the rails, reassuringly, as a nurse to a child. Other +sinners, desirous of fuller and more intimate guidance, passed down the +aisles and so into the preacher's vestry at the eastern end of the +chapel, and were followed thither by class-leaders and other proved +servants of God: among these last were Titus Price and Mr. Sutton. +</P> + +<P> +'The blood of Christ atones,' said the revivalist solemnly at the end +of the hymn. 'The spirit of Christ is working among us. Let us engage +in private prayer. Let us drive the devil out of this chapel.' +</P> + +<P> +More sighs and groans followed. Then someone cried out in sharp, +shrill tones, 'Praise Him;' and another cried, 'Praise Him;' and an old +woman's quavering voice sang the words, 'I know that my Redeemer +liveth.' Anna was in despair at her own predicament, and the sense of +sin was not more strong than the sense of being confused and publicly +shamed. A man opened the pew-door, and sitting down by the youth's +side began to talk with him. It was Henry Mynors. Anna looked +steadily away, at the wall, fearful lest he should address her too. +Presently the youth got up with a frenzied gesture and walked out of +the gallery, followed by Mynors. In a moment she saw the youth +stepping awkwardly along the aisle beneath, towards the inquiry room, +his head forward, and the lower lip hanging as though he were sulky. +</P> + +<P> +Anna was now in the profoundest misery. The weight of her sins, of her +ingratitude to God, lay on her like a physical and intolerable load, +and she lost all feeling of shame, as a sea-sick voyager loses shame +after an hour of nausea. She knew then that she could no longer go on +living as aforetime. She shuddered at the thought of her tremendous +responsibility to Agnes—Agnes who took her for perfection. She +recollected all her sins individually—lies, sloth, envy, vanity, even +theft in her infancy. She heaped up all the wickedness of a lifetime, +hysterically augmented it, and found a horrid pleasure in the +exaggeration. Her virtuous acts shrank into nothingness. +</P> + +<P> +A man, and then another, emerged from the vestry door with beaming, +happy face. These were saved; they had yielded to Christ's persuasive +invitation. Anna tried to imagine herself converted, or in the process +of being converted. She could not. She could only sit moveless, dull, +and abject. She did not stir, even when the congregation rose for +another hymn. In what did conversion consist? Was it to say the +words, 'I believe'? She repeated to herself softly, 'I believe; I +believe.' But nothing happened. Of course she believed. She had +never doubted, or dreamed of doubting, that Jesus died on the Cross to +save her soul—<I>her</I> soul—from eternal damnation. She was probably +unaware that any person in Christendom had doubted that fact so +fundamental to her. What, then, was lacking? What was belief? What +was faith? +</P> + +<P> +A venerable class-leader came from the vestry, and, slowly climbing the +pulpit stairs, whispered in the ear of the revivalist. The latter +faced the congregation with a cry of joy. 'Lord,' he exclaimed, 'we +bless Thee that seventeen souls have found Thee! Lord, let the full +crop be gathered, for the fields are white unto harvest.' There was an +exuberant chorus of praise to God. +</P> + +<P> +The door of the pew was opened gently, and Anna started to see Mrs. +Sutton at her side. She at once guessed that Mynors had sent to her +this angel of consolation. +</P> + +<P> +'Are you near the light, dear Anna?' Mrs. Sutton began. +</P> + +<P> +Anna searched for an answer. She now sat huddled up in the corner of +the pew, her face partially turned towards Mrs. Sutton, who looked +mildly into her eyes. 'I don't know,' Anna stammered, feeling like a +naughty school-girl. A doubt whether the whole affair was not after +all absurd flashed through her, and was gone. +</P> + +<P> +'But it is quite simple,' said Mrs. Sutton. 'I cannot tell you +anything that you do not know. Cast out pride. Cast out pride—that +is it. Nothing but earthly pride prevents you from realising the +saving power of Christ. You are afraid, Anna, afraid to be humble. Be +brave. It is so simple, so easy. If one will but submit.' +</P> + +<P> +Anna said nothing, had nothing to say, was conscious of nothing save +excessive discomfort. +</P> + +<P> +'Where do you feel your difficulty to be?' asked Mrs. Sutton. +</P> + +<P> +'I don't know,' she answered wearily. +</P> + +<P> +'The happiness that awaits you is unspeakable. I have followed Christ +for nearly fifty years, and my happiness increases daily. Sometimes I +do not know how to contain it all. It surges above all the trials and +disappointments of this world. Oh, Anna, if you will but believe!' +</P> + +<P> +The ageing woman's thin, distinguished face, crowned with abundant grey +hair, glistened with love and compassion, and as Anna's eyes rested +upon it Anna felt that here was something tangible, something to lay +hold on. +</P> + +<P> +'I think I do believe,' she said weakly. +</P> + +<P> +'You "think"? Are you sure? Are you not deceiving yourself? Belief +is not with the lips: it is with the heart.' +</P> + +<P> +There was a pause. Mr. Banks could be heard praying. +</P> + +<P> +'I will go home,' Anna whispered at length, 'and think it out for +myself.' +</P> + +<P> +'Do, my dear girl, and God will help you.' +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Sutton bent and kissed Anna affectionately, and then hurried away +to offer her ministrations elsewhere. As Anna left the chapel, she +encountered the chapel-keeper pacing regularly to and fro across the +length of the broad steps. In the porch was a notice that cabinet +photographs of the revivalist could be purchased on application, at one +shilling each. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap06"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VI +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +WILLIE +</H4> + +<P> +Anna closed the bedroom door softly; through the open window came the +tones of Cauldon Church clock, famous for their sonority, and richness, +announcing eleven. Agnes lay asleep under the blue-and-white +counterpane, on the side of the bed next the wall, the bed-clothes +pushed down and disclosing the upper half of her night-gowned figure. +She slept in absolute repose, with flushed cheek and every muscle lax, +her hair by some chance drawn in a perfect straight line diagonally +across the pillow. Anna glanced at her sister, the image of physical +innocence and childish security, and then, depositing the candle, went +to the window and looked out. +</P> + +<P> +The bedroom was over the kitchen and faced south. The moon was hidden +by clouds, but clear stretches of sky showed thick-studded clusters of +stars brightly winking. To the far right across the fields the +silhouette of Hillport Church could just be discerned on the ridge. In +front, several miles away, the blast-furnaces of Cauldon Bar Ironworks +shot up vast wreaths of yellow flame with canopies of tinted smoke. +Still more distant were a thousand other lights crowning chimney and +kiln, and nearer, on the waste lands west of Bleakridge, long fields of +burning ironstone glowed with all the strange colours of decadence. +The entire landscape was illuminated and transformed by these unique +pyrotechnics of labour atoning for its grime, and dull, weird sounds, +as of the breathings and sighings of gigantic nocturnal creatures, +filled the enchanted air, It was a romantic scene, a romantic summer +night, balmy, delicate, and wrapped in meditation. But Anna saw +nothing there save the repulsive evidences of manufacture, had never +seen anything else. +</P> + +<P> +She was still horribly, acutely miserable, exhausted by the fruitless +search for some solution of the enigma of sin—her sin in +particular—and of redemption. She had cogitated in a vain circle +until she was no longer capable of reasoned ideas. She gazed at the +stars and into the illimitable spaces beyond them, and thought of life +and its inconceivable littleness, as millions had done before in the +presence of that same firmament. Then, after a time, her brain resumed +its nightmare-like task. She began to probe herself anew. Would it +have availed if she had walked publicly to the penitential form at the +Communion rail, and, ranging herself with the working men and women, +proved by that overt deed the sincerity of her contrition? She wished +ardently that she had done so, yet knew well that such an act would +always be impossible for her, even though the evasion of it meant +eternal torture. Undoubtedly, as Mrs. Sutton had implied, she was +proud, stiff-necked, obstinate in iniquity. +</P> + +<P> +Agnes stirred slightly in her sleep, and Anna, aroused, dropped the +blind, turned towards the room and began to undress, slowly, with +reflective pauses. Her melancholy became grim, sardonic; if she was +doomed to destruction, so let it be. Suddenly, half-glad, she knelt +down and prayed, prayed that pride might be cast out, burying her face +in the coverlet and caging the passionate effusion in a whisper lest +Agnes should be disturbed. Having prayed, she still knelt quiescent; +her eyes were dry and burning. The last car thundered up the road, +shaking the house, and she rose, finished undressing, blew out the +candle, and slipped into bed by Agnes's side. +</P> + +<P> +She could not sleep, did not attempt to sleep, but abandoned herself +meekly to despair. Her thoughts covered again the interminable round, +and again, and yet again. In the twilight of the brief summer night +her accustomed eyes could distinguish every object in the room, all the +bits of furniture which had been bought from Hanbridge and with which +she had been familiar since her memory began: everything appeared mean, +despicable, cheerless; there was nothing to inspire. She dreamed +impossibly of a high spirituality which should metamorphose all, change +her life, lend glamour to the most pitiful surroundings, ennoble the +most ignominious burdens—a spirituality never to be hers. +</P> + +<P> +At any rate she would tell her father in the morning that she was +convicted of sin, and, however hopelessly, seeking salvation; she would +tell both her father and Agnes at breakfast. The task would be +difficult, but she swore to do it. She resolved, she endeavoured to +sleep, and did sleep uneasily for a short period. When she woke the +great business of the dawn had begun. She left the bed, and drawing up +the blind looked forth. The furnace fires were paling; a few milky +clouds sailed in the vast pallid blue. It was cool just then, and she +shivered. She went to the glass, and examined her face carefully, but +it gave no signs whatever of the inward warfare. She saw her plain and +mended night-gown. Suppose she were married to Mynors! Suppose he lay +asleep in the bed where Agnes lay asleep! Involuntarily she glanced at +Agnes to certify that the child and none else was indeed there, and got +into bed hurriedly and hid herself because she was ashamed to have had +such a fancy. But she continued to think of Mynors. She envied him +for his cheerfulness, his joy, his goodness, his dignity, his tact, his +sex. She envied every man. Even in the sphere of religion, men were +not fettered like women. No man, she thought, would acquiesce in the +futility to which she was already half resigned; a man would either +wring salvation from the heavenly powers or race gloriously to hell. +Mynors—Mynors was a god! +</P> + +<P> +She recollected her resolution to speak to her father and Agnes at +breakfast, and shudderingly confirmed it, but less stoutly than before. +Then an announcement made by Mr. Banks in chapel on the previous +evening presented itself, as though she was listening to it for the +first time. It was the announcement of a prayer-meeting for workers in +the Revival, to be held that (Saturday) morning at seven o'clock. She +instantly decided to go to the meeting, and the decision seemed to give +her new hope. Perhaps there she might find peace. On that faint +expectancy she fell asleep again and did not wake till half-past six, +after her usual hour. She heard noises in the yard; it was her father +going towards the garden with a wheelbarrow. She dressed quickly, and +when she had pinned on her hat she woke Agnes. +</P> + +<P> +'Going out, Sis?' the child asked sleepily, seeing her attire. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, dear. I am going to the seven o'clock prayer-meeting. And you +must get breakfast. You can—can't you?' +</P> + +<P> +The child assented, glad of the chance. +</P> + +<P> +'But what are you going to the prayer-meeting for?' +</P> + +<P> +Anna hesitated. Why not confess? No. 'I must go,' she said quietly +at length. 'I shall be back before eight.' +</P> + +<P> +'Does father know?' Agnes enquired apprehensively. +</P> + +<P> +'No, dear.' +</P> + +<P> +Anna shut the door quickly, went softly downstairs and along the +passage, and crept into the street like a thief. +</P> + +<P> +Men and women and boys and girls were on their way to work, with +hurried clattering steps, some munching thick pieces of bread as they +went, all self-centred, apparently morose and not quite awake. The +dust lay thick in the arid gutters, and in drifts across the pavement; +as the night-wind had blown it. Vehicular traffic had not begun, and +blinds were still drawn; and though the footpaths were busy the street +had a deserted and forlorn aspect. Anna walked hastily down the road, +avoiding the glances of such as looked at her, but peering furtively at +the faces of those who ignored her. All seemed callous—hoggishly +careless of the everlasting verities. At first it appeared strange to +her that the potent revival in the Wesleyan chapel had produced no +effect on these preoccupied people. Bursley, then, continued its dull +and even course. She wondered whether any of them guessed that she was +going to the prayer-meeting and secretly sneered at her therefore. +</P> + +<P> +When she had climbed Duck Bank she found to her surprise that the doors +of the chapel were fast closed, though it was ten minutes past seven. +Was there to be no prayer-meeting? A momentary sensation of relief +flashed through her, and then she saw that the gate of the school-yard +was open. She should have known that early morning prayers were never +offered up in the chapel, but in the lecture-hall. She crossed the +quadrangle with beating heart, feeling now that she had embarked on a +frightful enterprise. The door of the lecture-hall was ajar; she +pushed it and went in. At the other end of the hall a meagre handful +of worshippers were collected, and on the raised platform stood Mr. +Banks, vapid, perfunctory and fatigued. He gave out a verse, and +pitched the tune—too high, but the singers with a heroic effect +accomplished the verse without breaking down. The singing was thin and +feeble, and the eagerness of one or two voices seemed strained, as +though with a determination to make the best of things. Mynors was not +present, and Anna did not know whether to be sorry or glad at this. +She recognised that save herself all present were old believers, tried +warriors of the Lord. There was only one other woman, Miss Sarah +Vodrey, an aged spinster who kept house for Titus Price and his son, +and found her sole diversion in the variety of her religious +experiences. Before the hymn was finished a young man joined the +assembly; it was the youth who had sat near Anna on the previous night, +an ecstatic and naïve bliss shone from his face. In his prayer the +minister drew the attention of the Deity to the fact that although a +score or more of souls had been ingathered at the first service, the +Methodists of Bursley were by no means satisfied. They wanted more; +they wanted the whole of Bursley; and they would be content with no +less. He begged that their earnest work might not be shamed before the +world by a partial success. In conclusion he sought the blessing of +God on the revivalist and asked that this tireless enthusiast might be +led to husband his strength: at which there was a fervent Amen. +</P> + +<P> +Several men prayed, and a pause ensued, all still kneeling. +</P> + +<P> +Then the minister said in a tone of oily politeness: +</P> + +<P> +'Will a sister pray?' +</P> + +<P> +Another pause followed. +</P> + +<P> +'Sister Tellwright?' +</P> + +<P> +Anna would have welcomed death and damnation. She clasped her hands +tightly, and longed for the endless moment to pass. At last Sarah +Vodrey gave a preliminary cough. Miss Vodrey was always happy to pray +aloud, and her invocations usually began with the same phrase: 'Lord, +we thank Thee that this day finds us with our bodies out of the grave +and our souls out of hell.' +</P> + +<P> +Afterwards the minister gave out another hymn, and as soon as the +singing commenced Anna slipped away. Once in the yard, she breathed a +sigh of relief. Peace at the prayer-meeting? It was like coming out +of prison. Peace was farther off than ever. Nay, she had actually +forgotten her soul in the sensations of shame and discomfort. She had +contrived only to make herself ridiculous, and perhaps the pious at +their breakfast-tables would discuss her and her father, and their +money, and the queer life they led. +</P> + +<P> +If Mynors had but been present! +</P> + +<P> +She walked out into the street. It was twenty minutes to eight by the +town-hall clock. The last workmen's car of the morning was just +leaving Bursley: it was packed inside and outside, and the conductor +hung insecurely on the step. At the gates of the manufactory opposite +the chapel, a man in a white smock stood placidly smoking a pipe. A +prayer-meeting was a little thing, a trifle in the immense and regular +activity of the town: this thought necessarily occurred to Anna. She +hurried homewards, wondering what her father would say about that +morning's unusual excursion. A couple of hundred yards distant from +home she saw, to her astonishment, Agnes emerging from the front-door +of the house. The child ran rapidly down the street, not observing +Anna till they were close upon each other. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, Anna! You forgot to buy the bacon yesterday. There isn't a +<I>scrap</I>, and father's fearfully angry. He gave me sixpence, and I'm +going down to Leal's to get some as quick as ever I can.' +</P> + +<P> +It was a thunderbolt to Anna, this seemingly petty misadventure. As +she entered the house she felt a tear on her cheek. She was ashamed to +weep, but she wept. This, after the fiasco of the prayer-meeting, was +a climax of woe; it overtopped and extinguished all the rest; her soul +was nothing to her now. She quickly took off her hat and ran to the +kitchen. Agnes had put the breakfast-things on the tray ready for +setting; the bread was cut, the coffee portioned into the jug; the fire +burned bright, and the kettle sang. Anna took the cloth from the +drawer in the oak dresser, and went to the parlour to lay the table. +Mr. Tellwright was at the end of the garden, pointing the wall, his +back to the house. The table set, Anna observed that the room was only +partly dusted: there was a duster on the mantelpiece; she seized it to +finish, and at that moment the kitchen clock struck eight. +Simultaneously Mr. Tellwright dropped his trowel, and came towards the +house. She doggedly dusted one chair, and then, turning coward, flew +away upstairs; the kitchen was barred to her since her father would +enter by the kitchen door. +</P> + +<P> +She had forgotten to buy bacon, and breakfast would be late: it was a +calamity unique in, her experience! She stood at the door of her +bedroom, and waited, vehemently, for Agnes's return. At last the child +raced breathlessly in; Anna flew to meet her. With incredible speed +the bacon was whipped out of its wrapper, and Anna picked up the knife. +At the first stroke she cut herself, and Agnes was obliged to bind the +finger with rag. The clock struck the half-hour like a knell. It was +twenty minutes to nine, forty minutes behind time, when the two girls +hurried into the parlour, Anna bearing the bacon and hot plates, Agnes +the bread and coffee. Mr. Tellwright sat upright and ferocious in his +chair, the image of offence and wrath. Instead of reading his letters +he had fed full of this ineffable grievance. The meal began in a +desolating silence. The male creature's terrible displeasure permeated +the whole room like an ether, invisible but carrying vibrations to the +heart. Then, when he had eaten one piece of bacon, and cut his +envelopes, the miser began to empty himself of some of his anger in +stormy tones that might have uprooted trees. Anna ought to feel +thoroughly ashamed. He could not imagine what she had been thinking +of. Why didn't she tell him she was going to the prayer-meeting? Why +did she go to the prayer-meeting, disarranging the whole household? +How came she to forget the bacon? It was gross carelessness. A pretty +example to her little sister! The fact was that <I>since her birthday</I> +she had gotten above hersen. She was careless and extravagant. Look +how thick the bacon was cut. He should not stand it much longer. And +her finger all red, and the blood dropping on the cloth: a nice sight +at a meal! Go and tie it up again. +</P> + +<P> +Without a word she left the room to obey. Of course she had no +defence. Agnes, her tears falling, pecked her food timidly like a +bird, not daring to stir from her chair, even to assist at the finger. +</P> + +<P> +'What did Mr. Mynors say?' Tellwright inquired fiercely when Anna had +come back into the room. +</P> + +<P> +'Mr. Mynors?' she murmured, at a loss, but vaguely apprehending further +trouble. +</P> + +<P> +'Did ye see him?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, father.' +</P> + +<P> +'Did ye give him my message?' +</P> + +<P> +'I forgot it.' God in heaven! She had forgotten the message! +</P> + +<P> +With a devastating grunt Mr. Tellwright walked speechless out of the +room. The girls cleared the table, exchanging sympathy with a single +mute glance. Anna's one satisfaction was that, even if she had +remembered the message, she could not possibly have delivered it. +</P> + +<P> +Ephraim Tellwright stayed in the front parlour till half-past ten +o'clock, unseen but felt, like an angry god behind a cloud. The +consciousness that he was there, unappeased and dangerous, remained +uppermost in the minds of the two girls during the morning. At +half-past ten he opened the door. +</P> + +<P> +'Agnes!' he commanded, and Agnes ran to him from the kitchen with the +speed of propitiation. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, father.' +</P> + +<P> +'Take this note down to Price's, and don't wait for an answer.' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, father.' +</P> + +<P> +She was back in twenty minutes. Anna was sweeping the lobby. +</P> + +<P> +'If Mr. Mynors calls while I'm out, you mun tell him to wait,' Mr. +Tellwright said to Agnes, pointedly ignoring Anna's presence. Then, +having brushed his greenish hat on his sleeve he went off towards town +to buy meat and vegetables. He always did Saturday's marketing +himself. At the butcher's and in the St. Luke's covered market he was +a familiar and redoubtable figure. Among the salespeople who stood the +market was a wrinkled, hardy old potato-woman from the other side of +Moorthorne: every Saturday the miser bested her in their +higgling-match, and nearly every Saturday she scornfully threw at him +the same joke: 'Get thee along to th' post-office, Master Terrick:[<A NAME="chap06fn1text"></A><A HREF="#chap06fn1">1</A>] +happen they'll give thee sixpenn'orth o' stamps for fivepence +ha'penny.' He seldom failed to laugh heartily at this. +</P> + +<P> +At dinner the girls could perceive that the shadow of his displeasure +had slightly lifted, though he kept a frowning silence. Expert in all +the symptoms of his moods, they knew that in a few hours he would begin +to talk again, at first in monosyllables, and then in short detached +sentences. An intimation of relief diffused itself through the house +like a hint of spring in February. +</P> + +<P> +These domestic upheavals followed always the same course, and Anna had +learnt to suffer the later stages of them with calmness and even with +impassivity. Henry Mynors had not called. She supposed that her +father had expected him to call for the answer which she had forgotten +to give him, and she had a hope that he would come in the afternoon: +once again she had the idea that something definite and satisfactory +might result if she could only see him—that she might, as it were, +gather inspiration from the mere sight of his face. After dinner, +while the girls were washing the dinner things in the scullery, Agnes's +quick ear caught the sound of voices in the parlour. They listened. +Mynors had come. Mr. Tellwright must have seen him from the front +window and opened the door to him before he could ring. +</P> + +<P> +'It's him,' said Agnes, excited. +</P> + +<P> +'Who?' Anna asked, self-consciously. +</P> + +<P> +'Mr. Mynors, of course,' said the child sharply, making it quite plain +that this affectation could not impose on her for a single instant. +</P> + +<P> +'Anna!' It was Mr. Tellwright's summons, through the parlour window. +She dried her hands, doffed her apron, and went to the parlour, +animated by a thousand fears and expectations. Why was she to be +included in the colloquy? +</P> + +<P> +Mynors rose at her entrance and greeted her with conspicuous deference, +a deference which made her feel ashamed. +</P> + +<P> +'Hum!' the old man growled, but he was obviously content. 'I gave Anna +a message for ye yesterday, Mr. Mynors, but her forgot to deliver it, +wench-like. Ye might ha' been saved th' trouble o' calling. Now as +ye're here, I've summat for tell ye. It 'll be Anna's money as 'll go +into that concern o' yours. I've none by me; in fact, I'm a'most fast +for brass, but her 'll have as near two thousand as makes no matter in +a month's time, and her says her 'll go in wi' you on th' strength o' +my recommendation.' +</P> + +<P> +This speech was evidently a perfect surprise for Henry Mynors. For a +moment he seemed to be at a loss; then his face gave candid expression +to a feeling of intense pleasure. +</P> + +<P> +'You know all about this business then, Miss Tellwright?' +</P> + +<P> +She blushed. 'Father has told me something about it.' +</P> + +<P> +'And are you willing to be my partner?' +</P> + +<P> +'Nay, I did na' say that,' Tellwright interrupted. 'It 'll be Anna's +money, but i' my name.' +</P> + +<P> +'I see,' said Mynors gravely. 'But if it is Miss Anna's money, why +should not she be the partner?' He offered one of his courtly +diplomatic smiles. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh—but——' Anna began in deprecation. +</P> + +<P> +Tellwright laughed. 'Ay!' he said, 'why not? It 'll be experience for +th' lass.' +</P> + +<P> +'Just so,' said Mynors. +</P> + +<P> +Anna stood silent, like a child who is being talked about. There was a +pause. +</P> + +<P> +'Would you care for that arrangement, Miss Tellwright?' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, yes,' she said. +</P> + +<P> +'I shall try to justify your confidence. I needn't say that I think +you and your father will have no reason to be disappointed. Two +thousand pounds is of course only a trifle to you, but it is a great +deal to me, and—and——' He hesitated. Anna did not surmise that he +was too much moved by the sight of her, and the situation, to continue, +but this was the fact. +</P> + +<P> +'There's nobbut one point, Mr. Mynors,' Tellwright said bluntly, 'and +that's the interest on th' capital, as must be deducted before +reckoning profits. Us must have six per cent.' +</P> + +<P> +'But I thought we had settled it at five,' said Mynors with sudden +firmness. +</P> + +<P> +'We 'n settled as you shall have five on your fifteen hundred,' the +miser replied with imperturbable audacity, 'but us mun have our six.' +</P> + +<P> +'I certainly thought we had thrashed that out fully, and agreed that +the interest should be the same on each side.' Mynors was alert and +defensive. +</P> + +<P> +'Nay, young man. Us mun have our six. We're takkin' a risk.' +</P> + +<P> +Mynors pressed his lips together. He was taken at a disadvantage. Mr. +Tellwright, with unscrupulous cleverness, had utilized the effect on +Mynors of his daughter's presence to regain a position from which the +younger man had definitely ousted him a few days before. Mynors was +annoyed, but he gave no sign of his annoyance. +</P> + +<P> +'Very well,' he said at length, with a private smile at Anna to +indicate that it was out of regard for her that he yielded. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Tellwright made no pretence of concealing his satisfaction. He, +too, smiled at Anna, sardonically: the last vestige of the morning's +irritation vanished in a glow of triumph. +</P> + +<P> +'I'm afraid I must go,' said Mynors, looking at his watch. 'There is a +service at chapel at three. Our Revivalist came down with Mrs. Sutton +to look over the works this morning, and I told him I should be at the +service. So I must. You coming, Mr. Tellwright?' +</P> + +<P> +'Nay, my lad. I'm owd enough to leave it to young uns.' +</P> + +<P> +Anna forced her courage to the verge of rashness, moved by a swift +impulse. +</P> + +<P> +'Will you wait one minute?' she said to Mynors. 'I am going to the +service. If I'm late back, father, Agnes will see to the tea. Don't +wait for me.' She looked him straight in the face. It was one of the +bravest acts of her life. After the episode of breakfast, to suggest a +procedure which might entail any risk upon another meal was absolutely +heroic. Tellwright glanced away from his daughter, and at Mynors. +Anna hurried upstairs. +</P> + +<P> +'Who's thy lawyer, Mr. Mynors?' Tellwright asked. +</P> + +<P> +'Dane,' said Mynors. +</P> + +<P> +'That 'll be convenient. Dane does my bit o' business, too. I'll see +him, and make a bargain wi' him for th' partnership deed. He always +works by contract for me. I've no patience wi' six-and-eight-pences.' +</P> + +<P> +Mynors assented. +</P> + +<P> +'You must come down some afternoon and look over the works,' he said to +Anna as they were walking down Trafalgar Road towards chapel. +</P> + +<P> +'I should like to,' Anna replied. 'I've never been over a works in my +life.' +</P> + +<P> +'No? You are going to be a partner in the best works of its size in +Bursley,' Mynors said enthusiastically. +</P> + +<P> +'I'm glad of that,' she smiled, 'for I do believe I own the worst.' +</P> + +<P> +'What—Price's do you mean?' +</P> + +<P> +She nodded. +</P> + +<P> +'Ah!' he exclaimed, and seemed to be thinking. 'I wasn't sure whether +that belonged to you or your father. I'm afraid it isn't quite the +best of properties. But perhaps I'd better say nothing about that. We +had a grand meeting last night. Our little cornet-player quite lived +up to his reputation, don't you think?' +</P> + +<P> +'Quite,' she said faintly. +</P> + +<P> +'You enjoyed the meeting?' +</P> + +<P> +'No,' she blurted out, dismayed but resolute to be honest. +</P> + +<P> +There was a silence. +</P> + +<P> +'But you were at the early prayer-meeting this morning, I hear.' +</P> + +<P> +She said nothing while they took a dozen paces, and then murmured, +'Yes.' +</P> + +<P> +Their eyes met for a second, hers full of trouble. +</P> + +<P> +'Perhaps,' he said at length, 'perhaps—excuse me saying this—but you +may be expecting too much——' +</P> + +<P> +'Well?' she encouraged him, prepared now to finish what had been begun. +</P> + +<P> +'I mean,' he said, earnestly, 'that I—we—cannot promise you any +sudden change of feeling, any sudden relief and certainty, such as some +people experience. At least, I never had it. What is called +conversion can happen in various ways. It is a question of living, of +constant endeavour, with the example of Christ always before us. It +need not always be a sudden wrench, you know, from the world. Perhaps +you have been expecting too much,' he repeated, as though offering balm +with that phrase. +</P> + +<P> +She thanked him sincerely, but not with her lips, only with the heart. +He had revealed to her an avenue of release from a situation which had +seemed on all sides fatally closed. She sprang eagerly towards it. +She realised afresh how frightful was the dilemma from which there was +now a hope of escape, and she was grateful accordingly. Before, she +had not dared steadily to face its terrors. She wondered that even her +father's displeasure or the project of the partnership had been able to +divert her from the plight of her soul. Putting these mundane things +firmly behind her, she concentrated the activities of her brain on that +idea of Christ-like living, day by day, hour by hour, of a gradual +aspiration towards Christ and thereby an ultimate arrival at the state +of being saved. This she thought she might accomplish; this gave +opportunity of immediate effort, dispensing with the necessity of an +impossible violent spiritual metamorphosis. They did not speak again +until they had reached the gates of the chapel, when Mynors, who had to +enter the choir from the back, bade her a quiet adieu. Anna enjoyed +the service, which passed smoothly and uneventfully. At a Revival, +night is the time of ecstasy and fervour and salvation; in the +afternoon one must be content with preparatory praise and prayer. +</P> + +<P> +That evening, while father and daughters sat in the parlour after +supper, there was a ring at the door. Agnes ran to open, and found +Willie Price. It had begun to rain, and the visitor, his jacket-collar +turned up, was wet and draggled. Agnes left him on the mat and ran +back to the parlour. +</P> + +<P> +'Young Mr. Price wants to see you, father.' +</P> + +<P> +Tellwright motioned to her to shut the door. +</P> + +<P> +'You'd best see him, Anna,' he said. 'It's none my business.' +</P> + +<P> +'But what has he come about, father?' +</P> + +<P> +'That note as I sent down this morning. I told owd Titus as he mun pay +us twenty pun' on Monday morning certain, or us should distrain. Them +as can pay ten pun, especially in bank notes, can pay twenty pun, and +thirty.' +</P> + +<P> +'And suppose he says he can't?' +</P> + +<P> +'Tell him he must. I 've figured it out and changed my mind about that +works. Owd Titus isna' done for yet, though he's getting on that road. +Us can screw another fifty out o' him, that 'll only leave six months +rent owing; then us can turn him out. He'll go bankrupt; us can claim +for our rent afore th' other creditors, and us 'll have a hundred or a +hundred and twenty in hand towards doing the owd place up a bit for a +new tenant.' +</P> + +<P> +'Make him bankrupt, father?' Anna exclaimed. It was the only part of +the ingenious scheme which she had understood. +</P> + +<P> +'Ay!' he said laconically. +</P> + +<P> +'But——' (Would Christ have driven Titus Price into the bankruptcy +court?) +</P> + +<P> +'If he pays, well and good.' +</P> + +<P> +'Hadn't you better see Mr. William, father?' +</P> + +<P> +'Whose property is it, mine or thine?' Tellwright growled. His good +humour was still precarious, insecurely re-established, and Anna +obediently left the room. After all, she said to herself, a debt is a +debt, and honest people pay what they owe. +</P> + +<P> +It was in an uncomplaisant tone that Anna invited Willie Price to the +front parlour: nervousness always made her seem harsh and moreover she +had not the trick of hiding firmness under suavity. +</P> + +<P> +'Will you come this way, Mr. Price?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' he said with ingratiating, eager compliance. Dusk was falling, +and the room in shadow. She forgot to ask him to take a chair, so they +both stood up during the interview. +</P> + +<P> +'A grand meeting we had last night,' he began, twisting his hat. 'I +saw you there, Miss Tellwright.' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes.' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes. There was a splendid muster of teachers. I wanted to be at the +prayer-meeting this morning, but couldn't get away. Did you happen to +go, Miss Tellwright?' +</P> + +<P> +She saw that he knew that she had been present, and gave him another +curt monosyllable. She would have liked to be kind to him, to reassure +him, to make him happy and comfortable, so ludicrous and touching were +his efforts after a social urbanity which should appease; but, just as +much as he, she was unskilled in the subtle arts of converse. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' he continued, 'and I was anxious to be at to-night's meeting, +but the dad asked me to come up here. He said I'd better.' That term, +'the dad,' uttered in William's slow, drawling voice, seemed to show +Titus Price in a new light to Anna, as a human creature loved, not as a +mere gross physical organism: the effect was quite surprising. William +went on: 'Can I see your father, Miss Tellwright?' +</P> + +<P> +'Is it about the rent?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' he said. +</P> + +<P> +'Well, if you will tell me——' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh! I beg pardon,' he said quickly. 'Of course I know it's your +property, but I thought Mr. Tellwright always saw after it for you. It +was he that wrote that letter this morning, wasn't it?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' Anna replied. 'She did not explain the situation. +</P> + +<P> +'You insist on another twenty pounds on Monday?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' she said. +</P> + +<P> +'We paid ten last Monday.' +</P> + +<P> +'But there is still over a hundred owing.' +</P> + +<P> +'I know, but—oh, Miss Tellwright, you mustn't be hard on us. Trade's +bad.' +</P> + +<P> +'It says in the "Signal" that trade is improving,' she interrupted +sharply. +</P> + +<P> +'Does it?' he said. 'But look at prices; they're cut till there's no +profit left. I assure you, Miss Tellwright, my father and me are +having a hard struggle. Everything's against us, and the works in +particular, as you know.' +</P> + +<P> +His tone was so earnest, so pathetic, that tears of compassion almost +rose to her eyes as she looked at those simple naïve blue eyes of his. +His lanky figure and clumsily-fitting clothes, his feeble placatory +smile, the twitching movements of his long red hands, all contributed +to the effect of his defencelessness. She thought of the test: +'Blessed are the meek,' and saw in a flash the deep truth of it. Here +were she and her father, rich, powerful, autocratic; and there were +Willie Price and his father, commercial hares hunted by hounds of +creditors, hares that turned in plaintive appeal to those greedy jaws +for mercy. And yet, she, a hound, envied at that moment the hares. +Blessed are the meek, blessed are the failures, blessed are the stupid, +for they, unknown to themselves, have a grace which is denied to the +haughty, the successful, and the wise. The very repulsiveness of old +Titus, his underhand methods, his insincerities, only served to +increase her sympathy for the pair. How could Titus help being himself +any more than Henry Mynors could help being himself? And that idea led +her to think of the prospective partnership, destined by every +favourable sign to brilliant success, and to contrast it with the +ignoble and forlorn undertaking in Edward Street. +</P> + +<P> +She tried to discover some method of soothing the young man's fears, of +being considerate to him without injuring her father's scheme. +</P> + +<P> +'If you will pay what you owe,' she said, 'we will spend it all, every +penny, on improving the works.' +</P> + +<P> +'Miss Tellwright,' he answered with fatal emphasis, 'we cannot pay.' +</P> + +<P> +Ah! She wished to follow Christ day by day, hour by hour—constantly +to endeavour after saintliness. What was she to do now? Left to +herself, she might have said in a burst of impulsive generosity, 'I +forgive you all arrears. Start afresh.' But her father had to be +reckoned with....... +</P> + +<P> +'How much do you think you can pay on Monday?' she asked coldly. +</P> + +<P> +At that moment her father entered the room. His first act was to light +the gas. Willie Price's eyes blinked at the glare, as though he were +trembling before the anticipated decree of this implacable old man. +Anna's heart beat with sympathetic apprehension. Tellwright shook +hands grimly with the youth, who re-stated hurriedly what he had said +to Anna. +</P> + +<P> +'It's o' this'n,' the old man began with finality, and stopped. Anna +caught a glance from him dismissing her. She went out in silence. On +the Monday Titus Price paid another twenty pounds. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="footnote"> +<A NAME="chap06fn1"></A> +[<A HREF="#chap06fn1text">1</A>] <I>Terrick</I>: a corruption of Tellwright. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap07"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE SEWING MEETING +</H4> + +<P> +On an afternoon ten days later, Mr. Sutton's coachman, Barrett by name, +arrived at Ephraim Tellwright's back-door with a note. The Tellwrights +were having tea. The note could be seen in his enormous hand, and +Agnes went out. +</P> + +<P> +'An answer, if you please, Miss,' he said to her, touching his hat, and +giving a pull to the leathern belt which, surrounding his waist, alone +seemed to hold his frame together. Agnes, much impressed, took the +note. She had never before seen that resplendent automaton apart from +the equipage which he directed. Always afterwards, Barrett formally +saluted her in the streets, affording her thus, every time, a thrilling +moment of delicious joy. +</P> + +<P> +'A letter, and there's an answer, and he's waiting,' she cried, running +into the parlour. +</P> + +<P> +'Less row!' said her father. 'Here, give it me.' +</P> + +<P> +'It's for Miss Tellwright—that's Anna, isn't it? Oh! Scent!' She +put the grey envelope to her nose like a flower. +</P> + +<P> +Anna, secretly as excited as her sister, opened the note and +read:—'Lansdowne House, Wednesday. Dear Miss Tellwright,—Mother +gives tea to the Sunday-school Sewing Meeting here <I>to-morrow</I>. Will +you give us the pleasure of your company? I do not think you have been +to any of the S.S.S. meetings yet, but we should all be glad to see you +and have your assistance. Everyone is working very hard for the Autumn +Bazaar, and mother has set her mind on the Sunday-school stall being +the best. Do come, will you? Excuse this short notice. Yours +sincerely, BEATRICE SUTTON. P.S.—We begin at 3.30.' +</P> + +<P> +'They want me to go to their sewing meeting to-morrow,' she exclaimed +timidly to her father, pushing the note towards him across the table. +'Must I go, father?' +</P> + +<P> +'What dost ask me for? Please thysen. I've nowt do wi' it.' +</P> + +<P> +'I don't want to go——' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh! Sis, do go,' Agnes pleaded. +</P> + +<P> +'Perhaps I'd better,' she agreed, but with the misgivings of +diffidence. 'I haven't a rag to wear. I really must have a new dress, +father, at once.' +</P> + +<P> +'Hast forgotten as that there coachman's waiting?' he remarked curtly. +</P> + +<P> +'Shall I run and tell him you'll go?' Agnes suggested. 'It 'll be +splendid for you.' +</P> + +<P> +'Don't be silly, dear. I must write.' +</P> + +<P> +'Well, write then,' said the child energetically. 'I'll get you the +ink and paper.' She flew about and hovered over Anna while the answer +to the invitation was being written. Anna made her reply as short and +simple as possible, and then tendered it for her father's inspection. +'Will that do?' +</P> + +<P> +He pretended to be nonchalant, but in fact he was somewhat interested. +</P> + +<P> +'Thou's forgotten to put th' date in,' was all his comment, and he +threw the note back. +</P> + +<P> +'I've put Wednesday.' +</P> + +<P> +'That's not the date.' +</P> + +<P> +'Does it matter? Beatrice Sutton only puts Wednesday.' +</P> + +<P> +His response was to walk out of the room. +</P> + +<P> +'Is he vexed?' Agnes asked anxiously. There had been a whole week of +almost perfect amenity. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +The next day at half-past three Anna, having put on her best clothes, +was ready to start. She had seen almost nothing of social life, and +the prospect of taking part in this entertainment of the Suttons filled +her with trepidation. Should she arrive early, in which case she would +have to talk more, or late, in which case there would be the ordeal of +entering a crowded room? She could not decide. She went into her +father's bedroom, whose window overlooked Trafalgar Road, and saw from +behind a curtain that small groups of ladies were continually passing +up the street to disappear into Alderman Sutton's house. Most of the +women she recognised; others she knew but vaguely by sight. Then the +stream ceased, and suddenly she heard the kitchen clock strike four. +She ran downstairs—Agnes, swollen by importance, was carrying her +father's tea into the parlour—and hastened out the back way. In +another moment she was at the Suttons' front-door. A servant in black +alpaca, with white wristbands, cap, streams, and embroidered apron +(each article a <I>dernier cri</I> from Bostock's great shop at Hanbridge), +asked her in a subdued and respectful tone to step within. Externally +there had been no sign of the unusual, but once inside the house Anna +found it a humming hive of activity. Women laden with stuffs and +implements were crossing the picture-hung hall, their footsteps +noiseless on the thick rugs which lay about in rich confusion. On +either hand was an open door, and from each door came the sound of many +eager voices. Beyond these doors a broad staircase rose majestically +to unseen heights, closing the vista of the hall. As the servant was +demanding Anna's name, Beatrice Sutton, radiant and gorgeous, came with +a rush out of the room to the left, the dining-room, and, taking her by +both hands, kissed her. +</P> + +<P> +'My dear, we thought you were never coming. Everyone's here, except +the men, of course. Come along upstairs and take your things off. I'm +so glad you've kept your promise.' +</P> + +<P> +'Did you think I should break it?' said Anna, as they ascended the easy +gradient of the stairs. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, no, my dear. But you're such a shy little bird.' +</P> + +<P> +The conception of herself as a shy little bird amused Anna. By a +curious chain of ideas she came to wonder who could clean those stairs +the better, she or this gay and flitting butterfly in a pale green +tea-gown. Beatrice led the way to a large bedroom, crammed with +furniture and knick-knacks. There were three mirrors in this spacious +apartment—one in the wardrobe, a cheval-glass, and a third over the +mantelpiece; the frame of the last was bordered with photographs. +</P> + +<P> +'This is my room,' said Beatrice. 'Will you put your things on the +bed?' The bed was already laden with hats, bonnets, jackets, and wraps. +</P> + +<P> +'I hope your mother won't give me anything fancy to do,' Anna said. +'I'm no good at anything except plain sewing.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, that's all right,' Beatrice answered carelessly. 'It's all plain +sewing.' She drew a cardboard box from her pocket, and offered it to +Anna. 'Here, have one.' They were chocolate creams. +</P> + +<P> +'Thanks,' said Anna, taking one. 'Aren't they very expensive? I've +never seen any like these before.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh! Just ordinary. Four shillings a pound. Papa buys them for me: I +simply dote on them. I love to eat them in bed, if I can't sleep.' +Beatrice made these statements with her mouth full. 'Don't you adore +chocolates?' she added. +</P> + +<P> +'I don't know,' Anna lamely replied. 'Yes, I like them.' She only +adored her sister, and perhaps God; and this was the first time she had +tasted chocolate. +</P> + +<P> +'I couldn't live without them,' said Beatrice. 'Your hair is lovely. +I never saw such a brown. What wash do you use?' +</P> + +<P> +'Wash?' Anna repeated. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, don't you put anything on it?' +</P> + +<P> +'No, never.' +</P> + +<P> +'Well! Take care you don't lose it, that's all. Now, will you come +and have just a peep at my studio—where I paint, you know? I'd like +you to see it before we go down.' +</P> + +<P> +They proceeded to a small room on the second floor, with a sloping +ceiling and a dormer window. +</P> + +<P> +'I'm obliged to have this room,' Beatrice explained, 'because it's the +only one in the house with a north light, and of course you can't do +without that. How do you like it?' +</P> + +<P> +Anna said that she liked it very much. +</P> + +<P> +The walls of the room were hung with various odd curtains of Eastern +design. Attached somehow to these curtains some coloured plates, bits +of pewter, and a few fans were hung high in apparently precarious +suspense. Lower down on the walls were pictures and sketches, chiefly +unframed, of flowers, fishes, loaves of bread, candlesticks, mugs, +oranges and tea-trays. On an immense easel in the middle of the room +was an unfinished portrait of a man. +</P> + +<P> +'Who's that?' Anna asked, ignorant of those rules of caution which are +observed by the practised frequenter of studios. +</P> + +<P> +'Don't you know?' Beatrice exclaimed, shocked. 'That's papa; I'm doing +his portrait; he sits in that chair there. The silly old master at the +school won't let me draw from life yet—he keeps me to the antique—so +I said to myself I would study the living model at home. I'm +dreadfully in earnest about it, you know—I really am. Mother says I +work far too long up here.' +</P> + +<P> +Anna was unable to perceive that the picture bore any resemblance to +Alderman Sutton, except in the matter of the aldermanic robe, which she +could now trace beneath the portrait's neck. The studies on the walls +pleased her much better. Their realism amazed her. One could make out +not only that here for instance, was a fish—there was no doubt that it +was a hallibut; the solid roundness of the oranges and the glitter on +the tea-trays seemed miraculously achieved. 'Have you actually done +all these?' she asked, in genuine admiration. 'I think they're +splendid.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, yes, they're all mine; they're only still-life studies,' Beatrice +said contemptuously of them, but she was nevertheless flattered. +</P> + +<P> +'I see now that that is Mr. Sutton,' Anna said, pointing to the easel +picture. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, it's pa right enough. But I'm sure I'm boring you. Let's go +down now, or perhaps we shall catch it from mother.' +</P> + +<P> +As Anna, in the wake of Beatrice, entered the drawing-room, a dozen or +more women glanced at her with keen curiosity, and the even flow of +conversation ceased for a moment, to be immediately resumed. In the +centre of the room, with her back to the fire-place, Mrs. Sutton was +seated at a square table, cutting out. Although the afternoon was warm +she had a white woollen wrap over her shoulders; for the rest she was +attired in plain black silk, with a large stuff apron containing a +pocket for scissors and chalk. She jumped up with the activity of +which Beatrice had inherited a part, and greeted Anna, kissing her +heartily. +</P> + +<P> +'How are you, my dear? So pleased you have come.' The time-worn +phrases came from her thin, nervous lips full of sincere and kindly +welcome. Her wrinkled face broke into a warm, life-giving smile. +'Beatrice, find Miss Anna a chair.' There were two chairs in the bay +of the window, and one of them was occupied by Miss Dickinson, whom +Anna slightly knew. The other, being empty, was assigned to the +late-comer. +</P> + +<P> +'Now you want something to do, I suppose,' said Beatrice.' +</P> + +<P> +'Please.' +</P> + +<P> +'Mother, let Miss Tellwright have something to get on with at once. +She has a lot of time to make up.' +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Sutton, who had sat down again, smiled across at Anna. 'Let me +see, now, what can we give her?' +</P> + +<P> +'There's several of those boys' nightgowns ready tacked,' said Miss +Dickinson, who was stitching at a boy's nightgown. 'Here's one +half-finished,' and she picked up an inchoate garment from the floor. +'Perhaps Miss Tellwright wouldn't mind finishing it.' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, I will do my best at it,' said Anna. +</P> + +<P> +The thoughtless girl had arrived at the sewing meeting without needles +or thimble or scissors, but one lady or another supplied these +deficiencies, and soon she was at work. She stitched her best and her +hardest, with head bent, and all her wits concentrated on the task. +Most of the others seemed to be doing likewise, though not to the +detriment of conversation. Beatrice sank down on a stool near her +mother, and, threading a needle with coloured silk, took up a long +piece of elaborate embroidery. +</P> + +<P> +The general subjects of talk were the Revival, now over, with a superb +record of seventy saved souls, the school-treat shortly to occur, the +summer holidays, the fashions, and the change of ministers which would +take place in August. The talkers were the wives and daughters of +tradesmen and small manufacturers, together with a few girls of a +somewhat lower status, employed in shops: it was for the sake of these +latter that the sewing meeting was always fixed for the weekly +half-holiday. The splendour of Mrs. Sutton's drawing-room was a little +dazzling to most of the guests, and Mrs. Sutton herself seemed scarcely +of a piece with it. The fact was that the luxury of the abode was +mainly due to Alderman Sutton's inability to refuse anything to his +daughter, whose tastes lay in the direction of rich draperies, large or +quaint chairs, occasional tables, dwarf screens, hand-painted mirrors, +and an opulence of bric-à-brac. The hand of Beatrice might be +perceived everywhere, even in the position of the piano, whose back, +adorned with carelessly-flung silks and photographs, was turned away +from the wall. The pictures on the walls had been acquired gradually +by Mr. Sutton at auction sales: it was commonly held that he had an +excellent taste in pictures, and that his daughter's aptitude for the +arts came from him, and not from her mother. The gilt clock and side +pieces on the mantelpiece were also peculiarly Mr. Sutton's, having +been publicly presented to him by the directors of a local building +society of which he had been chairman for many years. +</P> + +<P> +Less intimidated by all this unexampled luxury than she was reassured +by the atmosphere of combined and homely effort, the lowliness of +several of her companions, and the kind, simple face of Mrs. Sutton, +Anna quickly began to feel at ease. She paused in her work, and, +glancing around her, happened to catch the eye of Miss Dickinson, who +offered a remark about the weather. Miss Dickinson was head-assistant +at a draper's in St. Luke's Square, and a pillar of the Sunday-school, +which Sunday by Sunday and year by year had watched her develop from a +rosy-cheeked girl into a confirmed spinster with sallow and warted +face. Miss Dickinson supported her mother, and was a pattern to her +sex. She was lovable, but had never been loved. She would have made +an admirable wife and mother, but fate had decided that this material +was to be wasted. Miss Dickinson found compensation for the rigour of +destiny in gossip, as innocent as indiscreet. It was said that she had +a tongue. +</P> + +<P> +'I hear,' said Miss Dickinson, lowering her contralto voice to a +confidential tone, 'that you are going into partnership with Mr. +Mynors, Miss Tellwright.' +</P> + +<P> +The suddenness of the attack took Anna by surprise. Her first +defensive impulse was boldly to deny the statement, or at the least to +say that it was premature. A fortnight ago, under similar +circumstances, she would not have hesitated to do so. But for more +than a week Anna had been 'leading a new life,' which chiefly meant a +meticulous avoidance of the sins of speech. Never to deviate from the +truth, never to utter an unkind or a thoughtless word, under whatever +provocation: these were two of her self-imposed rules. 'Yes,' she +answered Miss Dickinson, 'I am.' +</P> + +<P> +'Rather a novelty, isn't it?' Miss Dickinson smiled amiably. +</P> + +<P> +'I don't know,' said Anna. 'It's only a business arrangement; father +arranged it. Really I have nothing to do with it, and I had no idea +that people were talking about it.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh! Of course <I>I</I> should never breathe a syllable,' Miss Dickinson +said with emphasis. 'I make a practice of never talking about other +people's affairs. I always find that best, don't you? But I happened +to hear it mentioned in the shop.' +</P> + +<P> +'It's very funny how things get abroad, isn't it?' said Anna. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, indeed,' Miss Dickinson concurred. 'Mr. Mynors hasn't been to +our sewing meetings for quite a long time, but I expect he'll turn up +to-day.' +</P> + +<P> +Anna took thought. 'Is this a sort of special meeting, then?' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, not at all. But we all of us said just now, while you were +upstairs, that he would be sure to come,' Miss Dickinson's features, +skilled in innuendo, conveyed that which was too delicate for +utterance. Anna said nothing. +</P> + +<P> +'You see a good deal of him at your house, don't you?' Miss Dickinson +continued. +</P> + +<P> +'He comes sometimes to see father on business,' Anna replied sharply, +breaking one of her rules. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh! Of course I meant that. You didn't suppose I meant anything +else, did you?' Miss Dickinson smiled pleasantly. She was thirty-five +years of age. Twenty of those years she had passed in a desolating +routine; she had existed in the midst of life and never lived; she knew +no finer joy than that which she at that moment experienced. +</P> + +<P> +Again Anna offered no reply. The door opened, and every eye was +centred on the stately Mrs. Clayton Vernon, who, with Mrs. Banks, the +minister's wife, was in charge of the other half of the sewing party in +the dining-room. Mrs. Clayton Vernon had heroic proportions, a nose +which everyone admitted to be aristocratic, exquisite tact, and the +calm consciousness of social superiority. In Bursley she was a great +lady: her instincts were those of a great lady; and she would have been +a great lady no matter to what sphere her God had called her. She had +abundant white hair, and wore a flowered purple silk, in the antique +taste. +</P> + +<P> +'Beatrice, my dear,' she began, 'you have deserted us.' +</P> + +<P> +'Have I, Mrs. Vernon?' the girl answered with involuntary deference. +'I was just coming in.' +</P> + +<P> +'Well, I am sent as a deputation from the other room to ask you to sing +something.' +</P> + +<P> +'I'm very busy, Mrs. Vernon. I shall never get this mantel-cloth +finished in time.' +</P> + +<P> +'We shall all work better for a little music,' Mrs. Clayton Vernon +urged. 'Your voice is a precious gift, and should be used for the +benefit of all. We entreat, my dear girl.' +</P> + +<P> +Beatrice arose from the footstool and dropped her embroidery. +</P> + +<P> +'Thank you,' said Mrs. Clayton Vernon. 'If both doors are left open we +shall hear nicely.' +</P> + +<P> +'What would you like?' Beatrice asked. +</P> + +<P> +'I once heard you sing "Nazareth," and I shall never forget it. Sing +that. It will do us all good.' +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Clayton Vernon departed with the large movement of an argosy, and +Beatrice sat down to the piano and removed her bracelets. 'The +accompaniment is simply frightful towards the end,' she said, looking +at Anna with a grimace. 'Excuse mistakes.' +</P> + +<P> +During the song, Mrs. Sutton beckoned with her finger to Anna to come +and occupy the stool vacated by Beatrice. Glad to leave the vicinity +of Miss Dickinson, Anna obeyed, creeping on tiptoe across the +intervening space. 'I thought I would like to have you near me, my +dear,' she whispered maternally. When Beatrice had sung the song and +somehow executed that accompaniment which has terrorised whole +multitudes of drawing-room pianists, there was a great deal of applause +from both rooms. Mrs. Sutton bent down and whispered in Anna's ear: +'Her voice has been very well trained, has it not?' 'Yes, very,' Anna +replied. But, though 'Nazareth' had seemed to her wonderful, she had +neither understood it nor enjoyed it. She tried to like it, but the +effect of it on her was bizarre rather than pleasing. +</P> + +<P> +Shortly after half-past five the gong sounded for tea, and the ladies, +bidden by Mrs. Sutton, unanimously thronged into the hall and towards a +room at the back of the house. Beatrice came and took Anna by the arm. +As they were crossing the hall there was a ring at the door. 'There's +father—and Mr. Banks, too,' Beatrice exclaimed, opening to them. +Everyone in the vicinity, animated suddenly by this appearance of the +male sex, turned with welcoming smiles. 'A greeting to you all,' the +minister ejaculated with formal suavity as he removed his low hat. The +Alderman beamed a rather absent-minded goodwill on the entire company, +and said: 'Well! I see we're just in time for tea.' Then he kissed +his daughter, and she accepted from him his hat and stick. 'Miss +Tellwright, pa,' Beatrice said, drawing Anna forward: he shook hands +with her heartily, emerging for a moment from the benignant dream in +which he seemed usually to exist. +</P> + +<P> +That air of being rapt by some inward vision, common in very old men, +probably signified nothing in the case of William Sutton: it was a +habitual pose into which he had perhaps unconsciously fallen. But +people connected it with his humble archæological, geological, and +zoological hobbies, which had sprung from his membership of the Five +Towns Field Club, and which most of his acquaintances regarded with +amiable secret disdain. At a school-treat once, held at a popular +rural resort, he had taken some of the teachers to a cave, and pointing +out the wave-like formation of its roof had told them that this +peculiar phenomenon had actually been caused by waves of the sea. The +discovery, valid enough and perfectly substantiated by an inquiry into +the levels, was extremely creditable to the amateur geologist, but it +seriously impaired his reputation among the Wesleyan community as a +shrewd man of the world. Few believed the statement, or even tried to +believe it, and nearly all thenceforth looked on him as a man who must +be humoured in his harmless hallucinations and inexplicable +curiosities. On the other hand, the collection of arrowheads, Roman +pottery, fossils and birds' eggs which he had given to the Museum in +the Wedgwood Institution was always viewed with municipal pride. +</P> + +<P> +The tea-room opened by a large French window into a conservatory, and a +table was laid down the whole length of the room and the conservatory. +Mr. Sutton sat at one end and the minister at the other, but neither +Mrs. Sutton nor Beatrice occupied a distinctive place. The ancient +clumsy custom of having tea-urns on the table itself had been abolished +by Beatrice, who had read in a paper that carving was now never done at +table, but by a neatly-dressed parlour-maid at the sideboard. +Consequently the tea-urns were exiled to the sideboard, and the tea +dispensed by a couple of maids. Thus, as Beatrice had explained to her +mother, the hostess was left free to devote herself to the social arts. +The board was richly spread with fancy breads and cakes, jams of Mrs. +Sutton's own celebrated preserving, diverse sandwiches compiled by +Beatrice, and one or two large examples of the famous Bursley pork-pie. +Numerous as the company was, several chairs remained empty after +everyone was seated. Anna found herself again next to Miss Dickinson, +and five places from the minister, in the conservatory. Beatrice and +her mother were higher up, in the room. Grace was sung, by request of +Mrs. Sutton. At first, silence prevailed among the guests, and the +inquiries of the maids about milk and sugar were almost painfully +audible. Then Mr. Banks, glancing up the long vista of the table and +pretending to descry some object in the distance, called out: +</P> + +<P> +'Worthy host, I doubt not you are there, but I can only see you with +the eye of faith.' +</P> + +<P> +At this all laughed, and a natural ease was established. The minister +and Mrs. Clayton Vernon, who sat on his right, exchanged badinage on +the merits and demerits of pork-pies, and their neighbours formed an +appreciative audience. Then there was a sharp ring at the front door, +and one of the maids went out. +</P> + +<P> +'Didn't I tell you?' Miss Dickinson whispered to Anna. +</P> + +<P> +'What?' asked Anna. +</P> + +<P> +'That he would come to-day—Mr. Mynors, I mean.' +</P> + +<P> +'Who can that be?' Mrs. Sutton's voice was heard from the room. +</P> + +<P> +'I dare say it's Henry, mother,' Beatrice answered. +</P> + +<P> +Mynors entered, joyous and self-possessed, a white rose in his coat: he +shook hands with Mr. and Mrs. Sutton, sent a greeting down the table to +Mr. Banks and Mrs. Clayton Vernon, and offered a general apology for +being late. +</P> + +<P> +'Sit here,' said Beatrice to him, sharply, indicating a chair between +Mrs. Banks and herself. 'Mrs. Banks has a word to say to you about the +singing of that anthem last Sunday.' +</P> + +<P> +Mynors made some laughing rejoinder, and the voices sank so that Anna +could not catch what was said. +</P> + +<P> +'That's a new frock that Miss Sutton is wearing to-day,' Miss Dickinson +remarked in an undertone. +</P> + +<P> +'It looks new,' Anna agreed. +</P> + +<P> +'Do you like it?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes. Don't you?' +</P> + +<P> +'Hum! Yes. It was made at Brunt's at Hanbridge. It's quite the +fashion to go there now,' said Miss Dickinson, and added, almost +inaudibly, 'She's put it on for Mr. Mynors. You saw how she saved that +chair for him.' +</P> + +<P> +Anna made no reply. +</P> + +<P> +'Did you know they were engaged once?' Miss Dickinson resumed. +</P> + +<P> +'No,' said Anna. +</P> + +<P> +'At least people said they were. It was all over the town—oh! let me +see, three years ago.' +</P> + +<P> +'I had not heard,' said Anna. +</P> + +<P> +During the rest of the meal she said little. On some natures Miss +Dickinson's gossip had the effect of bringing them to silence. Anna +had not seen Mynors since the previous Sunday, and now she was +apparently unperceived by him. He talked gaily with Beatrice and Mrs. +Banks: that group was a centre of animation. Anna envied their ease of +manner, their smooth and sparkling flow of conversation. She had the +sensation of feeling vulgar, clumsy, tongue-tied; Mynors and Beatrice +possessed something which she would never possess. So they had been +engaged! But had they? Or was it an idle rumour, manufactured by one +who spent her life in such creations? Anna was conscious of +misgivings. She had despised Beatrice once, but now it seemed that +after all Beatrice was the natural equal of Henry Mynors. Was it more +likely that Mynors or she, Anna, should be mistaken in Beatrice? That +Beatrice had generous instincts she was sure. Anna lost confidence in +herself; she felt humbled, out-of-place, and shamed. +</P> + +<P> +'If our hostess and the company will kindly excuse me,' said the +minister with a pompous air, looking at his watch, 'I must go. I have +an important appointment, or an appointment which some people think is +important.' +</P> + +<P> +He got up and made various adieux. The elaborate meal, complex with +fifty dainties each of which had to be savoured, was not nearly over. +The parson stopped in his course up the room to speak with Mrs. Sutton. +After he had shaken hands with her, he caught the admired violet eyes +of his slim wife, a lady of independent fortune whom the wives of +circuit stewards found it difficult to please in the matter of +furniture, and who despite her forty years still kept something of the +pose of a spoiled beauty. As a minister's spouse this languishing but +impeccable and invariably correct dame was unique even in the +experience of Mrs. Clayton Vernon. +</P> + +<P> +'Shall you not be home early, Rex?' she asked in the tone of a young +wife lounging amid the delicate odours of a boudoir. +</P> + +<P> +'My love,' he replied with the stern fixity of a histrionic martyr, +'did you ever know me have a free evening?' +</P> + +<P> +The Alderman accompanied his pastor to the door. +</P> + +<P> +After tea, Mynors was one of the first to leave the room, and Anna one +of the last, but he accosted her in the hall, on the way back to the +drawing-room, and asked how she was, and how Agnes was, with such +deference and sincerity of regard for herself and everything that was +hers that she could not fail to be impressed. Her sense of humiliation +and of uncertainty was effaced by a single word, a single glance. +Uplifted by a delicious reassurance, she passed into the drawing-room, +expecting him to follow: strange to say, he did not do so. Work was +resumed, but with less ardour than before. It was in fact impossible +to be strenuously diligent after one of Mrs. Sutton's teas, and in +every heart, save those which beat over the most perfect and vigorous +digestive organs, there was a feeling of repentance. The +building-society's clock on the mantel-piece intoned seven: all +expressed surprise at the lateness of the hour, and Mrs. Clayton +Vernon, pleading fatigue after her recent indisposition, quietly +departed. As soon as she was gone, Anna said to Mrs. Sutton that she +too must go. +</P> + +<P> +'Why, my dear?' Mrs. Sutton asked. +</P> + +<P> +'I shall be needed at home,' Anna replied. +</P> + +<P> +'Ah! In that case—— I will come upstairs with you, my dear,' said +Mrs. Sutton. +</P> + +<P> +When they were in the bedroom, Mrs. Sutton suddenly clasped her hand. +'How is it with you, dear Anna?' she said, gazing anxiously into the +girl's eyes. Anna knew what she meant, but made no answer. 'Is it +well?' the earnest old woman asked. +</P> + +<P> +'I hope so,' said Anna, averting her eyes, 'I am trying.' +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Sutton kissed her almost passionately. 'Ah! my dear,' she +exclaimed with an impulsive gesture, 'I am glad, so glad. I did so +want to have a word with you. You must "lean hard," as Miss Havergal +says. "Lean hard" on Him. Do not be afraid.' And then, changing her +tone: 'You are looking pale, Anna. You want a holiday. We shall be +going to the Isle of Man in August or September. Would your father let +you come with us?' +</P> + +<P> +'I don't know,' said Anna. She knew, however, that he would not. +Nevertheless the suggestion gave her much pleasure. +</P> + +<P> +'We must see about that later,' said Mrs. Sutton, and they went +downstairs. +</P> + +<P> +'I must say good-bye to Beatrice. Where is she?' Anna said in the +hall. One of the servants directed them to the dining-room. The +Alderman and Henry Mynors were looking together at a large photogravure +of Sant's 'The Soul's Awakening,' which Mr. Sutton had recently bought, +and Beatrice was exhibiting her embroidery to a group of ladies: sundry +stitchers were scattered about, including Miss Dickinson. +</P> + +<P> +'It is a great picture—a picture that makes you think,' Henry was +saying, seriously, and the Alderman, feeling as the artist might have +felt, was obviously flattered by this sagacious praise. +</P> + +<P> +Anna said good-night to Miss Dickinson and then to Beatrice. Mynors, +hearing the words, turned round. 'Well, I must go. Good evening,' he +said suddenly to the astonished Alderman. +</P> + +<P> +'What? Now?' the latter inquired, scarcely pleased to find that Mynors +could tear himself away from the picture with so little difficulty. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes.' +</P> + +<P> +'Good-night, Mr. Mynors,' said Anna. +</P> + +<P> +'If I may I will walk down with you,' Mynors imperturbably answered. +</P> + +<P> +It was one of those dramatic moments which arrive without the slightest +warning. The gleam of joyous satisfaction in Miss Dickinson's eyes +showed that she alone had foreseen this declaration. For a declaration +it was, and a formal declaration. Mynors stood there calm, confident +with masculine superiority, and his glance seemed to say to those +swiftly alert women, whose faces could not disguise a thrilling +excitation: 'Yes. Let all know that I, Henry Mynors, the desired of +all, am honourably captive to this shy and perfect creature who is +blushing because I have said what I have said.' Even the Alderman +forgot his photogravure. Beatrice hurriedly resumed her explanation of +the embroidery. +</P> + +<P> +'How did you like the sewing meeting?' Mynors asked Anna when they were +on the pavement. +</P> + +<P> +Anna paused. 'I think Mrs. Sutton is simply a splendid woman,' she +said enthusiastically. +</P> + +<P> +When, in a moment far too short, they reached Tellwright's house, +Mynors, obeying a mutual wish to which neither had given expression, +followed Anna up the side entry, and so into the yard, where they +lingered for a few seconds. Old Tellwright could be seen at the +extremity of the long narrow garden—a garden which consisted chiefly +of a grass-plot sown with clothes-props and a narrow bordering of +flower beds without flowers. Agnes was invisible. The kitchen-door +stood ajar, and as this was the sole means of ingress from the yard +Anna, humming an air, pushed it open and entered, Mynors in her wake. +They stood on the threshold, happy, hesitating, confused, and looked at +the kitchen as at something which they had not seen before. Anna's +kitchen was the only satisfactory apartment in the house. Its +furniture included a dresser of the simple and dignified kind which is +now assiduously collected by amateurs of old oak. It had four long +narrow shelves holding plates and saucers; the cups were hung in a row +on small brass hooks screwed into the fronts of the shelves. Below the +shelves were three drawers in a line, with brass handles, and below the +drawers was a large recess which held stone jars, a copper +preserving-saucepan, and other receptacles. Seventy years of +continuous polishing by a dynasty of priestesses of cleanliness had +given to this dresser a rich ripe tone which the cleverest +trade-trickster could not have imitated. In it was reflected the +conscientious labour of generations. It had a soft and assuaged +appearance, as though it had never been new and could never have been +new. All its corners and edges had long lost the asperities of +manufacture, and its smooth surfaces were marked by slight hollows +similar in spirit to those worn by the naked feet of pilgrims into the +marble steps of a shrine. The flat portion over the drawers was +scarred with hundreds of scratches, and yet even all these seemed to be +incredibly ancient, and in some distant past to have partaken of the +mellowness of the whole. The dark woodwork formed an admirable +background for the crockery on the shelves, and a few of the old +plates, hand-painted according to some vanished secret in pigments +which time could only improve, had the look of relationship by birth to +the dresser. There must still be thousands of exactly similar dressers +in the kitchens of the people, but they are gradually being transferred +to the dining rooms of curiosity-hunters. To Anna this piece of +furniture, which would have made the most taciturn collector vocal with +joy, was merely 'the dresser.' She had always lamented that it +contained no cupboard. In front of the fireless range was an old steel +kitchen fender with heavy fire-irons. It had in the middle of its flat +top a circular lodgment for saucepans, but on this polished disc no +saucepan was ever placed. The fender was perhaps as old as the +dresser, and the profound depths of its polish served to mitigate +somewhat the newness of the patent coal-economising range which +Tellwright had had put in when he took the house. On the high +mantelpiece were four tall brass candlesticks which, like the dresser, +were silently awaiting their apotheosis at the hands of some collector. +Beside these were two or three common mustard tins, polished to +counterfeit silver, containing spices; also an abandoned coffee-mill +and two flat-irons. A grandfather's clock of oak to match the dresser +stood to the left of the fireplace; it had a very large white dial with +a grinning face in the centre. Though it would only run for +twenty-four hours, its leisured movement seemed to have the certainty +of a natural law, especially to Agnes, for Mr. Tellwright never forgot +to wind it before going to bed. Under the window was a plain deal +table, with white top and stained legs. Two Windsor chairs completed +the catalogue of furniture. The glistening floor was of red and black +tiles, and in front of the fender lay a list hearthrug made by +attaching innumerable bits of black cloth to a canvas base. On the +painted walls were several grocers' almanacs, depicting sailors in the +arms of lovers, children crossing brooks, or monks swelling themselves +with Gargantuan repasts. Everything in this kitchen was absolutely +bright and spotless, as clean as a cat in pattens, except the ceiling, +darkened by fumes of gas. Everything was in perfect order, and had the +humanised air of use and occupation which nothing but use and +occupation can impart to senseless objects. It was a kitchen where, in +the housewife's phrase, you might eat off the floor, and to any Bursley +matron it would have constituted the highest possible certificate of +Anna's character, not only as housewife but as elder sister—for in her +absence Agnes had washed the tea-things and put them away. +</P> + +<P> +'This is the nicest room, I know,' said Mynors at length. +</P> + +<P> +'Whatever do you mean?' Anna smiled, incapable of course of seeing the +place with his eye. +</P> + +<P> +'I mean there is nothing to beat a clean, straight kitchen,' Mynors +replied, 'and there never will be. It wants only the mistress in a +white apron to make it complete. Do you know, when I came in here the +other night, and you were sitting at the table there, I thought the +place was like a picture.' +</P> + +<P> +'How funny!' said Anna, puzzled but well satisfied. 'But won't you +come into the parlour?' +</P> + +<P> +The Persian with one ear met them in the lobby, his tail flying, but +cautiously sidled upstairs at sight of Mynors. When Anna opened the +door of the parlour she saw Agnes seated at the table over her lessons, +frowning and preoccupied. Tears were in her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +'Why, what's the matter, Agnes?' she exclaimed. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh! Go away,' said the child crossly. 'Don't bother.' +</P> + +<P> +'But what's the matter? You're crying.' +</P> + +<P> +'No, I'm not. I'm doing my sums, and I can't get it—can't—-' The +child burst into tears just as Mynors entered. His presence was a +complete surprise to her. She hid her face in her pinafore, ashamed to +be thus caught. +</P> + +<P> +'Where is it?' said Mynors. 'Where is this sum that won't come right?' +He picked up the slate and examined it while Agnes was finding herself +again. 'Practice!' he exclaimed. 'Has Agnes got as far as practice?' +She gave him an instant's glance and murmured 'Yes.' Before she could +shelter her face he had kissed her. Anna was enchanted by his manner, +and as for Agnes, she surrendered happily to him at once. He worked +the sum, and she copied the figures into her exercise-book. Anna sat +and watched. +</P> + +<P> +'Now I must go,' said Mynors. +</P> + +<P> +'But surely you'll stay and see father,' Anna urged. +</P> + +<P> +'No. I really had not meant to call. Good-night, Agnes.' In a moment +he was gone out of the room and the house. It was as if, in obedience +to a sudden impulse, he had forcibly torn himself away. +</P> + +<P> +'Was <I>he</I> at the sewing meeting?' Agnes asked, adding in parenthesis, +'I never dreamt he was here, and I was frightfully vexed. I felt such +a baby.' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes. At least, he came for tea.' +</P> + +<P> +'Why did he call here like that?' +</P> + +<P> +'How can I tell?' Anna said. The child looked at her. +</P> + +<P> +'It's awfully queer, isn't it?' she said slowly. 'Tell me all about +the sewing meeting. Did they have cakes or was it a plain tea? And +did you go into Beatrice Sutton's bedroom?' +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap08"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VIII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +ON THE BANK +</H4> + +<P> +Anna began to receive her July interest and dividends. During a +fortnight remittances, varying from a few pounds to a few hundred of +pounds, arrived by post almost daily. They were all addressed to her, +since the securities now stood in her own name; and upon her, under the +miser's superintendence, fell the new task of entering them in a book +and paying them into the Bank. This mysterious begetting of money by +money—a strange process continually going forward for her benefit, in +various parts of the world, far and near, by means of activities of +which she was completely ignorant and would always be completely +ignorant—bewildered her and gave her a feeling of its unreality. The +elaborate mechanism by which capital yields interest without suffering +diminution from its original bulk is one of the commonest phenomena of +modern life, and one of the least understood. Many capitalists never +grasp it, nor experience the slightest curiosity about it until the +mechanism through some defect ceases to revolve. Tellwright was of +these; for him the interval between the outlay of capital and the +receipt of interest was nothing but an efflux of time: he planted +capital as a gardener plants rhubarb, tolerably certain of a particular +result, but not dwelling even in thought on that which is hidden. The +productivity of capital was to him the greatest achievement of social +progress—indeed, the social organism justified its existence by that +achievement; nothing could be more equitable than this productivity, +nothing more natural. He would as soon have inquired into it as Agnes +would have inquired into the ticking of the grandfather's clock. But +to Anna, who had some imagination, and whose imagination had been +stirred by recent events, the arrival of moneys out of space, unearned, +unasked, was a disturbing experience, affecting her as a conjuring +trick affects a child, whose sensations hesitate between pleasure and +apprehension. Practically, Anna could not believe that she was rich; +and in fact she was not rich—she was merely a fixed point through +which moneys that she was unable to arrest passed with the rapidity of +trains. If money is a token, Anna was denied the satisfaction of +fingering even the token: drafts and cheques were all that she touched +(touched only to abandon)—the doubly tantalising and insubstantial +tokens of a token. She wanted to test the actuality of this apparent +dream by handling coin and causing it to vanish over counters and into +the palms of the necessitous. And moreover, quite apart from this +curiosity, she really needed money for pressing requirements of Agnes +and herself. They had yet had no new summer clothes, and Whitsuntide, +the time prescribed by custom for the refurnishing of wardrobes, was +long since past. The intercourse with Henry Mynors, the visit to the +Suttons, had revealed to her more plainly than ever the intolerable +shortcomings of her wardrobe, and similar imperfections. She was more +painfully awake to these, and yet, by an unhappy paradox, she was even +less in a position to remedy them, than in previous years. For now, +she possessed her own fortune; to ask her father's bounty was +therefore, she divined, a sure way of inviting a rebuff. But, even if +she had dared, she might not use the income that was privately hers, +for was not every penny of it already allocated to the partnership with +Mynors! So it happened that she never once mentioned the matter to her +father; she lacked the courage, since by whatever avenue she approached +it circumstances would add an illogical and adventitious force to the +brutal snubs which he invariably dealt out when petitioned for money. +To demand his money, having fifty thousand of her own! To spend her +own in the face of that agreement with Mynors! She could too easily +guess his bitter and humiliating retorts to either proposition, and she +kept silence, comforting herself with timid visions of a far distant +future. The balance at the bank crept up to sixteen hundred pounds. +The deed of partnership was drawn; her father pored over the blue +draft, and several times Mynors called and the two men discussed it +together. Then one morning her father summoned her into the front +parlour, and handed to her a piece of parchment on which she dimly +deciphered her own name coupled with that of Henry Mynors, in large +letters. +</P> + +<P> +'You mun sign, seal, and deliver this,' he said, putting a pen in her +hand. +</P> + +<P> +She sat down obediently to write, but he stopped her with a scornful +gesture. +</P> + +<P> +'Thou 'lt sign blind then, eh? Just like a woman!' +</P> + +<P> +'I left it to you,' she said. +</P> + +<P> +'Left it to me! Read it.' +</P> + +<P> +She read through the deed, and after she had accomplished the feat one +fact only stood clear in her mind, that the partnership was for seven +years, a period extensible by consent of both parties to fourteen or +twenty-one years. Then she affixed her signature, the pen moving +awkwardly over the rough surface of the parchment. +</P> + +<P> +'Now put thy finger on that bit o' wax, and say; "I deliver this as my +act and deed."' +</P> + +<P> +'I deliver this as my act and deed.' +</P> + +<P> +The old man signed as witness. 'Soon as I give this to Lawyer Dane,' +he remarked, 'thou'rt bound, willy-nilly. Law's law, and thou'rt +bound.' +</P> + +<P> +On the following day she had to sign a cheque which reduced her +bank-balance to about three pounds. Perhaps it was the knowledge of +this reduction that led Ephraim Tellwright to resume at once and with +fresh rigour his new policy of 'squeezing the last penny' out of Titus +Price (despite the fact that the latter had already achieved the +incredible by paying thirty pounds in little more than a month), thus +causing the catastrophe which soon afterwards befell. What methods her +father was adopting Anna did not know, since he said no word to her +about the matter: she only knew that Agnes had twice been dispatched +with notes to Edward Street. One day, about noon, a clay-soiled urchin +brought a letter addressed to herself: she guessed that it was some +appeal for mercy from the Prices, and wished that her father had been +at home. The old man was away for the whole day, attending a sale of +property at Axe, the agricultural town in the north of the county, +locally styled 'the metropolis of the moorlands.' Anna read:—'My dear +Miss Tellwright,—Now that our partnership is an accomplished fact, +will you not come and look over the works? I should much like you to +do so. I shall be passing your house this afternoon about two, and +will call on the chance of being able to take you down with me to the +works. If you are unable to come no harm will be done, and some other +day can be arranged; but of course I shall be disappointed.—Believe +me, yours most sincerely, HY. MYNORS.' +</P> + +<P> +She was charmed with the idea—to her so audacious—and relieved that +the note was not after all from Titus or Willie Price: but again she +had to regret that her father was not at home. He would be capable of +thinking and saying that the projected expedition was a truancy, +contrived to occur in his absence. He might grumble at the house being +left without a keeper. Moreover, according to a tacit law, she never +departed from the fixed routine of her existence without first +obtaining Ephraim's approval, or at least being sure that such a +departure would not make him violently angry. She wondered whether +Mynors knew that her father was away, and, if so, whether he had chosen +that afternoon purposely. She did not care that Mynors should call for +her—it made the visit seem so formal; and as in order to reach the +works, down at Shawport by the canal-side, they would necessarily go +through the middle of the town, she foresaw infinite gossip and rumour +as one result. Already, she knew, the names of herself and Mynors were +everywhere coupled, and she could not even enter a shop without being +made aware, more or less delicately, that she was an object of piquant +curiosity. A woman is profoundly interesting to women at two periods +only—before she is betrothed and before she becomes the mother of her +firstborn. Anna was in the first period; her life did not comprise the +second. When Agnes came home to dinner from school, Anna said nothing +of Mynors' note until they had begun to wash up the dinner-things, when +she suggested that Agnes should finish this operation alone. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' said Agnes, ever compliant. 'But why?' +</P> + +<P> +'I'm going out, and I must get ready.' +</P> + +<P> +'Going out? And shall you leave the house all empty? What will father +say? Where are you going to?' +</P> + +<P> +Agnes's tendency to anticipate the worst, and never to blink their +father's tyranny, always annoyed Anna, and she answered rather curtly: +'I'm going to the works—Mr. Mynors' works. He's sent word he wants me +to.' She despised herself for wishing to hide anything, and added, 'He +will call here for me about two o'clock.' +</P> + +<P> +'Mr. Mynors! How splendid!' And then Agnes's face fell somewhat. 'I +suppose he won't call before two? If he doesn't, I shall be gone to +school.' +</P> + +<P> +'Do you want to see him?' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, no! I don't want to see him. But—I suppose you'll be out a long +time, and he'll bring you back.' +</P> + +<P> +'Of course he won't, you silly girl. And I shan't be out long. I +shall be back for tea.' +</P> + +<P> +Anna ran upstairs to dress. At ten minutes to two she was ready. +Agnes usually left at a quarter to two, but the child had not yet gone. +At five minutes to two, Anna called downstairs to her to ask her when +she meant to depart. +</P> + +<P> +'I'm just going now,' Agnes shouted back. She opened the front door +and then returned to the foot of the stairs. 'Anna, if I meet him down +the road shall I tell him you're ready waiting for him?' +</P> + +<P> +'Certainly not. Whatever are you dreaming of?' the elder sister +reproved. 'Besides, he isn't coming from the town.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh! All right. Good-bye.' And the child at last went. +</P> + +<P> +It was something after two—every siren and hooter had long since +finished the summons to work—when Mynors rang the bell. Anna was +still upstairs. She examined herself in the glass, and then descended +slowly. +</P> + +<P> +'Good afternoon,' he said. 'I see you are ready to come. I'm very +glad. I hope I haven't inconvenienced you, but just this afternoon +seemed to be a good opportunity for you to see the works, and, you +know, you ought to see it. Father in?' +</P> + +<P> +'No,' she said. 'I shall leave the house to take care of itself. Do +you want to see him?' +</P> + +<P> +'Not specially,' he replied. 'I think we have settled everything.' +</P> + +<P> +She banged the door behind her, and they started. As he held open the +gate for her exit, she could not ignore the look of passionate +admiration on his face. It was a look disconcerting by its mere +intensity. The man could control his tongue, but not his eyes. His +demeanour, as she viewed it, aggravated her self-consciousness as they +braved the streets. But she was happy in her perturbation. When they +reached Duck Bank, Mynors asked her whether they should go through the +market-place or along King Street, by the bottom of St. Luke's Square. +'By the market-place,' she said. The shop where Miss Dickinson was +employed was at the bottom of St. Luke's Square, and all the eyes of +the marketplace was preferable to the chance of those eyes. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Probably no one in the Five Towns takes a conscious pride in the +antiquity of the potter's craft, nor in its unique and intimate +relation to human life, alike civilised and uncivilised. Man hardened +clay into a bowl before he spun flax and made a garment, and the last +lone man will want an earthen vessel after he has abandoned his ruined +house for a cave, and his woven rags for an animal's skin. This +supremacy of the most ancient of crafts is in the secret nature of +things, and cannot be explained. History begins long after the period +when Bursley was first the central seat of that honoured manufacture: +it is the central seat still—'the mother of the Five Towns,' in our +local phrase—and though the townsmen, absorbed in a strenuous daily +struggle, may forget their heirship to an unbroken tradition of +countless centuries, the seal of their venerable calling is upon their +foreheads. If no other relic of an immemorial past is to be seen in +these modernised sordid streets, there is at least the living legacy of +that extraordinary kinship between workman and work, that instinctive +mastery of clay which the past has bestowed upon the present. The +horse is less to the Arab than clay is to the Bursley man. He exists +in it and by it; it fills his lungs and blanches his cheek; it keeps +him alive and it kills him. His fingers close round it as round the +hand of a friend. He knows all its tricks and aptitudes; when to coax +and when to force it, when to rely on it and when to distrust it. The +weavers of Lancashire have dubbed him with an obscene epithet on +account of it, an epithet whose hasty use has led to many a fight, but +nothing could be more illuminatively descriptive than that epithet, +which names his vocation in terms of another vocation. A dozen decades +of applied science have of course resulted in the interposition of +elaborate machinery between the clay and the man; but no great vulgar +handicraft has lost less of the human than potting. Clay is always +clay, and the steam-driven contrivance that will mould a basin while a +man sits and watches has yet to be invented. Moreover, if in some +coarser process the hands are superseded, the number of processes has +been multiplied tenfold: the ware in which six men formerly +collaborated is now produced by sixty; and thus, in one sense, the +touch of finger on clay is more pervasive than ever before. +</P> + +<P> +Mynors' works was acknowledged to be one of the best, of its size, in +the district—a model three-oven bank, and it must be remembered that +of the hundreds of banks in the Five Towns the vast majority are small, +like this: the large manufactory with its corps of jacket-men,[<A NAME="chap08fn1text"></A><A HREF="#chap08fn1">1</A>] one +of whom is detached to show visitors round so much of the works as is +deemed advisable for them to see, is the exception. Mynors paid three +hundred pounds a year in rent, and produced nearly three hundred pounds +worth of work a week. He was his own manager, and there was only one +jacket-man on the place, a clerk at eighteen shillings. He employed +about a hundred hands, and devoted all his ingenuity to prevent that +wastage which is at once the easiest to overlook and the most difficult +to check, the wastage of labour. No pains were spared to keep all +departments in full and regular activity, and owing to his judicious +firmness the feast of St. Monday, that canker eternally eating at the +root of the prosperity of the Five Towns, was less religiously observed +on his bank than perhaps anywhere else in Bursley. He had realised +that when a workshop stands empty the employer has not only ceased to +make money, but has begun to lose it. The architect of 'Providence +Works' (Providence stands godfather to many commercial enterprises in +the Five Towns) knew his business and the business of the potter, and +he had designed the works with a view to the strictest economy of +labour. The various shops were so arranged that in the course of its +metamorphosis the clay travelled naturally in a circle from the +slip-house by the canal to the packing-house by the canal: there was no +carrying to and fro. The steam installation was complete: steam once +generated had no respite; after it had exhausted itself in vitalising +fifty machines, it was killed by inches in order to dry the unfired +ware and warm the dinners of the workpeople. +</P> + +<P> +Henry took Anna to the canal-entrance, because the buildings looked +best from that side. +</P> + +<P> +'Now how much is a crate worth?' she asked, pointing to a crate which +was being swung on a crane direct from the packing-house into a boat. +</P> + +<P> +'That?' Mynors answered. 'A crateful of ware may be worth anything. +At Minton's I have seen a crate worth three hundred pounds. But that +one there is only worth eight or nine pounds. You see you and I make +cheap stuff.' +</P> + +<P> +'But don't you make any really good pots—are they all cheap?' +</P> + +<P> +'All cheap,' he said. +</P> + +<P> +'I suppose that's business?' He detected a note of regret in her voice. +</P> + +<P> +'I don't know,' he said, with the slightest impatient warmth. 'We make +the stuff as good as we can for the money. We supply what everyone +wants. Don't you think it's better to please a thousand folks than to +please ten? I like to feel that my ware is used all over the country +and the colonies. I would sooner do as I do than make swagger ware for +a handful of rich people.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, yes,' she exclaimed, eagerly accepting the point of view, 'I quite +agree with you.' She had never heard him in that vein before, and was +struck by his enthusiasm. And Mynors was in fact always very +enthusiastic concerning the virtues of the general markets. He had no +sympathy with specialities, artistic or otherwise. He found his +satisfaction in honestly meeting the public taste. He was born to be a +manufacturer of cheap goods on a colossal scale. He could dream of +fifty ovens, and his ambition blinded him to the present absurdity of +talking about a three-oven bank spreading its productions all over the +country and the colonies; it did not occur to him that there were yet +scarcely enough plates to go round. +</P> + +<P> +'I suppose we had better start at the start,' he said, leading the way +to the slip-house. He did not need to be told that Anna was perfectly +ignorant of the craft of pottery, and that every detail of it, so stale +to him, would acquire freshness under her naïve and inquiring gaze. +</P> + +<P> +In the slip-house begins the long manipulation which transforms raw +porous friable clay into the moulded, decorated and glazed vessel. The +large whitewashed place was occupied by ungainly machines and +receptacles through which the four sorts of clay used in the common +'body'—ball clay, China clay, flint clay and stone clay—were +compelled to pass before they became a white putty-like mixture meet +for shaping by human hands. The blunger crushed the clay, the sifter +extracted the iron from it by means of a magnet, the press expelled the +water, and the pug-mill expelled the air. From the last reluctant +mouth slowly emerged a solid stream nearly a foot in diameter, like a +huge white snake. Already the clay had acquired the uniformity +characteristic of a manufactured product. +</P> + +<P> +Anna moved to touch the bolts of the enormous twenty-four-chambered +press. +</P> + +<P> +'Don't stand there,' said Mynors. 'The pressure is tremendous, and if +the thing were to burst——' +</P> + +<P> +She fled hastily. 'But isn't it dangerous for the workmen?' she asked. +</P> + +<P> +Eli Machin, the engineman, the oldest employee on the works, a moneyed +man and the pattern of reliability, allowed a vague smile to flit +across his face at this remark. He had ascended from the engine-house +below in order to exhibit the tricks of the various machines, and that +done he disappeared. Anna was awed by the sensation of being +surrounded by terrific forces always straining for release and held in +check by the power of a single wall. +</P> + +<P> +'Come and see a plate made: that is one of the simplest things, and the +batting-machine is worth looking at,' said Mynors, and they went into +the nearest shop, a hot interior in the shape of four corridors round a +solid square middle. Here men and women were working side by side, the +women subordinate to the men. All were preoccupied, wrapped up in +their respective operations, and there was the sound of irregular +whirring movements from every part of the big room. The air was laden +with whitish dust, and clay was omnipresent—on the floor, the walls, +the benches, the windows, on clothes, hands and faces. It was in this +shop, where both hollow-ware pressers and flat pressers were busy as +only craftsmen on piecework can be busy, that more than anywhere else +clay was to be seen 'in the hand of the potter.' Near the door a stout +man with a good-humoured face flung some clay on to a revolving disc, +and even as Anna passed a jar sprang into existence. One instant the +clay was an amorphous mass, the next it was a vessel perfectly +circular, of a prescribed width and a prescribed depth; the flat and +apparently clumsy fingers of the craftsman had seemed to lose +themselves in the clay for a fraction of time, and the miracle was +accomplished. The man threw these vessels with the rapidity of a Roman +candle throwing off coloured stars, and one woman was kept busy in +supplying him with material and relieving his bench of the finished +articles. Mynors drew Anna along to the batting-machines for plate +makers, at that period rather a novelty and the latest invention of the +dead genius whose brain has reconstituted a whole industry on new +lines. Confronted with a piece of clay, the batting-machine descended +upon it with the ferocity of a wild animal, worried it, stretched it, +smoothed it into the width and thickness of a plate, and then desisted +of itself and waited inactive for the flat presser to remove its victim +to his more exact shaping machine. Several men were producing plates, +but their rapid labours seemed less astonishing than the preliminary +feat of the batting-machine. All the ware as it was moulded +disappeared into the vast cupboards occupying the centre of the shop, +where Mynors showed Anna innumerable rows of shelves full of pots in +process of steam-drying. Neither time nor space nor material was +wasted in this ant-heap of industry. In order to move to and fro, the +women were compelled to insinuate themselves past the stationary bodies +of the men. Anna marvelled at the careless accuracy with which they +fed the batting-machines with lumps precisely calculated to form a +plate of a given diameter. Everyone exerted himself as though the +salvation of the world hung on the production of so much stuff by a +certain hour; dust, heat, and the presence of a stranger were alike +unheeded in the mad creative passion. +</P> + +<P> +'Now,' said Mynors the cicerone, opening another door which gave into +the yard, 'when all that stuff is dried and fettled—smoothed, you +know—it goes into the biscuit oven: that's the first firing. There's +the biscuit oven, but we can't inspect it because it's just being +drawn.' +</P> + +<P> +He pointed to the oven near by, in whose dark interior the forms of +men, naked to the waist, could dimly be seen struggling with the weight +of saggars[<A NAME="chap08fn2text"></A><A HREF="#chap08fn2">2</A>] full of ware. It seemed like some release of martyrs, +this unpacking of the immense oven, which, after being flooded with a +sea of flame for fifty-four hours, had cooled for two days, and was yet +hotter than the Equator. The inertness and pallor of the saggers +seemed to be the physical result of their fiery trial, and one wondered +that they should have survived the trial. Mynors went into the place +adjoining the oven and brought back a plate out of an open sagger; it +was still quite warm. It had the <I>matt</I> surface of a biscuit, and +adhered slightly to the fingers: it was now a 'crook'; it had exchanged +malleability for brittleness, and nothing mortal could undo what the +fire had done. Mynors took the plate with him to the +biscuit-warehouse, a long room where one was forced to keep to narrow +alleys amid parterres of pots. A solitary biscuit-warehouseman was +examining the ware in order to determine the remuneration of the +pressers. +</P> + +<P> +They climbed a flight of steps to the printing-shop, where, by means of +copper-plates, printing-presses, mineral colours, and transfer-papers, +most of the decoration was done. The room was filled by a little crowd +of people—oldish men, women and girls, divided into printers, cutters, +transferors and apprentices. Each interminably repeated some trifling +process, and every article passed through a succession of hands until +at length it was washed in a tank and rose dripping therefrom with its +ornament of flowers and scrolls fully revealed. The room smelt of oil +and flannel and humanity; the atmosphere was more languid, more like +that of a family party, than in the pressers' shop: the old women +looked stern and shrewish, the pretty young women pert and defiant, the +younger girls meek. The few men seemed out of place. By what trick +had they crept into the very centre of that mass of femineity? It +seemed wrong, scandalous that they should remain. Contiguous with the +printing-shop was the painting-shop, in which the labours of the former +were taken to a finish by the brush of the paintress, who filled in +outlines with flat colour, and thus converted mechanical printing into +handiwork. The paintresses form the <I>noblesse</I> of the banks. Their +task is a light one, demanding deftness first of all; they have +delicate fingers, and enjoy a general reputation for beauty: the wages +they earn may be estimated from their finery on Sundays. They come to +business in cloth jackets, carry dinner in little satchels; in the shop +they wear white aprons, and look startlingly neat and tidy. Across the +benches over which they bend their coquettish heads gossip flies and +returns like a shuttle; they are the source of a thousand intrigues, +and one or other of them is continually getting married or omitting to +get married. On the bank they constitute 'the sex.' An infinitesimal +proportion of them, from among the branch known as ground-layers, die +of lead-poisoning—a fact which adds pathos to their frivolous charm. +In a subsidiary room off the painting-shop a single girl was seated at +a revolving table actuated by a treadle. She was doing the +'band-and-line' on the rims of saucers. Mynors and Anna watched her as +with her left hand she flicked saucer after saucer into the exact +centre of the table, moved the treadle, and, holding a brush firmly +against the rim of the piece, produced with infallible exactitude the +band and the line. She was a brunette, about twenty-eight: she had a +calm, vacuously contemplative face; but God alone knew whether she +thought. Her work represented the summit of monotony; the regularity +of it hypnotised the observer, and Mynors himself was impressed by this +stupendous phenomenon of absolute sameness, involuntarily assuming +towards it the attitude of a showman. +</P> + +<P> +'She earns as much as eighteen shillings a week sometimes,' he +whispered. +</P> + +<P> +'May I try?' Anna timidly asked of a sudden, curious to experience what +the trick was like. +</P> + +<P> +'Certainly,' said Mynors, in eager assent. 'Priscilla, let this lady +have your seat a moment, please.' +</P> + +<P> +The girl got up, smiling politely. Anna took her place. +</P> + +<P> +'Here, try on this,' said Mynors, putting on the table the plate which +he still carried. +</P> + +<P> +'Take a full brush,' the paintress suggested, not attempting to hide +her amusement at Anna's unaccustomed efforts. 'Now push the treadle. +There! It isn't in the middle yet. Now!' +</P> + +<P> +Anna produced a most creditable band, and a trembling but passable +line, and rose flushed with the small triumph. +</P> + +<P> +'You have the gift,' said Mynors; and the paintress respectfully +applauded. +</P> + +<P> +'I felt I could do it,' Anna responded. 'My mother's mother was a +paintress, and it must be in the blood.' +</P> + +<P> +Mynors smiled indulgently. They descended again to the ground floor, +and following the course of manufacture came to the 'hardening-on' +kiln, a minor oven where for twelve hours the oil is burnt out of the +colour in decorated ware. A huge, jolly man in shirt and trousers, +with an enormous apron, was in the act of drawing the kiln, assisted by +two thin boys. He nodded a greeting to Mynors and exclaimed, 'Warm!' +The kiln was nearly emptied. As Anna stopped at the door, the man +addressed her. +</P> + +<P> +'Step inside, miss, and try it.' +</P> + +<P> +'No, thanks!' she laughed. +</P> + +<P> +'Come now,' he insisted, as if despising this hesitation. 'An ounce of +experience——' The two boys grinned and wiped their foreheads with +their bare skeleton-like arms. Anna, challenged by the man's look, +walked quickly into the kiln. A blasting heat seemed to assault her on +every side, driving her back; it was incredible that any human being +could support such a temperature. +</P> + +<P> +'There!' said the jovial man, apparently summing her up with his +bright, quizzical eyes. 'You know summat as you didn't know afore, +miss. Come along, lads,' he added with brisk heartiness to the boys, +and the drawing of the kiln proceeded. +</P> + +<P> +Next came the dipping-house, where a middle-aged woman, enveloped in a +protective garment from head to foot, was dipping jugs into a vat of +lead-glaze, a boy assisting her. The woman's hands were covered with +the grey, slimy glaze. She alone of all the employees appeared to be +cool. +</P> + +<P> +'That is the last stage but one,' said Mynors. 'There is only the +glost-firing,' and they passed out into the yard once more. One of the +glost-ovens was empty; they entered it and peered into the lofty inner +chamber, which seemed like the cold crater of an exhausted volcano, or +like a vault, or like the ruined seat of some forgotten activity. The +other oven was firing, and Anna could only look at its exterior, +catching glimpses of the red glow at its twelve mouths, and guess at +the Tophet, within, where the lead was being fused into glass. +</P> + +<P> +'Now for the glost-warehouse, and you will have seen all,' said Mynors, +'except the mould-shop, and that doesn't matter.' +</P> + +<P> +The warehouse was the largest place on the works, a room sixty-feet +long and twenty broad, low, whitewashed, bare and clean. Piles of ware +occupied the whole of the walls and of the immense floorspace, but +there was no trace here of the soilure and untidiness incident to +manufacture; all processes were at an end, clay had vanished into +crock: and the calmness and the whiteness atoned for the disorder, +noise and squalor which had preceded. Here was a sample of the total +and final achievement towards which the thousands of small, disjointed +efforts that Anna had witnessed, were directed. And it seemed a +miraculous, almost impossible, result; so definite, precise and regular +after a series of acts apparently variable, inexact and casual; so +inhuman after all that intensely inhuman labour; so vast in comparison +with the minuteness of the separate endeavours. As Anna looked, for +instance, at a pile of tea-sets, she found it difficult even to +conceive that, a fortnight or so before, they had been nothing but +lumps of dirty clay. No stage of the manufacture was incredible by +itself, but the result was incredible. It was the result that appealed +to the imagination, authenticating the adage that fools and children +should never see anything till it is done. +</P> + +<P> +Anna pondered over the organising power, the forethought, the wide +vision, and the sheer ingenuity and cleverness which were implied by +the contents of this warehouse. 'What brains!' she thought, of Mynors; +'what quantities of all sorts of things he must know!' It was a humble +and deeply-felt admiration. +</P> + +<P> +Her spoken words gave no clue to her thoughts. 'You seem to make a +fine lot of tea-sets,' she remarked. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, no,' he said carelessly. 'These few that you see here are a +special order. I don't go in much for tea-sets: they don't pay; we +lose fifteen per cent. of the pieces in making. It's toilet-ware that +pays, and that is our leading line.' He waved an arm vaguely towards +rows and rows of ewers and basins in the distance. They walked to the +end of the warehouse, glancing at everything. +</P> + +<P> +'See here,' said Mynors, 'isn't that pretty?' He pointed through the +last window to a view of the canal, which could be seen thence in +perspective, finishing in a curve. On one side, close to the water's +edge, was a ruined and fragmentary building, its rich browns reflected +in the smooth surface of the canal. On the other side were a few grim, +grey trees bordering the towpath. Down the vista moved a boat steered +by a woman in a large mob-cap. 'Isn't that picturesque?' he said. +</P> + +<P> +'Very,' Anna assented willingly. 'It's really quite strange, such a +scene right in the middle of Bursley.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh! There are others,' he said. 'But I always take a peep at that +whenever I come into the warehouse.' +</P> + +<P> +'I wonder you find time to notice it—with all this place to see +after,' she said. 'It's a splendid works!' +</P> + +<P> +'It will do—to be going on with,' he answered, satisfied. 'I'm very +glad you've been down. You must come again. I can see you would be +interested in it, and there are plenty of things you haven't looked at +yet, you know.' +</P> + +<P> +He smiled at her. They were alone in the warehouse. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' she said; 'I expect so. Well, I must go, at once; I'm afraid +it's very late now. Thank you for showing me round, and explaining, +and—I'm frightfully stupid and ignorant. Good-bye.' +</P> + +<P> +Vapid and trite phrases: what unimaginable messages the hearer heard in +you! +</P> + +<P> +Anna held out her hand, and he seized it almost convulsively, his +incendiary eyes fastened on her face. +</P> + +<P> +'I must see you out,' he said, dropping that ungloved hand. +</P> + +<P> +It was ten o'clock that night before Ephraim Tellwright returned home +from Axe. He appeared to be in a bad temper. Agnes had gone to bed. +His supper of bread-and-cheese and water was waiting for him, and Anna +sat at the table while he consumed it. He ate in silence, somewhat +hungrily, and she did not deem the moment propitious for telling him +about her visit to Mynors' works. +</P> + +<P> +'Has Titus Price sent up?' he asked at length, gulping down the last of +the water. +</P> + +<P> +'Sent up?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes. Art fond, lass? I told him as he mun send up some more o' thy +rent to-day—twenty-five pun. He's not sent?' +</P> + +<P> +'I don't know,' she said timidly. 'I was out this afternoon.' +</P> + +<P> +'Out, wast?' +</P> + +<P> +'Mr. Mynors sent word to ask me to go down and look over the works; so +I went. I thought it would be all right.' +</P> + +<P> +'Well, it was'na all right. And I'd like to know what business thou +hast gadding out, as soon as my back's turned. How can I tell whether +Price sent up or not? And what's more, thou know's as th' house hadn't +ought to be left.' +</P> + +<P> +'I'm sorry,' she said pleasantly, with a determination to be meek and +dutiful. +</P> + +<P> +He grunted. 'Happen he didna' send. And if he did, and found th' +house locked up, he should ha' sent again. Bring me th' inkpot, and +I'll write a note as Agnes must take when her goes to school to-morrow +morning.' +</P> + +<P> +Anna obeyed. 'They'll never be able to pay twenty-five pounds, +father,' she ventured. 'They've paid thirty already, you know.' +</P> + +<P> +'Less gab,' he said shortly, taking up the pen. 'Here—write it +thysen.' He threw the pen towards her. 'Tell Titus if he doesn't pay +five-and-twenty this wik, us'll put bailiffs in.' +</P> + +<P> +'Won't it come better from you, father?' she pleaded. +</P> + +<P> +'Whose property is it?' The laconic question was final. She knew she +must obey, and began to write. But, realising that she would perforce +meet both Titus Price and Willie on Sunday, she merely demanded the +money, omitting the threat. Her hand trembled as she passed the note +to him to read. +</P> + +<P> +'Will that do?' +</P> + +<P> +His reply was to tear the paper across. 'Put down what I tell ye,' he +ordered, 'and don't let's have any more paper wasted.' Then he +dictated a letter which was an ultimatum in three lines. 'Sign it,' he +said. +</P> + +<P> +She signed it, weeping. She could see the wistful reproach in Willie +Price's eyes. +</P> + +<P> +'I suppose,' her father said, when she bade him 'Good-night,' 'I +suppose if I hadn't asked, I should ha' heard nowt o' this +gadding-about wi' Mynors?' +</P> + +<P> +'I was going to tell you I had been to the works, father,' she said. +</P> + +<P> +'Going to!' That was his final blow, and having delivered it, he +loosed the victim. 'Go to bed,' he said. +</P> + +<P> +She went upstairs, resolutely read her Bible, and resolutely prayed. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="footnote"> +<A NAME="chap08fn1"></A> +[<A HREF="#chap08fn1text">1</A>] <I>Jacket-man</I>: the artisan's satiric term for anyone who does not +work in shirt-sleeves, who is not actually a producer, such as a clerk +or a pretentious foreman. +</P> + +<P CLASS="footnote"> +<A NAME="chap08fn2"></A> +[<A HREF="#chap08fn2text">2</A>] <I>Saggars</I>: large oval receptacles of coarse clay, in which the ware +is placed for firing. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap09"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IX +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE TREAT +</H4> + +<P> +This surly and terrorising ferocity of Tellwright's was as instinctive +as the growl and spring of a beast of prey. He never considered his +attitude towards the women of his household as an unusual phenomenon +which needed justification, or as being in the least abnormal. The +women of a household were the natural victims of their master: in his +experience it had always been so. In his experience the master had +always, by universal consent, possessed certain rights over the +self-respect, the happiness and the peace of the defenceless souls set +under him—rights as unquestioned as those exercised by Ivan the +Terrible. Such rights were rooted in the secret nature of things. It +was futile to discuss them, because their necessity and their propriety +were equally obvious. Tellwright would not have been angry with any +man who impugned them: he would merely have regarded the fellow as a +crank and a born fool, on whom logic or indignation would be entirely +wasted. He did as his father and uncles had done. He still thought of +his father as a grim customer, infinitely more redoubtable than +himself. He really believed that parents spoiled their children +nowadays: to be knocked down by a single blow was one of the +punishments of his own generation. He could recall the fearful +timidity of his mother's eyes without a trace of compassion. His +treatment of his daughters was no part of a system, nor obedient to any +defined principles, nor the expression of a brutal disposition, nor the +result of gradually-acquired habit. It came to him like eating, and +like parsimony. He belonged to the great and powerful class of +house-tyrants, the backbone of the British nation, whose views on +income-tax cause ministries to tremble. If you had talked to him of +the domestic graces of life, your words would have conveyed to him no +meaning. If you had indicted him for simple unprovoked rudeness, he +would have grinned, well knowing that, as the King can do no wrong, so +a man cannot be rude in his own house. If you had told him that he +inflicted purposeless misery not only on others but on himself, he +would have grinned again, vaguely aware that he had not tried to be +happy, and rather despising happiness as a sort of childish gewgaw. He +had, in fact, never been happy at home: he had never known that +expansion of the spirit which is called joy; he existed continually +under a grievance. The atmosphere of Manor Terrace afflicted him, too, +with a melancholy gloom—him, who had created it. Had he been capable +of self-analysis, he would have discovered that his heart lightened +whenever he left the house, and grew dark whenever he returned; but he +was incapable of the feat. His case, like every similar case, was +irremediable. +</P> + +<P> +The next morning his preposterous displeasure lay like a curse on the +house; Anna was silent, and Agnes moved on timid feet. In the +afternoon Willie Price called in answer to the note. The miser was in +the garden, and Agnes at school. Willie's craven and fawning humility +was inexpressibly touching and shameful to Anna. She longed to say to +him, as he stood hesitant and confused in the parlour: 'Go in peace. +Forget this despicable rent. It sickens me to see you so.' She +foresaw, as the effect of her father's vindictive pursuit of her +tenants, an interminable succession of these mortifying interviews. +</P> + +<P> +'You're rather hard on us,' Willie Price began, using the old phrases, +but in a tone of forced and propitiatory cheerfulness, as though he +feared to bring down a storm of anger which should ruin all. 'You'll +not deny that we've been doing our best.' +</P> + +<P> +'The rent is due, you know, Mr. William,' she replied, blushing. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, yes,' he said quickly. 'I don't deny that. I admit that. I—did +you happen to see Mr. Tellwright's postscript to your letter?' +</P> + +<P> +'No,' she answered, without thinking. +</P> + +<P> +He drew the letter, soiled and creased, from his pocket, and displayed +it to her. At the foot of the page she read, in Ephraim's thick and +clumsy characters: 'P.S. This is final.' +</P> + +<P> +'My father,' said Willie, 'was a little put about. He said he'd never +received such a letter before in the whole of his business career. It +isn't as if——' +</P> + +<P> +'I needn't tell you,' she interrupted, with a sudden determination to +get to the worst without more suspense, 'that of course I am in +father's hands.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh! Of course, Miss Tellwright; we quite understand that—quite. +It's just a matter of business. We owe a debt and we must pay it. All +we want is time.' He smiled piteously at her, his blue eyes full of +appeal. She was obliged to gaze at the floor. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' she said, tapping her foot on the rug. 'But father means what +he says.' She looked up at him again, trying to soften her words by +means of something more subtle than a smile. +</P> + +<P> +'He means what he says,' Willie agreed; 'and I admire him for it.' +</P> + +<P> +The obsequious, truckling lie was odious to her. +</P> + +<P> +'Perhaps I could see him,' he ventured. +</P> + +<P> +'I wish you would,' Anna said, sincerely. 'Father, you're wanted,' she +called curtly through the window. +</P> + +<P> +'I've got a proposal to make to him,' Price continued, while they +awaited the presence of the miser, 'and I can't hardly think he'll +refuse it.' +</P> + +<P> +'Well, young sir,' Tellwright said blandly, with an air almost +insinuating, as he entered. Willie Price, the simpleton, was deceived +by it, and, taking courage, adopted another line of defence. He +thought the miser was a little ashamed of his postscript. +</P> + +<P> +'About your note, Mr. Tellwright; I was just telling Miss Tellwright +that my father said he had never received such a letter in the whole of +his business career.' The youth assumed a discreet indignation. +</P> + +<P> +'Thy feyther's had dozens o' such letters, lad,' the miser said with +cold emphasis, 'or my name's not Tellwright. Dunna tell me as Titus +Price's never heard of a bumbailiff afore.' +</P> + +<P> +Willie was crushed at a blow, and obliged to retreat. He smiled +painfully. 'Come, Mr. Tellwright. Don't talk like that. All we want +is time.' +</P> + +<P> +'Time is money,' said Tellwright, 'and if us give you time us give you +money. 'Stead o' that, it's you as mun give us money. That's right +reason.' +</P> + +<P> +Willie laughed with difficulty. 'See here, Mr. Tellwright. To cut a +long story short, it's like this. You ask for twenty-five pounds. +I've got in my pocket a bill of exchange drawn by us on Mr. Sutton and +endorsed by him, for thirty pounds, payable in three months. Will you +take that? Remember it's for thirty, and you only ask for twenty-five.' +</P> + +<P> +'So Mr. Sutton has dealings with ye, eh?' Tellwright remarked. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, yes,' Willie answered proudly. 'He buys off us regularly. We've +done business for years.' +</P> + +<P> +'And pays i' bills at three months, eh?' The miser grinned. +</P> + +<P> +'Sometimes,' said Willie. +</P> + +<P> +'Let's see it,' said the miser. +</P> + +<P> +'What—the bill?' +</P> + +<P> +'Ay!' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh! The bill's all right.' Willie took it from his pocket, and +opening out the blue paper, gave it to old Tellwright. Anna perceived +the anxiety on the youth's face. He flushed and his hand trembled. +She dared not speak, but she wished to tell him to be at ease. She +knew from infallible signs that her father would take the bill. +Ephraim gazed at the stamped paper as at something strange and +unprecedented in his experience. +</P> + +<P> +'Father would want you not to negotiate that bill,' said Willie. 'The +fact is, we promised Mr. Sutton that that particular bill should not +leave our hands—unless it was absolutely necessary. So father would +like you not to discount it, and he will redeem it before it matures. +You quite understand—we don't care to offend an old customer like Mr. +Sutton.' +</P> + +<P> +'Then this bit o' paper's worth nowt for welly[<A NAME="chap09fn1text"></A><A HREF="#chap09fn1">1</A>] three months?' the +old man said, with an affectation of bewildered simplicity. +</P> + +<P> +Happily inspired for once, Willie made no answer, but put the question: +'Will you take it?' +</P> + +<P> +'Ay! Us'll tak' it,' said Tellwright, 'though it is but a promise.' +He was well pleased. +</P> + +<P> +Young Price's face showed his relief. It was now evident that he had +been passing through an ordeal. Anna guessed that perhaps everything +had depended on the acceptance by Tellwright of that bill. Had he +refused it, Prices, she thought, might have come to sudden disaster. +She felt glad and disburdened for the moment; but immediately it +occurred to her that her father would not rest satisfied for long; a +few weeks, and he would give another turn to the screw. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +The Tellwrights were destined to have other visitors that afternoon. +Agnes, coming from school, was accompanied by a lady. Anna, who was +setting the tea-table, saw a double shadow pass the window, and heard +voices. She ran into the kitchen, and found Mrs. Sutton seated on a +chair, breathing quickly. +</P> + +<P> +'You'll excuse me coming in so unceremoniously, Anna,' she said, after +having kissed her heartily. 'But Agnes said that she always came in by +the back way, so I came that way too. Now I'm resting a minute. I've +had to walk to-day. Our horse has gone lame.' +</P> + +<P> +This kind heart radiated a heavenly goodwill, even in the most ordinary +phrases. Anna began to expand at once. +</P> + +<P> +'Now do come into the parlour,' she said, 'and let me make you +comfortable.' +</P> + +<P> +'Just a minute, my dear,' Mrs. Sutton begged, fanning herself with her +handkerchief, 'Agnes's legs are so long.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, Mrs. Sutton,' Agnes protested, laughing, 'how can you? I could +scarcely keep up with you!' +</P> + +<P> +'Well, my dear, I never could walk slowly. I'm one of them that go +till they drop. It's very silly.' She smiled, and the two girls +smiled happily in return. +</P> + +<P> +'Agnes,' said the housewife, 'set another cup and saucer and plate.' +Agnes threw down her hat and satchel of books, eager to show +hospitality. +</P> + +<P> +'It still keeps very warm,' Anna remarked, as Mrs. Sutton was silent. +</P> + +<P> +'It's beautifully cool here,' said Mrs. Sutton. 'I see you've got your +kitchen like a new pin, Anna, if you'll excuse me saying so. Henry was +very enthusiastic about this kitchen the other night, at our house.' +</P> + +<P> +'What! Mr. Mynors?' Anna reddened to the eyes. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, my dear; and he's a very particular young man, you know.' +</P> + +<P> +The kettle conveniently boiled at that moment, and Anna went to the +range to make the tea. +</P> + +<P> +'Tea is all ready, Mrs. Sutton,' she said at length. 'I'm sure you +could do with a cup.' +</P> + +<P> +'That I could,' said Mrs. Sutton. 'It's what I've come for.' +</P> + +<P> +'We have tea at four. Father will be glad to see you.' The clock +struck, and they went into the parlour, Anna carrying the tea-pot and +the hot-water jug. Agnes had preceded them. The old man was sitting +expectant in his chair. +</P> + +<P> +'Well, Mr. Tellwright,' said the visitor, 'you see I've called to see +you, and to beg a cup of tea. I overtook Agnes coming home from +school—overtook her, mind—me, at my age!' Ephraim rose slowly and +shook hands. +</P> + +<P> +'You're welcome,' he said curtly, but with a kindliness that amazed +Anna. She was unaware that in past days he had known Mrs. Sutton as a +young and charming girl, a vision that had stirred poetic ideas in +hundreds of prosaic breasts, Tellwright's included. There was scarcely +a middle-aged male Wesleyan in Bursley and Hanbridge who had not a +peculiar regard for Mrs. Sutton, and who did not think that he alone +truly appreciated her. +</P> + +<P> +'What an' you bin tiring yourself with this afternoon?' he asked, when +they had begun tea, and Mrs. Sutton had refused a second piece of +bread-and-butter. +</P> + +<P> +'What have I been doing? I've been seeing to some inside repairs to +the superintendent's house. Be thankful you aren't a circuit-steward's +wife, Anna.' +</P> + +<P> +'Why, does she have to see to the repairs of the minister's house?' +Anna asked, surprised. +</P> + +<P> +'I should just think she does. She has to stand between the minister's +wife and the funds of the society. And Mrs. Reginald Banks has been +used to the very best of everything. She's just a bit exacting, though +I must say she's willing enough to spend her own money too. She wants +a new boiler in the scullery now, and I'm sure her boiler is a great +deal better than ours. But we must try to please her. She isn't used +to us rough folks and our ways. Mr. Banks said to me this afternoon +that he tried always to shield her from the worries of this world.' +She smiled almost imperceptibly. +</P> + +<P> +There was a ring at the bell, and Agnes, much perturbed by the august +arrival, let in Mr. Banks himself. +</P> + +<P> +'Shall I enter, my little dear?' said Mr. Banks. 'Your father, your +sister, in?' +</P> + +<P> +'It ne'er rains but it pours,' said Tellwright, who had caught the +minister's voice. +</P> + +<P> +'Speak of angels——' said Mrs. Sutton, laughing quietly. +</P> + +<P> +The minister came grandly into the parlour. 'Ah! How do you do, +brother Tellwright, and you, Miss Tellwright? Mrs. Sutton, we two seem +happily fated to meet this afternoon. Don't let me disturb you, I +beg—I cannot stay. My time is very limited. I wish I could call +oftener, brother Tellwright; but really the new <I>régime</I> leaves no time +for pastoral visits. I was saying to my wife only this morning that I +haven't had a free afternoon for a month.' He accepted a cup of tea. +</P> + +<P> +'Us'n have a tea-party this afternoon,' said Tellwright +<I>quasi</I>-privately to Mrs. Sutton. +</P> + +<P> +'And now,' the minister resumed, 'I've come to beg. The special fund, +you know, Mr. Tellwright, to clear off the debt on the new +school-buildings. I referred to it from the pulpit last Sabbath. It's +not in my province to go round begging, but someone must do it.' +</P> + +<P> +'Well, for me, I'm beforehand with you, Mr. Banks,' said Mrs. Sutton, +'for it's on that very errand I've called to see Mr. Tellwright this +afternoon. His name is on my list.' +</P> + +<P> +'Ah! Then I leave our brother to your superior persuasions.' +</P> + +<P> +'Come, Mr. Tellwright,' said Mrs. Sutton, 'you're between two fires, +and you'll get no mercy. What will you give?' +</P> + +<P> +The miser foresaw a probable discomfiture, and sought for some means of +escape. +</P> + +<P> +'What are others giving?' he asked. +</P> + +<P> +'My husband is giving fifty pounds, and you could buy him up, lock, +stock, and barrel.' +</P> + +<P> +'Nay, nay!' said Tellwright, aghast at this sum. He had underrated the +importance of the Building Fund. +</P> + +<P> +'And I,' said the parson solemnly, 'I have but fifty pounds in the +world, but I am giving twenty to this fund.' +</P> + +<P> +'Then you're giving too much,' said Tellwright with quick brusqueness. +'You canna' afford it.' +</P> + +<P> +'The Lord will provide,' said the parson. +</P> + +<P> +'Happen He will, happen not. It's as well you've gotten a rich wife, +Mr. Banks.' +</P> + +<P> +The parson's dignity was obviously wounded, and Anna wondered timidly +what would occur next. Mrs. Sutton interposed. 'Come now, Mr. +Tellwright,' she said again, 'to the point: what will you give?' +</P> + +<P> +'I'll think it over and let you hear,' said Ephraim. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, no! That won't do at all, will it, Mr. Banks? I, at any rate, am +not going away without a definite promise. As an old and good +Wesleyan, of course you will feel it your duty to be generous with us.' +</P> + +<P> +'You used to be a pillar of the Hanbridge circuit—was it not so?' said +Mr. Banks to the miser, recovering himself. +</P> + +<P> +'So they used to say,' Tellwright replied grimly. 'That was because I +cleared 'em of debt in ten years. But they've slipped into th' ditch +again sin' I left 'em.' +</P> + +<P> +'But if I am right, you do not meet[<A NAME="chap09fn2text"></A><A HREF="#chap09fn2">2</A>] with us,' the minister pursued +imperturbably. +</P> + +<P> +'No.' +</P> + +<P> +'My own class is at three on Saturdays,' said the minister. 'I should +be glad to see you.' +</P> + +<P> +'I tell you what I'll do,' said the miser to Mrs. Sutton. 'Titus Price +is a big man at th' Sunday-school. I'll give as much as he gives to +th' school buildings. That's fair.' +</P> + +<P> +'Do you know what Mr. Price is giving?' Mrs. Sutton asked the minister. +</P> + +<P> +'I saw Mr. Price yesterday. He is giving twenty-five pounds.' +</P> + +<P> +'Very well, that's a bargain,' said Mrs. Sutton, who had succeeded +beyond her expectations. +</P> + +<P> +Ephraim was the dupe of his own scheming. He had made sure that +Price's contribution would be a small one. This ostentatious +munificence on the part of the beggared Titus filled him with secret +anger. He determined to demand more rent at a very early date. +</P> + +<P> +'I'll put you down for twenty-five pounds as a first subscription,' +said the minister, taking out a pocket-book. Perhaps you will give +Mrs. Sutton or myself the cheque to-day?' +</P> + +<P> +'Has Mr. Price paid?' the miser asked, warily. +</P> + +<P> +'Not yet.' +</P> + +<P> +'Then come to me when he has.' Ephraim perceived the way of escape. +</P> + +<P> +When the minister was gone, as Mrs. Sutton seemed in no hurry to +depart, Anna and Agnes cleared the table. +</P> + +<P> +'I've just been telling your father, Anna,' said Mrs. Sutton, when Anna +returned to the room, 'that Mr. Sutton and myself and Beatrice are +going to the Isle of Man soon for a fortnight or so, and we should very +much like you to come with us.' +</P> + +<P> +Anna's heart began to beat violently, though she knew there was no hope +for her. This, then, doubtless, was the main object of Mrs. Sutton's +visit! 'Oh! But I couldn't, really!' said Anna, scarcely aware what +she did say. +</P> + +<P> +'Why not?' asked Mrs. Sutton. +</P> + +<P> +'Well—the house.' +</P> + +<P> +'The house? Agnes could see to what little housekeeping your father +would want. The schools will break up next week.' +</P> + +<P> +'What do these young folks want holidays for?' Tellwright inquired with +philosophic gruffness. 'I never had one. And what's more, I wouldn't +thank ye for one. I'll pig on at Bursley. When ye've gotten a roof of +your own, where's the sense o' going elsewhere and pigging?' +</P> + +<P> +'But we really want Anna to go,' Mrs. Sutton went on. 'Beatrice is +very anxious about it. Beatrice is very short of suitable friends.' +</P> + +<P> +'I should na' ha' thought it,' said Tellwright. 'Her seems to know +everyone.' +</P> + +<P> +'But she is,' Mrs. Sutton insisted. +</P> + +<P> +'I think as you'd better leave Anna out this year,' said the miser +stubbornly. +</P> + +<P> +Anna wished profoundly that Mrs. Sutton would abandon the futile +attempt. Then she perceived that the visitor was signalling to her to +leave the room. Anna obeyed, going into the kitchen to give an eye to +Agnes, who was washing up. +</P> + +<P> +'It's all right,' said Mrs. Sutton contentedly, when Anna returned to +the parlour. 'Your father has consented to your going with us. It is +very kind of him, for I'm sure he'll miss you.' +</P> + +<P> +Anna sat down, limp, speechless. She could not believe the news. +</P> + +<P> +'You are awfully good,' she said to Mrs. Sutton in the lobby, as the +latter was leaving the house. 'I'm ever so grateful—you can't think.' +And she threw her arms round Mrs. Sutton's neck. +</P> + +<P> +Agnes ran up to say good-bye. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Sutton kissed the child. 'Agnes will be the little housekeeper, +eh?' The little housekeeper was almost as pleased at the prospect of +housekeeping as if she too had been going to the Isle of Man. 'You'll +both be at the school-treat next Tuesday,' suppose,' Mrs. Sutton said, +holding Agnes by the hand. Agnes glanced at her sister in inquiry. +</P> + +<P> +'I don't know,' Anna replied. 'We shall see.' +</P> + +<P> +The truth was, that not caring to ask her father for the money for the +tickets, she had given no thought to the school-treat. +</P> + +<P> +'Did I tell you that Henry Mynors will most likely come with us to the +Isle of Man?' said Mrs. Sutton from the gate. +</P> + +<P> +Anna retired to her bedroom to savour an astounding happiness in +quietude. At supper the miser was in a mood not unbenevolent. She +expected a reaction the next morning, but Ephraim, strange to say, +remained innocuous. She ventured to ask him for the money for the +treat tickets, two shillings. He made no immediate reply. Half an +hour afterwards, he ejaculated: 'What i' th' name o' fortune dost thee +want wi' school-treats?' +</P> + +<P> +'It's Agnes,' she answered; 'of course Agnes can't go alone.' +</P> + +<P> +In the end he threw down a florin. He became perilous for the rest of +the day, but the florin was an indisputable fact in Anna's pocket. +</P> + +<P> +The school-treat was held in a twelve-acre field near Sneyd, the seat +of a marquis, and a Saturday afternoon resort very popular in the Five +Towns. The children were formed at noon on Duck Bank into a +procession, which marched to the railway station to the singing of +'Shall we gather at the river?' Thence a special train carried them, +in seething compartments, excited and strident, to Sneyd, where there +had been two sharp showers in the morning, the procession was reformed +along a country road, and the vacillating sky threatened more rain; but +because the sun had shone dazzlingly at eleven o'clock all the women +and girls, too easily tempted by the glory of the moment, blossomed +forth in pale blouses and parasols. The chattering crowd, bright and +defenceless as flowers, made at Sneyd a picture at once gay and +pathetic. It had rained there at half-past twelve; the roads were wet; +and among the two hundred and fifty children and thirty teachers there +were less than a score umbrellas. The excursion was theoretically in +charge of Titus Price, the Senior Superintendent, but this dignitary +had failed to arrive on Duck Bank, and Mynors had taken his place. In +the train Anna heard that some one had seen Mr. Price, wearing a large +grey wide-awake, leap into the guard's van at the very instant of +departure. He had not been at school on the previous Sunday, and Anna +was somewhat perturbed at the prospect of meeting the man who had +defined her letter to him as unique in the whole of his business +career. She caught a glimpse of the grey wideawake on the platform at +Sneyd, and steered her own scholars so as to avoid its vicinity. But +on the march to the field Titus reviewed the procession, and she was +obliged to meet his eyes and return his salutation. The look of the +man was a shock to her. He seemed thinner, nervous, restless, +preoccupied, and terribly careworn; except the new brilliant hat, all +his summer clothes were soiled and shabby. It was as though he had +forced himself, out of regard for appearances, to attend the fête, but +had left his thoughts in Edward Street. His uneasy and hollow +cheerfulness was painful to watch. Anna realised the intensity of the +crisis through which Mr. Price was passing. She perceived in a single +glance, more clearly than she could have done after a hundred +interviews with the young and unresponsible William—however +distressing these might be—that Titus must for weeks have been engaged +in a truly frightful struggle. His face was a proof of the tragic +sincerity of William's appeals to herself and to her father. That +Price should have contrived to pay seventy pounds of rent in a little +more than a month seemed to her, imperfectly acquainted alike with +Ephraim's ruthless compulsions and with the financial jugglery often +practised by hard-pressed debtors, to be an almost miraculous effort +after honesty. Her conscience smote her for conniving at which she now +saw to be a persecution. She felt as sorry for Titus as she had felt +for his son. The obese man, with his reputation in rags about him, was +acutely wistful in her eyes, as a child might have been. +</P> + +<P> +A carriage rolled by, raising the dust in places where the strong sun +had already dried the road. It was Mr. Sutton's landau, driven by +Barrett. Beatrice, in white, sat solitary amid cushions, while two +large hampers occupied most of the coachman's box. The carriage seemed +to move with lordly ease and rapidity, and the teachers, already weary +and fretted by the endless pranks of the children, bitterly envied the +enthroned maid who nodded and smiled to them with such charming +condescension. It was a social triumph for Beatrice. She disappeared +ahead like a goddess in a cloud, and scarcely a woman who saw her from +the humble level of the roadway but would have married a satyr to be +able to do as Beatrice did. Later, when the field was reached, and the +children bursting through the gate had spread like a flood over the +daisied grass, the landau was to be seen drawn up near the refreshment +tent; Barrett was unpacking the hampers, which contained delicate +creamy confectionery for the teachers' tea; Beatrice explained that +these were her mother's gift, and that she had driven down in order to +preserve the fragile pasties from the risks of a railway journey. +Gratitude became vocal, and Beatrice's success was perfected. +</P> + +<P> +Then the more conscientious teachers set themselves seriously to the +task of amusing the smaller children, and the smaller children +consented to be amused according to the recipes appointed by long +custom for school-treats. Many round-games, which invariably comprised +singing or kissing, being thus annually resuscitated by elderly people +from the deeps of memory, were preserved for a posterity which +otherwise would never have known them. Among these was Bobby-Bingo. +For twenty-five years Titus Price had played at Bobby-Bingo with the +infant classes at the school-treat, and this year he was bound by the +expectations of all to continue the practice. Another diversion which +he always took care to organise was the three-legged race for boys. +Also, he usually joined in the tut-ball, a quaint game which owes its +surprising longevity to the fact that it is equally proper for both +sexes. Within half an hour the treat was in full career; football, +cricket, rounders, tick, leap-frog, prison-bars, and round-games, +transformed the field into a vast arena of complicated struggles and +emulations. All were occupied, except a few of the women and older +girls, who strolled languidly about in the <I>rôle</I> of spectators. The +sun shone generously on scores of vivid and frail toilettes, and +parasols made slowly-moving hemispheres of glowing colour against the +rich green of the grass. All around were yellow cornfields, and +meadows where cows of a burnished brown indolently meditated upon the +phenomena of a school-treat. Every hedge and ditch and gate and stile +was in that ideal condition of plenary correctness which denotes that a +great landowner is exhibiting the beauties of scientific farming for +the behoof of his villagers. The sky, of an intense blue, was a sea in +which large white clouds sailed gently but capriciously; on the +northern horizon a low range of smoke marked the sinister region of the +Five Towns. +</P> + +<P> +'Will you come and help with the bags and cups?' Henry Mynors asked +Anna. She was standing by herself, watching Agnes at play with some +other girls. Mynors had evidently walked across to her from the +refreshment tent, which was at the opposite extremity of the field. In +her eyes he was once more the exemplar of style. His suit of grey +flannel, his white straw hat, became him to admiration. He stood at +ease with his hands in his coat-pockets, and smiled contentedly. +</P> + +<P> +'After all,' he said, 'the tea is the principal thing, and, although it +wants two hours to tea-time yet, it's as well to be beforehand.' +</P> + +<P> +'I should like something to do,' Anna replied. +</P> + +<P> +'How are you?' he said familiarly, after this abrupt opening, and then +shook hands. They traversed the field together, with many deviations +to avoid trespassing upon areas of play. +</P> + +<P> +The flapping refreshment tent seemed to be full of piles of baskets and +piles of bags and piles of cups, which the contractor had brought in a +waggon. Some teachers were already beginning to put the paper bags +into the baskets; each bag contained bread-and-butter, currant cake, an +Eccles-cake, and a Bath-bun. At the far end of the tent Beatrice +Sutton was arranging her dainties on a small trestle-table. +</P> + +<P> +'Come along quick, Anna,' she exclaimed, 'and taste my tarts, and tell +me what you think of them. I do hope the good people will enjoy them.' +And then, turning to Mynors, 'Hello! Are you seeing after the bags and +things? I thought that was always Willie Price's favourite job!' +</P> + +<P> +'So it is,' said Mynors. 'But, unfortunately, he isn't here to-day.' +</P> + +<P> +'How's that, pray? I never knew him miss a school-treat before.' +</P> + +<P> +'Mr. Price told me they couldn't both be away from the works just now. +Very busy, I suppose.' +</P> + +<P> +'Well, William would have been more use than his father, anyhow.' +</P> + +<P> +'Hush, hush!' Mynors murmured with a subdued laugh. +</P> + +<P> +Beatrice was in one of her 'downright' moods, as she herself called +them. +</P> + +<P> +Mynors's arrangements for the prompt distribution of tea at the +appointed hour were very minute, and involved a considerable amount of +back bending and manual labour. But, though they were enlivened by +frequent intervals of gossip, and by excursions into the field to +observe this and that amusing sight, all was finished half an hour +before time. +</P> + +<P> +'I will go and warn Mr. Price,' said Mynors. 'He is quite capable of +forgetting the clock.' Mynors left the tent, and proceeded to the +scene of an athletic meeting, at which Titus Price, in shirt-sleeves, +was distributing prizes of sixpences and pennies. The famous +three-legged race had just been run. Anna followed at a saunter, and +shortly afterwards Beatrice overtook her. +</P> + +<P> +'The great Titus looks better than he did when he came on the field,' +Beatrice remarked. And indeed the superintendent had put on quite a +merry appearance—flushed, excited, and jocular in his elephantine +way—it seemed as if he had not a care in the world. The boys crowded +appreciatively round him. But this was his last hour of joy. +</P> + +<P> +'Why! Willie Price <I>is</I> here,' Anna exclaimed, perceiving William in +the fringe of the crowd. The lanky fellow stood hesitatingly, his left +hand busy with his moustache. +</P> + +<P> +'So he is,' said Beatrice. 'I wonder what that means.' +</P> + +<P> +Titus had not observed the newcomer, but Henry Mynors saw William, and +exchanged a few words with him. Then Mr. Mynors advanced into the +crowd and spoke to Mr. Price, who glanced quickly round at his son. +The girls, at a distance of forty yards, could discern the swift change +in the man's demeanour. In a second he had reverted to the deplorable +Titus of three hours ago. He elbowed his way roughly to William, +getting into his coat as he went. The pair talked, William glanced at +his watch, and in another moment they were leaving the field. Henry +Mynors had to finish the prize distribution. So much Anna and Beatrice +plainly saw. Others, too, had not been blind to this sudden and +dramatic departure. It aroused universal comment among the teachers. +</P> + +<P> +'Something must be wrong at Price's works,' Beatrice said, 'and Willie +has had to fetch his papa.' This was the conclusion of all the +gossips. Beatrice added: 'Dad has mentioned Price's several times +lately, now I think of it.' +</P> + +<P> +Anna grew extremely self-conscious and uncomfortable. She felt as +though all were saying of her: 'There goes the oppressor of the poor!' +She was fairly sure, however, that her father was not responsible for +this particular incident. There must, then, be other implacable +creditors. She had been thoroughly enjoying the afternoon, but now her +pleasure ceased. +</P> + +<P> +The treat ended disastrously. In the middle of the children's meal, +while yet the enormous double-handled tea-cans were being carried up +and down the thirsty rows, and the boys were causing their bags to +explode with appalling detonations, it began to rain sharply. The +fickle sun withdrew his splendour from the toilettes, and was seen no +more for a week afterwards. 'It's come at last,' ejaculated Mynors, +who had watched the sky with anxiety for an hour previously. He +mobilised the children and ranked them under a row of elms. The +teachers, running to the tent for their own tea, said to one another +that the shower could only be a brief one. The wish was father to the +thought, for they were a little ashamed to be under cover while their +charges precariously sheltered beneath dripping trees—yet there was +nothing else to be done; the men took turns in the rain to keep the +children in their places. The sky was completely overcast. 'It's set +in for a wet evening, and so we may as well make the best of it,' +Beatrice said grimly, and she sent the landau home empty. She was +right. A forlorn and disgusted snake of a procession crawled through +puddles to the station. The platform resounded with sneezes. None but +a dressmaker could have discovered a silver lining to the black and +all-pervading cloud which had ruined so many dozens of fair costumes. +Anna, melancholy and taciturn, exerted herself to minimise the +discomfort of her scholars. A word from Mynors would have been balm to +her; but Mynors, the general of a routed army, was parleying by +telephone with the traffic-manager of the railway for the expediting of +the special train. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="footnote"> +<A NAME="chap09fn1"></A> +[<A HREF="#chap09fn1text">1</A>] <I>Welly</I>: nearly. +</P> + +<P CLASS="footnote"> +<A NAME="chap09fn2"></A> +[<A HREF="#chap09fn2text">2</A>] <I>Meet</I>: meet in class—a gathering for the exchange of religious +counsel and experience. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap10"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER X +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE ISLE +</H4> + +<P> +About this time Anna was not seeing very much of Henry Mynors. At +twenty a man is rash in love, and again, perhaps, at fifty; a man of +middle-age enamoured of a young girl is capable of sublime follies. +But the man of thirty who loves for the first time is usually the +embodiment of cautious discretion. He does not fall in love with a +violent descent, but rather lets himself gently down, continually +testing the rope. His social value, especially if he have achieved +worldly success, is at its highest, and, without conceit, he is aware +of it. He has lost many illusions concerning women; he has seen more +than one friend wrecked in the sea of foolish marriage; he knows the +joys of a bachelor's freedom, without having wearied of them; he +perceives risks where the youth perceives only ecstasy, and the oldster +only a blissful release from solitude. Instead of searching, he is +sought for; accordingly he is selfish and exacting. All these things, +combine to tranquillize passion at thirty. Mynors was in love with +Anna, and his love had its ardent moments; but in the main it was a +temperate affection, an affection that walked circumspectly, with its +eyes open, careful of its dignity, too proud to seem in a hurry; if, by +impulse, it chanced now and then to leap forward, the involuntary +movement was mastered and checked. Mynors called at Manor Terrace once +a week, never on the same day of the week, nor without discussing +business with the miser. Occasionally he accompanied Anna from school +or chapel. Such methods were precisely to Anna's taste. Like him, she +loved prudence and decorum, preferring to make haste slowly. Since the +Revival, they had only once talked together intimately; on that sole +occasion Henry had suggested to her that she might care to join Mrs. +Sutton's class, which met on Monday nights; she accepted the hint with +pleasure, and found a well of spiritual inspiration in Mrs. Sutton's +modest and simple yet fervent homilies. Mynors was not guilty of +blowing both hot and cold. She was sure of him. She waited calmly for +events, existing, as her habit was, in the future. +</P> + +<P> +The future, then, meant the Isle of Man. Anna dreamed of an enchanted +isle and hours of unimaginable rapture. For a whole week after Mrs. +Sutton had won Ephraim's consent, her vision never stooped to practical +details. Then Beatrice called to see her; it was the morning after the +treat, and Anna was brushing her muddy frock; she wore a large white +apron, and held a cloth-brush in her hand as she opened the door. +</P> + +<P> +'You're busy?' said Beatrice. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' said Anna, 'but come in. Come into the kitchen—do you mind?' +</P> + +<P> +Beatrice was covered from neck to heel with a long mackintosh, which +she threw off when entering the kitchen. +</P> + +<P> +'Anyone else in the house?' she asked. +</P> + +<P> +'No,' said Anna, smiling, as Beatrice seated herself, with a sigh of +content, on the table. +</P> + +<P> +'Well, let's talk, then.' Beatrice drew from her pocket the +indispensable chocolates and offered them to Anna. 'I say, wasn't last +night perfectly awful? Henry got wet through in the end, and mother +made him stop at our house, as he was at the trouble to take me home. +Did you see him go down this morning?' +</P> + +<P> +'No; why?' said Anna, stiffly. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh—no reason. Only I thought perhaps you did. I simply can't tell +you how glad I am that you're coming with us to the Isle of Man; we +shall have rare fun. We go every year, you know—to Port Erin, a +lovely little fishing village. All the fishermen know us there. Last +year Henry hired a yacht for the fortnight, and we all went +mackerel-fishing, every day; except sometimes Pa. Now and then Pa had +a tendency to go fiddling in caves and things. I do hope it will be +fine weather again by then, don't you?' +</P> + +<P> +'I'm looking forward to it, I can tell you,' Anna said. 'What day are +we supposed to start?' +</P> + +<P> +'Saturday week.' +</P> + +<P> +'So soon?' Anna was surprised at the proximity of the event. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes; and quite late enough, too. We should start earlier, only the +Dad always makes out he can't. Men always pretend to be so frightfully +busy, and I believe it's all put on.' Beatrice continued to chat about +the holiday, and then of a sudden she asked: 'What are you going to +wear?' +</P> + +<P> +'Wear!' Anna repeated; and added, with hesitation: 'I suppose one will +want some new clothes?' +</P> + +<P> +'Well, just a few! Now let me advise you. Take a blue serge skirt. +Sea-water won't harm it, and if it's dark enough it will look well to +any mortal blouse. Secondly, you can't have too many blouses; they're +always useful at the seaside. Plain straw-hats are my tip. A coat for +nights, and thick boots. There! Of course no one ever <I>dresses</I> at +Port Erin. It isn't like Llandudno, and all that sort of thing. You +don't have to meet your young man on the pier, because there isn't a +pier.' +</P> + +<P> +There was a pause. Anna did not know what to say. At length she +ventured: 'I'm not much for clothes, as I dare say you've noticed.' +</P> + +<P> +'I think you always look nice, my dear,' Beatrice responded. Nothing +was said as to Anna's wealth, no reference made as to the discrepancy +between that and the style of her garments. By a fiction, there was +supposed to be no discrepancy. +</P> + +<P> +'Do you make your own frocks?' Beatrice asked, later. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes.' +</P> + +<P> +'Do you know I thought you did. But they do you great credit. There's +few people can make a plain frock look decent.' +</P> + +<P> +This conversation brought Anna with a shock to the level of earth. She +perceived—only too well—a point which she had not hitherto fairly +faced in her idyllic meditations: that her father was still a factor in +the case. Since Mrs. Sutton's visit both Anna and the miser avoided +the subject of the holiday. 'You can't have too many blouses.' Did +Beatrice, then, have blouses by the dozen? A coat, a serge skirt, +straw hats (how many?)—the catalogue frightened her. She began to +suspect that she would not be able to go to the Isle of Man. +</P> + +<P> +'About me going with Suttons to the Isle of Man?' she accosted her +father, in the afternoon, outwardly calm, but with secret trembling. +</P> + +<P> +'Well?' he exclaimed savagely. +</P> + +<P> +'I shall want some money—a little.' She would have given much not to +have added that 'little,' but it came out of itself. +</P> + +<P> +'It's a waste o' time and money—that's what I call it. I can't think +why Suttons asked ye. Ye aren't ill, are ye?' His savagery changed to +sullenness. +</P> + +<P> +'No, father; but as it's arranged, I suppose I shall have to go.' +</P> + +<P> +'Well, I'm none so set up with the idea mysen.' +</P> + +<P> +'Shan't you be all right with Agnes?' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, yes. <I>I</I> shall be all right. <I>I</I> don't want much. <I>I</I>'ve no +fads and fal-lals. How long art going to be away?' +</P> + +<P> +'I don't know. Didn't Mrs. Sutton tell you? You arranged it.' +</P> + +<P> +'That I didna'. Her said nowt to me.' +</P> + +<P> +'Well, anyhow I shall want some clothes.' +</P> + +<P> +'What for? Art naked?' +</P> + +<P> +'I must have some money.' Her voice shook, She was getting near tears. +</P> + +<P> +'Well, thou's gotten thy own money, hast na'?' +</P> + +<P> +'All I want is that you shall let me have some of my own money. +There's forty odd pounds now in the bank.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh!' he repeated, sneering, 'all ye want is as I shall let thee have +some o' thy own money. And there's forty odd pound i' the bank. Oh!' +</P> + +<P> +'Will you give me my cheque-book out of the bureau? And I'll draw a +cheque; I know how to.' She had conquered the instinct to cry, and +unwillingly her tones became somewhat peremptory. Ephraim seized the +chance. +</P> + +<P> +'No, I won't give ye the cheque-book out o' th' bureau,' he said +flatly. 'And I'll thank ye for less sauce.' +</P> + +<P> +That finished the episode. Proudly she took an oath with herself not +to re-open the question, and resolved to write a note to Mrs. Sutton +saying that on consideration she found it impossible to go to the Isle +of Man. +</P> + +<P> +The next morning there came to Anna a letter from the secretary of a +limited company enclosing a post-office order for ten pounds. Some +weeks previously her father had discovered an error of that amount in +the deduction of income-tax from the dividend paid by this company, and +had instructed Anna to demand the sum. She had obeyed, and then +forgotten the affair. Here was the answer. Desperate at the thought +of missing the holiday, she cashed the order, bought and made her +clothes in secret, and then, two days before the arranged date of +departure told her father what she had done. He was enraged; but since +his anger was too illogical to be rendered effectively coherent in +words, he had the wit to keep silence. With bitterness Anna reflected +that she owed her holiday to the merest accident—for if the remittance +had arrived a little earlier or a little later, or in the form of a +cheque, she could not have utilised it. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +It was an incredible day, the following Saturday, a warm and benign day +of earliest autumn. The Suttons, in a hired cab, called for Anna at +half-past eight, on the way to the main line station at Shawport. +Anna's tin box was flung on to the roof of the cab amid the trunks and +portmanteaux already there. +</P> + +<P> +'Why should not Agnes ride with us to the station?' Beatrice suggested. +</P> + +<P> +'Nay, nay; there's no room,' said Tellwright, who stood at the door, +impelled by an unacknowledged awe of Mrs. Sutton thus to give official +sanction to Anna's departure. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, yes,' Mrs. Sutton exclaimed. 'Let the little thing come, Mr. +Tellwright.' +</P> + +<P> +Agnes, far more excited than any of the rest, seized her straw hat, and +slipping the elastic under her small chin, sprang into the cab, and +found a haven between Mr. Sutton's short, fat legs. The driver drew +his whip smartly across the aged neck of the cream mare. They were +off. What a rumbling, jolting, delicious journey, down the first hill, +up Duck Bank, through the market-place, and down the steep declivity of +Oldcastle Street! Silent and shy, Agnes smiled ecstatically at the +others. Anna answered remarks in a dream. She was conscious only of +present happiness and happy expectation. All bitterness had +disappeared. At least thirty thousand Bursley folk were not going to +the Isle of Man that day—their preoccupied and cheerless faces swam in +a continuous stream past the cab window—and Anna sympathised with +every unit of them. Her spirit overflowed with universal compassion. +What haste and exquisite confusion at the station! The train was +signalled, and the porter, crossing the line with the luggage, ran his +truck perilously under the very buffers of the incoming engine. Mynors +was awaiting them, admirably attired as a tourist. He had got the +tickets, and secured a private compartment in the through-coach for +Liverpool; and he found time to arrange with the cabman to drive Agnes +home on the box-seat. Certainly there was none like Mynors. From the +footboard of the carriage Anna bent down to kiss Agnes. The child had +been laughing and chattering. Suddenly, as Anna's lips touched hers, +she burst into tears, sobbed passionately as though overtaken by some +terrible and unexpected misfortune. Tears stood also in Anna's eyes. +The sisters had never been parted before. +</P> + +<P> +'Poor little thing!' Mrs. Sutton murmured; and Beatrice told her father +to give Agnes a shilling to buy chocolates at Stevenson's in St. Luke's +Square, that being the best shop. The shilling fell between the +footboard and the platform. A scream from Beatrice! The attendant +porter promised to rescue the shilling in due course. The engine +whistled, the silver-mounted guard asserted his authority, Mynors +leaped in, and amid laughter and tears the brief and unique joy of +Anna's life began. +</P> + +<P> +In a moment, so it seemed, the train was thundering through the mile of +solid rock which ends at Lime Street Station, Liverpool. +Thenceforward, till she fell asleep that night, Anna existed in a state +of blissful bewilderment, stupefied by an overdose of novel and +wondrous sensations. They lunched in amazing magnificence at the +Bear's Paw, and then walked through the crowded and prodigious streets +to Prince's landing-stage. The luggage had disappeared by some +mysterious agency—Mynors said that they would find it safe at Douglas; +but Anna could not banish the fear that her tin box had gone for ever. +</P> + +<P> +The great, wavy river, churned by thousands of keels; the monstrous +steamer—the 'Mona's Isle'—whose side rose like solid wall out of the +water; the vistas of its decks; its vast saloons, story under story, +solid and palatial (could all this float?); its high bridge; its +hawsers as thick as trees; its funnels like sloping towers; the +multitudes of passengers; the whistles, hoots, cries; the +far-stretching panorama of wharves and docks; the squat ferry-craft +carrying horses and carts, and no one looking twice at the feat—it was +all too much, too astonishing, too lovely. She had not guessed at this. +</P> + +<P> +'They call Liverpool the slum of Europe,' said Mynors. +</P> + +<P> +'How can you!' she exclaimed, shocked. +</P> + +<P> +Beatrice, seeing her radiant and rapt face, walked to and fro with +Anna, proud of the effect produced on her friend's inexperience by +these sights. One might have thought that Beatrice had built Liverpool +and created its trade by her own efforts. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly the landing-stage and all the people on it moved away bodily +from the ship; there was green water between; a tremor like that of an +earthquake ran along the deck; handkerchiefs were waved. The voyage +had commenced. Mynors found chairs for all the Suttons, and tucked +them up on the lee-side of a deck-house; but Anna did not stir. They +passed New Brighton, Seaforth, and the Crosby and Formby lightships. +</P> + +<P> +'Come and view the ship,' said Mynors, at her side. 'Suppose we go +round and inspect things a bit?' +</P> + +<P> +'It's a very big one, isn't it?' she asked. +</P> + +<P> +'Pretty big,' he said; 'of course not as big as the Atlantic liners—I +wonder we didn't meet one in the river—but still pretty big. Three +hundred and twenty feet over all. I sailed on her last year on her +maiden voyage. She was packed, and the weather very bad.' +</P> + +<P> +'Will it be rough to-day?' Anna inquired timidly. +</P> + +<P> +'Not if it keeps like this,' he laughed. 'You don't feel queer, do +you?' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, no. It's as firm as a house. No one could be ill with this?' +</P> + +<P> +'Couldn't they?' he exclaimed. 'Beatrice could be.' +</P> + +<P> +They descended into the ship, and he explained all its internal +economy, with a knowledge that seemed to her encyclopædic. They stayed +a long time watching the engines, so Titanic, ruthless, and deliberate; +even the smell of the oil was pleasant to Anna. When they came on deck +again the ship was at sea. For the first time Anna beheld the ocean. +A strong breeze blew from prow to stern, yet the sea was absolutely +calm, the unruffled mirror of effulgent sunlight. The steamer moved +alone on the waters, exultantly, leaving behind it an endless track of +white froth in the green, and the shadow of its smoke. The sun, the +salt breeze, the living water, the proud gaiety of the ship, produced a +feeling of intense, inexplicable joy, a profound satisfaction with the +present, and a negligence of past and future. To exist was enough, +then. As Anna and Henry leaned over the starboard quarter and watched +the torrent of foam rush madly and ceaselessly from under the +paddle-box to be swallowed up in the white wake, the spectacle of the +wild torrent almost hypnotised them, destroying thought and reason, and +all sense of their relation to other things. With difficulty Anna +raised her eyes, and perceived the dim receding line of the Lancashire +coast. +</P> + +<P> +'Shall we get quite out of sight of land?' she asked. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, for a little while, about half an hour or so. Just as much out +of sight of land as if we were in the middle of the Atlantic.' +</P> + +<P> +'I can scarcely believe it.' +</P> + +<P> +'Believe what?' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh! The idea of that—of being out of sight of land—nothing but sea.' +</P> + +<P> +When at last it occurred to them to reconnoitre the Suttons, they found +all three still in their deck-chairs, enwrapped and languid. Mr. +Sutton and Beatrice were apparently dozing. This part of the deck was +occupied by somnolent, basking figures. +</P> + +<P> +'Don't wake them,' Mrs. Sutton enjoined, whispering out of her hood. +Anna glanced curiously at Beatrice's yellow face. +</P> + +<P> +'Go away, do,' Beatrice exclaimed, opening her eyes and shutting them +again, wearily. +</P> + +<P> +So they went away, and discovered two empty deck-chairs on the +fore-deck. Anna was innocently vain of her immunity from malaise. +Mynors appeared to appoint himself little errands about the deck, +returning frequently to his chair. 'Look over there. Can you see +anything?' +</P> + +<P> +Anna ran to the rail, with the infantile idea of getting nearer, and +Mynors followed, laughing. What looked like a small slate-coloured +cloud lay on the horizon. +</P> + +<P> +'I seem to see something,' she said. +</P> + +<P> +'That is the Isle of Man.' +</P> + +<P> +By insensible gradations the contours of the land grew clearer in the +afternoon haze. +</P> + +<P> +'How far are we off now?' +</P> + +<P> +'Perhaps twenty miles.' +</P> + +<P> +Twenty miles of uninterrupted flatness, and the ship steadily invading +that separating solitude, yard by yard, furlong by furlong! The +conception awed her. There, a morsel in the waste of the deep, a speck +under the infinite sunlight, lay the island, mysterious, enticing, +enchanted, a glinting jewel on, the sea's bosom, a remote entity +fraught with strange secrets. It was all unspeakable. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +'Anna, you have covered yourself with glory,' said Mrs. Sutton, when +they were in the diminutive and absurd train which by breathless +plunges annihilates the sixteen miles between Douglas and Port Erin in +sixty-five minutes. +</P> + +<P> +'Have I?' she answered. 'How?' +</P> + +<P> +'By not being ill.' +</P> + +<P> +'That's always the beginner's luck,' said Beatrice, pale and +dishevelled. They all relapsed into the silence of fatigue. It was +growing dusk when the train stopped at the tiny terminus. The station +was a hive of bustling activity, the arrival of this train being the +daily event at that end of the world. Mynors and the Suttons were +greeted familiarly by several sailors, and one of these, Tom Kelly, a +tall, middle-aged man, with grey beard, small grey eyes, a wrinkled +skin of red mahogany, and an enormous fist, was introduced to Anna. He +raised his cap, and shook hands. She was touched by the sad, kind look +on his face, the melancholy impress of the sea. Then they drove to +their lodging, and here again the party was welcomed as being old and +tried friends. A fire was burning in the parlour. Throwing herself +down in front of it, Mrs. Sutton breathed, 'At last! Oh, for some +tea.' Through the window, Anna had a glimpse of a deeply indented bay +at the foot of cliffs below them, with a bold headland to the right. +Fishing vessels with flat red sails seemed to hang undecided just +outside the bay. From cottage chimneys beneath the road blue smoke +softly ascended. +</P> + +<P> +All went early to bed, for the weariness of Mr. and Mrs. Sutton seemed +to communicate itself to the three young people, who might otherwise +have gone forth into the village in search of adventures. Anna and +Beatrice shared a room. Each inspected the other's clothes, and +Beatrice made Anna try on the new serge skirt. Through the thin wall +came the sound of Mr. and Mrs. Sutton talking, a high voice, then a +bass reply, in continual alternation. Beatrice said that these two +always discussed the day's doings in such manner. In a few moments +Beatrice was snoring; she had the subdued but steady and serious snore +characteristic of some muscular men. Anna felt no inclination to +sleep. She lived again hour by hour through the day, and beneath +Beatrice's snore her ear caught the undertone of the sea. +</P> + +<P> +The next morning was as lovely as the last. It was Sunday, and every +activity of the village was stilled. Sea and land were equally folded +in a sunlit calm. During breakfast—a meal abundant in fresh herrings, +fresh eggs and fresh rolls, eaten with the window wide open—Anna was +puzzled by the singular amenity of her friends to one another and to +her. They were as polite as though they had been strangers; they +chatted amiably, were full of goodwill, and as anxious to give +happiness as to enjoy it. She thought at first, so unusual was it to +her as a feature of domestic privacy, that this demeanour was affected, +or at any rate a somewhat exaggerated punctilio due to her presence; +but she soon came to see that she was mistaken. After breakfast Mr. +Sutton suggested that they should attend the Wesleyan Chapel on the +hill leading to the Chasms. Here they met the sailors of the night +before, arrayed now in marvellous blue Melton coats with velveteen +collars. Tom Kelly walked back with them to the beach, and showed them +the yacht 'Fay' which Mynors had arranged to hire for mackerel-fishing; +it lay on the sands speckless in new white paint. All the afternoon +they dozed on the cliffs, doing nothing whatever, for this Sunday was +tacitly regarded, not as part of the holiday, but as a preparation for +the holiday; all felt that the holiday, with its proper exertions and +appointed delights, would really begin on Monday morning. +</P> + +<P> +'Let us go for a walk,' said Mynors, after tea, to Beatrice and Anna. +They stood at the gate of the lodging-house. The old people were +resting within. +</P> + +<P> +'You two go,' Beatrice replied, looking at Anna. 'You know I hate +walking, Henry. I'll stop with mother and dad.' +</P> + +<P> +Throughout the day Anna had been conscious of the fact that all the +Suttons showed a tendency, slight but perceptible, to treat Henry and +herself as a pair desirous of opportunities for being alone together. +She did not like it. She flushed under the passing glance with which +Beatrice accompanied the words: 'You two go.' Nevertheless, when +Mynors placidly remarked: 'Very well,' and his eyes sought hers for a +consent, she could not refuse it. One part of her nature would have +preferred to find an excuse for staying at home; but another, and a +stronger, part insisted on seizing this offered joy. +</P> + +<P> +They walked straight up out of the village toward the high coast-range +which stretches peak after peak from Port Erin to Peel. The stony and +devious lanes wound about the bleak hillside, passing here and there +small, solitary cottages of whitewashed stone, with children, fowls, +and dogs at the doors, all embowered in huge fuchsia trees. Presently +they had surmounted the limit of habitation and were on the naked flank +of Bradda, following a narrow track which crept upwards amid short +mossy turf of the most vivid green. Nothing seemed to flourish on this +exposed height except bracken, sheep, and boulders that, from a +distance, resembled sheep; there was no tree, scarcely a shrub; the +immense contours, stark, grim, and unrelieved, rose in melancholy and +defiant majesty against the sky: the hand of man could coax no harvest +from these smooth but obdurate slopes; they had never relented, and +they would never relent. The spirit was braced by the thought that +here, to the furthest eternity of civilisation more and more intricate, +simple and strong souls would always find solace and repose. +</P> + +<P> +Mynors bore to the left for a while, striking across the moor in the +direction of the sea. Then he said: +</P> + +<P> +'Look down, now.' +</P> + +<P> +The little bay lay like an oblong swimming-bath five hundred feet below +them. The surface of the water was like glass; the strand, with its +phalanx of boats drawn up in Sabbath tidiness, glittered like marble in +the living light, and over this marble black dots moved slowly two and +fro; behind the boats were the houses—dolls' houses—each with a +curling wisp of smoke; further away the railway and the high road ran +out in a black and white line to Port St. Mary; the sea, a pale grey, +encompassed all; the southern sky had a faint sapphire tinge, rising to +delicate azure. The sight of this haven at rest, shut in by the +restful sea and by great moveless hills, a calm within a calm, aroused +profound emotion. +</P> + +<P> +'It's lovely,' said Anna, as they stood gazing. Tears came to her eyes +and hung there. She wondered that scenery should cause tears, felt +ashamed, and turned her face so that Mynors should not see. But he had +seen. +</P> + +<P> +'Shall we go on to the top?' he suggested, and they set their faces +northwards to climb still higher. At length they stood on the rocky +summit of Bradda, seven hundred feet from the sea. The Hill of the +Night Watch lifted above them to the north, but on east, south, and +west, the prospect was bounded only by the ocean. The coast-line was +revealed for thirty miles, from Peel to Castletown. Far to the east +was Castletown Bay, large, shallow and inhospitable, its floor strewn +with a thousand unseen wrecks; the lighthouse at Scarlet Point flashed +dimly in the dusk; thence the beach curved nearer in an immense arc, +without a sign of life, to the little cove of Port St. Mary, and jutted +out again into a tongue of land at the end of which lay the Calf of Man +with its single white cottage and cart-track. The dangerous Calf +Sound, where the vexed tide is forced to run nine hours one way and +three the other, seemed like a grey ribbon, and the Chicken Rock like a +tiny pencil on a vast slate. Port Erin was hidden under their feet. +They looked westward. The darkening sky was a labyrinth of purple and +crimson scarves drawn pellucid, as though by the finger of God, across +a sheet of pure saffron. These decadent tints of the sunset faded in +every direction to the same soft azure which filled the south, and one +star twinkled in the illimitable field. Thirty miles off, on the +horizon, could be discerned the Mourne Mountains of Ireland. +</P> + +<P> +'See!' Mynors exclaimed, touching her arm. +</P> + +<P> +The huge disc of the moon was rising in the east, and as this mild lamp +passed up the sky, the sense of universal quiescence increased. +Lovely, Anna had said. It was the loveliest sight her eyes had ever +beheld, a panorama of pure beauty transcending all imagined visions. +It overwhelmed her, thrilled her to the heart, this revelation of the +loveliness of the world. Her thoughts went back to Hanbridge and +Bursley and her life there; and all the remembered scenes, bathed in +the glow of a new ideal, seemed to lose their pain. It was as if she +had never been really unhappy, as if there was no real unhappiness on +the whole earth. She perceived that the monotony, the austerity, the +melancholy of her existence had been sweet and beautiful of its kind, +and she recalled, with a sort of rapture, hours of companionship with +the beloved Agnes, when her father was equable and pacific. Nothing +was ugly nor mean. Beauty was everywhere, in everything. +</P> + +<P> +In silence they began to descend, perforce walking quickly because of +the steep gradient. At the first cottage they saw a little girl in a +mob-cap playing with two kittens. +</P> + +<P> +'How like Agnes!' Mynors said. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes. I was just thinking so,' Anna answered. +</P> + +<P> +'I thought of her up on the hill,' he continued. 'She will miss you, +won't she?' +</P> + +<P> +'I know she cried herself to sleep last night. You mightn't guess it, +but she is extremely sensitive.' +</P> + +<P> +'Not guess it? Why not? I am sure she is. Do you know—I am very +fond of your sister. She's a simply delightful child. And there's a +lot in her, too. She's so quick and bright, and somehow like a little +woman.' +</P> + +<P> +'She's exactly like a woman sometimes,' Anna agreed. 'Sometimes I +fancy she's a great deal older than I am.' +</P> + +<P> +'Older than any of us,' he corrected. +</P> + +<P> +'I'm glad you like her,' Anna said, content. 'She thinks all the world +of you.' And she added: 'My word, wouldn't she be vexed if she knew I +had told you that!' +</P> + +<P> +This appreciation of Agnes brought them into closer intimacy, and they +talked the more easily of other things. +</P> + +<P> +'It will freeze to-night,' Mynors said; and then, suddenly looking at +her in the twilight: 'You are feeling chill.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, no!' she protested. +</P> + +<P> +'But you are. Put this muffler round your neck.' He took a muffler +from his pocket. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, no, really! You will need it yourself.' She drew a little away +from him, as if to avoid the muffler. +</P> + +<P> +'Please take it.' +</P> + +<P> +She did so, and thanked him, tying it loosely and untidily round her +throat. That feeling of the untidiness of the muffler, of its being +something strange to her skin, something with the rough virtue of +masculinity, which no one could detect in the gloom, was in itself +pleasant. +</P> + +<P> +'I wager Mrs. Sutton has a good fire burning when we get in,' he said. +</P> + +<P> +She thought with joyous anticipation of the warm, bright, sitting-room, +the supper, and the vivacious good-natured conversation. Though the +walk was nearly at an end, other delights were in store. Of the +holiday, thirteen complete days yet remained, each to be as happy as +the one now closing. It was an age! At last they entered the human +cosiness of the village. As they walked up the steps of their lodging +and he opened the door for her, she quickly drew off the muffler and +returned it to him with a word of thanks. +</P> + +<P> +On Monday morning, when Beatrice and Anna came downstairs, they found +the breakfast odorously cooling on the table, and nobody in the room. +</P> + +<P> +'Where are they all, I wonder. Any letters?' Beatrice said. +</P> + +<P> +'There's your mother, out on the front—and Mr. Mynors too.' +</P> + +<P> +Beatrice threw up the window, and called: 'Come along, Henry; come +along, mother. Everything's going cold.' +</P> + +<P> +'Is it?' Mynors cheerfully replied. 'Come out here, both of you, and +begin the day properly with a dose of ozone.' +</P> + +<P> +'I loathe cold bacon,' said Beatrice, glancing at the table, and they +went out into the road, where Mrs. Sutton kissed them with as much +fervour as if they had arrived from a long journey. +</P> + +<P> +'You look pale, Anna,' she remarked. +</P> + +<P> +'Do I?' said Anna, 'I don't feel pale.' +</P> + +<P> +'It's that long walk last night,' Beatrice put in. 'Henry always goes +too far.' +</P> + +<P> +'I don't——' Anna began; but at that moment Mr. Sutton, lumbering and +ponderous, joined the party. +</P> + +<P> +'Henry,' he said, without greeting anyone, 'hast noticed those +half-finished houses down the road yonder by the "Falcon"? I've been +having a chat with Kelly, and he tells me the fellow that was building +them has gone bankrupt, and they're at a stand-still. The Receiver +wants to sell 'em. In fact Kelly says they're going cheap. I believe +they'd be a good spec.' +</P> + +<P> +'Eh, dear!' Mrs. Sutton interrupted him. 'Father, I wish you would +leave your specs alone when you're on your holiday.' +</P> + +<P> +'Now, missis!' he affectionately protested, and continued: 'They're +fairly well built, seemingly, and the rafters are on the roof. Anna,' +he turned to her quickly, as if counting on her sympathy, 'you must +come with me and look at 'em after breakfast. Happen they might suit +your father—or you. I know your father's fond of a good spec.' +</P> + +<P> +She assented with a ready smile. This was the beginning of a fancy +which the Alderman always afterwards showed for Anna. +</P> + +<P> +After breakfast Mrs. Sutton, Beatrice, and Anna arranged to go shopping: +</P> + +<P> +'Father—brass,' Mrs. Sutton ejaculated in two monosyllables to her +husband. +</P> + +<P> +'How much will content ye?' he asked mildly. +</P> + +<P> +'Give me five or ten pounds to go on with.' +</P> + +<P> +He opened the left-hand front pocket of his trousers—a pocket which +fastened with a button; and leaning back in his chair drew out a fat +purse, and passed it to his wife with a preoccupied air. She helped +herself, and then Beatrice intercepted the purse and lightened it of +half a sovereign. +</P> + +<P> +'Pocket-money,' Beatrice said; 'I'm ruined.' +</P> + +<P> +The Alderman's eyes requested Anna to observe how he was robbed. At +last the purse was safely buttoned up again. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Sutton's purchases of food at the three principal shops of the +village seemed startlingly profuse to Anna, but gradually she became +accustomed to the scale, and to the amazing habit of always buying the +very best of everything, from beefsteak to grapes. Anna calculated +that the housekeeping could not cost less than six pounds a week for +the five. At Manor Terrace three people existed on a pound. With her +half-sovereign Beatrice bought a belt and a pair of sand-shoes, and +some cigarettes for Henry. Mrs. Sutton bought a pipe with a nickel +cap, such as is used by sailors. When they returned to the house, Mr. +Sutton and Henry were smoking on the front. All five walked in a row +down to the harbour, the Alderman giving an arm each to Beatrice and +Anna. Near the 'Falcon' the procession had to be stopped in order to +view the unfinished houses. Tom Kelly had a cabin partly excavated out +of the rock behind the little quay. Here they found him entangled amid +nets, sails, and oars. All crowded into the cabin and shook hands with +its owner, who remarked with severity on their pallid faces, and +insisted that a change of complexion must be brought about. Mynors +offered him his tobacco-pouch, but on seeing the light colour of the +tobacco he shook his head and refused it, at the same time taking from +within his jersey a lump of something that resembled leather. +</P> + +<P> +'Give him this, Henry,' Mrs. Sutton whispered, handing Mynors the pipe +which she had bought. +</P> + +<P> +'Mrs. Sutton wishes you to accept this,' said Mynors. +</P> + +<P> +'Eh, thank ye,' he exclaimed. 'There's a leddy that knows my taste.' +He cut some shreds from his plug with a clasp-knife and charged and +lighted the pipe, filling the cabin with asphyxiating fumes. +</P> + +<P> +'I don't know how you can smoke such horrid, nasty stuff,' said +Beatrice, coughing. +</P> + +<P> +He laughed condescendingly at Beatrice's petulant manner. 'That stuff +of Henry's is boy's tobacco,' he said shortly. +</P> + +<P> +It was decided that they should go fishing in the 'Fay.' There was a +light southerly breeze, a cloudy sky, and smooth water. Under charge +of young Tom Kelly, a sheepish lad of sixteen, with his father's smile, +they all got into an inconceivably small dinghy, loading it down till +it was almost awash. Old Tom himself helped Anna to embark, told her +where to tread, and forced her gently into a seat at the stern. No one +else seemed to be disturbed, but Anna was in a state of desperate fear. +She had never committed herself to a boat before, and the little waves +spat up against the sides in a most alarming way as young Tom jerked +the dinghy along with the short sculls. She went white, and clung in +silence fiercely to the gunwale. In a few moments they were tied up to +the 'Fay,' which seemed very big and safe in comparison with the +dinghy. They clambered on board, and in the deep well of the two-ton +yacht Anna contrived to collect her wits. She was reassured by the +painted legend in the well, 'Licensed to carry eleven.' Young Tom and +Henry busied themselves with ropes, and suddenly a huge white sail +began to ascend the mast; it flapped like thunder in the gentle breeze. +Tom pulled up the anchor, curling the chain round and round on the +forward deck, and then Anna noticed that, although the wind was +scarcely perceptible, they were gliding quickly past the embankment. +Henry was at the tiller. The next minute Tom had set the jib, and by +this time the 'Fay' was approaching the breakwater at a great pace. +There was no rolling or pitching, but simply a smooth, swift +progression over the calm surface. Anna thought it the ideal of +locomotion. As soon as they were beyond the breakwater and the sails +caught the breeze from the Sound, the 'Fay' lay over as if shot, and a +little column of green water flung itself on the lee coaming of the +well. Anna screamed as she saw the water and felt the angle of the +floor suddenly change, but when everyone laughed, she laughed too. +Henry, noticing the whiteness of her knuckles as she gripped the +coaming, explained the disconcerting phenomena. Anna tried to be at +ease, but she was not. She could not for a long time dismiss the +suspicion that all these people were foolishly blind to a peril which +she alone had the sagacity to perceive. +</P> + +<P> +They cruised about while Tom prepared the lines. The short waves +chopped cheerfully against the carvel sides of the yacht; the clouds +were breaking at a hundred points; the sea grew lighter in tone; gaiety +was in the air; no one could possibly be indisposed in that innocuous +weather. At length the lines were ready, but Tom said the yacht was +making at least a knot too much for serious fishing, so Henry took a +reef in the mainsail, showing Anna how to tie the short strings. The +Alderman, lying on the fore-deck, was placidly smoking. The lines were +thrown out astern, and Mrs. Sutton and Beatrice each took one. But +they had no success; young Tom said it was because the sun had appeared. +</P> + +<P> +'Caught anything?' Mr. Sutton inquired at intervals. After a time he +said: +</P> + +<P> +'Suppose Anna and I have a try?' +</P> + +<P> +It was agreed. +</P> + +<P> +'What must I do?' asked Anna, brave now. +</P> + +<P> +'You just hold the line—so. And if you feel a little jerk-jerk, +that's a mackerel.' These were the instructions of Beatrice. Anna was +becoming excited. She had not held the line ten seconds before she +cried out: +</P> + +<P> +'I've got one.' +</P> + +<P> +'Nonsense,' said Beatrice. 'Everyone thinks at first that the motion +of the waves against the line is a fish.' +</P> + +<P> +'Well,' said Henry, giving the tiller to young Tom. 'Let's haul in and +see, anyway.' Before doing so he held the line for a moment, testing +it, and winked at Anna. While Anna and Henry were hauling in, the +Alderman, dropping his pipe, began also to haul in his own line with +great fury. +</P> + +<P> +'Got one, father?' Mrs. Sutton asked. +</P> + +<P> +'Ay!' +</P> + +<P> +Both lines came in together, and on each was a pounder. Anna saw her +fish gleam and flash like silver in the clear water as it neared the +surface. Henry held the line short, letting the mackerel plunge and +jerk, and then seized and unhooked the catch. +</P> + +<P> +'How cruel!' Anna cried, startled at the nearness of the two fish as +they sprang about in an old sugar box at her feet. Young Tom laughed +loud at her exclamation. 'They cairn't feel, miss,' he sniggered. +Anna wondered that a mouth so soft and kind could utter such heartless +words. +</P> + +<P> +In an hour the united efforts of the party had caught nine mackerel; it +was not a multitude, but the sun, in perfecting the weather, had spoilt +the sport. Anna had ceased to commiserate the captured fish. She was +obliged, however, to avert her head when Tom cut some skin from the +side of one of the mackerel to provide fresh bait; this device seemed +to her the extremest refinement of cruelty. Beatrice grew ominously +silent and inert, and Mrs. Sutton glanced first at her daughter and +then at her husband; the latter nodded. +</P> + +<P> +'We'd happen better be getting back, Henry,' said the Alderman. +</P> + +<P> +The 'Fay' swept home like a bird. They were at the quay, and Kelly was +dragging them one by one from the black dinghy on to what the Alderman +called <I>terra-firma</I>. Henry had the fish on a string. +</P> + +<P> +'How many did ye catch, Miss Tellwright?' Kelly asked benevolently. +</P> + +<P> +'I caught four,' Anna replied. Never before had she felt so proud, +elated, and boisterous. Never had the blood so wildly danced in her +veins. She looked at her short blue skirt which showed three inches of +ankle, put forward her brown-shod foot like a vain coquette, and darted +a covert look at Henry. When he caught it she laughed instead of +blushing. +</P> + +<P> +'Ye're doing well,' Tom Kelly approved. 'Ye'll make a famous +mackerel-fisher.' +</P> + +<P> +Five of the mackerel were given to young Tom, the other four preceded a +fowl in the menu of dinner. They were called Anna's mackerel, and all +the diners agreed that better mackerel had never been lured out of the +Irish Sea. +</P> + +<P> +In the afternoon the Alderman and his wife slept as usual, Mr. Sutton +with a bandanna handkerchief over his face. The rest went out +immediately; the invitation of the sun and the sea was far too +persuasive to be resisted. +</P> + +<P> +'I'm going to paint,' said Beatrice, with a resolute mien. 'I want to +paint Bradda Head frightfully. I tried last year, but I got it too +dark, somehow. I've improved since then. What are you going to do?' +</P> + +<P> +'We'll come and watch you,' said Henry. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, no, you won't. At least you won't; you're such a critic. Anna +can if she likes.' +</P> + +<P> +'What! And me be left all afternoon by myself?' +</P> + +<P> +'Well, suppose you go with him, Anna, just to keep him from being +bored?' +</P> + +<P> +Anna hesitated. Once more she had the uncomfortable suspicion that +Mynors and herself were being manoeuvred. +</P> + +<P> +'Look here,' said Mynors to Beatrice. 'Have you decided absolutely to +paint?' +</P> + +<P> +'Absolutely.' The finality of the answer seemed to have a touch of +resentment. +</P> + +<P> +'Then'—he turned to Anna—'let's go and get that dinghy and row about +the bay. Eh?' +</P> + +<P> +She could offer no rational objection, and they were soon putting off +from the jetty, impelled seaward by a mighty push from Kelly's arm. It +was very hot. Mynors wore white flannels. He removed his coat, and +turned up his sleeves, showing thick, hairy arms. He sculled in a +manner almost dramatic, and the dinghy shot about like a water-spider +on a brook. Anna had nothing to do except to sit still and enjoy. +Everything was drowned in dazzling sunlight, and both Henry and Anna +could feel the process of tanning on their faces. The bay shimmered +with a million diamond points; it was impossible to keep the eyes open +without frowning, and soon Anna could see the beads of sweat on Henry's +crimson brow. +</P> + +<P> +'Warm?' she said. This was the first word of conversation. He merely +smiled in reply. Presently they were at the other side of the bay, in +a cave whose sandy and rock-strewn floor trembled clear under a fathom +of blue water. They landed on a jutting rock; Henry pushed his straw +hat back, and wiped his forehead. 'Glorious! glorious!' he exclaimed. +'Do you swim? No? You should get Beatrice to teach you. I swam out +here this morning at seven o'clock. It was chilly enough then. Oh! I +forgot, I told you at breakfast.' +</P> + +<P> +She could see him in the translucent water, swimming with long, +powerful strokes. Dozens of boats were moving lazily in the bay, each +with a cargo of parasols. +</P> + +<P> +'There's a good deal of the sunshade afloat,' he remarked. 'Why +haven't you got one? You'll get as brown as Tom Kelly.' +</P> + +<P> +'That's what I want,' she said. +</P> + +<P> +'Look at yourself in the water there,' he said, pointing to a little +pool left on the top of the rock by the tide. She did so, and saw two +fiery cheeks, and a forehead divided by a horizontal line into halves +of white and crimson; the tip of the nose was blistered. +</P> + +<P> +'Isn't it disgraceful?' he suggested. +</P> + +<P> +'Why,' she exclaimed, 'they'll never know me when I get home!' +</P> + +<P> +It was in such wise that they talked, endlessly exchanging trifles of +comment. Anna thought to herself: 'Is this love-making?' It could not +be, she decided; but she infinitely preferred it so. She was content. +She wished for nothing better than this apparently frivolous and +irresponsible dalliance. She felt that if Mynors were to be tender, +sentimental, and serious, she would become wretchedly self-conscious. +</P> + +<P> +They re-embarked, and, skirting the shore, gradually came round to the +beach. Up above them, on the cliffs, they could discern the +industrious figure of Beatrice, with easel and sketching-umbrella, and +all the panoply of the earnest amateur. +</P> + +<P> +'Do you sketch?' she asked him. +</P> + +<P> +'Not I!' he said scornfully. +</P> + +<P> +'Don't you believe in that sort of thing, then?' +</P> + +<P> +'It's all right for professional artists,' he said; 'people who can +paint. But—— Well, I suppose it's harmless for the amateurs—finds +them something to do.' +</P> + +<P> +'I wish I could paint, anyway,' she retorted. +</P> + +<P> +'I'm glad you can't,' he insisted. +</P> + +<P> +When they got back to the cliffs, towards tea-time, Beatrice was still +painting, but in a new spot. She seemed entirely absorbed in her work, +and did not hear their approach. +</P> + +<P> +'Let's creep up and surprise her,' Mynors whispered. 'You go first, +and put your hands over her eyes.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh!' exclaimed Beatrice, blindfolded; 'how horrid you are, Henry! I +know who it is—I know who it is.' +</P> + +<P> +'You just don't, then,' said Henry, now in front of her. Anna removed +her hands. +</P> + +<P> +'Well, you told her to do it, I'm sure of that. And I was getting on +so splendidly! I shan't do another stroke now.' +</P> + +<P> +'That's right,' said Henry. 'You've wasted quite enough time as it is.' +</P> + +<P> +Beatrice pouted. She was evidently annoyed with both of them. She +looked from one to the other, jealous of their mutual understanding and +agreement. Mr. and Mrs. Sutton issued from the house, and the five +stood chatting till tea was ready; but the shadow remained on +Beatrice's face. Mynors made several attempts to laugh it away, and at +dusk these two went for a stroll to Port St. Mary. They returned in a +state of deep intimacy. During supper Beatrice was consciously and +elaborately angelic, and there was that in her voice and eyes, when +sometimes she addressed Mynors, which almost persuaded Anna that he +might once have loved his cousin. At night, in the bedroom, Anna +imagined that she could detect in Beatrice's attitude the least shade +of condescension. She felt hurt, and despised herself for feeling hurt. +</P> + +<P> +So the days passed, without much variety, for the Suttons were not +addicted to excursions. Anna was profoundly happy; she had forgotten +care. She agreed to every suggestion for amusement; each moment had +its pleasure, and this pleasure was quite independent of the thing +done; it sprang from all activities and idlenesses. She was at special +pains to fraternise with Mr. Sutton. He made an interesting companion, +full of facts about strata, outcrops, and breaks, his sole weakness +being the habit of quoting extremely sentimental scraps of verse when +walking by the sea-shore. He frankly enjoyed Anna's attention to him, +and took pride in her society. Mrs. Sutton, that simple heart, devoted +herself to the attainment of absolute quiescence. She had come for a +rest, and she achieved her purpose. Her kindliness became for the time +passive instead of active. Beatrice was a changing quantity in the +domestic equation. Plainly her parents had spoiled their only child, +and she had frequent fits of petulance, particularly with Mynors; but +her energy and spirits atoned well for these. As for Mynors, he +behaved exactly as on the first Monday. He spent many hours alone with +Anna—(Beatrice appeared to insist on leaving them together, even while +showing a faint resentment at the loneliness thus entailed on +herself)—and his attitude was such as Anna, ignorant of the ways of +brothers, deemed a brother might adopt. +</P> + +<P> +On the second Monday an incident occurred. In the afternoon Mr. Sutton +had asked Beatrice to go with him to Port St. Mary, and she had refused +on the plea that the light was of a suitable grey for painting. Mr. +Sutton had slipped off alone, unseen by Anna and Henry, who had meant +to accompany him in place of Beatrice. Before tea, while Anna, +Beatrice and Henry were awaiting the meal in the parlour, Mynors +referred to the matter. +</P> + +<P> +'I hope you've done some decent work this afternoon,' he said to +Beatrice. +</P> + +<P> +'I haven't,' she replied shortly; 'I haven't done a stroke.' +</P> + +<P> +'But you said you were going to paint hard!' +</P> + +<P> +'Well, I didn't.' +</P> + +<P> +'Then why couldn't you have gone to Port St. Mary, instead of breaking +your fond father's heart by a refusal?' +</P> + +<P> +'He didn't want me, really.' +</P> + +<P> +Anna interjected: 'I think he did, Bee.' +</P> + +<P> +'You, know you're very self-willed, not to say selfish,' Mynors said. +</P> + +<P> +'No, I'm not,' Beatrice protested seriously. 'Am I, Anna?' +</P> + +<P> +'Well——' Anna tried to think of a diplomatic pronouncement. +Beatrice took offence at the hesitation. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh! You two are bound to agree, of course. You're as thick as +thieves.' +</P> + +<P> +She gazed steadily out of the window, and there was a silence. Mynors' +lip curled. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh! There's the loveliest yacht just coming into the bay,' Beatrice +cried suddenly, in a tone of affected enthusiasm. 'I'm going out to +sketch it.' She snatched up her hat and sketching-block, and ran +hastily from the room. The other two saw her sitting on the grass, +sharpening a pencil. The yacht, a large and luxurious craft, had +evidently come to anchor for the night. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Sutton arrived from her bedroom, and then Mr. Sutton also came in. +Tea was served. Mynors called to Beatrice through the window and +received no reply. Then Mrs. Sutton summoned her. +</P> + +<P> +'Go on with your tea,' Beatrice shouted, without turning her head. +'Don't wait for me. I'm bound to finish this now.' +</P> + +<P> +'Fetch her, Anna dear,' said Mrs. Sutton after another interval. Anna +rose to obey, half-fearful. +</P> + +<P> +'Aren't you coming in, Bee?' She stood by the sketcher's side, and +observed nothing but a few meaningless lines on the block. +</P> + +<P> +'Didn't you hear what I said to mother?' +</P> + +<P> +Anna retired in discomfiture. +</P> + +<P> +Tea was finished. They went out, but kept at a discreet distance from +the artist, who continued to use her pencil until dusk had fallen. +Then they returned to the sitting-room, where a fire had been lighted, +and Beatrice at length followed. As the others sat in a circle round +the fire, Beatrice, who occupied the sofa in solitude, gave a shiver. +</P> + +<P> +'Beatrice, you've taken cold,' said her mother, sitting out there like +that.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, nonsense, mother—what a fidget you are!' +</P> + +<P> +'A fidget I certainly am not, my darling, and that you know very well. +As you've had no tea, you shall have some gruel at once, and go to bed +and get warm.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh no, mother!' But Mrs. Sutton was resolved, and in half an hour she +had taken Beatrice to bed and tucked her up. +</P> + +<P> +When Anna went to the bedroom Beatrice was awake. +</P> + +<P> +'Can't you sleep?' she inquired kindly. +</P> + +<P> +'No,' said Beatrice, in a feeble voice, 'I'm restless, somehow.' +</P> + +<P> +'I wonder if it's influenza,' said Mrs. Sutton, on the following +morning, when she learnt from Anna that Beatrice had had a bad night, +and would take breakfast in bed. She carried the invalid's food +upstairs herself. 'I hope it isn't influenza,' she said later. 'The +girl is very hot.' +</P> + +<P> +'You haven't a clinical thermometer?' Mynors suggested. +</P> + +<P> +'Go, see if you can buy one at the little chemist's,' she replied +eagerly. In a few minutes he came back with the instrument. +</P> + +<P> +'She's at over a hundred,' Mrs. Sutton reported, having used the +thermometer. 'What do you say, father? Shall we send for a doctor? +I'm not so set up with doctors as a general rule,' she added, as if in +defence, to Anna. 'I brought Beatrice through measles and scarlet +fever without a doctor—we never used to think of having a doctor in +those days for ordinary ailments; but influenza—that's different. Eh, +I dread it; you never know how it will end. And poor Beatrice had such +a bad attack last Martinmas.' +</P> + +<P> +'If you like, I'll run for a doctor now,' said Mynors. +</P> + +<P> +'Let be till to-morrow,' the Alderman decided. 'We'll see how she goes +on. Happen it's nothing but a cold.' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' assented Mrs. Sutton; 'it's no use crying out before you're +hurt.' +</P> + +<P> +Anna was struck by the placidity with which they covered their +apprehension. Towards noon, Beatrice, who said that she felt better, +insisted on rising. A fire was lighted at once in the parlour, and she +sat in front of it till tea-time, when she was obliged to go to bed +again. On the Wednesday morning, after a night which had been almost +sleepless for both girls, her temperature stood at 103°, and Henry +fetched the doctor, who pronounced it a case of influenza, severe, +demanding very careful treatment. Instantly the normal movement of the +household was changed. The sickroom became a mysterious centre round +which everything revolved, and the parlour, without the alteration of a +single chair, took on a deserted, forlorn appearance. Meals were eaten +like the passover, with loins girded for any sudden summons. Mrs. +Sutton and Anna, as nurses, grew important in the eyes of the men, who +instinctively effaced themselves, existing only like messenger-boys +whose business it is to await a call. Yet there was no alarm, flurry, +nor excitement. In the evening the doctor returned. The patient's +temperature had not fallen. It was part of the treatment that a +medicine should be administered every two hours with absolute +regularity, and Mrs. Sutton said that she should sit up through the +night. +</P> + +<P> +'I shall do that,' said Anna. +</P> + +<P> +'Nay, I won't hear of it,' Mrs. Sutton replied, smiling. +</P> + +<P> +But the three men (the doctor had remained to chat in the parlour), +recognising Anna's capacity and reliability, and perhaps impressed also +by her business-like appearance as, arrayed in a white apron, she stood +with firm lips before them, gave a unanimous decision against Mrs. +Sutton. +</P> + +<P> +'We'st have you ill next, lass,' said the Alderman to his wife; 'and +that'll never do.' +</P> + +<P> +'Well,' Mrs. Sutton surrendered, 'if I can leave her to anyone, it's +Anna.' +</P> + +<P> +Mynors smiled appreciatively. +</P> + +<P> +On the Thursday morning there was still no sign of recovery. The +temperature was 104°, and the patient slightly delirious. Anna left +the sickroom at eight o'clock to preside at breakfast, and Mrs. Sutton +took her place. +</P> + +<P> +'You look tired, my dear,' said the Alderman affectionately. +</P> + +<P> +'I feel perfectly well,' she replied with cheerfulness. +</P> + +<P> +'And you aren't afraid of catching it?' Mynors asked. +</P> + +<P> +'Afraid?' she said; 'there's no fear of me catching it.' +</P> + +<P> +'How do you know?' +</P> + +<P> +'I know, that's all. I'm never ill.' +</P> + +<P> +'That's the right way to keep well,' the Alderman remarked. +</P> + +<P> +The quiet admiration of these two men was very pleasant to her. She +felt that she had established herself for ever in their esteem. After +breakfast, in obedience to them, she slept for several hours on Mrs. +Sutton's bed. In the afternoon Beatrice was worse. The doctor called, +and found her temperature at 105.9. +</P> + +<P> +'This can't last,' he remarked briefly. +</P> + +<P> +'Well, Doctor,' Mr. Sutton said, 'it's i' your hands.' +</P> + +<P> +'Nay,' Mrs. Sutton murmured with a smile, 'I've left it with God. It's +with Him.' +</P> + +<P> +This was the first and only word of religion, except grace at table, +that Anna heard from the Suttons during her stay in the Isle of Man. +She had feared lest vocal piety might form a prominent feature of their +daily life, but her fear had proved groundless. She, too, from reason +rather than instinct, had tried to pray for Beatrice's recovery. She +had, however, found much more satisfaction in the activity of nursing. +</P> + +<P> +Again that night she sat up, and on the Friday morning Beatrice was +better. At noon all immediate danger was past; the patient slept; her +temperature was almost correct. Anna went to bed in the afternoon and +slept soundly till supper-time, when she awoke very hungry. For the +first time in three days Beatrice could be left alone. The other four +had supper together, cheerful and relieved after the tension. +</P> + +<P> +'She'll be as right as a trivet in a few days,' said the Alderman. +</P> + +<P> +'A few weeks,' said Mrs. Sutton. +</P> + +<P> +'Of course,' said Mynors, 'you'll stay on here, now?' +</P> + +<P> +'We shall stay until Beatrice is quite fit to travel,' Mr. Sutton +answered. 'I might have to run over to th' Five Towns for a day or two +middle of next week, but I can come back immediately.' +</P> + +<P> +'Well, I must go tomorrow,' Mynors sighed. +</P> + +<P> +'Surely you can stay over Sunday, Henry?' +</P> + +<P> +'No; I've no one to take my place at school.' +</P> + +<P> +'And I must go to-morrow, too,' said Anna suddenly. +</P> + +<P> +'Fiddle-de-dee, Anna!' the Alderman protested. +</P> + +<P> +'I must,' she insisted. 'Father will expect me. You know I came for a +fortnight. Besides, there's Agnes.' +</P> + +<P> +'Agnes will be all right.' +</P> + +<P> +'I must go.' They saw that she was fixed. +</P> + +<P> +'Won't a short walk do you good?' Mynors suggested to her, with +singular gravity, after supper. 'You've not been outside for two days.' +</P> + +<P> +She looked inquiringly at Mrs. Sutton. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, take her, Henry; she'll sleep better for it. Eh, Anna, but it's +a shame to send you home with those rings round your eyes.' +</P> + +<P> +She went upstairs for a jacket. Beatrice was awake. 'Anna,' she +exclaimed in a weak voice, without any preface, 'I was awfully silly +and cross the other afternoon, before all this business. Just now, +when you came into the room, I was feeling quite ashamed.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh! Bee!' she answered, bending over her, 'what nonsense! Now go off +to sleep at once.' She was very happy. Beatrice, victim of a +temperament which had the childishness and the impulsiveness of the +artist without his higher and sterner traits, sank back in facile +content. +</P> + +<P> +The night was still and very dark. When Anna and Mynors got outside +they could distinguish neither the sky nor the sea; but the faint, +restless murmur of the sea came up the cliffs. Only the lights of the +houses disclosed the direction of the road. +</P> + +<P> +'Suppose we go down to the jetty, and then along as far as the +breakwater?' he said, and she concurred. 'Won't you take my +muffler—again?' he added, pulling this ever-present article from his +pocket. +</P> + +<P> +'No, thanks,' she said, almost coldly, 'it's really quite warm.' She +regarded the offer of the muffler as an indiscretion—his sole +indiscretion during their acquaintance. As they walked down the hill +to the shore she though how Beatrice's illness had sharply interrupted +their relations. If she had come to the Isle of Man with a vague idea +that he would possibly propose to her, the expectation was +disappointed; but she felt no disappointment. She felt that events had +lifted her to a higher plane than that of love-making. She was filled +with the proud satisfaction of a duty accomplished. She did not seek +to minimise to herself the fact that she had been of real value to her +friends in the last few days, had probably saved Mrs. Sutton from +illness, had certainly laid them all under an obligation. Their +gratitude, unexpressed, but patent on each face, gave her infinite +pleasure. She had won their respect by the manner in which she had +risen to the height of an emergency that demanded more than devotion. +She had proved, not merely to them but to herself, that she could be +calm under stress, and could exert moral force when occasion needed. +Such were the joyous and exultant reflections which passed through her +brain—unnaturally active in the factitious wakefulness caused by +excessive fatigue. She was in an extremely nervous and excitable +condition—and never guessed it, fancying indeed that her emotions were +exceptionally tranquil that night. She had not begun to realise the +crisis through which she had just lived. +</P> + +<P> +The uneven road to the ruined breakwater was quite deserted. Having +reached the limit of the path, they stood side by side, solitary, +silent, gazing at the black and gently heaving surface of the sea. The +eye was foiled by the intense gloom; the ear could make nothing of the +strange night-noises of the bay and the ocean beyond; but the +imagination was stimulated by the appeal of all this mystery and +darkness. Never had the water seemed so wonderful, terrible, and +austere. +</P> + +<P> +'We are going away to-morrow,' he said at length. +</P> + +<P> +Anna started and shook with apprehension at the tremor in his voice. +She had read that a woman was always well warned by her instincts when +a man meant to propose to her. But here was the proposal imminent, and +she had not suspected. In a flash of insight she perceived that the +very event which had separated them for three days had also impelled +the lover forward in his course. It was the thought of her vigils, her +fortitude, her compassion, that had fanned the flame. She was not +surprised, only made uncomfortable, when he took her hand. +</P> + +<P> +'Anna,' he said, 'it's no use making a long story of it. I'm +tremendously in love with you; you know I am.' +</P> + +<P> +He stepped back, still holding her hand. She could say nothing. +</P> + +<P> +'Well?' he ventured. 'Didn't you know?' +</P> + +<P> +'I thought—I thought,' she murmured stupidly, 'I thought you liked me.' +</P> + +<P> +'I can't tell you how I admire you. I'm not going to praise you to +your face, but I simply never met anyone like you. From the very first +moment I saw you, it was the same. It's something in your face, +Anna—— Anna, will you be my wife?' +</P> + +<P> +The actual question was put in a precise, polite, somewhat conventional +tone. To Anna he was never more himself than at that moment. +</P> + +<P> +She could not speak; she could not analyse her feelings; she could not +even think. She was adrift. At last she stammered: 'We've only known +each other——' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, dear,' he exclaimed masterfully, 'what does that matter? If it +had been a dozen years instead of one, that would have made no +difference.' She drew her hand timidly away, but he took it again. +She felt that he dominated her and would decide for her. 'Say yes.' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' she said. +</P> + +<P> +She saw pictures of her career as his wife, and resolved that one of +the first acts of her freedom should be to release Agnes from the more +ignominious of her father's tyrannies. +</P> + +<P> +They walked home almost in silence. She was engaged, then. Yet she +experienced no new sensation. She felt as she had felt on the way +down, except that she was sorely perturbed. There was no ineffable +rapture, no ecstatic bliss. Suddenly the prospect of happiness swept +over her like a flood. +</P> + +<P> +At the gate she wished to make a request to him, but hesitated, because +she could not bring herself to use his Christian name. It was proper +for her to use his Christian name, however, and she would do so, or +perish. +</P> + +<P> +'Henry,' she said, 'don't tell anyone here.' He merely kissed her once +more. She went straight upstairs. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap11"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XI +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE DOWNFALL +</H4> + +<P> +In order to catch the Liverpool steamer at Douglas it was necessary to +leave Port Erin at half-past six in the morning. The freshness of the +morning, and the smiles of the Alderman and his wife as they waved +God-speed from the doorstep, filled Anna with a serene content which +she certainly had not felt during the wakeful night. She forgot, then, +the hours passed with her conscience in realising how serious and +solemn a thing was this engagement, made in an instant on the previous +evening. All that remained in her mind, as she and Henry walked +quickly down the road, was the tonic sensation of high resolves to be a +worthy wife. The duties, rather than the joys, of her condition, had +lain nearest her heart until that moment of setting out, giving her an +anxious and almost worried mien which at breakfast neither Henry nor +the Suttons could quite understand. But now the idea of duty ceased +for a time to be paramount, and she loosed herself to the pleasures of +the day in store. The harbour was full of low wandering mists, through +which the brown sails of the fishing-smacks played at hide-and-seek. +High above them the round forms of immense clouds were still carrying +the colours of sunrise. The gentle salt wind on the cheek was like the +touch of a life-giver. It was impossible, on such a morning, not to +exult in life, not to laugh childishly from irrational glee, not to +dismiss the memory of grief and the apprehension of grief as morbid +hallucinations. Mynor's face expressed the double happiness of present +and anticipated pleasure. He had once again succeeded, he who had +never failed; and the voyage back to England was for him a triumphal +progress. Anna responded eagerly to his mood. The day was an ecstasy, +a bright expanse unstained. To Anna in particular it was a unique day, +marking the apogee of her existence. In the years that followed she +could always return to it and say to herself: 'That day I was happy, +foolishly, ignorantly, but utterly. And all that I have since learnt +cannot alter it—I was happy.' +</P> + +<P> +When they reached Shawport Station a cab was waiting for Anna. Unknown +to her, Henry had ordered it by telegraph. This considerateness was of +a piece, she thought, with his masterly conduct of the entire +journey—on the steamer, at Liverpool, in the train; nothing that an +experienced traveller could devise had been lacking to her comfort. +She got into the cab alone, while Mynors, followed by a boy and his +bag, walked to his rooms in Mount Street. It had been arranged, at +Anna's wish, that he should not appear at Manor Terrace till +supper-time. Ephraim opened for her the door of her home. It seemed +to her that he was pleased. +</P> + +<P> +'Well, father, here I am again, you see.' +</P> + +<P> +'Ay, lass.' They shook hands, and she indicated to the cabman where to +deposit her tin-box. She was glad and relieved to be back. Nothing +had changed, except herself, and this absolute sameness was at once +pleasant and pathetic to her. +</P> + +<P> +'Where's Agnes?' she asked, smiling at her father. In the glow of +arrival she had a vague notion that her relations with him had been +permanently softened by absence. +</P> + +<P> +'I see thou's gotten into th' habit o' flitting about in cabs,' he +said, without answering her question. +</P> + +<P> +'Well, father,' she said, smiling yet, 'there was the box. I couldn't +carry the box.' +</P> + +<P> +'I reckon thou couldst ha' hired a lad to carry it for sixpence.' +</P> + +<P> +She did not reply. The cabman had gone to his vehicle. +</P> + +<P> +'Art'na going to pay th' cabby?' +</P> + +<P> +'I've paid him, father.' +</P> + +<P> +'How much?' +</P> + +<P> +She paused. 'Eighteen-pence, father.' It was a lie; she had paid two +shillings. +</P> + +<P> +She went eagerly into the kitchen, and then into the parlour, where tea +was set for one. Agnes was not there. 'Her's upstairs,' Ephraim said, +meeting Anna as she came into the lobby again. She ran softly +upstairs, and into the bedroom. Agnes was replacing ornaments on the +mantelpiece with mathematical exactitude; under her arm was a duster. +The child turned, startled, and gave a little shriek. +</P> + +<P> +'Eh, I didn't know you'd come. How early you are!' +</P> + +<P> +They rushed towards each other, embraced, and kissed. Anna was +overcome by the pathos of her sister's loneliness in that grim house +for fourteen days, while she, the elder, had been absorbed in selfish +gaiety. The pale face, large, melancholy eyes, and long, thin arms, +were a silent accusation. She wondered that she could ever have +brought herself to leave Agnes even for a day. Sitting down on the +bed, she drew the child on her knee in a fury of love, and kissed her +again, weeping. Agnes cried too, for sympathy. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, my dear, dear Anna, I'm so glad you've come back!' She dried her +eyes, and in quite a different tone of voice asked: 'Has Mr. Mynors +proposed to you?' +</P> + +<P> +Anna could not avoid a blush at this simple and astounding query. She +said: 'Yes.' It was the one word of which she was capable, under the +circumstances. That was not the moment to tax Agnes with too much +precocity and abruptness. +</P> + +<P> +'You're engaged, then? Oh, Anna, does it feel nice? It must. I knew +you would be!' +</P> + +<P> +'How did you know, Agnes?' +</P> + +<P> +'I mean I knew he would ask you, some time. All the girls at school +knew too.' +</P> + +<P> +'I hope you didn't talk about it,' said the elder sister. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, no! But they did; they were always talking about it.' +</P> + +<P> +'You never told me that.' +</P> + +<P> +'I—I didn't like to. Anna, shall I have to call him Henry now?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, of course. When we're married he will be your brother-in-law.' +</P> + +<P> +'Shall you be married soon, Anna?' +</P> + +<P> +'Not for a very long time.' +</P> + +<P> +'When you are—shall I keep house alone? I can, you know—— I shall +never dare to call him Henry. But he's awfully nice; isn't he, Anna? +Yes, when you are married, I shall keep house here, but I shall come to +see you every day. Father will have to let me do that. Does father +know you're engaged?' +</P> + +<P> +'Not yet. And you mustn't say anything. Henry is coming for supper. +And then father will be told.' +</P> + +<P> +'Did he kiss you, Anna?' +</P> + +<P> +'Who—father?' +</P> + +<P> +'No, silly! Henry, of course—I mean when he'd asked you?' +</P> + +<P> +'I think you are asking all the questions. Suppose I ask you some now. +How have you managed with father? Has he been nice?' +</P> + +<P> +'Some days—yes,' said Agnes, after thinking a moment. 'We have had +some new cups and saucers up from Mr. Mynors works. And father has +swept the kitchen chimney. And, oh Anna! I asked him to-day if I'd +kept house well, and he said "Pretty well," and he gave me a penny. +Look! It's the first money I've ever had, you know. I wanted you at +nights, Anna—and all the time, too. I've been frightfully busy. I +cleaned silvers all afternoon. Anna, I <I>have</I> tried—— And I've got +some tea for you. I'll go down and make it. Now you mustn't come into +the kitchen. I'll bring it to you in the parlour.' +</P> + +<P> +'I had my tea at Crewe,' Anna was about to say, but refrained, in due +course drinking the cup prepared by Agnes. She felt passionately sorry +for Agnes, too young to feel the shadow which overhung her future. +Anna would marry into freedom, but Agnes would remain the serf. Would +Agnes marry? Could she? Would her father allow it? Anna had noticed +that in families the youngest, petted in childhood, was often +sacrificed in maturity. It was the last maid who must keep her +maidenhood, and, vicariously filial, pay out of her own life the debt +of all the rest. +</P> + +<P> +'Mr. Mynors is coming up for supper to-night. He wants to see you;' +Anna said to her father, as calmly as she could. The miser grunted. +But at eight o'clock, the hour immutably fixed for supper, Henry had +not arrived. The meal proceeded, of course, without him. To Anna his +absence was unaccountable and disturbing, for none could be more +punctilious than he in the matter of appointments. She expected him +every moment, but he did not appear. Agnes, filled full of the great +secret confided to her, was more openly impatient than her sister. +Neither of them could talk, and a heavy silence fell upon the family +group, a silence which her father, on that particular evening of Anna's +return, resented. +</P> + +<P> +'You dunna' tell us much,' he remarked, when the supper was finished. +</P> + +<P> +She felt that the complaint was a just one. Even before supper, when +nothing had occurred to preoccupy her, she had spoken little. There +had seemed so much to tell—at Port Erin, and now there seemed nothing +to tell. She ventured into a flaccid, perfunctory account of +Beatrice's illness, of the fishing, of the unfinished houses which had +caught the fancy of Mr. Sutton; she said the sea had been smooth, that +they had had something to eat at Liverpool, that the train for Crewe +was very prompt; and then she could think of no more. Silence fell +again. The supper-things were cleared away and washed up. At a +quarter-past nine, Agnes, vainly begging permission to stay up in order +to see Mr. Mynors, was sent to bed, only partially comforted by a +clothes-brush, long desired, which Anna had brought for her as a +present from the Isle of Man. +</P> + +<P> +'Shall you tell father yourself, now Henry hasn't come?' the child +asked Anna, who had gone upstairs to unpack her box. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' said Anna, briefly. +</P> + +<P> +'I wonder what he'll say,' Agnes reflected, with that habit, always +annoying to Anna, of meeting trouble half-way. +</P> + +<P> +At a quarter to ten Anna ceased to expect Mynors, and finally braced +herself to the ordeal of a solemn interview with her father, well +knowing that she dared not leave him any longer in ignorance of her +engagement. Already the old man was locking and bolting the door; he +had wound up the kitchen clock. When he came back to the parlour to +extinguish the gas she was standing by the mantelpiece. +</P> + +<P> +'Father,' she began, 'I've something I must tell you.' +</P> + +<P> +'Eh, what's that ye say?' his hand was on the gas-tap. He dropped it, +examining her face curiously. +</P> + +<P> +'Mr. Mynors has asked me to marry him; he asked me last night. We +settled he should come up to-night to see you—I can't think why he +hasn't. It must be something very unexpected and important, or he'd +have come.' She trembled, her heart beat violently; but the words were +out, and she thanked God. +</P> + +<P> +'Asked ye to marry him, did he?' The miser gazed at her quizzically +out of his small blue eyes. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, father.' +</P> + +<P> +'And what didst say?' +</P> + +<P> +'I said I would.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh! Thou saidst thou wouldst! I reckon it was for thatten as thou +must go gadding off to seaside, eh?' +</P> + +<P> +'Father, I never dreamt of such a thing when Suttons asked me to go. I +do wish Henry'—the cost of that Christian name!—'had come. He quite +meant to come to-night.' She could not help insisting on the propriety +of Henry's intentions. +</P> + +<P> +'Then I am for be consulted, eh?' +</P> + +<P> +'Of course, father.' +</P> + +<P> +'Ye've soon made it up, between ye.' +</P> + +<P> +His tone was, at the best, brusque; but she breathed more easily, +divining instantly from his manner that he meant to offer no violent +objection to the engagement. She knew that only tact was needed now. +The miser had, indeed, foreseen the possibility of this marriage for +months past, and had long since decided in his own mind that Henry +would make a satisfactory son-in-law. Ephraim had no social +ambitions—with all his meanness, he was above them; he had nothing but +contempt for rank, style, luxury, and 'the theory of what it is to be a +lady and a gentleman.' Yet, by a curious contradiction, Henry's +smartness of appearance—the smartness of an unrivalled commercial +traveller—pleased him. He saw in Henry a young and sedate man of +remarkable shrewdness, a man who had saved money, had made money for +others, and was now making it for himself; a man who could be trusted +absolutely to perform that feat of 'getting on'; a 'safe' and +profoundly respectable man, at the same time audacious and +imperturbable. He was well aware that Henry had really fallen in love +with Anna, but nothing would have convinced him that Anna's money was +not the primal cause of Henry's genuine passion for Anna's self. +</P> + +<P> +'You like Henry, don't you, father?' Anna said. It was a failure in +the desired tact, for Ephraim had never been known to admit that he +liked anyone or anything. Such natures are capable of nothing more +positive than toleration. +</P> + +<P> +'He's a hard-headed chap, and he knows the value o' money. Ay! that he +does; he knows which side his bread's buttered on.' A sinister +emphasis marked the last sentence. +</P> + +<P> +Instead of remaining silent, Anna, in her nervousness, committed +another imprudence. 'What do you mean, father?' she asked, pretending +that she thought it impossible he could mean what he obviously did mean. +</P> + +<P> +'Thou knows what I'm at, lass. Dost think he isna' marrying thee for +thy brass? Dost think as he canna' make a fine guess what thou'rt +worth? But that wunna' bother thee as long as thou'st hooked a +good-looking chap.' +</P> + +<P> +'Father!' +</P> + +<P> +'Ay! thou mayst bridle; but it's true. Dunna' tell me.' +</P> + +<P> +Securely conscious of the perfect purity of Mynors' affection, she was +not in the least hurt. She even thought that her father's attitude was +not quite sincere, an attitude partially due to mere wilful +churlishness. 'Henry has never even mentioned money to me,' she said +mildly. +</P> + +<P> +'Happen not; he isna' such a fool as that.' He paused, and continued: +'Thou'rt free to wed, for me. Lasses will do it, I reckon, and thee +among th' rest.' She smiled, and on that smile he suddenly turned out +the gas. Anna was glad that the colloquy had ended so well. +Congratulations, endearments, loving regard for her welfare: she had +not expected these things, and was in no wise grieved by their absence. +Groping her way towards the lobby, she considered herself lucky, and +only wished that nothing had happened to keep Mynors away. She wanted +to tell him at once that her father had proved tractable. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +The next morning, Tellwright, whose attendance at chapel was losing the +strictness of its old regularity, announced that he should stay at +home. Sunday's dinner was to be a cold repast, and so Anna and Agnes +went to chapel. Anna's thoughts were wholly occupied with the prospect +of seeing Mynors, and hearing the explanation of his absence on +Saturday night. +</P> + +<P> +'There he is!' Agnes exclaimed loudly, as they were approaching the +chapel. +</P> + +<P> +'Agnes,' said Anna, 'when will you learn to behave in the street?' +</P> + +<P> +Mynors stood at the chapel-gates; he was evidently awaiting them. He +looked grave, almost sad. He raised his hat and shook hands, with a +particular friendliness for Agnes, who was speculating whether he would +kiss Anna, as his betrothed, or herself, as being only a little girl, +or both or neither of them. Her eyes already expressed a sort of +ownership in him. +</P> + +<P> +'I should like to speak to you a moment,' Henry said. 'Will you come +into the school-yard?' +</P> + +<P> +'Agnes, you had better go straight into chapel,' said Anna. It was an +ignominious disaster to the child, but she obeyed. +</P> + +<P> +'I didn't give you up last night till nearly ten o'clock,' Anna +remarked as they passed into the school-yard. She was astonished to +discover in herself an inclination to pout, to play the offended fair +one, because Mynors had failed in his appointment. Contemptuously she +crushed it. +</P> + +<P> +'Have you heard about Mr. Price?' Mynors began. +</P> + +<P> +'No. What about him? Has anything happened?' +</P> + +<P> +'A very sad thing has happened. Yes——' He stopped, from emotion. +'Our superintendent has committed suicide!' +</P> + +<P> +'Killed himself?' Anna gasped. +</P> + +<P> +'He hanged himself yesterday afternoon at Edward Street, in the +slip-house after the works were closed. Willie had gone home, but he +came back, when his father didn't turn up for dinner, and found him. +Mr. Price was quite dead. He ran in to my place to fetch me just as I +was getting my tea. That was why I never came last night.' +</P> + +<P> +Anna was speechless. +</P> + +<P> +'I thought I would tell you myself,' Henry resumed. 'It's an awful +thing for the Sunday-school, and the whole society, too. He, a +prominent Wesleyan, a worker among us! An awful thing!' he repeated, +dominated by the idea of the blow thus dealt to the Methodist connexion +by the man now dead. +</P> + +<P> +'Why did he do it?' Anna demanded, curtly. +</P> + +<P> +Mynors shrugged his shoulders, and ejaculated: 'Business troubles, I +suppose; it couldn't be anything else. At school this morning I simply +announced that he was dead.' Henry's voice broke, but he added, after +a pause: 'Young Price bore himself splendidly last night.' +</P> + +<P> +Anna turned away in silence. 'I shall come up for tea, if I may,' +Henry said, and then they parted, he to the singing-seat, she to the +portico of the chapel. People were talking in groups on the broad +steps and in the vestibule. All knew of the calamity, and had received +from it a new interest in life. The town was aroused as if from a +lethargy. Consternation and eager curiosity were on every face. Those +who arrived in ignorance of the event were informed of it in impressive +tones, and with intense satisfaction to the informer; nothing of equal +importance had happened in the society for decades. Anna walked up the +aisle to her pew, filled with one thought: +</P> + +<P> +'We drove him to it, father and I.' +</P> + +<P> +Her fear was that the miser had renewed his terrible insistence during +the previous fortnight. She forgot that she had disliked the dead man, +that he had always seemed to her mean, pietistic, and two-faced. She +forgot that in pressing him for rent many months overdue she and her +father had acted within their just rights—acted as Price himself would +have acted in their place. She could think only of the strain, the +agony, the despair that must have preceded the miserable tragedy. Old +Price had atoned for all in one sublime sin, the sole deed that could +lend dignity and repose to such a figure as his. Anna's feverish +imagination reconstituted the scene in the slip-house: she saw it as +something grand, accusing, and unanswerable; and she could not dismiss +a feeling of acute remorse that she should have been engaged in +pleasure at that very hour of death. Surely some instinct should have +warned her that the hare which she had helped to hunt was at its last +gasp! +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Sargent, the newly-appointed second minister, was in the pulpit—a +little, earnest bachelor, who emphasised every sentence with a +continual tremor of the voice. 'Brethren,' he said, after the second +hymn—and his tones vibrated with a singular effect through the +half-empty building: 'Before I proceed to my sermon I have one word to +say in reference to the awful event which is doubtless uppermost in the +minds of all of you. It is not for us to judge the man who is now gone +from us, ushered into the dread presence of his Maker with the crime of +self-murder upon his soul. I say it is not for us to judge him. The +ways of the Almighty are past finding out. Therefore at such a moment +we may fitly humble ourselves before the Throne, and while prostrate +there let us intercede for the poor young man who is left behind, +bereft, and full of grief and shame. We will engage in silent prayer.' +He lifted his hand, and closed his eyes, and the congregation leaned +forward against the fronts of the pews. The appealing face of Willie +presented itself vividly to Anna. +</P> + +<P> +'Who is it?' Agnes asked, in a whisper of appalling distinctness. Anna +frowned angrily, and gave no reply. +</P> + +<P> +While the last hymn was being sung, Anna signed to Agnes that she +wished to leave the chapel. Everyone would be aware that she was among +Price's creditors, and she feared that if she stayed till the end of +the service some chatterer might draw her into a distressing +conversation. The sisters went out, and Agnes's burning curiosity was +at length relieved. +</P> + +<P> +'Mr. Price has hanged himself,' Anna said to her father when they +reached home. +</P> + +<P> +The miser looked through the window for a moment. 'I am na' +surprised,' he said. 'Suicide's i' that blood. Titus's uncle 'Lijah +tried to kill himself twice afore he died o' gravel. Us'n have to do +summat wi' Edward Street at last.' +</P> + +<P> +She wanted to ask Ephraim if he had been demanding more rent lately, +but she could not find courage to do so. +</P> + +<P> +Agnes had to go to Sunday-school alone that afternoon. Without saying +anything to her father, Anna decided to stay at home. She spent the +time in her bedroom, idle, preoccupied; and did not come downstairs +till half-past three. Ephraim had gone out. Agnes presently returned, +and then Henry came in with Mr. Tellwright. They were conversing +amicably, and Anna knew that her engagement was finally and +satisfactorily settled. During tea no reference was made to it, nor to +the suicide. Mynors' demeanour was quiet but cheerful. He had partly +recovered from the morning's agitation, and gave Ephraim and Agnes a +vivacious account of the attractions of Port Erin. Anna noticed the +amusement in his eyes when Agnes, reddening, said to him: 'Will you +have some more bread-and-butter, Henry?' It seemed to be tacitly +understood afterwards that Agnes and her father would attend chapel, +while Henry and Anna kept house. No one was ingenious enough to detect +an impropriety in the arrangement. For some obscure reason, +immediately upon the departure of the chapel-goers, Anna went into the +kitchen, rattled some plates, stroked her hair mechanically, and then +stole back again to the parlour. It was a chilly evening, and instead +of walking up and down the strip of garden the betrothed lovers sat +together under the window. Anna wondered whether or not she was happy. +The presence of Mynors was, at any rate, marvellously soothing. +</P> + +<P> +'Did your father say anything about the Price affair?' he began, +yielding at once to the powerful hypnotism of the subject which +fascinated the whole town that night, and which Anna could bear neither +to discuss nor to ignore. +</P> + +<P> +'Not much,' she said, and repeated to him her father's remark. +</P> + +<P> +Mynors told her all he knew; how Willie had discovered his father with +his toes actually touching the floor, leaning slightly forward, quite +dead; how he had then cut the rope and fetched Mynors, who went with +him to the police-station; how they had tied up the head of the corpse, +and then waited till night to wheel the body on a hand-cart from Edward +Street to the mortuary chamber at the police-station; how the police +had telephoned to the coroner, and settled at once that the inquest +should be held on Tuesday in the court-room at the town-hall; and how +quiet, self-contained, and dignified Willie had been, surprising +everyone by this new-found manliness. It all seemed hideously real to +Anna, as Henry added detail to detail. +</P> + +<P> +'I think I ought to tell you,' she said very calmly, when he had +finished the recital, 'that I—I'm dreadfully upset over it. I can't +help thinking that I—that father and I, I mean—are somehow partly +responsible for this.' +</P> + +<P> +'For Price's death? How?' +</P> + +<P> +'We have been so hard on him for his rent lately, you know.' +</P> + +<P> +My dearest girl! What next?' He took her hand in his. 'I assure you +the idea is absurd. You've only got it because you're so sensitive and +high-strung. I undertake to say Price was stuck fast everywhere—every +where—hadn't a chance.' +</P> + +<P> +'Me high-strung!' she exclaimed. He kissed her lovingly. But, beneath +the feeling of reassurance, which by superior force he had imposed on +her, there lay a feeling that she was treated like a frightened child +who must be tranquillized in the night. Nevertheless, she was grateful +for his kindness, and when she went to bed she obtained relief from the +returning obsession of the suicide by making anew her vows to him. +</P> + +<P> +As a theatrical effect the death of Titus Price could scarcely have +been surpassed. The town was profoundly moved by the spectacle of this +abject yet heroic surrender of all those pretences by which society +contrives to tolerate itself. Here was a man whom no one respected, +but everyone pretended to respect—who knew that he was respected by +none, but pretended that he was respected by all; whose whole career +was made up of dissimulations: religious, moral, and social. If any +man could have been trusted to continue the decent sham to the end, and +so preserve the general self-esteem, surely it was this man. But no! +Suddenly abandoning all imposture, he transgresses openly, brazenly; +and, snatching a bit of hemp cries: 'Behold me; this is real human +nature. This is the truth; the rest was lies. I lied; you lied. I +confess it, and you shall confess it.' Such a thunderclap shakes the +very base of the microcosm. The young folk in particular could with +difficulty believe their ears. It seemed incredible to them that Titus +Price, the Methodist, the Sunday-school superintendent, the loud +champion of the highest virtues, should commit the sin of all +sins—murder. They were dazed. The remembrance of his insincerity did +nothing to mitigate the blow. In their view it was perhaps even worse +that he had played false to his own falsity. The elders were a little +less disturbed. The event was not unique in their experience. They +had lived longer and felt these seismic shocks before. They could go +back into the past and find other cases where a swift impulse had +shattered the edifice of a lifetime. They knew that the history of +families and of communities is crowded with disillusion. They had +discovered that character is changeless, irrepressible, incurable. +They were aware of the astonishing fact, which takes at least thirty +years to learn, that a Sunday-school superintendent is a man. And the +suicide of Titus Price, when they had realised it, served but to +confirm their most secret and honest estimate of humanity, that +estimate which they never confided to a soul. The young folk thought +the Methodist Society shamed and branded by the tragic incident, and +imagined that years must elapse before it could again hold up its head +in the town. The old folk were wiser, foreseeing with certainty that +in only a few days this all-engrossing phenomenon would lose its +significance, and be as though it had never been. Even in two days, +time had already begun its work, for by Tuesday morning the interest of +the affair—on Sunday at the highest pitch—had waned so much that the +thought of the inquest was capable of reviving it. Although everyone +knew that the case presented no unusual features, and that the +coroner's inquiry would be nothing more than a formal ceremony, the +almost greedy curiosity of Methodist circles lifted it to the level of +a <I>cause célèbre</I>. The court was filled with irreproachable +respectability when the coroner drove into the town, and each animated +face said to its fellow: 'So you're here, are you?' Late comers of the +official world—councillors, guardians of the poor, members of the +school board, and one or two of their ladies, were forced to intrigue +for room with the police and the town-hall keeper, and, having +succeeded, sank into their narrow seats with a sigh of expectancy and +triumph. Late comers with less influence had to retire, and by a kind +of sinister fascination were kept wandering about the corridor before +they could decide to go home. The market-place was occupied by +hundreds of loafers, who seemed to find a mystic satisfaction in +beholding the coroner's dogcart and the exterior of the building which +now held the corpse. +</P> + +<P> +It was by accident that Anna was in the town. She knew that the +inquest was to occur that morning, but had not dreamed of attending it. +When, however, she saw the stir of excitement in the market-place, and +the police guarding the entrances of the town-hall, she walked directly +across the road, past the two officers at the east door, and into the +dark main corridor of the building, which was dotted with small groups +idly conversing. She was conscious of two things: a vehement +curiosity, and the existence somewhere in the precincts of a dead body, +unsightly, monstrous, calm, silent, careless—the insensible origin of +all this simmering ferment which disgusted her even while she shared in +it. At a small door, half hidden by a curtain, she was startled to see +Mynors. +</P> + +<P> +'You here!' he exclaimed, as if painfully surprised, and shook hands +with a preoccupied air. 'They are examining Willie. I came outside +while he was in the witness-box.' +</P> + +<P> +'Is the inquest going on in there?' she asked, pointing to the door. +Each appeared to be concealing a certain resentment against the other; +but this appearance was due only to nervous agitation. +</P> + +<P> +A policeman down the corridor called: 'Mr. Mynors, a moment.' Henry +hurried away, answering Anna's question as he went: 'Yes, in there. +That's the witnesses' and jurors' door; but please don't go in. I +don't like you to, and it is sure to upset you.' +</P> + +<P> +She opened the door and went in. None said nay, and she found a few +inches of standing-room behind the jury-box. A terrible stench +nauseated her; the chamber was crammed, and not a window open. There +was silence in the court—no one seemed to be doing anything; but at +last she perceived that the coroner, enthroned on the bench justice was +writing in a book with blue leaves. In the witness-box stood William +Price, dressed in black, with kid gloves, not lounging in an ungainly +attitude, as might have been expected, but perfectly erect; he kept his +eyes fixed on the coroner's head. Sarah Vodrey, Price's aged +housekeeper, sat on a chair near the witness-box, weeping into a +black-bordered handkerchief; at intervals she raised her small, +wrinkled, red face, with its glistening, inflamed eyes, and then buried +it again in the handkerchief. The members of the jury, whom Anna could +see only in profile, shuffled to and fro on their long, pew-like +seats—they were mostly working men, shabbily clothed; but the foreman +was Mr. Leal, the provision dealer, a freemason, and a sidesman at the +parish church. The general public sat intent and vacuous; their minds +gaped, if not their mouths; occasionally one whispered inaudibly to +another; the jury, conscious of an official status, exchanged remarks +in a whisper courageously loud. Several tall policemen, helmet in +hand, stood in various corners of the room, and the coroner's officer +sat near the witness-box to administer the oath. At length the coroner +lifted his head. He was rather a young man, with a large, intelligent +face; he wore eyeglasses, and his chin was covered with a short, wavy +beard. His manner showed that, while secretly proud of his supreme +position in that assemblage, he was deliberately trying to make it +appear that this exercise of judicial authority was nothing to him, +that in truth these eternal inquiries, which interested others so +deeply, were to him a weariness conscientiously endured. +</P> + +<P> +'Now, Mr. Price,' the coroner said blandly, and it was plain that he +was being ceremoniously polite to an inferior, in obedience to the +rules of good form, 'I must ask you some more questions. They may be +inconvenient, even painful; but I am here simply as the instrument of +the law, and I must do my duty. And these gentlemen here,' he waved a +hand in the direction of the jury, 'must be told the whole facts of the +case. We know, of course, that the deceased committed suicide—that +has been proved beyond doubt; but, as I say, we have the right to know +more.' He paused, well satisfied with the sound of his voice, and +evidently thinking that he had said something very weighty and +impressive. +</P> + +<P> +'What do you want to know?' Willie Price demanded, his broad Five Towns +speech contrasting with the Kensingtonian accents of the coroner. The +latter, who came originally from Manchester, was irritated by the +brusque interruption; but he controlled his annoyance, at the same time +glancing at the public as if to signify to them that he had learnt not +to take too seriously the unintentional rudeness characteristic of +their district. +</P> + +<P> +'You say it was probably business troubles that caused your late father +to commit the rash act?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes.' +</P> + +<P> +'You are sure there was nothing else?' +</P> + +<P> +'What else could there be?' +</P> + +<P> +'Your late father was a widower?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes.' +</P> + +<P> +'Now as to these business troubles—what were they?' +</P> + +<P> +'We were being pressed by creditors.' +</P> + +<P> +'Were you a partner with your late father?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh! You were a partner with him!' +</P> + +<P> +The jury seemed surprised, and the coroner wrote again: 'What was your +share in the business?' +</P> + +<P> +'I don't know.' +</P> + +<P> +'You don't know? Surely that is rather singular?' +</P> + +<P> +'My father took me in Co. not long since. We signed a deed, but I +forget what was in it. My place was principally on the bank, not in +the office.' +</P> + +<P> +'And so you were being pressed by creditors?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes. And we were behind with the rent.' +</P> + +<P> +'Was the landlord pressing you, too?' +</P> + +<P> +Anna lowered her eyes, fearful lest every head had turned towards her. +</P> + +<P> +'Not then; he had been—she, I mean.' +</P> + +<P> +'The landlord is a lady?' Here the coroner faintly smiled. 'Then, as +regards the landlord, the pressure was less than it had been?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes; we had paid some rent, and settled some other claims.' +</P> + +<P> +'Does it not seem strange——?' the coroner began, with a suave air of +suggesting an idea. +</P> + +<P> +'If you must know,' Willie surprisingly burst out, 'I believe it was +the failure of a firm in London that owed us money that caused father +to hang himself.' +</P> + +<P> +'Ah!' exclaimed the coroner. 'When did you hear of that failure?' +</P> + +<P> +'By second post on Friday. Eleven in the morning.' +</P> + +<P> +'I think we have heard enough, Mr. Coroner,' said Leal, standing up in +the jury-box. 'We have decided on our verdict.' +</P> + +<P> +'Thank you, Mr. Price,' said the coroner, dismissing Willie. He added, +in a tone of icy severity to the foreman: 'I had concluded my +examination of the witness.' Then he wrote further in his book. +</P> + +<P> +'Now, gentlemen of the jury,' the coroner resumed, having first cleared +his throat; 'I think you will agree with me that this is a peculiarly +painful case. Yet at the same time——' +</P> + +<P> +Anna hastened from the court as impulsively as she had entered it. She +could think of nothing but the quiet, silent, pitiful corpse; and all +this vapid mouthing exasperated her beyond sufferance. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +On the Thursday afternoon, Anna was sitting alone in the house, with +the Persian cat and a pile of stockings on her knee, darning. Agnes +had with sorrow returned to school; Ephraim was out. The bell sounded +violently, and Anna, thinking that perhaps for some reason her father +had chosen to enter by the front door, ran to open it. The visitor was +Willie Price; he wore the new black suit which had figured in the +coroner's court. She invited him to the parlour and they both sat +down, tongue-tied. Now that she had learnt from his evidence given at +the inquest that Ephraim had not been pressing for rent during her +absence in the Isle of Man, she felt less like a criminal before Willie +than she would have felt without that assurance. But at the best she +was nervous, self-conscious, and shamed. She supposed that he had +called to make some arrangement with reference to the tenure of the +works, or, more probably, to announce a bankruptcy and stoppage. +</P> + +<P> +'Well, Miss Tellwright,' Willie began, 'I've buried him. He's gone.' +</P> + +<P> +The simple and profound grief, and the restrained bitterness against +all the world, which were expressed in these words—the sole epitaph of +Titus Price—nearly made Anna cry. She would have cried, if the cat +had not opportunely jumped on her knee again; she controlled herself by +dint of stroking it. She sympathised with him more intensely in that +first moment of his loneliness than she had ever sympathised with +anyone, even Agnes. She wished passionately to shield, shelter, and +comfort him, to do something, however small, to diminish his sorrow and +humiliation; and this despite his size, his ungainliness, his coarse +features, his rough voice, his lack of all the conventional +refinements. A single look from his guileless and timid eyes atoned +for every shortcoming. Yet she could scarcely open her mouth. She +knew not what to say. She had no phrases to soften the frightful blow +which Providence had dealt him. +</P> + +<P> +'I'm very sorry,' she said. 'You must be relieved it's all over.' +</P> + +<P> +If she could have been Mrs. Sutton for half an hour! But she was Anna, +and her feelings could only find outlet in her eyes. Happily young +Price was of those meek ones who know by instinct the language of the +eyes. +</P> + +<P> +'You've come about the works, I suppose?' she went on. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' he said. 'Is your father in? I want to see him very +particular.' +</P> + +<P> +'He isn't in now,' she replied: 'but he will be back by four o'clock.' +</P> + +<P> +'That's an hour. You don't know where he is?' +</P> + +<P> +She shook her head. 'Well,' he continued, 'I must tell you, then. +I've come up to do it, and do it I must. I can't come up again; +neither can I wait. You remember that bill of exchange as we gave you +some weeks back towards rent?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' she said. There was a pause. He stood up, and moved to the +mantelpiece. Her gaze followed him intently, but she had no idea what +he was about to say. +</P> + +<P> +'It's forged, Miss Tellwright.' He sat down again, and seemed calmer, +braver, ready to meet any conceivable set of consequences. +</P> + +<P> +'Forged!' she repeated, not immediately grasping the significance of +the avowal. +</P> + +<P> +'Mr. Sutton's name is forged on it. So I came to tell your father; but +you'll do as well. I feel as if I should like to tell you all about +it,' he said, smiling sadly. 'Mr. Sutton had really given us a bill +for thirty pounds, but we'd paid that away when Mr. Tellwright sent +word down—you remember—that he should put bailiffs in if he didn't +have twenty-five pounds next day. We were just turning the corner +then, father said to me. There was a goodish sum due to us from a +London firm in a month's time, and if we could only hold out till then, +father said he could see daylight for us. But he knew as there'd be no +getting round Mr. Tellwright. So he had the idea of using Mr. Sutton's +name—just temporary like. He sent me to the post-office to buy a bill +stamp, and he wrote out the bill all but the name. "You take this up +to Tellwright's," he says, "and ask 'em to take it and hold it, and +we'll redeem it, and that'll be all right. No harm done there, Will!" +he says. Then he tries Sutton's name on the back of an envelope. It's +an easy signature, as you know; but he couldn't do it. "Here, Will," +he says, "my old hand shakes; you have a go," and he gives me a letter +of Sutton's to copy from. I did it easy enough after a try or two. +"That'll be all right, Will," he says, and I put my hat on and brought +the bill up here. That's the truth, Miss Tellwright. It was the smash +of that London firm that finished my poor old father off.' +</P> + +<P> +Her one feeling was the sense of being herself a culprit. After all, +it was her father's action, more than anything else, that had led to +the suicide, and he was her agent. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, Mr. Price,' she said foolishly, 'whatever shall you do?' +</P> + +<P> +'There's nothing to be done,' he replied. 'It was bound to be. It's +our luck. We'd no thought but what we should bring you thirty pound in +cash and get that bit of paper back, and rip it up, and no one the +worse. But we were always unlucky, me and him. All you've got to do +is just to tell your father, and say I'm ready to go to the +police-station when he gives the word. It's a bad business, but I'm +ready for it.' +</P> + +<P> +'Can't we do something?' she naïvely inquired, with a vision of a trial +and sentence, and years of prison. +</P> + +<P> +'Your father keeps the bill, doesn't he? Not you?' +</P> + +<P> +'I could ask him to destroy it.' +</P> + +<P> +'He wouldn't,' said Willie. 'You'll excuse me saying that, Miss +Tellwright, but he wouldn't.' +</P> + +<P> +He rose as if to go, bitterly. As for Anna, she knew well that her +father would never permit the bill to be destroyed. But at any cost +she meant to comfort him then, to ease his lot, to send him away less +grievous than he came. +</P> + +<P> +'Listen!' she said, standing up, and abandoning the cat, 'I will see +what can be done. Yes. Something <I>shall</I> be done—something or other. +I will come and see you at the works to-morrow afternoon. You may rely +on me.' +</P> + +<P> +She saw hope brighten his eyes at the earnestness and resolution of her +tone, and she felt richly rewarded. He never said another word, but +gripped her hand with such force that she flinched in pain. When he +had gone, she perceived clearly the dire dilemma; but cared nothing, in +the first bliss of having reassured him. +</P> + +<P> +During tea it occurred to her that as soon as Agnes had gone to bed she +would put the situation plainly before her father, and, for the first +and last time in her life, assert herself. She would tell him that the +affair was, after all, entirely her own, she would firmly demand +possession of the bill of exchange, and she would insist on it being +destroyed. She would point out to the old man that, her promise having +been given to Willie Price, no other course than this was possible. In +planning this night-surprise on her father's obstinacy, she found +argument after argument auspicious of its success. The formidable +tyrant was at last to meet his equal, in force, in resolution, and in +pugnacity. The swiftness of her onrush would sweep him, for once, off +his feet. At whatever cost, she was bound to win, even though victory +resulted in eternal enmity between father and daughter. She saw +herself towering over him, morally, with blazing eye and scornful +nostril. And, thus meditating on the grandeur of her adventure, she +fed her courage with indignation. By the act of death, Titus Price had +put her father for ever in the wrong. His corpse accused the miser, +and Anna, incapable now of seeing aught save the pathos of suicide, +acquiesced in the accusation with all the strength of her remorse. She +did not reason—she felt; reason was shrivelled up in the fire of +emotion. She almost trembled with the urgency of her desire to protect +from further shame the figure of Willie Price, so frank, simple, +innocent, and big; and to protect also the lifeless and dishonoured +body of his parent. She reviewed the whole circumstances again and +again, each time finding less excuse for her father's implacable and +fatal cruelty. +</P> + +<P> +So her thoughts ran until the appointed hour of Agnes's bedtime. It +was always necessary to remind Agnes of that hour; left to herself, the +child would have stayed up till the very Day of Judgment. The clock +struck, but Anna kept silence. To utter the word 'bedtime' to Agnes +was to open the attack on her father, and she felt as the conductor of +an opera feels before setting in motion a complicated activity which +may end in either triumph or an unspeakable fiasco. The child was +reading; Anna looked and looked at her, and at length her lips were set +for the phrase, 'Now Agnes,' when, suddenly, the old man forestalled +her: +</P> + +<P> +'Is that wench going for sit here all night?' he asked of Anna, +menacingly. +</P> + +<P> +Agnes shut her book and crept away. +</P> + +<P> +This accident was the ruin of Anna's scheme. Her father, always the +favourite of circumstance, had by chance struck the first blow; +ignorant of the battle that awaited him, he had unwittingly won it by +putting her in the wrong, as Titus Price had put him in the wrong. She +knew in a flash that her enterprise was hopeless; she knew that her +father's position in regard to her was impregnable, that no moral +force, no consciousness of right, would avail to overthrow that +authority which she had herself made absolute by a life-long +submission; she knew that face to face with her father she was, and +always would be, a coward. And now, instead of finding arguments for +success, she found arguments for failure. She divined all the retorts +that he would fling at her. What about Mr. Sutton—in a sense the +victim of this fraud? It was not merely a matter of thirty pounds. A +man's name had been used. Was he, Ephraim Tellwright, and she, his +daughter, to connive at a felony? The felony was done, and could not +be undone. Were they to render themselves liable, even in theory, to a +criminal prosecution? If Titus Price had killed himself, what of that? +If Willie Price was threatened with ruin, what of that? Them as made +the bed must lie on it. At the best, and apart from any forgery, the +Prices had swindled their creditors; even in dying, old Price had been +guilty of a commercial swindle. And was the fact that father and son +between them had committed a direct and flagrant crime to serve as an +excuse for sympathising with the survivor? Why was Anna so anxious to +shield the forger? What claim had he? A forger was a forger, and that +was the end of it. +</P> + +<P> +She went to bed without opening her mouth. Irresolute, shamed, and +despairing, she tried to pray for guidance, but she could bring no +sincerity of appeal into this prayer; it seemed an empty form. Where, +indeed, was her religion? She was obliged to acknowledge that the +fervour of her aspirations had been steadily cooling for weeks. She +was not a whit more a true Christian now than she had been before the +Revival; it appeared that she was incapable of real religion, possibly +one of those souls foreordained to damnation. This admission added to +the general sense of futility, and increased her misery. She lay awake +for hours, confronting her deliberate promise to Willie Price. +<I>Something shall be done</I>. <I>Rely on me</I>. He was relying on her, then. +But on whom could she rely? To whom could she turn? It is significant +that the idea of confiding in Henry Mynors did not present itself for a +single moment as practical. Mynors had been kind to Willie in his +trouble, but Anna almost resented this kindness on account of the +condescending superiority which she thought she detected therein. It +was as though she had overheard Mynors saying to himself: 'Here is this +poor, crushed worm. It is my duty as a Christian to pity and succour +him. I will do so. I am a righteous man.' The thought of anyone +stooping to Willie was hateful to her. She felt equal with him, as a +mother feels equal with her child when it cries and she soothes it. +And she felt, in another way, that he was equal with her, as she +thought of his sturdy and simple confession, and of the loyal love in +his voice when he spoke of his father. She liked him for hurting her +hand, and for refusing to snatch at the slender chance of her father's +clemency. She could never reveal Willie's sin, if it was a sin, to +Henry Mynors—that symbol of correctness and of success. She had +fraternised with sinners, like Christ; and, with amazing injustice, she +was capable of deeming Mynors a Pharisee because she could not find +fault with him, because he lived and loved so impeccably and so +triumphantly. There was only one person from whom she could have asked +advice and help, and that wise and consoling heart was far away in the +Isle of Man. +</P> + +<P> +'Why won't father give up the bill?' she demanded, half aloud, in +sullen wrath. She could not frame the answer in words, but +nevertheless she knew it and felt it. Such an act of grace would have +been impossible to her father's nature—that was all. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly the expression of her face changed from utter disgust into a +bitter and proud smile. Without thinking further, without daring to +think, she rose out of bed and, night-gowned and bare-footed, crept +with infinite precaution downstairs. The oilcloth on the stairs froze +her feet; a cold, grey light issuing through the glass square over the +front door showed that dawn was beginning. The door of the +front-parlour was shut; she opened it gently, and went within. Every +object in the room was faintly visible, the bureau, the chair, the +files of papers, the pictures, the books on the mantelshelf, and the +safe in the corner. The bureau, she knew, was never locked; fear of +their father had always kept its privacy inviolate from Anna and Agnes, +without the aid of a key. As Anna stood in front of it, a shaking +figure with hair hanging loose, she dimly remembered having one day +seen a blue paper among white in the pigeon-holes. But if the bill was +not there she vowed that she would steal her father's keys while he +slept, and force the safe. She opened the bureau, and at once saw the +edge of a blue paper corresponding with her recollection. She pulled +it forth and scanned it. 'Three months after date pay to our order ... +Accepted payable, <I>William Sutton</I>.' So here was the forgery, here the +two words for which Willie Price might have gone to prison! What a +trifle! She tore the flimsy document to bits, and crumpled the bits +into a little ball. How should she dispose of the ball? After a +moment's reflection she went into the kitchen, stretched on tiptoe to +reach the match-box from the high mantelpiece, struck a match, and +burnt the ball in the grate. Then, with a restrained and sinister +laugh, she ran softly upstairs. +</P> + +<P> +'What's the matter, Anna?' Agnes was sitting up in bed, wide awake. +</P> + +<P> +'Nothing; go to sleep, and don't bother,' Anna angrily whispered. +</P> + +<P> +Had she closed the lid of the bureau? She was compelled to return in +order to make sure. Yes, it was closed. When at length she lay in +bed, breathless, her heart violently beating, her feet like icicles, +she realised what she had done. She had saved Willie Price, but she +had ruined herself with her father. She knew well that he would never +forgive her. +</P> + +<P> +On the following afternoon she planned to hurry to Edward Street and +back while Ephraim and Agnes were both out of the house. But for some +reason her father sat persistently after dinner, conning a sale +catalogue. At a quarter to three he had not moved. She decided to go +at any risks. She put on her hat and jacket, and opened the front +door. He heard her. +</P> + +<P> +'Anna!' he called sharply. She obeyed the summons in terror. 'Art +going out?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, father.' +</P> + +<P> +'Where to?' +</P> + +<P> +'Down town to buy some things.' +</P> + +<P> +'Seems thou'rt always buying.' +</P> + +<P> +That was all; he let her free. In an unworthy attempt to appease her +conscience she did in fact go first into the town; she bought some +wool; the trick was despicable. Then she hastened to Edward Street. +The decrepit works seemed to have undergone no change. She had +expected the business would be suspended, and Willie Price alone on the +bank; but manufacture was proceeding as usual. She went direct to the +office, fancying, as she climbed the stairs, that every window of all +the workshops was full of eyes to discern her purpose. Without +knocking, she pushed against the unlatched door and entered. Willie +was lolling in his father's chair, gloomy, meditative, apparently idle. +He was coatless, and wore a dirty apron; a battered hat was at the back +of his head, and his great hands which lay on the desk in front of him, +were soiled. He sprang up, flushing red, and she shut the door; they +were alone together. +</P> + +<P> +'I'm all in my dirt,' he murmured apologetically. Simple and silly +creature, to imagine that she cared for his dirt! +</P> + +<P> +'It's all right,' she said; 'you needn't worry any more. It's all +right.' They were glorious words for her, and her face shone. +</P> + +<P> +'What do you mean?' he asked gruffly. +</P> + +<P> +'Why,' she smiled, full of happiness, 'I got that paper and burnt it!' +</P> + +<P> +He looked at her exactly as if he had not understood. 'Does your +father know?' +</P> + +<P> +She still smiled at him happily. 'No; but I shall tell him this +afternoon. It's all right. I've burnt it.' +</P> + +<P> +He sank down in the chair, and, laying his head on the desk, burst into +sobbing tears. She stood over him, and put a hand on the sleeve of his +shirt. At that touch he sobbed more violently. +</P> + +<P> +'Mr. Price, what is it?' She asked the question in a calm, soothing +tone. +</P> + +<P> +He glanced up at her, his face wet, yet apparently not shamed by the +tears. She could not meet his gaze without herself crying, and so she +turned her head. 'I was only thinking,' he stammered, 'only +thinking—what an angel you are.' +</P> + +<P> +Only the meek, the timid, the silent, can, in moments of deep feeling, +use this language of hyperbole without seeming ridiculous. +</P> + +<P> +He was her great child, and she knew that ha worshipped her. Oh, +ineffable power, that out of misfortune canst create divine happiness! +</P> + +<P> +Later, he remarked in his ordinary tone: 'I was expecting your father +here this afternoon about the lease. There is to be a deed of +arrangement with the creditors.' +</P> + +<P> +'My father!' she exclaimed, and she bade him good-bye. +</P> + +<P> +As she passed under the archway she heard a familiar voice: 'I reckon I +shall find young Mester Price in th' office?' Ephraim, who had +wandered into the packing-house, turned and saw her through the +doorway; a second's delay, and she would have escaped. She stood +waiting the storm, and then they walked out into the road together. +</P> + +<P> +'Anna, what art doing here?' +</P> + +<P> +She did not know what to say. +</P> + +<P> +'What art doing here?' he repeated coldly. +</P> + +<P> +'Father, I—was just going back home.' +</P> + +<P> +He hesitated an instant. 'I'll go with thee,' he said. They walked +back to Manor Terrace in silence. They had tea in silence; except that +Agnes, with dreadful inopportuneness, continually worried her father +for a definite promise that she might leave school at Christmas. The +idea was preposterous; but Agnes, fired by her recent success as a +housekeeper, clung to it. Ignorant of her imminent danger, and +misinterpreting the signs of his face, she at last pushed her +insistence too far. +</P> + +<P> +'Get to bed, this minute,' he said, in a voice suddenly terrible. She +perceived her error then, but it was too late. Looking wistfully at +Anna, the child fled. +</P> + +<P> +'I was told this morning, miss,' Ephraim began, as soon as Agnes was +gone, 'that young Price had bin seen coming to this house 'ere +yesterday afternoon. I thought as it was strange as thoud'st said nowt +about it to thy feyther; but I never suspected as a daughter o' mine +was up to any tricks. There was a hang-dog look on thy face this +afternoon when I asked where thou wast going, but I didna' think thou +wast lying to me.' +</P> + +<P> +'I wasn't,' she began, and stopped. +</P> + +<P> +'Thou wast! Now, what is it? What's this carrying-on between thee and +Will Price? I'll have it out of thee.' +</P> + +<P> +'There is no carrying-on, father.' +</P> + +<P> +'Then why hast thou gotten secrets? Why dost go sneaking about to see +him—sneaking, creeping, like any brazen moll?' +</P> + +<P> +The miser was wounded in the one spot where there remained to him any +sentiment capable of being wounded: his faith in the irreproachable, +absolute chastity, in thought and deed, of his womankind. +</P> + +<P> +'Willie Price came in here yesterday,' Anna began, white and calm, 'to +see you. But you weren't in. So he saw me. He told me that bill of +exchange, that blue paper, for thirty pounds, was forged. He said he +had forged Mr. Sutton's name on it.' She stopped, expecting the +thunder. +</P> + +<P> +'Get on with thy tale,' said Ephraim, breathing loudly. +</P> + +<P> +'He said he was ready to go to prison as soon as you gave the word. +But I told him, "No such thing!" I said it must be settled quietly. I +told him to leave it to me. He was driven to the forgery, and I +thought——' +</P> + +<P> +'Dost mean to say,' the miser shouted, 'as that blasted scoundrel came +here and told thee he'd forged a bill, and thou told him to leave it to +thee to settle?' Without waiting for an answer, he jumped up and +strode to the door, evidently with the intention of examining the +forged document for himself. +</P> + +<P> +'It isn't there—it isn't there!' Anna called to him wildly. +</P> + +<P> +'What isna' there?' +</P> + +<P> +'The paper. I may as well tell you, father. I got up early this +morning and burnt it.' +</P> + +<P> +The man was staggered at this audacious and astounding impiety. +</P> + +<P> +'It was mine, really,' she continued; 'and I thought——' +</P> + +<P> +'Thou thought!' +</P> + +<P> +Agnes, upstairs, heard that passionate and consuming roar. 'Shame on +thee, Anna Tellwright! Shame on thee for a shameless hussy! A +daughter o' mine, and just promised to another man! Thou'rt an +accomplice in forgery. Thou sees the scamp on the sly! Thou——' He +paused, and then added, with furious scorn: 'Shalt speak o' this to +Henry Mynors?' +</P> + +<P> +'I will tell him if you like,' she said proudly. +</P> + +<P> +'Look thee here!' he hissed, 'if thou breathes a word o' this to Henry +Mynors, or any other man, I'll cut thy tongue out. A daughter o' mine! +If thou breathes a word——' +</P> + +<P> +'I shall not, father.' +</P> + +<P> +It was finished; grey with frightful anger, Ephraim left the room. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap12"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +AT THE PRIORY +</H4> + +<P> +She was not to be pardoned: the offence was too monstrous, daring, and +final. At the same time, the unappeasable ire of the old man tended to +weaken his power over her. All her life she had been terrorised by the +fear of a wrath which had never reached the superlative degree until +that day. Now that she had seen and felt the limit of his anger, she +became aware that she could endure it; the curse was heavy, and perhaps +more irksome than heavy, but she survived; she continued to breathe, +eat, drink, and sleep; her father's power stopped short of +annihilation. Here, too, was a satisfaction: that things could not be +worse. And still greater comfort lay in the fact that she had not only +accomplished the deliverance of Willie Price, but had secured absolute +secrecy concerning the episode. +</P> + +<P> +The next day was Saturday, when, after breakfast, it was Ephraim's +custom to give Anna the weekly sovereign for housekeeping. +</P> + +<P> +'Here, Agnes,' he said, turning in his armchair to face the child, and +drawing a sovereign from his waistcoat-pocket, 'take charge o' this, +and mind ye make it go as far as ye can.' His tone conveyed a +subsidiary message: 'I am terribly angry, but I am not angry with you. +However, behave yourself.' +</P> + +<P> +The child mechanically took the coin, scared by this proof of an +unprecedented domestic convulsion. Anna, with a tightening of the +lips, rose and went into the kitchen. Agnes followed, after a discreet +interval, and in silence gave up the sovereign. +</P> + +<P> +'What is it all about, Anna?' she ventured to ask that night. +</P> + +<P> +'Never mind,' said Anna curtly. +</P> + +<P> +The question had needed some courage, for, at certain times, Agnes +would as easily have trifled with her father as with Anna. From that +moment, with the passive fatalism characteristic of her years, Agnes' +spirits began to rise again to the normal level. She accepted the new +situation, and fitted herself into it with a child's adaptability. If +Anna naturally felt a slight resentment against this too impartial and +apparently callous attitude on the part of the child, she never showed +it. +</P> + +<P> +Nearly a week later, Anna received a postcard from Beatrice announcing +her complete recovery, and the immediate return of her parents and +herself to Bursley. That same afternoon, a cab encumbered with much +luggage passed up the street as Anna was fixing clean curtains in her +father's bedroom. Beatrice, on the look-out, waved a hand and smiled, +and Anna responded to the signals. She was glad now that the Suttons +had come back, though for several days she had almost forgotten their +existence. On the Saturday afternoon, Mynors called. Anna was in the +kitchen; she heard him scuffling with Agnes in the lobby, and then +talking to her father. Three times she had seen him since her +disgrace, and each time the secret bitterness of her soul, despite +conscientious effort to repress it, had marred the meeting—it had been +plain, indeed, that she was profoundly disturbed; he had affected at +first not to observe the change in her, and she, anticipating his +questions, hinted briefly that the trouble was with her father, and had +no reference to himself, and that she preferred not to discuss it at +all; reassured, and too young in courtship yet to presume on a lover's +rights, he respected her wish, and endeavoured by every art to restore +her to equanimity. This time, as she went to greet him in the parlour, +she resolved that he should see no more of the shadow. He noticed +instantly the difference in her face. +</P> + +<P> +'I've come to take you into Sutton's for tea—and for the evening,' he +said eagerly. 'You must come. They are very anxious to see you. I've +told your father,' he added. Ephraim had vanished into his office. +</P> + +<P> +'What did he say, Henry?' she asked timidly. +</P> + +<P> +'He said you must please yourself, of course. Come along, love. +Mustn't she, Agnes?' +</P> + +<P> +Agnes concurred, and said that she would get her father's tea, and his +supper too. +</P> + +<P> +'You will come,' he urged. She nodded, smiling thoughtfully, and he +kissed her, for the first time in front of Agnes, who was filled with +pride at this proof of their confidence in her. +</P> + +<P> +'I'm ready, Henry,' Anna said, a quarter of an hour later, and they +went across to Sutton's. +</P> + +<P> +'Anna, tell me all about it,' Beatrice burst out when she and Anna had +fled to her bedroom. 'I'm so glad. Do you love him really—truly? +He's dreadfully fond of you. He told me so this morning; we had quite +a long chat in the market. I think you're both very lucky, you know.' +She kissed Anna effusively for the third time. Anna looked at her +smiling but silent. +</P> + +<P> +'Well?' Beatrice said. +</P> + +<P> +'What do you want me to say?' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh! You are the funniest girl, Anna, I ever met. "What do you want +me to say," indeed!' Beatrice added in a different tone: 'Don't +imagine this affair was the least bit of a surprise to us. It wasn't. +The fact is, Henry had—oh! well, never mind. Do you know, mother and +dad used to think there was something between Henry and me. But there +wasn't, you know—not really. I tell you that, so that you won't be +able to say you were kept in the dark. When shall you be married, +Anna?' +</P> + +<P> +'I haven't the least idea,' Anna replied, and began to question +Beatrice about her convalescence. +</P> + +<P> +'I'm perfectly well,' Beatrice said. 'It's always the same. If I +catch anything I catch it bad and get it over quickly.' +</P> + +<P> +'Now, how long are you two chatterboxes going to stay here?' It was +Mrs. Sutton who came into the room. 'Bee, you've got those +sewing-meeting letters to write. Eh, Anna, but I'm glad of this. +You'll make him a good wife. You two'll just suit each other.' +</P> + +<P> +Anna could not but be impressed by this unaffected joy of her friends +in the engagement. Her spirits rose, and once more she saw visions of +future happiness. At tea, Alderman Sutton added his felicitations to +the rest, with that flattering air of intimate sympathy and +comprehension which some middle-aged men can adopt towards young girls. +The tea, made specially magnificent in honour of the betrothal, was +such a meal as could only have been compassed in Staffordshire or +Yorkshire—a high tea of the last richness and excellence, exquisitely +gracious to the palate, but ruthless in its demands on the stomach. At +one end of the table, which glittered with silver, glass, and Longshaw +china, was a fowl which had been boiled for four hours; at the other, a +hot pork-pie, islanded in liquor, which might have satisfied a +regiment. Between these two dishes were all the delicacies which +differentiate high tea from tea, and on the quality of which the +success of the meal really depends; hot pikelets, hot crumpets, hot +toast, sardines with tomatoes, raisin-bread, current-bread, seed-cake, +lettuce, home-made marmalade and home-made jams. The repast occupied +over an hour, and even then not a quarter of the food was consumed. +Surrounded by all that good fare and good-will, with the Alderman on +her left, Henry on her right, and a bright fire in front of her, Anna +quickly caught the gaiety of the others. She forgot everything but the +gladness of reunion, the joy of the moment, the luxurious comfort of +the house. Conversation was busy with the doings of the Suttons at +Port Erin after Anna and Henry had left. A listener would have caught +fragments like this:—'You know such-and-such a point.... No, not +there, over the hill. Well, we hired a carriage and drove.... The +weather was simply.... Tom Kelly said he'd never.... And that little +guard on the railway came all the way down to the steamer.... Did you +see anything in the "Signal" about the actress being drowned? Oh! It +was awfully sad. We saw the corpse just after.... Beatrice, will you +hush?' +</P> + +<P> +'Wasn't it terrible about Titus Price?' Beatrice exclaimed. +</P> + +<P> +'Eh, my!' sighed Mrs. Sutton, glancing at Anna. 'You can never tell +what's going to happen next. I'm always afraid to go away for fear of +something happening.' +</P> + +<P> +A silence followed. When tea was finished Beatrice was taken away by +her mother to write the letters concerning the immediate resumption of +sewing-meetings, and for a little time Anna was left in the +drawing-room alone with the two men, who began to talk about the +affairs of the Prices. It appeared that Mr. Sutton had been asked to +become trustee for the creditors under a deed of arrangement, and that +he had hopes of being able to sell the business as a going concern. In +the meantime it would need careful management. +</P> + +<P> +'Will Willie Price manage it?' Anna inquired. The question seemed to +divert Henry and the Alderman, to afford them a contemptuous and +somewhat inimical amusement at the expense of Willie. +</P> + +<P> +'No,' said the Alderman, quietly, but emphatically. +</P> + +<P> +'Master William is fairly good on the works,' said Henry; 'but in the +office, I imagine, he is worse than useless.' +</P> + +<P> +Grieved and confused, Anna bent down and moved a hassock in order to +hide her face. The attitude of these men to Willie Price, that victim +of circumstances and of his own simplicity, wounded Anna inexpressibly. +She perceived that they could see in him only a defaulting debtor, that +his misfortune made no appeal to their charity. She wondered that men +so warm-hearted and kind in some relations could be so hard in others. +</P> + +<P> +'I had a talk with your father at the creditors' meeting yesterday,' +said the Alderman. 'You won't lose much. Of course you've got a +preferential claim for six months' rent.' He said this reassuringly, +as though it would give satisfaction. Anna did not know what a +preferential claim might be, nor was she aware of any creditors' +meeting. She wished ardently that she might lose as much as +possible—hundreds of pounds. She was relieved when Beatrice swept in, +her mother following. +</P> + +<P> +'Now, your worship,' said Beatrice to her father, 'seven stamps for +these letters, please.' Anna glanced up inquiringly on hearing the +form of address. 'You don't mean to say that you didn't know that +father is going to be mayor this year?' Beatrice asked, as if shocked +at this ignorance of affairs. 'Yes, it was all settled rather late, +wasn't it, dad? And the mayor-elect pretends not to care much, but +actually he is filled with pride, isn't he, dad? As for the +mayoress——?' +</P> + +<P> +'Eh, Bee!' Mrs. Sutton stopped her, smiling; 'you'll tumble over that +tongue of yours some day.' +</P> + +<P> +'Mother said I wasn't to mention it,' said Beatrice, 'lest you should +think we were putting on airs.' +</P> + +<P> +'Nay, not I!' Mrs. Sutton protested. 'I said no such thing. Anna +knows us too well for that. But I'm not so set up with this mayor +business as some people will think I am.' +</P> + +<P> +'Or as Beatrice is,' Mynors added. +</P> + +<P> +At half-past eight, and again at nine, Anna said that she must go home; +but the Suttons, now frankly absorbed in the topic of the mayoralty, +their secret preoccupation, would not spoil the confidential talk which +had ensued by letting the lovers depart. It was nearly half-past nine +before Anna and Henry stood on the pavement outside, and Beatrice, +after facetious farewells, had shut the door. +</P> + +<P> +'Let us just walk round by the Manor Farm,' Henry pleaded. 'It won't +take more than a quarter of an hour or so.' +</P> + +<P> +She agreed dutifully. The footpath ran at right angles to Trafalgar +Road, past a colliery whose engine-fires glowed in the dark, moonless, +autumn night, and then across a field. They stood on a knoll near the +old farmstead, that extraordinary and pathetic survival of a vanished +agriculture. Immediately in front of them stretched acres of burning +ironstone—a vast tremulous carpet of flame woven in red, purple, and +strange greens. Beyond were the skeleton-like silhouettes of +pit-heads, and the solid forms of furnace and chimney-shaft. In the +distance a canal reflected the gigantic illuminations of Cauldon Bar +Ironworks. It was a scene mysterious and romantic enough to kindle the +raptures of love, but Anna felt cold, melancholy, and apprehensive of +vague sorrows. 'Why am I so?' she asked herself, and tried in vain to +shake off the mood. +</P> + +<P> +'What will Willie Price do if the business is sold?' she questioned +Mynors suddenly. +</P> + +<P> +'Surely,' he said to soothe her, 'you aren't still worrying about that +misfortune. I wish you had never gone near the inquest; the thing +seems to have got on your mind.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, no!' she protested, with an air of cheerfulness. 'But I was just +wondering.' +</P> + +<P> +'Well, Willie will have to do the best he can. Get a place somewhere, +I suppose. It won't be much, at the best.' +</P> + +<P> +Had he guessed what perhaps hung on that answer, Mynors might have +given it in a tone less callous and perfunctory. Could he have seen +the tightening of her lips, he might even afterwards have repaired his +error by some voluntary assurance that Willie Price should be watched +over with a benevolent eye and protected with a strong arm. But how +was he to know that in misprizing Willie Price before her, he was +misprizing a child to its mother? He had done something for Willie +Price, and considered mat he had done enough. His thoughts, moreover, +were on other matters. +</P> + +<P> +'Do you remember that day we went up to the park?' he murmured fondly; +'that Sunday? I have never told you that that evening I came out of +chapel after the first hymn, when I noticed you weren't there, and +walked up past your house. I couldn't help it. Something drew me. I +nearly called in to see you. Then I thought I had better not.' +</P> + +<P> +'I saw you,' she said calmly. His warmth made her feel sad. 'I saw +you stop at the gate.' +</P> + +<P> +'You did? But you weren't at the window?' +</P> + +<P> +'I saw you through the glass of the front-door.' Her voice grew +fainter, more reluctant. +</P> + +<P> +'Then you were watching?' In the dark he seized her with such +violence, and kissed her so vehemently, that she was startled out of +herself. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh! Henry!' she exclaimed. +</P> + +<P> +'Call me Harry,' he entreated, his arm still round her waist; 'I want +you to call me Harry. No one else does or ever has done, and no one +shall, now.' +</P> + +<P> +'Harry,' she said deliberately, bracing her mind to a positive +determination. She must please him, and she said it again: 'Harry; +yes, it has a nice sound.' +</P> + +<P> +Ephraim sat reading the 'Signal' in the parlour when she arrived home +at five minutes to ten. Imbued then with ideas of duty, submission, +and systematic kindliness, she had an impulse to attempt a +reconciliation with her father. +</P> + +<P> +'Good-night, father,' she said, 'I hope I've not kept you up.' +</P> + +<P> +He was deaf. +</P> + +<P> +She went to bed resigned; sad, but not gloomy. It was not for nothing +that during all her life she had been accustomed to infelicity. +Experience had taught her this: to be the mistress of herself. She +knew that she could face any fact—even the fact of her dispassionate +frigidity under Mynors' caresses. It was on the firm, almost rapturous +resolve to succour Willie Price, if need be, that she fell asleep. +</P> + +<P> +The engagement, which had hitherto been kept private, became the theme +of universal gossip immediately upon the return of the Suttons from the +Isle of Man. Two words let fall by Beatrice in the St. Luke's covered +market on Saturday morning had increased and multiplied till the whole +town echoed with the news. Anna's private fortune rose as high as a +quarter of a million. As for Henry Mynors, it was said that Henry +Mynors knew what he was about. After all, he was like the rest. +Money, money! Of course it was inconceivable that a fine, prosperous +figure of a man, such as Mynors, would have made up to <I>her</I>, if she +had not been simply rolling in money. Well, there was one thing to be +said for young Mynors, he would put money to good use; you might rely +he would not hoard it up same as it had been hoarded up. However, the +more saved, the more for young Mynors, so he needn't grumble. It was +to be hoped he would make her dress herself a bit better—though indeed +it hadn't been her fault she went about so shabby; the old skinflint +would never allow her a penny of her own. So tongues wagged. +</P> + +<P> +The first Sunday was a tiresome ordeal for Anna, both at school and at +chapel. 'Well, I never!' seemed to be written like a note of +exclamation on every brow; the monotony of the congratulations fatigued +her as much as her involuntary efforts to grasp what each speaker had +left unsaid of innuendo, malice, envy or sycophancy. Even the people +in the shops, during the next few days, could not serve her without +direct and curious reference to her private affairs. The general +opinion that she was a cold and bloodless creature was strengthened by +her attitude at this period. But the apathy which she displayed was +neither affected nor due to an excessive diffidence. As she seemed, so +she felt. She often wondered what would have happened to her if that +vague 'something' between Henry and Beatrice, to which Beatrice had +confessed, had ever taken definite shape. +</P> + +<P> +'Hancock came back from Lancashire last night,' said Mynors, when he +arrived at Manor Terrace on the next Saturday afternoon. Ephraim was +in the room, and Henry, evidently joyous and triumphant, addressed both +him and Anna. +</P> + +<P> +'Is Hancock the commercial traveller?' Anna asked. She knew that +Hancock was the commercial traveller, but she experienced a nervous +compulsion to make idle remarks in order to hide the breach of +intercourse between her father and herself. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' said Mynors; 'he's had a magnificent journey.' +</P> + +<P> +'How much?' asked the miser. +</P> + +<P> +Henry named the amount of orders taken in a fortnight's journey. +</P> + +<P> +'Humph!' the miser ejaculated. 'That's better than a bat in the eye +with a burnt stick.' From him, this was the superlative of praise. +'You're making good money at any rate?' +</P> + +<P> +'We are,' said Mynors. +</P> + +<P> +'That reminds me,' Ephraim remarked gruffly. 'When dost think o' +getting wed? I'm not much for long engagements, and so I tell ye.' He +threw a cold glance sideways at Anna. The idea penetrated her heart +like a stab: 'He wants to get me out of the house!' +</P> + +<P> +'Well,' said Mynors, surprised at the question and the tone, and, +looking at Anna as if for an explanation: 'I had scarcely thought of +that. What does Anna say?' +</P> + +<P> +'I don't know,' she murmured; and then, more bravely, in a louder +voice, and with a smile: 'The sooner the better.' She thought, in her +bitter and painful resentment: 'If he wants me to go, go I will.' +</P> + +<P> +Henry tactfully passed on to another phase of the subject: 'I met Mr. +Sutton yesterday, and he was telling me of Price's house up at Toft +End. It belonged to Mr. Price, but of course it was mortgaged up to +the hilt. The mortgagees have taken possession, and Mr. Sutton said it +would be to let cheap at Christmas. Of course Willie and old Sarah +Vodrey, the housekeeper, will clear out. I was thinking it might do +for us. It's not a bad sort of house, or, rather, it won't be when +it's repaired.' +</P> + +<P> +'What will they ask for it?' Ephraim inquired. +</P> + +<P> +'Twenty-five or twenty-eight. It's a nice large house—four bedrooms, +and a very good garden.' +</P> + +<P> +'Four bedrooms!' the miser exclaimed. 'What dost want wi' four +bedrooms? You'd have for keep a servant.' +</P> + +<P> +'Naturally we should keep a servant,' Mynors said, with calm politeness. +</P> + +<P> +'You could get one o' them new houses up by th' park for fifteen pounds +as would do you well enough'; the miser protested against these dreams +of extravagance. +</P> + +<P> +'I don't care for that part of the town,' said Mynors. 'It's too new +for my taste.' +</P> + +<P> +After tea, when Henry and Anna went out for the Saturday evening +stroll, Mynors suddenly suggested: 'Why not go up and look through that +house of Price's?' +</P> + +<P> +'Won't it seem like turning them out if we happen to take it?' she +asked. +</P> + +<P> +'Turning them out! Willie is bound to leave it. What use is it to +him? Besides, it's in the hands of the mortgagees now. Why shouldn't +we take it just as well as anybody else, if it suits us?' +</P> + +<P> +Anna had no reply, and she surrendered herself placidly enough to his +will; nevertheless she could not entirely banish a misgiving that +Willie Price was again to be victimised. Infinitely more disturbing +than this illogical sensation, however, was the instinctive and sure +knowledge, revealed in a flash, that her father wished to be rid of +her. So implacable, then, was his animosity against her! Never, never +had she been so deeply hurt. The wound, in fact, was so severe that at +first she felt only a numbness that reduced everything to unimportance, +robbing her of volition. She walked up to Toft End as if walking in +her sleep. +</P> + +<P> +Price's house, sometimes called Priory House, in accordance with a +legend that a priory had once occupied the site, stood in the middle of +the mean and struggling suburb of Toft End, which was flung up the +hillside like a ragged scarf. Built of red brick, towards the end of +the eighteenth century, double-fronted, with small, evenly disposed +windows, and a chimney stack at either side, it looked westward over +the town smoke towards a horizon of hills. It had a long, narrow +garden, which ran parallel with the road. Behind it, adjoining, was a +small, disused potworks, already advanced in decay. On the north side, +and enclosed by a brick wall which surrounded also the garden, was a +small orchard of sterile and withered fruit trees. In parts the wall +had crumpled under the assaults of generations of boys, and from the +orchard, through the gaps, could be seen an expanse of grey-green +field, with a few abandoned pit-shafts scattered over it. These +shafts, imperfectly protected by ruinous masonry, presented an +appearance strangely sinister and forlorn, raising visions in the mind +of dark and mysterious depths peopled with miserable ghosts of those +who had toiled there in the days when to be a miner was to be a slave. +The whole place, house and garden, looked ashamed and sad, with a +shabby mournfulness acquired gradually from its inmates during many +years. But, nevertheless, the house was substantial, and the air on +that height fresh and pure. +</P> + +<P> +Mynors rang in vain at the front door, and then they walked round the +house to the orchard, and discovered Sarah Vodrey taking in clothes +from a line—a diminutive and wasted figure, with scanty, grey hair, a +tiny face permanently soured, and bony hands contorted by rheumatism. +</P> + +<P> +'My rheumatism's that bad,' she said in response to greetings, 'I can +scarce move about, and this house is a regular barracks to keep clean. +No; Willie's not in. He's at th' works, as usual—Saturday like any +other day. I'm by myself here all day and every day. But I reckon +us'n be flitting soon, and me lived here eight-and-twenty year! Praise +God, there's a mansion up there for me at last. And not sorry shall I +be when He calls.' +</P> + +<P> +'It must be very lonely for you, Miss Vodrey,' said Mynors. He knew +exactly how to speak to this dame who lived her life like a fly between +two panes of glass, and who could find room in her head for only three +ideas, namely: that God and herself were on terms of intimacy; that she +was, and had always been, indispensable to the Price family; and that +her social status was far above that of a servant. 'It's a pity you +never married,' Mynors added. +</P> + +<P> +'Me, marry! What would <I>they</I> ha' done without me? No, I'm none for +marriage and never was. I'd be shamed to be like some o' them +spinsters down at chapel, always hanging round chapel-yard on the +off-chance of a service, to catch that there young Mr. Sargent, the new +minister. It's a sign of a hard winter, Miss Terrick, when the hay +runs after the horse, that's what I say.' +</P> + +<P> +'Miss Tellwright and myself are in search of a house,' Mynors gently +interrupted the flow, and gave her a peculiar glance which she +appreciated. 'We heard you and Willie were going to leave here, and so +we came up just to look over the place, if it's quite convenient to +you.' +</P> + +<P> +'Eh, I understand ye,' she said; 'come in. But ye mun tak' things as +ye find 'em, Miss Terrick.' +</P> + +<P> +Dismal and unkempt, the interior of the house matched the exterior. +The carpets were threadbare, the discoloured wall-papers hung loose on +the walls, the ceilings were almost black, the paint had nearly been +rubbed away from the woodwork; the exhausted furniture looked as if it +would fall to pieces in despair if compelled to face the threatened +ordeal of an auction-sale. But to Anna the rooms were surprisingly +large, and there seemed so many of them! It was as if she were +exploring an immense abode, like a castle, with odd chambers +continually showing themselves in unexpected places. The upper story +was even less inviting than the ground-floor—barer, more chill, +utterly comfortless. +</P> + +<P> +'This is the best bedroom,' said Miss Vodrey. 'And a rare big room +too! It's not used now. <I>He</I> slept here. Willie sleeps at back.' +</P> + +<P> +'A very nice room,' Mynors agreed blandly, and measured it, as he had +done all the others, with a two-foot, entering the figures in his +pocket-book. +</P> + +<P> +Anna's eye wandered uneasily across the room, with its dismantled bed +and decrepit mahogany suite. +</P> + +<P> +'I'm glad he hanged himself at the works, and not here,' she thought. +Then she looked out at the window. 'What a splendid view!' she +remarked to Mynors. +</P> + +<P> +She saw that he had taken a fancy to the house. The sagacious fellow +esteemed it, not as it was, but as it would be, re-papered, re-painted, +re-furnished, the outer walls pointed, the garden stocked; everything +cleansed, brightened, renewed. And there was indeed much to be said +for his fancy. The house was large, with plenty of ground; the +boundary wall secured that privacy which young husbands and young wives +instinctively demand; the outlook was unlimited, the air the purest in +the Five Towns. And the rent was low, because the great majority of +those who could afford such a house would never deign to exist in a +quarter so poverty-stricken and unfashionable. +</P> + +<P> +After leaving the house they continued their walk up the hill, and then +turned off to the left on the high road from Hanbridge to Moorthorne. +The venerable but not dignified town lay below them, a huddled medley +of brown brick under a thick black cloud of smoke. The gold angel of +the town-hall gleamed in the evening light, and the dark, squat tower +of the parish church, sole relic of the past stood out grim and +obdurate amid the featureless buildings which surrounded it. To the +north and east miles of moorland, defaced by collieries and murky +hamlets, ran to the horizon. Across the great field at their feet a +figure slouched along, past the abandoned pit-shafts. They both +recognised the man. +</P> + +<P> +'There's Willie Price going home!' said Mynors. +</P> + +<P> +'He looks tired,' she said. She was relieved that they had not met him +at the house. +</P> + +<P> +'I say,' Mynors began earnestly, after a pause, 'why shouldn't we get +married soon, since the old gentleman seems rather to expect it? He's +been rather awkward lately, hasn't he?' +</P> + +<P> +This was the only reference made by Mynors to her father's temper. She +nodded. 'How soon? she asked. +</P> + +<P> +'Well, I was just thinking. Suppose, for the sake of argument, this +house turns out all right. I couldn't get it thoroughly done up much +before the middle of January—couldn't begin till these people had +moved. Suppose we said early in February?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes!' +</P> + +<P> +'Could you be ready by that time?' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, yes,' she answered, 'I could be ready.' +</P> + +<P> +'Well, why shouldn't we fix February, then?' +</P> + +<P> +'There's the question of Agnes,' she said. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes; and there will always be the question of Agnes. Your father will +have to get a housekeeper. You and I will be able to see after little +Agnes, never fear.' So, with tenderness in his voice, he reassured her +on that point. +</P> + +<P> +'Why not February?' she reflected. 'Why not to-morrow, as father wants +me out of the house?' +</P> + +<P> +It was agreed. +</P> + +<P> +'I've taken the Priory, subject to your approval,' Henry said, less +than a fortnight later. From that time he invariably referred to the +place as the Priory. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +It was on the very night after this eager announcement that the +approaching tragedy came one step nearer. Beatrice, in a modest +evening-dress, with a white cloak—excited, hurried, and important—ran +in to speak to Anna. The carriage was waiting outside. She and her +father and mother had to attend a very important dinner at the mayor's +house at Hillport, in connection with Mr. Sutton's impending mayoralty. +Old Sarah Vodrey had just sent down a girl to say that she was unwell, +and would be grateful if Mrs. Sutton or Beatrice would visit her. It +was a most unreasonable time for such a summons, but Sarah was a +fidgety old crotchet, and knew how frightfully good-natured Mrs. Sutton +was. Would Anna mind going up to Toft End? And would Anna come out to +the carriage and personally assure Mrs. Sutton that old Sarah should be +attended to? If not, Beatrice was afraid her mother would take it into +her head to do something stupid. +</P> + +<P> +'It's very good of you, Anna,' said Mrs. Sutton, when Anna went outside +with Beatrice. 'But I think I'd better go myself. The poor old thing +may feel slighted if I don't, and Beatrice can well take my place at +this affair at Hillport, which I've no mind for.' She was already half +out of the carriage. +</P> + +<P> +'Nothing of the kind,' said Anna firmly, pushing her back. 'I shall be +delighted to go and do what I can.' +</P> + +<P> +'That's right, Anna,' said the Alderman from the darkness of the +carriage, where his shirt-front gleamed; 'Bee said you'd go, and we're +much obliged to ye.' +</P> + +<P> +'I expect it will be nothing,' said Beatrice, as the vehicle drove off; +'Sarah has served mother this trick before now.' +</P> + +<P> +As Anna opened the garden-gate of the Priory she discerned a figure +amid the rank bushes, which had been allowed to grow till they almost +met across the narrow path leading to the front door of the house. +</P> + +<P> +It was a thick and mysterious night—such a night as death chooses; and +Anna jumped in vague terror at the apparition. +</P> + +<P> +'Who's there?' said a voice sharply. +</P> + +<P> +'It's me,' said Anna. 'Miss Vodrey sent down to ask Mrs. Sutton to +come up and see her, but Mrs. Sutton had an engagement, so I came +instead.' +</P> + +<P> +The figure moved forward; it was Willie Price. +</P> + +<P> +He peered into her face, and she could see the mortal pallor of his +cheeks. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh!' he exclaimed, 'it's Miss Tellwright, is it? Will ye come in, +Miss Tellwright?' +</P> + +<P> +She followed him with beating heart, alarmed, apprehensive. The front +door stood wide open, and at the far end of the gloomy passage a faint +light shone from the open door of the kitchen. 'This way,' he said. +In the large, bare, stone-floored kitchen Sarah Vodrey sat limp and +with closed eyes in an old rocking-chair close to the fireless range. +The window, which gave on to the street, was open; through that window +Sarah, in her extremity, had called the child who ran down to Mrs. +Sutton's. On the deal table were a dirty cup and saucer, a tea-pot, +bread, butter, and a lighted candle—sole illumination of the chamber. +</P> + +<P> +'I come home, and I find this,' he said. +</P> + +<P> +Daunted for a moment by the scene of misery, Anna could say nothing. +</P> + +<P> +'I find this,' he repeated, as if accusing God of spitefulness; and he +lifted the candle to show the apparently insensible form of the woman. +Sarah's wrinkled and seamed face had the flush of fever, and the +features were drawn into the expression of a terrible anxiety; her +hands hung loose; she breathed like a dog after a run. +</P> + +<P> +'I wanted her to have the doctor yesterday,' he said, 'but she +wouldn't. Ever since you and Mr. Mynors called she's been cleaning the +house down. She said you'd happen be coming again soon, and the place +wasn't fit to be seen. No use me arguing with her.' +</P> + +<P> +'You had better run for a doctor,' Anna said. +</P> + +<P> +'I was just going off when you came. She's been complaining more of +her rheumatism, and pain in her hips, lately.' +</P> + +<P> +'Go now; fetch Mr. Macpherson, and call at our house and say I shall +stay here all night. Wait a moment.' Seeing that he was exhausted +from lack of food, she cut a thick piece of bread-and-butter. 'Eat +this as you go,' she said. +</P> + +<P> +'I can't eat; it'll choke me.' +</P> + +<P> +'Let it choke you,' she said. 'You've got to swallow it.' +</P> + +<P> +Child of a hundred sorrows, he must be treated as a child. As soon as +Willie was gone she took off her hat and jacket, and lit a lamp; there +was no gas in the kitchen. +</P> + +<P> +'What's that light?' the old woman asked peevishly, rousing herself and +sitting up. 'I doubt I'll be late with Willie's tea. Eh, Miss +Terrick, what's amiss?' +</P> + +<P> +'You're not quite well, Miss Vodrey,' Anna answered. 'If you'll show +me your room, I'll see you into bed.' Without giving her a moment for +hesitation, Anna seized the feeble creature under the arms, and so, +coaxing, supporting, carrying, got her to bed. At length she lay on +the narrow mattress, panting, exhausted. It was Sarah's final effort. +</P> + +<P> +Anna lit fires in the kitchen and in the bedroom, and when Willie +returned with Dr. Macpherson, water was boiling and tea made. +</P> + +<P> +'You'd better get a woman in,' said the doctor curtly, in the kitchen, +when he had finished his examination of Sarah. 'Some neighbour for +to-night, and I'll send a nurse up from the cottage-hospital early +to-morrow morning. Not that it will be the least use. She must have +been dying for the last two days at least. She's got pericarditis and +pleurisy. She's breathing I don't know how many to the minute, and her +temperature is just about as high as it can be. It all follows from +rheumatism, and then taking cold. Gross carelessness and neglect all +through! I've no patience with such work.' He turned angrily to +Willie. 'I don't know what on earth you were thinking of, Mr. Price, +not to send for me earlier.' +</P> + +<P> +Willie, abashed and guilty, found nothing to say. His eye had the meek +wistfulness of Holman Hunt's 'Scapegoat.' +</P> + +<P> +'Mr. Price wanted her to have the doctor,' said Anna, defending him +with warmth; 'but she wouldn't. He is out at the works all day till +late at night. How was he to know how she was? She could walk about.' +</P> + +<P> +The tall doctor glanced at Anna in surprise, and at once modified his +tone. 'Yes,' he said, 'that's the curious thing. It passes me how she +managed to get about. But there is no knowing what an obstinate woman +won't force herself to do. I'll send the medicine up to-night, and +come along myself with the nurse early to-morrow. Meantime, keep +carefully to my instructions.' +</P> + +<P> +That night remains for ever fixed in Anna's memory: the grim rooms, +echoing and shadowy; the countless journeys up and down dark stairs and +passages; Willie sitting always immovable in the kitchen, idle because +there was nothing for him to do; Sarah incessantly panting on the +truckle-bed; the hired woman from up the street, buxom, kindly, useful, +but fatuous in the endless monotony of her commiserations. +</P> + +<P> +Towards morning, Sarah Vodrey gave sign of a desire to talk. +</P> + +<P> +'I've fought the fight,' she murmured to Anna, who alone was in the +bedroom with her, 'I've fought the fight; I've kept the faith. In that +box there ye'll see a purse. There's seventeen pounds six in it. That +will pay for the funeral, and Willie must have what's over. There +would ha' been more for the lad, but he never paid me no wages this two +years past. I never troubled him.' +</P> + +<P> +'Don't tell Willie that,' Anna said impetuously. +</P> + +<P> +'Eh, bless ye, no!' said the dying drudge, and then seemed to doze. +</P> + +<P> +Anna went to the kitchen, and sent the woman upstairs. +</P> + +<P> +'How is she?' asked Willie, without stirring. Anna shook her head. +'Neither her nor me will be here much longer, I'm thinking,' he said, +smiling wearily. +</P> + +<P> +'What?' she exclaimed, startled. +</P> + +<P> +'Mr. Sutton has arranged to sell our business as a going-concern—some +people at Turnhill are buying it. I shall go to Australia; there's no +room for me here. The creditors have promised to allow me twenty-five +pounds, and I can get an assisted passage. Bursley'll know me no more. +But—but—I shall always remember you and what you've done.' +</P> + +<P> +She longed to kneel at his feet, and to comfort him, and to cry: 'It is +I who have ruined you—driven your father to cheating his servant, to +crime, to suicide; driven you to forgery, and turned you out of your +house which your old servant killed herself in making clean for me. I +have wronged you, and I love you like a mother because I have wronged +you and because I saved you from prison.' +</P> + +<P> +But she said nothing except: 'Some of us will miss you.' +</P> + +<P> +The next day Sarah Vodrey died—she who had never lived save in the +fetters of slavery and fanaticism. After fifty years of ceaseless +labour, she had gained the affection of one person, and enough money to +pay for her own funeral. Willie Price took a cheap lodging with the +woman who had been called in on the night of Sarah's collapse. Before +Christmas he was to sail for Melbourne. The Priory, deserted, gave up +its rickety furniture to a van from Hanbridge, where, in an +auction-room, the frail sticks lost their identity in a medley of other +sticks, and ceased to be. Then the bricklayer, the plasterer, the +painter, and the paper-hanger came to the Priory, and whistled and sang +in it. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap13"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIII +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE BAZAAR +</H4> + +<P> +The Wesleyan Bazaar, the greatest undertaking of its kind ever known in +Bursley, gradually became a cloud which filled the entire social +horizon. Mrs. Sutton, organiser of the Sunday-school stall, pressed +all her friends into the service, and a fortnight after the death of +Sarah Vodrey, Anna and even Agnes gave much of their spare time to the +work, which was carried on under pressure increasing daily as the final +moments approached. This was well for Anna, in that it diverted her +thoughts by keeping her energies fully engaged. One morning, however, +it occurred to Mrs. Sutton to reflect that Anna, at such a period of +life, should be otherwise employed. Anna had called at the Suttons' to +deliver some finished garments. +</P> + +<P> +'My dear,' she said, 'I am very much obliged to you for all this +industry. But I've been thinking that as you are to be married in +February you ought to be preparing your things.' +</P> + +<P> +'My things!' Anna repeated idly; and then she remembered Mynors' +phrase, on the hill, 'Can you be ready by that time?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' said Mrs. Sutton; 'but possibly you've been getting forward with +them on the quiet.' +</P> + +<P> +'Tell me,' said Anna, with an air of interest; 'I've meant to ask you +before: Is it the bride's place to provide all the house-linen, and +that sort of thing?' +</P> + +<P> +'It was in my day; but those things alter so. The bride took all the +house-linen to her husband, and as many clothes for herself as would +last a year; that was the rule. We used to stitch everything at home +in those days—everything; and we had what we called a "bottom drawer" +to store them in. As soon as a girl passed her fifteenth birthday, she +began to sew for the "bottom drawer." But all those things change so, +I dare say it's different now.' +</P> + +<P> +'How much will it cost to buy everything, do you think?' Anna asked. +</P> + +<P> +Just then Beatrice entered the room. +</P> + +<P> +'Beatrice, Anna is inquiring how much it will cost to buy her +trousseau, and the house-linen. What do you say?' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh!' Beatrice replied, without any hesitation, 'a couple of hundred at +least.' +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Sutton, reading Anna's face, smiled reassuringly. 'Nonsense, Bee! +I dare say you could do it on a hundred with care, Anna.' +</P> + +<P> +'Why should Anna want to do it with care?' Beatrice asked curtly. +</P> + +<P> +Anna went straight across the road to her father, and asked him for a +hundred pounds of her own money. She had not spoken to him, save under +necessity, since the evening spent at the Suttons'. +</P> + +<P> +'What's afoot now?' he questioned savagely. +</P> + +<P> +'I must buy things for the wedding—clothes and things, father.' +</P> + +<P> +'Ay! clothes! clothes! What clothes dost want? A few pounds will +cover them.' +</P> + +<P> +'There'll be all the linen for the house.' +</P> + +<P> +'Linen for—— It's none thy place for buy that.' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, father, it is.' +</P> + +<P> +'I say it isna',' he shouted. +</P> + +<P> +'But I've asked Mrs. Sutton, and she says it is.' +</P> + +<P> +'What business an' ye for go blabbing thy affairs all over Bosley? I +say it isna' thy place for buy linen, and let that be sufficient. Go +and get dinner. It's nigh on twelve now.' +</P> + +<P> +That evening, when Agnes had gone to bed, she resumed the struggle. +</P> + +<P> +'Father, I must have that hundred pounds. I really must. I mean it.' +</P> + +<P> +'<I>Thou means it</I>! What?' +</P> + +<P> +'I mean I must have a hundred pounds.' +</P> + +<P> +'I'd advise thee to tak' care o' thy tongue, my lass. <I>Thou means it</I>!' +</P> + +<P> +'But you needn't give it me all at once,' she pursued. +</P> + +<P> +He gazed at her, glowering. +</P> + +<P> +'I shanna' give it thee. It's Henry's place for buy th' house-linen.' +</P> + +<P> +'Father, it isn't.' Her voice broke, but only for an instant. 'I'm +asking you for my own money. You seem to want to make me miserable +just before my wedding.' +</P> + +<P> +'I wish to God thou 'dst never seen Henry Mynors. It's given thee +pride and made thee undutiful.' +</P> + +<P> +'I'm only asking you for my own money.' +</P> + +<P> +Her calm insistence maddened him. Jumping up from his chair, he +stamped out of the room, and she heard him strike a match in his +office. Presently he returned, and threw angrily on to the table in +front of her a cheque-book and pass-book. The deposit-book she had +always kept herself for convenience of paying into the bank. +</P> + +<P> +'Here,' he said scornfully, 'tak' thy traps and ne'er speak to me +again. I wash my hands of ye. Tak' 'em and do what ye'n a mind. +Chuck thy money into th' cut[<A NAME="chap13fn1text"></A><A HREF="#chap13fn1">1</A>] for aught I care.' +</P> + +<P> +The next evening Henry came up. She observed that his face had a grave +look, but intent on her own difficulties she did not remark on it, and +proceeded at once to do what she resolved to do. It was a cold night +in November, yet the miser, wrathfully sullen, chose to sit in his +office without a fire. Agnes was working sums in the kitchen. +</P> + +<P> +'Henry,' Anna began, 'I've had a difficulty with father, and I must +tell you.' +</P> + +<P> +'Not about the wedding, I hope,' he said. +</P> + +<P> +'It was about money. Of course, Henry, I can't get married without a +lot of money.' +</P> + +<P> +'Why not?' he inquired. +</P> + +<P> +'I've my own things to get,' she said, 'and I've all the house-linen to +buy.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh! You buy the house-linen, do you?' She saw that he was relieved +by that information. +</P> + +<P> +'Of course. Well, I told father I must have a hundred pounds, and he +wouldn't give it me. And when I stuck to him he got angry—you know he +can't bear to see money spent—and at last he get a little savage and +gave me my bank-books, and said he'd have nothing more to do with my +money.' +</P> + +<P> +Henry's face broke into a laugh, and Anna was obliged to smile. +'Capital!' he said. 'Couldn't be better.' +</P> + +<P> +'I want you to tell me how much I've got in the bank,' she said. 'I +only know I'm always paying in odd cheques.' +</P> + +<P> +He examined the three books. 'A very tidy bit,' he said; 'something +over two hundred and fifty pounds. So you can draw cheques at your +ease.' +</P> + +<P> +'Draw me a cheque for twenty pounds,' she said; and then, while he +wrote: 'Henry, after we're married, I shall want you to take charge of +all this.' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, of course; I will do that, dear. But your money will be yours. +There ought to be a settlement on you. Still, if your father says +nothing, it is not for me to say anything.' +</P> + +<P> +'Father will say nothing—now,' she said. 'You've never shown any +interest in it, Henry; but as we're talking of money, I may as well +tell you that father says I'm worth fifty thousand pounds.' +</P> + +<P> +The man of business was astonished and enraptured beyond measure. His +countenance shone with delight. +</P> + +<P> +'Surely not!' he protested formally. +</P> + +<P> +'That's what father told me, and he made me read a list of shares, and +so on.' +</P> + +<P> +'We will go slow, to begin with,' said Mynors solemnly. He had not +expected more than fifteen, or twenty thousand pounds, and even this +sum had dazzled his imagination. He was glad that he had only taken +the house at Toft End on a yearly tenancy. He now saw himself the +dominant figure in all the Five Towns. +</P> + +<P> +Later in the evening he disclosed, perfunctorily, the matter which had +been a serious weight on his mind when he entered the house, but which +this revelation of vast wealth had diminished to a trifle. Titus Price +had been the treasurer of the building fund which the bazaar was +designed to assist. Mynors had assumed the position of the dead man, +and that day, in going through the accounts, he had discovered that a +sum of fifty pounds was missing. +</P> + +<P> +'It's a dreadful thing for Willie, if it gets about,' he said; 'a tale +of that sort would follow him to Australia.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, Henry, it is!' she exclaimed, sorrow-stricken, 'but we mustn't let +it get about. Let us pay the money ourselves. You must enter it in +the books and say nothing.' +</P> + +<P> +'That is impossible,' he said firmly. 'I can't alter the accounts. At +least I can't alter the bank-book and the vouchers. The auditor would +detect it in a minute. Besides, I should not be doing my duty if I +kept a thing like this from the Superintendent-minister. He, at any +rate, must know, and perhaps the stewards.' +</P> + +<P> +'But you can urge them to say nothing. Tell them that you will make it +good. I will write a cheque at once.' +</P> + +<P> +'I had meant to find the fifty myself,' he said. It was a peddling sum +to him now. +</P> + +<P> +'Let me pay half, then,' she asked. +</P> + +<P> +'If you like,' he urged, smiling faintly at her eagerness. 'The thing +is bound to be kept quiet—it would create such a frightful scandal. +Poor old chap!' he added, carelessly, 'I suppose he was hard run, and +meant to put it back—as they all do mean.' +</P> + +<P> +But it was useless for Mynors to affect depression of spirits, or +mournful sympathy with the errors of a dead sinner. The fifty thousand +danced a jig in his brain that night. +</P> + +<P> +Anna was absorbed in contemplating the misfortune of Willie Price. She +prayed wildly that he might never learn the full depth of his father's +fall. The miserable robbery of Sarah's wages was buried for evermore, +and this new delinquency, which all would regard as flagrant sacrilege, +must be buried also. A soul less loyal than Anna's might have feared +that Willie, a self-convicted forger, had been a party to the +embezzlement; but Anna knew that it could not be so. +</P> + +<P> +It was characteristic of Mynors' cautious prudence that, the first +intoxication having passed, he made no further reference of any kind to +Anna's fortune. The arrangements for their married life were planned +on a scale which ignored the fifty thousand pounds. For both their +sakes he wished to avoid all friction with the miser, at any rate until +his status as Anna's husband would enable him to enforce her rights, if +that should be necessary, with dignity and effectiveness. He did not +precisely anticipate trouble, but the fact had not escaped him that +Ephraim still held the whole of Anna's securities. He was in no hurry +to enlarge his borders. He knew that there were twenty-four hours in +every day, three hundred and sixty-five days in every year, and thirty +good years in life still left to him; and therefore that there would be +ample time, after the wedding, for the execution of his purposes in +regard to that fifty thousand pounds. Meanwhile, he told Anna that he +had set aside two hundred pounds for the purchase of furniture for the +Priory—a modest sum; but he judged it sufficient. His method was to +buy a piece at a time, always second-hand, but always good. The +bargain-hunt was up, and Anna soon yielded to its mild satisfactions. +In the matter of her trousseau and the house-linen, Anna, having +obtained the needed money—at so dear a cost—found yet another +obstacle in the imminent bazaar, which occupied Mrs. Sutton and +Beatrice so completely that they could not contrive any opportunity to +assist her in shopping. It was decided between them that every article +should be bought ready-made and seamed, and that the first week of the +New Year, if indeed Mrs. Sutton survived the bazaar, should be entirely +and absolutely devoted to Anna's business. +</P> + +<P> +At nights, when she had leisure to think, Anna was astonished how +during the day she had forgotten her preoccupations in the activities +precendent to the bazaar, or in choosing furniture with Mynors. But +she never slept without thinking of Willie Price, and hoping that no +further disaster might overtake him. The incident of the embezzled +fifty pounds had been closed, and she had given a cheque for +twenty-five pounds to Mynors. He had acquainted the minister with the +facts, and Mr. Banks had decided that the two circuit stewards must be +informed. Beyond these the scandalous secret was not to go. But Anna +wondered whether a secret shared by five persons could long remain a +secret. +</P> + +<P> +The bazaar was a triumphant and unparalleled success, and, of the seven +stalls, the Sunday-school stall stood first each night in the nightly +returns. The scene in the town-hall, on the fourth and final night, a +Saturday, was as delirious and gay as a carnival. Four hundred and +twenty pounds had been raised up to tea-time, and it was the +impassioned desire of everyone to achieve five hundred. The price of +admission had been reduced to threepence, in order that the artisan +might enter and spend his wages in an excellent cause. The seven +stalls, ranged round the room like so many bowers of beauty, draped and +frilled and floriated, and still laden with countless articles of use +and ornament, were continually reinforced with purchasers by emissaries +canvassing the crowd which filled the middle of the paper-strewn floor. +The horse was not only taken to the water, but compelled to drink; and +many a man who, outside, would have laughed at the risk of being +robbed, was robbed openly, shamelessly, under the gaze of ministers and +class-leaders. Bouquets were sold at a shilling each, and at the +refreshment stall a glass of milk cost sixpence. The noise rivalled +that of a fair; there was no quiet anywhere, save in the farthest +recess of each stall, where the lady in supreme charge of it, like a +spider in the middle of its web, watched customers and cash-box with +equal cupidity. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Sutton, at seven o'clock, had not returned from tea, and Anna and +Beatrice, who managed the Sunday-school stall in her absence, feared +that she had at last succumbed under the strain. But shortly +afterwards she hurried back breathless to her place. +</P> + +<P> +'See that, Anna? It will be reckoned in our returns,' she said, +exhibiting a piece of paper. It was Ephraim's cheque for twenty-five +pounds promised months ago, but on a condition which had not been +fulfilled. +</P> + +<P> +'She has the secret of persuading him,' thought Anna. 'Why have I +never found it?' +</P> + +<P> +Then Agnes, in a new white frock, came up with three shillings, +proceeds of bouquets. +</P> + +<P> +'But you must take that to the flower-stall, my pet,' said Mrs. Sutton. +</P> + +<P> +'Can't I give it to you?' the child pleaded. 'I want your stall to be +the best.' +</P> + +<P> +Mynors arrived next, with something concealed in tissue-paper. He +removed the paper, and showed, in a frame of crimson plush, a common +white plate decorated with a simple band and line, and a monogram in +the centre—'A.T.' Anna blushed, recognising the plate which she had +painted that afternoon in July at Mynors' works. +</P> + +<P> +'Can you sell this?' Mynors asked Mrs. Sutton. +</P> + +<P> +'I'll try to,' said Mrs. Sutton doubtfully—not in the secret. 'What's +it meant for?' +</P> + +<P> +'Try to sell it to me,' said Mynors. +</P> + +<P> +'Well,' she laughed, 'what will you give?' +</P> + +<P> +'A couple of sovereigns.' +</P> + +<P> +'Make it guineas.' +</P> + +<P> +He paid the money, and requested Anna to keep the plate for him. +</P> + +<P> +At nine o'clock it was announced that, though raffling was forbidden, +the bazaar would be enlivened by an auction. A licensed auctioneer was +brought, and the sale commenced. The auctioneer, however, failed to +attune himself to the wild spirit of the hour, and his professional +efforts would have resulted in a fiasco had not Mynors, perceiving the +danger, leaped to the platform and masterfully assumed the hammer. +Mynors surpassed himself in the kind of wit that amuses an excited +crowd, and the auction soon monopolised the attention of the room; it +was always afterwards remembered as the crowning success of the bazaar. +The incredible man took ten pounds in twenty minutes. During this +episode Anna, who had been left alone in the stall, first noticed +Willie Price in the room. His ship sailed on the Monday, but steerage +passengers had to be aboard on Sunday, and he was saying good-bye to a +few acquaintances. He seemed quite cheerful, as he walked about with +his hands in his pockets, chatting with this one and that; it was the +false and hysterical gaiety that precedes a final separation. As soon +as he saw Anna he came towards her. +</P> + +<P> +'Well, good-bye, Miss Tellwright,' he said jauntily. 'I leave for +Liverpool to-morrow morning. Wish me luck.' +</P> + +<P> +Nothing more; no word, no accent, to recall the terrible but sublime +past. +</P> + +<P> +'I do,' she answered. They shook hands. Others approaching, he +drifted away. Her glance followed him like a beneficent influence. +</P> + +<P> +For three days she had carried in her pocket an envelope containing a +bank-note for a hundred pounds, intending by some device to force it on +him as a parting gift. Now the last chance was lost, and she had not +even attempted this difficult feat of charity. Such futility, she +reflected, self-scorning, was of a piece with her life. 'He hasn't +really gone. He hasn't really gone,' she kept repeating, and yet knew +well that he had gone. +</P> + +<P> +'Do you know what they are saying, Anna?' said Beatrice, when, after +eleven o'clock, the bazaar was closed to the public, and the +stall-holders and their assistants were preparing to depart, their +movements hastened by the stern aspect of the town-hall keeper. +</P> + +<P> +'No. What?' said Anna; and in the same moment guessed. +</P> + +<P> +'They say old Titus Price embezzled fifty pounds from the building +fund, and Henry made it up, privately, so that there shouldn't be a +scandal. Just fancy! Do you believe it?' +</P> + +<P> +The secret was abroad. She looked round the room, and saw it in every +face. +</P> + +<P> +'Who says?' Anna demanded fiercely. +</P> + +<P> +'It's all over the place. Miss Dickinson told me.' +</P> + +<P> +'You will be glad to know, ladies,' Mynors' voice sang out from the +platform, 'that the total proceeds, so far as we can calculate them +now, exceed five hundred and twenty-five pounds.' +</P> + +<P> +There was clapping of hands, which died out suddenly. +</P> + +<P> +'Now Agnes,' Anna called, 'come along, quick; you're as white as a +sheet. Good-night, Mrs. Sutton; good-night, Bee.' +</P> + +<P> +Mynors was still occupied on the platform. +</P> + +<P> +The town-hall keeper extinguished some of the lights. The bazaar was +over. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="footnote"> +<A NAME="chap13fn1"></A> +[<A HREF="#chap13fn1text">1</A>] <I>Cut</I>: canal. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap14"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIV +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +END OF A SIMPLE SOUL +</H4> + +<P> +The next morning, at half-past seven, Anna was standing in the +garden-doorway of the Priory. The sun had just risen, the air was +cold; roof and pavement were damp; rain had fallen, and more was to +fall. A door opened higher up the street, and Willie Price came out, +carrying a small bag. He turned to speak to some person within the +house, and then stepped forward. As he passed Anna she sprang forth. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh!' she cried, 'I had just come up here to see if the workmen had +locked up properly. We have some of our new furniture in the house, +you know.' She was as red as the sun over Hillport. +</P> + +<P> +He glanced at her. 'Have <I>you</I> heard?' he asked simply. +</P> + +<P> +'About what?' she whispered. +</P> + +<P> +'About my poor old father.' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes. I was hoping—hoping you would never know.' +</P> + +<P> +By a common impulse they went into the garden of the Priory, and he +shut the door. +</P> + +<P> +'Never know?' he repeated. 'Oh! they took care to tell me.' +</P> + +<P> +A silence followed. +</P> + +<P> +'Is that your luggage?' she inquired. He lifted up the handbag, and +nodded. +</P> + +<P> +'All of it?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' he said. 'I'm only an emigrant.' +</P> + +<P> +'I've got a note here for you,' she said. 'I should have posted it to +the steamer; but now you can take it yourself. I want you not to read +it till you get to Melbourne.' +</P> + +<P> +'Very well,' he said, and crumpled the proffered envelope into his +pocket. He was not thinking of the note at all. Presently he asked: +'Why didn't you tell me about my father? If I had to hear it, I'd +sooner have heard it from you.' +</P> + +<P> +'You must try to forget it,' she urged him. 'You are not your father.' +</P> + +<P> +'I wish I had never been born,' he said. 'I wish I'd gone to prison.' +</P> + +<P> +Now was the moment when, if ever, the mother's influence should be +exerted. +</P> + +<P> +'Be a man,' she said softly. 'I did the best I could for you. I shall +always think of you, in Australia, getting on.' +</P> + +<P> +She put a hand on his shoulder. 'Yes,' she said again, passionately: +'I shall always remember you—always.' +</P> + +<P> +The hand with which he touched her arm shook like an old man's hand. +As their eyes met in an intense and painful gaze, to her, at least, it +was revealed that they were lovers. What he had learnt in that instant +can only be guessed from his next action.... +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Anna ran out of the garden into the street, and so home, never looking +behind to see if he pursued his way to the station. +</P> + +<P> +Some may argue that Anna, knowing she loved another man, ought not to +have married Mynors. But she did not reason thus; such a notion never +even occurred to her. She had promised to marry Mynors, and she +married him. Nothing else was possible. She who had never failed in +duty did not fail then. She who had always submitted and bowed the +head, submitted and bowed the head then. She had sucked in with her +mother's milk the profound truth that a woman's life is always a +renunciation, greater or less. Hers by chance was greater. Facing the +future calmly and genially, she took oath with herself to be a good +wife to the man whom, with all his excellences, she had never loved. +Her thoughts often dwelt lovingly on Willie Price, whom she deemed to +be pursuing in Australia an honourable and successful career, quickened +at the outset by her hundred pounds. This vision of him was her stay. +But neither she nor anyone in the Five Towns or elsewhere ever heard of +Willie Price again. And well might none hear! The abandoned pitshaft +does not deliver up its secret. And so—the Bank of England is the +richer by a hundred pounds unclaimed, and the world the poorer by a +simple and meek soul stung to revolt only in its last hour. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="t4"> +<I>Jamieson & Munro, Ltd., Printers, Stirling.</I> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<HR> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap15"></A> + +<P CLASS="t3"> + Uniform with this Volume +</P> + +<BR> + +<PRE> + 36 De Profundis Oscar Wilde + 37 Lord Arthur Savile's Crime Oscar Wilde + 38 Selected Poems Oscar Wilde + 39 An Ideal Husband Oscar Wilde + 40 Intentions Oscar Wilde + 41 Lady Windermere's Fan Oscar Wilde + 42 Charmides and other Poems Oscar Wilde + 43 Harvest Home E. V. Lucas + 44 A Little of Everything E. V. Lucas + 45 Vallima Letters Robert Louis Stevenson + 46 Hills and the Sea Hilaire Belloc + 47 The Blue Bird Maurice Maeterlinck + 50 Charles Dickens G. K. Chesterton + 53 Letters from Self-Made Merchant to his Son George Horace Larimer + 54 The Life of John Ruskin W. G. Collingwood + 57 Sevastopol and other Stories Leo Tolstoy + 58 The Lore of the Honey-Bee Tickner Edwardes + 60 From Midshipman to Field Marshal Sir Evelyn Wood + 63 Oscar Wilde Arthur Ransome + 64 The Vicar of Morwenstow S. Baring-Gould + 65 Old Country Life S. Baring-Gould + 76 Home Life in France M. Betham-Edwards + 77 Selected Prose Oscar Wilde + 78 The Best of Lamb E. V. Lucas + 80 Selected Letters Robert Louis Stevenson + 83 Reason and Belief Sir Oliver Lodge + 85 The Importance of Being Earnest Oscar Wilde + 91 Social Evils and their Remedy Leo Tolstoy + 93 The Substance of Faith Sir Oliver Lodge + 94 All Things Considered G. K. Chesterton + 95 The Mirror of the Sea Joseph Conrad + 96 A Picked Company Hilaire Belloc + 116 The Survival of Man Sir Oliver Lodge + 126 Science from an Easy Chair Sir Ray Lankester + 141 Variety Lane E. V. Lucas + 144 A Shilling for my Thoughts G. K. Chesterton + 146 A Woman of No Importance Oscar Wilde + 149 A Shepherd's Life W. H. Hudson + 193 On Nothing Hilaire Belloc + 300 Jane Austen and her Times G. E. Mitton + 114 Select Essays Maurice Maeterlinck + 218 R. L. S. Francis Watt + 223 Two Generations Leo Tolstoy + 126 On Everything Hilaire Belloc + 934 Records and Reminiscences Sir Francis Burnand + 253 My Childhood and Boyhood Leo Tolstoy + 254 On Something Hilaire Belloc +</PRE> + +<BR><BR> + + +<P CLASS="t4"> + A Selection only. +</P> + +<HR ALIGN="center" WIDTH="60%"> + +<P CLASS="t3"> + Uniform with this Volume +</P> + +<PRE> + 1 The Mighty Atom Marie Corelli + 2 Jane Marie Corelli + 3 Boy Marie Corelli + 4 Spanish Gold G. A. Birmingham + 5 The Search Party G. A. Birmingham + 6 Teresa of Watling Street Arnold Bennett + 9 The Unofficial Honeymoon Dolf Wyllarde + 12 The Demon C. N. and A. M. Williamson + 17 Joseph Frank Danby + 18 Round the Red Lamp Sir A. Conan Doyle + 20 Light Freights W. W. Jacobs + 22 The Long Road John Oxenham + 71 The Gates of Wrath Arnold Bennett + 72 Short Cruises W. W. Jacobs + 81 The Card Arnold Bennett + 87 Lalage's Lovers G. A. Birmingham + 93 White Fang Jack London + 105 The Wallet of Kai Lung Ernest Bramah + 108 The Adventures of Dr. Whitty G. A. Birmingham + 113 Lavender and Old Lace Myrtle Reed + 115 Old Rose and Silver Myrtle Reed + 122 The Double Life of Mr. Alfred Burton E. Phillips Oppenheim + 125 The Regent Arnold Bennett + 127 Sally Dorothea Conyers + 129 The Lodger Mrs. Belloc Lowndes + 135 A Spinner In the Sun Myrtle Reed + 137 The Mystery of Dr. Fu-Manchu Sax Rohmer + 139 The Golden Centipede Louise Gerard + 140 The Love Pirate C. N. and A. M. Williamson + 143 The Way of these Women E. Phillips Oppenheim + 143 Sandy Married Dorothea Conyers + 145 Chance Joseph Conrad + 148 Flower of the Dusk Myrtle Reed + 150 The Gentleman Adventurer H. C. Bailey + 154 The Hyena of Kallu Louise Gerard + 190 The Happy Hunting Ground Mrs. Alice Perrin + 191 My Lady of Shadows John Oxenham + 211 Max Carrados Ernest Bramah + 212 Under Western Eyes Joseph Conrad + 213 The Kloof Bride Ernest Glanville + 215 Mr. Grex of Monte Carlo E. Phillips Oppenheim + 216 The Wonder of Love E. M. Albanesi + 217 A Weaver of Dreams Myrtle Reed + 219 The Family Elinor Mordaunt + 220 A Heritage of Peril A. W. Marchmont + 221 The Kinsman Mrs. Sidgwick + 222 Emmanuel Burden Hilaire Belloc + 224 Broken Shackles John Oxenham + 225 A Knight of Spain Marjorie Bowen + 227 Byeways Robert Hichens + 228 Gossamer G. A. Birmingham + 230 The Salving of a Derelict Maurice Drake + 231 Cameos Marie Corelli + 232 The Happy Valley B. M. Croker + 245 The Shop Girl C. N. and A. M. Williamson + 250 The Lost Regiment Ernest Glanville + 261 Tarzan of the Apes Edgar Rice Burroughs +</PRE> + +<P CLASS="t4"> + A Selection only. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Anna of the Five Towns, by Arnold Bennett + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANNA OF THE FIVE TOWNS *** + +***** This file should be named 35505-h.htm or 35505-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/5/0/35505/ + +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. 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